#also we had to start an hour late cause one of the workers get trapped in the escape room 😭😭

[velmashaircut]

I went to an escape room today with my friends, the theme was Creepy Carnival and it was SO SCARY OH MY GOD.

The room was dark, we had a small flashlight and there was creepy music playing the whole time. Occasionally we’d hear weird noises like creaking doors or a clown laughing and we’d shit ourselves and huddle together and scream. After we solved a stage we’d be too scared to open the door to the next room cause we were so sure someone was going to jump out to scare us.

In one room we were trying to solve a puzzle and one of the doors suddenly slammed open and a man in a clown mask just came out to scare us I screamed so loudly like I don’t ever scream at all but I was shrieking so much my throat hurt after.

Even tho it was scary af i had so much fun and want to go again

[srslysierraa]

Angst

You and Gregory are both stuck together in the Pizzaplex, met Freddy and trying to survive for 6 hours. What if we died in front of Gregory and Freddy? It's your choice if we die by Vanny or another animatronic. Also by your choice if it's teen!reader or child!reader

Have a good day

Trial and Error, Permanently.

Prompt ;; after hearing that Gregory was being hunted by some weird woman, you two sneaked into Fazbear's Pizza Plex for shelter. Only to be trapped in, and for some reason, fate just loves to make things so hard on you, to the point of no return.

Type ;; one-shot fic, slight comfort, angst.

Chars. Involved ;; G. Freddy, Gregory, Monty.

A/N ;; omg,,, angst,,, let's hope this one turns good. Also, reader is a child the same age as Gregory, they're both homeless and was Greg's only friend up to that point, to add to the angst! :)

"Freddy, what were we supposed to do again?"

You and Gregory has been friends from eversince you two met eachother on the sidewalk, both homeless, both wanting to survive. After that point, you two had became friends, overcoming every challenge life throws at you. That has always been how it is, and though it was hard, it was also nice knowing that you're doing this together, safe and sound.

That's how it used to be anyways.

See, this morning you discovered something on the newspaper that people had thrown out, missing kids by the famous Pizza Plex near the Plaza of town. Big, flashy, and always loaded with customers. Despite the news, you and Gregory decided to maybe get some scrap food there, and if lucky; convincing someone to buy some specifically for you two to bring on the road just in case. But of course Gregory had to pull you close and whisper about how he thinks someone is following him, you shook it off, but then even you start feeling it too, soon enough you two sneaked into the Pizzaplex, avoiding the workers, bots, and even customers as to not draw suspicions.

It all went well as you try to blend in with the crowd, but the animatronic bear on stage just had to broke down. Causing everyone to panic, and to proceed slowly to the main hall since the performance had to be stopped. That was fine if only you didn't need some sort of pass to get through.

You don't know how, but soon enough you and Gregory got the amazing idea of him getting into Freddy's stomach hatch, while you hide sneakily, following as employees take freddy's body to his green room. Once Freddy booted up, you were on his couch in his specifically themed room, waiting for Freddy to wake up so that Gregory can get out of his stomach.

Moments pass, you explain how you want to get out of the building now, Freddy joins your team, you realized it's too late, and now you need to survive till 6AM before the Pizzaplex opens again. It doesn't help that for some reason the animatronics are going haywire on hunting you two, and not to mention the security guard.

What a drag.

As background ambience deafeningly fills your ears with silence, the only thing you two can do now is explore, and follow your fellow bear friend's leads through the fazwatch. And now, you are being guided to get something that is supposed to be able to control the main stage? Whatever it is, you and Gregory needed to work fast, right now Freddy is currently barely alive and is limping his way to get both you and Greg.

"Whatever you do, do not let Monty or Roxy in. I'll try my best to go to you." Freddy called out, as you and Gregory try to listen intently. Just as you thought you're in the clear, the fazwatch lights up once more. "The doors are locked, (Y/n), Gregory, i need one of you to unlock the doors for me. You should be able to see me on the cameras, open the door according to where i am waving my arms. You got this, Superstars."

And from then on, it was a very long night. Greg was sprinting from each side of the room trying to close the doors, check the cameras, and shock the animatronics banging on it. You however, was running around the room, looking and double-looking to make sure you didn't miss Freddy on each monitor of the cameras, pressing each button to open the doors for him.

Battery for the doors were running low, and you're not sure how long this'll last. And just as the doors only has one bar of energy left, you can hear Freddy's voice calling from beneath the floor. Signaling to go jump down as soon as he opens the vent.

However, lady luck wasn't exactly on your side.

As Gregory ditched the doors to go jump down, what seemed like the worst coincidence ever happened. One of the doors has lost all of its powers and Monty rages in to get to Gregory. Stunned by the loud noise, the poor human boy stopped in his tracks. Probably sealing his own fate due to that small mistake.

And you swear it was a reflex thing, really. Though, part of you were happy that you did it. That you went back to push Gregory down the vent and into Freddy's arms. That you traded places with him. That you sealed your own fate.

It all happened so fast for a mistake that lasted an eternity, right as you pushed your friend down the hole, your arm was grabbed by the giant Alligator Animatronic and squeezed so hard you felt like your bones just broke. Or maybe it did. It didn't matter anyways since you kicked him so hard he manages to let go of you to fix his sunglasses, for a second. You sprinted as fast as you can towards the vent, and you can practically hear Freddy yelling at you in worry. You tried to jump, tried to. You tried.

And that's all. The next thing Freddy sees was what supposed to be his Alligator friend dragging a child by their feet, as they scream in pain. The poor bear tried to jump up again after immediately putting Gregory down, screaming for him to stop. But all he saw as he tries to push his body up was a trail of red smears, dragging along the floor. As Monty drags you along like a bag of beans, holding you from your neck. Limp, lifeless, and you can tell he sinked in a teeth or more into your head for it to bleed that way.

As the door behind Monty drops, Freddy solemnly drops back down. Gregory not far off, standing in silence as drops of liquid falls from his eyes. It was his fault, he shouldn't have freezed. He should've been faster. He should've been the one to die.

Or maybe it was Freddy's fault. Not being fast enough in reaching the doors, not being protective enough. Maybe he should've done something about what he thought was his friends. Maybe it was his fault.

Silence hit, none talking. None dares to utter a word. Gregory only walks ahead, trembling, but trying. He found a new reason to get out, and for revenge, he knows exactly what he wants to happen to that stupid fucking reptile robot. And Freddy can tell. He didn't even want to say anything about it, he felt like Monty deserved it. He lost another being he cared for to him, and this time, it's out of line.

Both has lost their spirits a bit, one has led to resentment, while the other led to the idea of just, giving up.

(Y/n), please, tell them what to do.

[jaedreaminn]

Office Wars

Pairings: fem!reader x Jaemin

Theme: Fluff, Mild Jealousy, playful arguments, light crack, humour, protective.

Word count:2.2k

Gist: You were always at each others throats at work and everyone knew that and was used to that but maybe there was more than just the arguments on the surface.

"Ms. Y/l/n you're typing too loudly" Na Jaemin said with his infamous smirk plastered on his face.

A collective sigh was heard across the office. Your colleagues were all used to the usual banter that took place between you and Jaemin, easily being able to tune the noise that followed.

You however found it particularly difficult to avoid the banter when Jaemin picked at you for the most ridiculous of things.

"Oh I'm sorry Supervisor Na I didn't realise your hearing aid was on" You replied, the snark to your tone didn't go unnoticed as Jaemin scoffed but you couldn't be bothered to look away from your work.

"I don't need hearing aid to hear your keyboard being murdered, the poor thing has to recieve the brunt of your anger caused by Writer Kim"

You slammed your hands onto your table and angrily spun your swirling chair in the direction in which Na Jaemin sat.

Your anger doubled as you saw him proudly smirking from his position, knowing you just gave into his taunts but you couldn't care enough since he was the one that made the low blow.

"Don't you ever get tired idoling around and causing your co-workers headaches?" You said to the smug looking boy before getting on your feet and waking to the pantry.

Jaemin smiled as he watched you dissapeare behind the wall that separates the office and the pantry.

You made two cups of coffee, calming yourself before you walked out placing one on Jaemins table and carried the other to yours and got back to your work. At this point the office was slightly accustomed to your dynamics but it still baffled them. No one understood how the two of you worked, one minute you were at eachother throats the next second you were on the same team. And they didn't even try to understand, they just went along with it.

Like right now,

"You're going to be late for the briefing if you don't hurry your pretty little fingers up" you mocked, the cheeky grin plastered on your face clearly showed how amused you were by the fact that Na Jaemin had FORGOTTEN to prepare for today's briefing as your teams supervisors in this small publishing company.

The furiously typying man let go of his lip that was trapped between his teeth to grind them together, eyes wavering for a second to glare at you before focusing on his task at hand.

You cheerily walked away, a skip in your step as you reached the meeting room waiting for your supervisor and CEO to enter, happily chattering with your colleague Joy about the small queer owned business the two of you came across on instagram because of this month.

Soon the CEO stepped in and the room fell quite, Jaemin was still not on his seat but a minute later he walked in apologising for the delay.

A rather short and surprisingly sucessful briefing later you walked back to your desk to finish of what little work you had left before you streched, slightly pushing your chair away from your desk.

"Ready to go y/n?" Joy asked coming upto you and you grinned at her, nodding.

"Don't waste time then c'mon" you heard the annoying voice of Na Jaemin say from behind you and then saw the man in question walk past you. You glared holes into his back and Joy chuckled.

You and Joy continued to chater as you made your way to the restaurant your team always eats at, to find that your entire team was already sitting there.

"I ordered what you asked me to" Your colleague Suho said to Joy who thanked him.

You took your seat inbetween Crystal and Yangyang, which also happened to be directly opposite Jaemin.

"I ordered (insert dosh of your choice) for you" Jaemin told you and the two of your stared at eachother for a few seconds and then you smiled at him thanking him.

Everyone let out a breath they didn't know they were holding at that, expecting you to get mad at him for ordering for you without you asking him to.

The wait for the food to arrive was peaceful, except for the few snark remarks you and Jaemin exchanged but it wasn't something that people weren't used to.

Upon the arrival of your food your eyes lit up. Ever since you were a kid you loved to eat, in fact you were the biggest foodie in your family.

You excitedly picked up your chop sticks ready to dig in before a voice interrupted you.

"Your food isn't going anywhere slow down or you'll burn your tongue." Jaemin said nonchalantly and you ignored him poking out your tongue at him and immediately digging in for a big bite.

As soon as the food touched your tongue you're eyes widened at the sharp sensation caused by the heat immediately dropping the serving back onto your plate as you started to pant like a dog because of the heat.

Yangyang who was next to you noticed, placing a hand on your shoulder and picking up your glass of water with his other hand.

"Careful Y/n" he warend rather uselessly after the deed was done, bringing the cup of water to your lips so that you could wash down the heat with the cooling water.

You drank the water, hands reaching out the hold the cup on your own. Once the burning sensation cooled down, you turned to Yangyang offering him a smile while thanking him.

You're attention then turned to Jaemin who sat infront of you glaring at no one in particular, expecting him to be looking smug.

You shrugged at the change in attitude as you continued your mean, this time blowing on your food before you took a bite.

Not even fifteen minutes later you felt a kick on you shin and then looked up to see Jaemin leaving, you sighed rolled your eyes and finished the food on your plate as fast as you could before dashing out back to the office. No you didn't forget to pay, the meals were handeled by the company.

You reached the office only to find Jaemin sitting on his seat pouting angrily as he typed away. You chuckled, deciding to not indulge him as you walked back to your seat and got on with your work and ignored the way Jaemin looked at you even poutier than before.

Ignoring him was a bad choice since after that he got even more annoying, dropping more files on your desk for you to deal with, making random comments about your corrections, complaining about anything and everything and you just ignored the fussy manchild with an eye roll.

"Y/n we have to go for the mandatory company diner now." Joy said to you and you looked out the window at the end of the office to see the sky becoming a dark orange hue, it was late evening.

"I still have so much to do" you whined, letting your head fall onto your desk with a thud and Joy winced, not knowing what to say.

"Stop whining y/n and just come back and get it done. I have work to do to so I can walk with you back to the office after dinner." Jaemin said walking upto your desk.

You lifted your head sligtly to look at the tall male who was looking at you, waiting for a reply to his question and you sighed head falling between your arms again.

"We have to leave now we don't have forever y/n make a choice" Jaemin said impatiently tapping his foot on the floor.

"Okay let's go!" You said suddenly jumping up and marching towards the exit. Jaemin chuckled and Joy looked at you as if you had grown two heads but then the two of them immediately followed behind you.

The company diner was uneventful. Mr. Choi on of your clients was making what he though to be flirtatious eyes at you again but you only saw it as creepy. But you were still able to enjoy you meal, sitting between Jaemin and Joy, happily chattering away.

After everyone was done eating you knew you couldn't stay to chat and you lifted you phone off the table checking the time and signalling Jaemin who nodded and the two of you bid your goodbyes.

"I can walk you if you want y/n-shi" a rosy cheek and very drunk Mr.Choi said and you gagged.

"It's Ms.y/l/n to you Mr.Choi and there's no need I'm walking her there, making sure our employee feels safe by making sure you're not around them." Jaemin said, eyes glaring daggers and the now offended drunk man.

"You" Mr.Choi yelled pointing his finger and an unimpressed Jaemin "How dare you talk to me like that! Don't you know how important I am to this company" the angry drunk man yelled.

"Mr Choil please stay professional because it isn't that hard to find good writers, especially on to replace you." Your CEO spoke up and you had to hold back a chuckle at Mr.Chois flustered face as his mouth opened and closed not able to form any words.

"If that all we'll be taking out leave." Jaemin said grabbing onto you hand and bowing at your CEO who nodded and quickly dragged you away. You quickly bowed in respects to you CEO too before you were dragged away by Jaemin.

"I felt like punching him" Jaemin said on your walk to the office, hand still holding yours.

"Me too" you chuckled at the fuming male as you walked the rest of the way in silence, hand in hand.

You immediately rushed to you desk upon reaching your office and started typing away and Jaemin lazily strolled to his seat, doing whatever he had to do.

Half an hour later and all you had to do was send out two mails and save the document you were working on, so you let yourself relax alittle slumping back onto your chair. You peaked at what jaemin was doing and smiled. "That's a good score, must have been alot of WORK" you teased and Jaemin looked embarrassed at getting caught.

"I-i was bored okay" he said avoiding your gaze and you smiled.

"Okay"

You crossed one leg over the other, leaning over your desk to send the last two e-mails and save the document you were busy correcting.

Just as you finished with your work and sat up straight Jaemin spoke "You know when a person sits with crossed legs and their legs are pointing towards you that means they like you" he said pointing at your position and you looked down to see your leg was indeed pointing at him.

"That means you like me y/n." Jaemin said cheekily wiggling his eyebrows.

And you looked at him eyes screwed as if you were judging his entire existence, which you were "Jaemin" he hummed in reply still grining, "We're engaged it would be really weird if I didn't like you" You said and Jaemins grin grew even wider and you sighed chuckling at your happy fiance.

"Yea it would be weird" he said sliding his chair towards you, crashing into you slightly and you steadied him.

"Ahh your so cute my y/n" he said pulling you into his arms and plukering his his lips trying to kiss you but you leaned away from him just to annoy him.

"Don't avoid my kisses" he huffed pouting as he tried again but you teased him again avoiding him.

"Yah! You brat give me a kiss!" he yelled and you chuckled turning you head to give him a small peck on his nose but he had other plans immediately moving his face and his lips met yours in a sweet kiss in which you felt yourself melting into. Kissing Jaemin was always calming and he always tasted sweet even thought he drank that disgustingly bitter coffee.

You slowly felt his hands snake behind your head pulling you closer lips moving in sync as he deepend the kiss, your breaths mingled as both of you felt lightweight. You got lost in eachother for a second before you slowly pulled away resting your forehead against his. He smiled at you eyes sparkling in the dim lit room.

"If someone walked in on us right now they'd have a heart attack" Jaemin joked and you chuckled. It was an unspoken rule between the two of you to keep your relationship a secret in the office and you did that by bickering. "We should tell them now though shouldn't we?" You asked and Jaemin pecked you cheek sitting up staright, "Yea and hand them the wedding invites" and you grinned, heat rushing to your cheeks, you never got used to the fact that you were to get married to Na Jaemin, your soulmate.

Needless to say when the two of you told everyone at the office the next day you were pretty sure some of them were this close to having a heart attack. But most of them Congratulated you as you stood hand in hand with Jaemin, grinning like an idiot.

[thebiasrekkers]

Call You Mine [MYG]

Plot: "I never regretted the day that I called you mine..." 

A Min Yoongi/Agust D one-shot. 

That's it. That's the summary. I have nothing else to say. 

Happy Birthday Min Yoongi!

Rating: PG // SFW

Genre: fluff | romance | idol romance | one-shot

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Female Reader

Warnings: None

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 1,912

AN: Wee. It’s late. I’m late. I’m always late. Who’s surprised? Not me. Happy Birthday Lil Meow Meow! All reblogs, critiques/reviews, comments and affection are accepted! Happy reading!

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

"Who are you?"

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"Your breathing shifted just now."

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest. That was how he always responded when you asked him that. Was it because you knew him so well? Or were you just anxious? Maybe it was a mixture of both. Either way, it was something you didn't want to admit aloud.

Not to yourself. Not to him.

"Does it matter?" he asked. 

Of course it mattered! 

You didn't respond, determined to get your answer first.

He flashed you a mischievous grin, a bit of his silver fringe falling along the bridge of his nose. "Why don't you guess?"

You felt your lips pulling into a pout, mustering what patience you had to not smack his bare chest with all the strength you could manage this late in the night. Even in the low light, he must have seen the disapproving look you were giving him. Lifting one hand up, he lightly poked your forehead and you whined at being teased. You knew he did this to get a rise out of you. He also knew how important it was for him to give you an answer.

It bothered you how much he always dragged his feet on this matter. The more logical side always reminded you to have patience. This was his own personal game that he liked to play with you. Sometimes he would win. Sometimes you did. 

No one was really keeping score anymore.

You didn't want to guess. You didn't feel like playing this game tonight. To showcase your intent, you roughly pulled from his side and flipped over on the bed to turn your back to him. This must have surprised him because he didn't start laughing at your reaction. In fact, the bed was absolutely still - your breaths barely audible in the dark.

Warmth touched the flare of your hip as he placed his hand there. You tried not to relish in his touch, but it was difficult. After everything you'd gone through to get to this moment, it was only self-inflicted pain to ignore him. Part of you knew to stand your ground. The other part was willing to give in to his advances.

Because you loved him so much. Because you loved all of him…so much.

“Hey,” he called softly, reaching over your stomach and pulling you close to his body, “remember when we first met? At that bar in that one town?”

You bit back a scoff. Like you could forget. He never made it easy for you to, even if you wanted to. 

You kept silent, not wanting to cater to his need to hear your voice. To hear how, even now, you found yourself in an endless loop of falling in love with him each and every single day. To him, you were a lifeline for survival. To you, he was the reason you pushed through your tiresome work week.

The bar was crowded that night. It was an average Friday evening. You were out with friends, hitting the town and it was the third bar on the stop of your group’s infamous “bar hops”. Nothing was special about that night. It was just the end of another long work week for you. Another end of being a faceless number down a long hall of cramped cubicles and endless phone calls. A moment’s reprieve from jittering printers and raucous fax machines.

Two days of escape from being a nameless paper pusher in a seemingly endless cycle of meaningless.

He walked through the doors with his entourage - exuding purpose and power. They were celebrating another successful performance and chatter about said performance was the first thing you heard as they burst through the door. You watched him go straight up to the bar and buy it out, saying everyone’s drinks for the rest of the night were on him.

You envied his smile. You envied his “can do” attitude that dripped from every square inch of his body.

But it was his freedom that made you jealous the most.

You weren’t wearing anything particularly fancy that night. A pair of acid washed jeans stuffed in combat boots, a loose sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder. Hell, even your hair was in a messy up-do. After all, you weren’t looking for an easy score that night. Your plans to get laid were the furthest thing from your mind.

Yet there was no mistaking the way he zeroed in on you. Out of all the patrons in the bar, you were the one he decided to nail his focus to. You were the one who somehow managed to get his attention.

So, what should have been a night of blissfully getting toasted with your friends turned into something much different.

Feeling his lips against the nape of your neck, you felt your breath hitch slightly as his mouth moved to speak. “I asked you what you were doing for the rest of your life.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that burst from your chest, causing you to curl up into a ball as you covered your mouth. It was one of the most absurd questions you’d ever been asked. Who even asked something like that in this day and age? What you were doing tomorrow? Sure. What you were doing next weekend? Of course.

The rest of your life, however, held a different weight altogether.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing tonight,” came your amused reply as you lowered your hands from your face. You still refused to look at him. “That’s what I said.”

The memories were flooding in quickly. His looks. The low dulcet sound of his voice. Even the cute little lisp he had when he spoke excitedly about something. His hair was a different color back then; jet black with an undercut. 

Everything changed in that one conversation. 

Despite his big spending at the bar, you knew he wasn’t well off. Not yet. But he had big dreams. He had drive. Money didn’t grow on trees and his dream would yield fruit if it prospered. Music, however, was such a shaky basket to throw all of your eggs into. But his passion and determination made you believe that he was telling the truth; that nothing would stop him from succeeding. He was determined and there was a small part of you that wished for his success. Somebody needed to grow wings and fly.

But the conversation didn’t take long to reverse back to you. On to your current occupation and your overall distaste with how things were going in your own life. It was a dead end road. You knew this. Somewhere along the way, you even accepted it. Some people were paper pushers and others were the stars that people could admire from afar. You had no place in that world. Your meager complaints and tiny goals could hardly hold a candle to the strength of his burning ambition.

That’s what you believed in the beginning.

You should’ve known better. 

After his friends and yours all got together to finish the bar hop for the night, your groups eventually wound up near the outskirts of town at a park. The drinking, laughter and flirting continued. He was never far from your side and neither were you from his. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, his hand found its way into yours, holding it close. Your lips touched soon after and it was a magical moment.

That was the beginning of the end for  you.

Days rolled into weeks. Weeks into months. You looked forward to the weekends not to escape the dreary worklife you found yourself trapped in, but to see his performances in underground venues and fringe shows. The energy he exuded from the stage was intoxicating and the cheers from the crowd as he pumped them up was contagious. It only took a few shows and you were screaming and hopping around like an idiot like the rest of them.

Afterward, your groups would meet again to drink and celebrate in the success of the show. It wasn’t embarrassing for you all to run through the streets, screaming and shouting as the thrill of the night cloaked you from head to toe. Bottles of beers in your hands, you ran through crowds and stumbled down stairs in hopes of catching the last train home. You both cuddled in a drunken haze together as everyone talked all over one another - wrapped up in their own conversations.

It was only then that it became apparent that the person you were slowly falling for had two personas. One for the stage and one for when it was just the two of you. Sometimes they bled into one another. Sometimes they were kept far apart from each other.

Agust D and Min Yoongi.

As his success continued to build, your anxiety mounted - worrying about where your place was in his life. More months passed and the venues started to change. You knew there was a chance you wouldn’t be able to go to a performance because it was in the middle of the work week. Or maybe it was too far for you to travel. You couldn’t risk taking off of work for something “trivial” like a concert performance. That’s what your managers would say. They would belittle you for inconveniencing the rest of your co-workers. 

You had an image to maintain.

When he showed up on stage with silver hair, you knew that it was time. Agust D was rising to a level of stardom you wouldn’t be able to compete with. Fans cheered and remained loyal. Fans who were willing to drop any plans they had to hit the road and support their idol. They’d been around far longer than you had; had been cheering for him during a time when you didn’t even know he existed. 

It was the life he’d chosen; one you knew was going to take wing.

How were you supposed to stay close beside him? How were you going to continue to nurture this thing that existed between you both?

Feeling his arms wrap around your bare stomach, he pulled you even closer. You could feel his heartbeat slowly bumping against your shoulder blades. Yoongi pressed a kiss behind your ear, one of your weak spots, before allowing his tongue to glide along the curve of your jaw. You resisted the urge to moan at how he made you feel, both in that moment and every moment before now.

“I never regretted the day that I called you mine…”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, blurring your vision. Part of you wanted to curse him for his words. For his way with words. But that was how he always was. On the stage or off, it didn’t matter. It was his answer for any worry that threatened to smother you into a dark pit of no return.

Slowly, you turned in his arms. Yoongi’s eyes peered at you, his brows furrowing with concern despite the smirk playing on his lips. 

“Do you know the answer?”

That was the answer to your question. It was always going to be the answer.

Lifting your arms up, you wrapped them around his neck and leaned in, your lips barely touching his. “You’re Min Yoongi…” This time, you could feel your own smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “...and you’re mine.”

[tsarisfanfiction]

Platonic Sentence Starters:

“I will roll you up in a blanket if you refuse to go to bed.” 

John & Scott

Mutually Assured Bedtime

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Scott, John

Figuring out which way around this was going was fun, because their sleep schedules are equally terrible, if for rather different reasons, and I could easily see it going either way.

Still, I'm happy with how this ended up, even if it's way too early in the morning and I should have been in bed hours ago. There is a decent chance I'm too tired to have proof read this properly, but ah well.

Platonic Sentence Starters

“How many hours have you been awake?”

Scott ignored his brother’s hologram and continued glowering at the paperwork in front of him. It was, as always, late, and the GDF were starting to get on his case about it aggressively enough that he knew it needed to be done sooner rather than later. He’d never admit it out loud, but the Janus Incident had scared him – the man had been right that International Rescue operated at the digression of the GDF, and while they could go vigilante, it would add another element of danger his brothers would be exposed to.

If there was any way to prevent that, then Scott would do it – even if it meant sacrificing a night or two of sleep until he was caught up on all the blasted paperwork they demanded.

No matter what a certain ginger brother had to say on the topic.

“It’s been twenty-three hours since you last rested,” the ginger brother in question continued after a moment. “Nearly forty-six since you last slept. You need to take a break before you write something stupid on that paperwork.”

Really? Scott glanced up to raise an eyebrow at John. Did his brother really think he was tired enough to be making stupid mistakes? Turquoise eyes, tinted a little more blue than they really were by the holographic appearance, challenged him.

Scott elected to ignore the challenge and went back to his work. The sigh John let out was pure exasperation, but Scott was used to ignoring the put-upon airs of little brothers who wanted something they couldn’t or shouldn’t have.

“Scott.” His name was a warning, but up on Thunderbird Five there was very little that John could actually do, short of corrupting the data entirely and forcing Scott to start again. No doubt that plan of action had been considered, but they both knew that Scott would just start from scratch. “I will roll you up in a blanket if you refuse to go to bed.”

That was an unusual threat. More up Virgil’s alley, and Scott glanced around to make sure his dark-haired brother wasn’t lying in wait. Not that he thought he would be – Virgil liked his sleep, and no matter how much of a night owl he was, he’d be safely tucked up in bed for what was left of the night and most of the morning by now – but it never hurt to check. Sure enough, the only two Tracys still awake were the eldest two, and John was far too far away to actually make good on his threat.

Once upon a time, John being awake so late would be a cause for Scott’s own complaints, but the astronaut had always been a night owl, and since living on Thunderbird Five more than Earth had completely lost any sense of an Earth-based sleep schedule. Instead, he worked on a cycle of naps snatched whenever he could grab them, and saved the actual sleep for when he was dirtside. Scott still didn’t like it, but he understood it.

Still, unusual threat or not, John had no way to action it from space, so Scott ignored it and continued working. It was only his second all-nighter in a row, after all.

After a moment, John’s hologram vanished, and Scott assumed his brother had, for the moment, given up. With any luck, maybe he’d even be going for one of his naps himself – the day had been a busy one, and Scott knew he hadn’t been able to nap earlier.

Satisfied that that meant all of his brothers were getting their much-deserved rest, Scott reluctantly delved back into the paperwork to write up the report on the second rescue of the day – a military warehouse fire that had needed three workers evacuated, and too many things not quite adding up for it to be accidental.

He was writing up Virgil’s scathing notes about the lack of fire safety training that had resulted in the trapped workers into something a little more official report appropriate (Virgil was many things, but his idea of a report was not the same as the military’s, and despite his best efforts he hadn’t yet managed to make the shift from his engineering jargon to military) when he heard the first noise.

Raising his head away from where Virgil had written something a little too thinly veiled about budget cuts in the military branch responsible for the warehouse, he blinked.

John was back, but instead of being projected into the centre of the den like usual, he was edging his way along the wooden floor, minding his balance in a way that looked entirely fake compared to the grace he could exhibit in zero-g.

It wasn’t until John stopped and yanked one of the blankets from under a sofa that it registered that his ginger brother wasn’t a hologram this time, but rather real flesh and blood.

“You came down?” It was hardly the smartest thing Scott had ever said, and the judgemental arch of a ginger eyebrow said obviously far more emotively than any spoken word could. “Why?”

That time, John sighed, rolling his eyes – the turquoise a little closer to green in person – and continued his advance towards the desk where Scott was sitting.

Scott made the connection between his earlier words and the blanket too late to stop the fabric being thrown around him, pinning his arms to his sides.

“Bed,” John said firmly.

In theory, it was an easy enough escape – or would be, if John hadn’t leant heavily enough on him that dislodging the blanket would also send his brother overbalancing to the floor. It was a risky move on John’s part, but his brother knew all too well that Scott wouldn’t risk his delicate, fresh-down-from-orbit, body with a fall.

With John so close, however, it was easy to see the dark bags forming under his younger brother’s eyes, clear evidence that his sleep schedule was catching up with him. Scott wasn’t the only one who needed sleep – in fact, if you asked Scott, he’d say that John was the one more in need. Not that John would ever admit it.

Still, Scott could turn this around, and there was no way John hadn’t seen it coming, but then it wouldn’t be the first time one of his brothers had used themselves as bait. Scott was reluctantly aware that, in the right circumstances, he was painfully easy to manipulate.

“I’ll go if you do,” he bargained. The shrug of John’s shoulders told him that, yes, John had seen it coming and had decided it was a fair price to pay.

“Sure,” the ginger said mildly. Scott started to move, but John beat him to it, snaking out an arm and turning off the computer before Scott could sidle it into sleep mode to return to once he’d got his brother to bed.

Damn it.

“You first,” his brother continued, letting out a yawn Scott knew he would have swallowed if he’d wanted to. “C’mon, big brother.” He didn’t physically tug at him, but Scott ended up awkwardly on his feet, still wrapped in the blanket, nonetheless.

“I need to get those reports done,” he pointed out, despite knowing it was a futile argument. There was a high chance that EOS had burrowed her way into the paperwork the moment John had distracted him with his physical presence, and even if she hadn’t, it was clear that John had no intentions of letting him do any more work that night.

“You need sleep,” his brother countered. “Incoherent mumbles won’t endear you any more to the GDF.”

Incoherent-? That was just downright insulting.

John was leading him away from the desk, towards the stairs up to their rooms, and Scott had to remind himself that dragging his heels wouldn’t shake John any faster. In fact, it was more likely to keep him under scrutiny for longer.

His brother’s bedroom was sparsely decorated compared to the rest of them, although the stars detailed on the ceiling – courtesy of Virgil and an entire army of measurements – heavily suggested that it was John’s room. The bookcases overflowing with textbooks and journals, all on various aspects of space or astrophysics far beyond Scott’s comprehension, confirmed it.

A childhood spent sharing a bedroom had long since desensitised the pair of them to the idea of changing in the same room, and while Scott started to attempt to wriggle free from the blanket snarled around his limbs, John stripped off his uniform and pulled on a faded NASA tee and thin shorts – leaving white legs to almost glow in the starlight spilling in through the wall of windows.

“Bed,” John said again, approaching him after depositing his uniform in the corner for later laundry, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”

Not that he was actually going to go to bed when there were reports to be done, but what John didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Thin fingers catching his forearm where the blanket had finally slipped enough to release him and tugging him towards John’s bed was not part of the plan.

“There’s room for both of us,” his too-sneaky brother pointed out, and with a shove that was far stronger than Scott was expecting, forced him to stumble backwards against the bed. “We haven’t had a sleepover in a long time.”

Not in person, at least; John spending most of his nights in space had something to do with that.

The long, slender fingers prodded him until he was forced to lay down, and before he was fully aware what his pesky little brother was up to, the blanket was tangled around him again, with John’s star-themed comforter over the top, and gangly limbs belonging to the brother in question sprawled close enough that John would be disturbed if Scott tried to move.

“Sleep,” John insisted, eyes closed and seemingly entirely too satisfied with the situation. “Night, Scott.”

The astronaut was good at falling asleep anywhere at the drop of a hat. It was a skill honed from his habitation of Thunderbird Five, and Scott had to admit he was somewhat jealous of the ease with which he could do it. Not that Scott couldn’t, of course, but while it had been a necessity in the Air Force, since-

Since leaving the Air Force to take Command of International Rescue, Scott had had too many memories to let him fall asleep quite so effortlessly.

In moments, John was fast asleep, still carefully arranged on and around Scott to keep him in place despite not clinging in any way, and Scott was left staring at ginger hair and tiredly musing how well his genius little brother had played him.

Exhaustion was a lure he couldn’t ignore the song of without anything else to focus on, and John had made sure Scott didn’t have any distractions. The first yawn caught him by surprise, although in hindsight he should have expected it. The second felt like it was trying to split his face in two.

The next thing he knew, sunlight was streaming through the window and John was sitting up against the headboard, reading something on his tablet. Turquoise eyes honed in on him as he shifted, and his brother moved slightly over to the side, leaving room for Scott to drag himself upright and wedge himself in next to him.

“Sleep well?”

The smugness in his brother’s voice was palatable. Scott rolled his eyes.

John knew him entirely too well, and after what had to have been several hours of uninterrupted sleep, Scott couldn’t actually complain.

[campbells-content]

Amphibia Runways au

The calamity box doesn't exist but the stones do, Amphibia doesn't exist but the people from there do and they're mutants.

The trio's parents + the mean redhead's parents are on the search for the pink and blue stones, they already found the green one years ago. They, guided sheriff Andreas, wish to achieve world dominance and go about it in a cult fashion. This group is called Newtopia, pronounced New Topia.

This was typed all at once so mind the errors

Marcy wasn't supposed to come home that early but her switch died so she was just gonna drop it off then meet up with her friends to celebrate Anne's birthday. Unlucky for her Newtopia had an emergency meeting about the blue stone's position right in her kitchen (the reason Anne's party was canceled last minute). She over hears a lot she shouldn't and jumps out a window and goes into a sprint. Her first instinct is the library to maybe something to help her understand and she goes and stumbles upon a book about the stones and how they caused destruction in the past.

A panicked Marcy, putting two and two together as she ran, finds Sasha and Anne. It took nearly an hour for the two to calm her down and once she could finally breathe she kept saying "We need to go" over and over. Anne thought it would be best to talk about this in a controlled environment and took them to a park that already closed at dusk. Marcy and Anne sat on the swings while Sasha leaned against the support beam as Marcy tries to convince them to run away with her so they'll be safe.

Sasha straight up agrees but Anne holds onto hope, not really believing Marcy so they agree to go to Anne's house to question her parents. Anne confronts her parents alone and they confess but then start obsessively preaching about Andreas to the point they terrified Anne til she was backed into a corner.

Anne's parents lock Anne in her room and she grabs her backpack and jumps out the window into Sasha's arms. They stop by Marcy's for cash and Sasha's for a softball bat and a few other things in the middle of the night. They debated taking the stone but they hear Andreas in the other room and take off.

They camp out somewhere for a little but something happens with the cops and they get separated you all know who they find.

Anne with the Plantars, a mutant family that lives in a community in the sewers. They grow their own food at the edge of town. Hop pop is human.

Marcy with the secret mutant couple that lives in a small apartment on the opposite side of town. Olivia is a daycare worker who takes no bs but also appreciates controlled chaos. She has few rules, but breaking one will lead you to regret it. Yunnan is the deputy to Andreas and tries to distance themself from Marcy to protect her but slowly they start to bond over anime type games.

Sasha finds herself stuck in a bear trap, forcing it open by strength alone only to freeze as she feels a blade under her jaw. She's a prisoner for about a week because they thought she killed a missing mutant. After all the drama they offer to let her stay with them amongst the trees. They have their own mini government and it's pretty anti human so she isn't allowed a job or rank but a kind mutant named Percy took her in. Percy just so happens to be a neighbor of Grime, the hmic (head mutant in charge), and every morning he see's Sasha chopping wood or training but he doesn't talk to her until she once again finds a blade to her throat because her roomie is missing. Not wanting to die she helps the find the real perpetrator and save Percy before its too late.

[harrysbbby]

The Rule of Benefit - Part 1

My new series is here! It follows JJ and his friends-with-benefits co-worker Bridget “Jett” Moore. One simple rule: no feelings allowed. 

Words: 3k+

Warning: smut. this is also my first time writing it. so it's probably terrible. so apologies in advance. but otherwise enjoy. 

gif by @rudypankows​

It wasn’t uncommon to see Jett’s nose buried in a book, even at work. Sat behind the large wooden desk, her head only lifted when the phone rang, or someone approached the desk. Working at the Kook Club was easy: good hours, great pay and the opportunity to do whatever she liked during the down times. With all the guests checked in for the night, and everyone seated in the dining room, Jett knew this was the perfect time to finish her extra credit essay.  

JJ was stood in the doorway to the dining room, watching the girl read, captured by her ability to unfalteringly concentrate.  

“Quit slacking, Maybank!” the duty manager called from near the kitchen. JJ quickly collected himself, rushing back through the kitchen doors to get his orders.

It was a few hours later when JJ finally approached your desk.

“Hey pretty girl, soup’s up.”

Jett’s head lifted out of her book to meet his blue eyes. She smiled. Working with JJ made the Kook Club bearable. He was funny, charming and not to mention hot. He would make her laugh by making silly faces through the dining room doors as he walked past or would make her smile by bringing her left over deserts from the kitchen.  

“Oh, hey there pretty boy,” the terms of endearment had resulted from a regular. The small, sweet but very rich middle-aged lady visited the club twice weekly at a minimum. She always called Jett ‘pretty girl’ and JJ ‘pretty boy’. Jett was convinced she was hitting on him, the way she would grip his bicep when ordering at the bar. JJ, on the other hand swore that she was into girls, supported by his observations of how she would linger at the desk when she would check in for a long weekend stay. So, they became a bit of a joke, but then the nicknames stuck. Jett didn’t mind. She quite liked them. “Did you say something about food?”

“Yep,” he smiled, leaning on the top of the desk, “Soup’s up. Literally. Chef made us soup with the leftovers. Want me to grab you some?”

As if on cue the girl’s stomach growled. She hadn’t even noticed the time passing by as engrossed in her book. It had been hours since she’d last eaten.

“Yes please,” she pouted at him, raising her hands in a begging motion. He laughed at her ruffling her brown straight hair. She scoffed, frantically trying to put it back into place so as to not look disheveled at the front desk.

“Coming right up, milady,” JJ curtsied as he walked away. Jett laughed at his actions just as the phone rang. JJ looked back to her over his shoulder. She was speaking animatedly on the phone.  JJ always admired her work ethic. He would never admit it to anyone, but he saw Jett as almost an inspiration- to get out of their lives, out of The Cut. She smiled at him and shooed him towards the kitchen. JJ saluted and disappeared behind the doors.

He retuned moments later, two bowls of soup and a plate of bread perfect balanced on his experienced hands. Jett was typing away on the computer, when she saw him approach. She quickly moved her textbooks out of the way, allowing JJ to place the food in front of her.

“We busy?” he motioned towards the screen where she had just been typing furiously.

“Yep, major group booking. We’re employed for the foreseeable future,” she grabbed the spoon he had collected for her, diving immediately into the soup. She hummed in delight, “It may be scraps but damn Chef really knows how to make them taste good.”

JJ hummed in agreement, a soup doused piece of bread filling his mouth. After swallowing most of it he started to speak.

“What’s for?” he grumbled out over his mouthful of food, pointing to the book that had been thrown aside for their lower-class feast. Jett laughed at the way JJ had asked her, covering his mouth as if it made him anymore polite.

“AP History,” she responded, “extra credit work.”

“Wow must be nice to be smart,” JJ joked, mouth now clear of food. Jett smiled softly.

“Quite boring, actually,” her voice was a lot less excitable as it usually was. JJ had noticed her change in demeanor of the past few weeks, “even worse when you’re poor and need it to get into a good school.”

“Amen,” JJ chimed, shoving another unnecessarily large piece of bread into his mouth. Jett grabbed an acceptably sized piece, dipping it into her soup. JJ rid his mouth of food completely this time before asking her, “are you okay? You’ve seemed a little off lately.”

So, he had noticed, Jett thought. She sighed placing her spoon against the side of her bowl.

“My, uh... my boyfriend broke up with me two weeks ago,” she said sadly. She noticed JJ’s concerned expression, “it was kind of mutual, I guess. He moved to the mainland. I guess I’m just kind of lonely.”

JJ nodded at her explanation, surveying the melancholy look on her face.  He had always found her hot but had never made a move because of said boyfriend. An idea sprung to mind.  

“My friends and I are having a party on Saturday. You should come, escape your studying for one night.”

Jett peered up at the boy’s pleading expression. Her internal war was overpowered by his puppy-dog eyes and pouty lips.

“Fine,” she relented, causing JJ to throw his arms up in the air, “it better be a good party, pretty boy.”

“They always are.”

***

JJ was right. Pogue boneyard parties were fun. Jett used to come with her ex-boyfriend every now and then. They would scrounge up some free booze, get a couple hits from some random’s blunt and blindly walk back to her house and have the most amazing, hazy sex.  

Jett adjusted her shoulders, shaking the thought from her mind. She couldn’t be hanging onto the nothing he had left her with. She would have to move on and forwards, no matter how hard it was.

“Jett!”

She turned to see JJ by the keg, arms waving enthusiastically in the air. She headed over to him allowing him to pass her a cup filled with cheap beer.

“Hey, how was your shift today?” Jett asked him, bringing the cup all the way to her lips, taking a long sip, peering over the rim at the boy. He licked his lips, watching as her chocolate brown eyes stared at him. He cleared his throat quickly.

“You know, the usual. People being dicks, dicks being people.”

She threw head back emitting melodical laughter from her lips.  JJ’s mouth turned upward into a smile. She brought the cup up to her lips once again, still giggling.

“That’s very accurate of our clientele,” she said eyeing his smile, taking another large sip from her cup. Her drink was nearly gone already, the liquid heating her insides.  

She didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the fact she was a horny and recently single, but JJ looked different. She had never noticed how blue his eyes were, or how deep the dimple in his right cheek ran or how the curve of his bicep was so prominent. She quickly took another sip, finishing up her cup.

“Refill?”

Since she didn’t know anyone, JJ took the liberty of introducing her to his friends as they sat around one of the small bonfires, some of “JJ’s cousin’s good shit” being passed between them. At least that’s what Kiara had said. Jett knew of Kiara but had never properly met her before. She was of course familiar with her family’s business. Kiara spoke passionately about the harms of single use plastic as she passed the blunt to Pope. He was someone she already knew. He was in most of her classes, also vying for a scholarship like her’s. He bypassed the blunt, passing it to Jett. She took a long hit, before passing it to JJ, who was explaining to Kiara and Pope how he and Jett worked together at the country club. He passed the blunt to Sarah. Sarah was someone Jett knew. Her family’s presence at the club was a hyperbole. It usually meant a decent tip to be shared among the staff, and the few conversations she had had with Sarah were pleasant, but her brother was a different story.  

“Oh, yeah I thought you looked familiar!” Sarah exclaimed, coughing slightly as she passed the blunt to her boyfriend, who’s lap she sat on.  

John B took a hit before passing it back to Kiara, who was still chatting to JJ. Jett watched as John B grabbed Sarah’s head turning it towards him. She smiled seductively as he pulled his lips forward to meet his, smoke transpiring between the two of them. Jett cleared her throat abruptly.

“I need another drink,” she announced, leaving the group of friends to make her way back to the keg. As the liquid pour into her cup, she saw and arm lean against the keg, essentially trapping her between whoever it was and the metal. She knew exactly who it was.

“Rafe,” Jett said dryly, bringing her cup up to her lips and taking a swig as she turned to face up at the boy.

“Bridget, right?” he asked, leaning down to be at eye level with her. This brought their chests closer together, causing Jett to lean back, placing her hand which held her cup up against the boy. “I heard you’re back on the market.”

He winked. It caused a frown to spread over her face, rolling her eyes as she pushed past him.  

“I’m not for sale,” she heard one of the other Kook boys (Kelce maybe? She had seen him in the club a few times) whistle boyishly before bursting into hysterical laughter in Rafe’s face. Ignoring their antics, she made her way to a log further away, facing out at the ocean.

She stared out at the water, watching the waves tumble over and over. She reminded herself she needed to move on. She needed to be like the waves, take on the tumble, pick herself back up and get ready for the next. Jett was brought out of her thoughts when the sounds of skin flying across skin. She turned to see a tall, tanned skinny girl stomping away from JJ who cupped his hand over his cheek. Jett couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips, which caught the boy’s attention. He walked over to her, taking the spot next to her, rubbing his redden cheek gently.  

“What was that?” Jett asked amused. JJ huffed,

“Tourons. Apparently, I got with the wrong one and now I’m out of bounds with just about all of them.” Jett let out a puff of laughter at his dejectedness, before they lulled into a relatively comfortable silence. But JJ sensed something was up.

“Why’d you run off before?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” dismissed Jett, keeping her eyes trained on the ocean, eager to avoid JJ’s gaze.

“Yes, you do,” he countered, shift his body to face her. “Back there with John B and Sarah. Are you jealous?”

“Maybe,” Jett spoke quickly, now staring down at her cup. Was she really about to pour her heart out to JJ Maybank, her coworker? It was almost as if the alcohol itself whispered ‘yes’ to her as her mouth projectiled words without her control, “I don’t know. I miss having that; someone to turn to constantly. To touch you. Do things with. I guess I’ve just got an itch I can’t scratch.”

JJ remained silent, eyes scraping her body. They mainly focused between her hands and her lips, detailing every move she made as she spoke.

“That was too much information wasn’t it?” She threw her head back in frustration.

“That’s exactly what the right amount I needed to hear.”

Her brows pulled together in confusion, turning to face the boy for the first time. His eyes held a deep hunger and she could practically feel the heat radiating off him. She swallowed the lump of nervousness in her throat as he continued.

“You clearly have a problem no one else can fix. And I clearly have been exiled from Touron one-night stands. So, I propose a solution,” JJ stood up, hands gesturing enthusiastically as he spoke. “You and me. Sex. No strings attached.”

“What?” Jett asked incredulously.  

“It’s perfect! We both get what we want.”

She mulled over his words silently. She had to admit it would be convenient. She would finally solve her loneliness and would avoid the feelings that hurt her before.

“So, we’d be friends with benefits?” she asked, standing up, placing her hands delicately on his forearms, tracing back and forth. JJ smirked.

“Yeah, reckon you could handle it?” he asked queitly, leaning closer to her. Jett, flicked her hait back over her shoulder, looking up at the boy, hands still flowing softly across his skin.

“We need to lay some ground rules.”

“Absolutely,” JJ agreed. “This is not exclusive.”

“Done,” Jett settled. “No sex at work,” JJ went to object but, she brought a finger to his lips. “I need that job, pretty boy.”

He finger remained on his lips, causing his eyes to grow darker. He nodded in agreement.

“And finally, the most important rule of benefit: no feelings allowed.”

“Deal,” JJ whispered, pulling her hand away from his lips and pulling her in for a kiss. Jett dropped her cup half-filled with alcohol to the ground, wrapping her arms around his neck. She moaned into his mouth.

“Do you wanna--” JJ motioned over his shoulder.

“Yep,” Jett answered quickly allowing him to lead her away from the party.

They stumbled into the Chateau, leaving sloppy kisses along each other’s necks. JJ lead her into the spare room, shutting the door and pressing her up against in. Jett threw her head back against the wood, allowing JJ to explore her neck, sucking on the soft skin. She tugged on his hair, letting out a throaty moan. Keeping her hand his hair, she used it to spin them around, pinning JJ to the door. His eyes widen in surprised, then anticipation as she slipped to the floor in front of him.  She grabbed his belt undoing his pants quickly. Above her she could hear JJ’s breathing quicken as she pulled down his pants and underwear.

“Calm down pretty boy, gonna take good care of you.”

And with that she took his dick into her hand, pumping a few times before licking form the base to the tip. The moan that left JJ’s mouth was animalistic. His hands immediately flew to Jett’s hair, entangling themselves into it, pulling her closer towards him. Her head bobbed quickly, causing more grunts to escape from his lips. Jett could feel spit running down her chin as JJ pushed himself further into her mouth.

“Fuck, Jett. When did you get so good at this?” he asked, the sound of his head lightly thudding against the door as he screwed his eyes shut. She smiled sultrily, releasing him from her mouth, pumping his length as she looked up at him.

“Always have been. You’ve just been missing out.”

With a growl he picked her up by the sides, carrying her to the bed, flinging her across the sheets. He made quick work of ridding her of her shirt and bra. His mouth attached to one boob, his hands massaging the other.  Jett’s breathing quickened as she held his head to her, hips bucking up desperately. She whimpered needingly, craving his touch. He detached his lips, kissing slowly up her neck.  

“Patience pretty girl,” he whispered quietly. The hand that had been flicking at her nipple slid down her body and into the waistline of her shorts. He began to rub small circles over her clit. Jett let out a loud moan, hands instinctively coming over her mouth. With his free hand JJ grabbed her hands, placing them above her head. “Wanna be able to hear you.”

This caused an even louder moan to escape her lips, as JJ moved her panties to the side, easily slipping one finger in. Jett felt euphoric. JJ was already pleasing her better than her ex-boyfriend, and he had barely begun. She thought she could get used to their arrangement. He added another finger and began to pump faster. In contrast, he placed sweet kisses along her jaw, liking the feeling of her moans vibrating along his lips.  

“JJ, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna... ugh!” her eyes were screwed shut as her mouth was opened in a silent cry. JJ smiled against her skin, before retracting his hand. Jett’s body relaxed as he placed a kiss on her lips. He stood up ridding himself of his shirt and other items of clothing and she did the same.

She scooted back on the bed as a now naked JJ crawled on top of her, ripping open the condom wrapper with his teeth. He placed it over himself, lining himself up. He leant down next to Jett’s face.

“Ready to do this?” he asked her. She placed her hands on his shoulders and nodded.

“As I'll ever be.”

JJ pushed himself inside of her, their moans mixing in the hot, sticky air. He waited a moment before picking up his pace. Jett’s legs wrapped around his waist as she let out breathy groans. Her nails scrapped down his back, causing him to moan into her neck.

“Shit,” he cursed, his motions keeping a steady pace. He snuck a hand in between them to rub her clit.

“Oh my God, JJ,” she cried. She pulled one leg from around his body, slowly bringing it up to place it over his shoulder. JJ hesitated for a moment but seeing the look of sheer pleasure on Jett’s face, continued. The new angle elicited even more cried from her lips, her nails raking along his chest. JJ grunted, highly turned on by the girl beneath him. He wasn’t going to last much longer, and neither was she. His fingers worked quickly on her clit as his hips continued to meet hers. They yelled each other’s name in unison as they met their highs, JJ completing with a few final strokes.  

He pulled out, disposing of the condom before collapsing next to her. They were both sweaty messes, puffing heavily. Jett let out a breathy laugh, wiping the hair which was stuck to her forehead with the back of her hand. JJ pulled the covers out from underneath him, allowing Jett to crawl under with him. They laid next to each other, staring up at the ceiling still catching their breath.

“That was--” Jett started breathlessly.

“Yeah” JJ agreed.

She could get used to this.  

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[rebel-pogue]

Campfires and Blue Eyes

JJ Maybank x Reader

request: yes. @ampanonyg : Write what going camping with JJ would be like

warnings: swearing, innuendos, kissing, fluff galoreeee

summary: You and JJ finally go on your first camping trip together, but something seems amiss...

a/n: I hope you guys enjoy this! My very first JJ and OBX imagine!! It ended up longer than I had originally planned but the more JJ the better, right? Requests are open if you would like more, I also have some ideas as well!!

(Y/n)- your name

(Y/n/n)- your nickname

(Y/h/t)- your hair texture

wc: 1,437

gif by @rudypankows​

Your eyes scanned the contents of your trunk, trying to figure out why you had such a bad feeling. As your focus was taken from everything else, arms wrapping around your abdomen startled you, and you let out a loud gasp. 

“Fuck, JJ! Don’t scare me like that!” You laughed, lightly smacking the blonde’s muscular arms that still held you firmly. 

JJ smirked, resting his chin on your shoulder, the contact causing soft tingles to shoot through your body, “Y/N, how much longer do I have to wait before we can just go? I haven’t been camping in years, man! Don’t get me all excited to just waste the night away eye-banging your car.”

His crude way with words used to bother you, but the more time you spent with the blue-eyed hottie, the more you came to love his easy-going personality. 

“I just feel like we’re forgetting something, and I cannot for the life of me figure out what it is...” You rested your hands on top of JJ’s, leaning your head against his own. You tried to stay focused on anything, but the more you touched JJ, the more you couldn’t stop thinking about him, and nothing more. 

Unfortunately, JJ released and separated you two, causing a slight feeling of disappointment within, “Ehhh, we’ll be fine! We’ve both been camping; we know what we’re doing!” He grinned at you and your worries escaped you quickly. 

You reached your hand up to touch JJ’s cheek, pulling his face towards yours. Your lips met quickly, seeming to move in harmony. It was obviously not your first time kissing him, but every time had a new type of electricity with it, making it seem brand new.

JJ hummed against your lips, causing the butterflies in your stomach to flutter, “Now, now...” he whispered, leaning his forehead against your own as the two of you caught your breaths, “we have to save something for later tonight.”

You shoved him off of you, your cheeks a bright crimson, “Keep it in your pants, Maybank. We still have a good drive ahead of us.” You hurried to your car, not wanting to amuse JJ anymore with your embarrassment. You knew he loved to make you blush.

~~~

“Gah! How much longer do we have?!” JJ complained from the passenger seat of your car. You couldn’t help but chuckle at how child-like he could be at times. You were quite grateful for him, you knew he was struggling to stay awake with you the entire drive, and just wanted to arrive at the destination. 

“You know, the more you ask, the slower I will go.” You gave him a side glance, smirking at his wide eyes. You weren’t going to mention you were merely 10 minutes from the campsite, you enjoyed watching him squirm as much as he did. 

JJ’s hands slapped his face quickly, attempting to keep himself as alert as he could, “Alrighty then, let’s play another game!” 

Holding back a groan, you ran a hand through your (y/h/t) hair, throwing it to the other side of your head. If you could remember correctly, you had played about four different car games since you started your little impromptu road trip. Again, you were very thankful and knew part of his ideas were just to make sure you stayed awake during the drive since he knew there was no convincing you to take turns. 

“Listen trouble,” he drawled, placing his hand softly on your bare thigh. It was like he was making claim with the nickname he loved to call you after all of your adventures together, as well as holding you to him physically. It never bothered you to be touched by JJ; however, the warmth that spread throughout you when you guys did make contact could be unbearable, especially when trapped driving, and not able to do anything about your longings to be held more. “If you could just get us to the campsite already, we wouldn’t have to play these lame games.” 

If there was one thing JJ was better at than making you go crazy, was understanding you and what you thought way too well. He could always tell when you were uncomfortable, tired, angry, happy... being turned on was one he NEVER missed. 

You shot him a warm smile, but turned your eyes back to the road as he gave your thigh a slight squeeze, “Hold yourself together, (y/n)...” you whispered under your breath.

“What was that, babe?” JJ leaned closer to you, already fully knowing what you had said, and enjoying toying with you now. This was forever his favorite game. 

“I said, we made it!” You were successful in distracting him, his head shot forward and took in the sprawl of trees that surrounded them, and the large ‘Onondaga Campsite’ sign that lead you to a dirt road. 

After checking in with the workers, you quickly made your way to your little campsite, that you made sure was separated more from the others, it was off in a little corner, surrounded almost entirely by large trees whereas the other sites were mostly open. 

You pulled into the designated parking spot and grinned. You hadn’t been camping in years as well, but just being here brought back so many great memories, you were already dreading having to return. 

You and JJ simultaneously through your seatbelts off and clambered out of the car. Once your feet hit ground, the reality of the long drive hit your limbs quickly. Stretching your legs out to relieve some stiffness your eyes drifted to JJ. He had a wide smile on, his dimples shining on his face. He was stretching his arms above his head, lifting his navy-blue cut-off shirt to expose a part of his abdomen. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the small glance at his toned muscles underneath, even as JJ’s eyes found you as well. 

“Ma’am, while I do enjoy being oogled at by you, we have a lot of setting up to do before we can get to the clothes removal part of the night.” He smirked, tilting his head slightly to the side as your cheeks inflamed quickly. 

You recovered as fast as you could, letting out a small chuckle, “’Ogled’, is what you’re trying to say. And I don’t think the river will be warm enough for us to go swimming tonight, baby.” You held in a chuckle as he narrowed his eyes at your sly words. You both knew how to get under each other’s skin, and boy was it rewarding. 

You spent the next hour setting up your camp site, fighting the tent to set it up, realizing too late you forgot to put a tarp down first, losing it watching JJ entangle himself in the tent while you spread the tarp underneath it. Finally, once everything was together, the sun began to set. 

You lit the campfire and a couple of the citronella candles you had brought before it got too late. JJ lounged lazily in one of the folding chairs you had brought, and you settled right on top of his laugh, finally being able to be held by him and not have to worry about anything else. 

“Y’know,” JJ began, twirling his fingers in the ends of your hair, “As much as I love watching the sunsets, this is real nice too...” He finished what he was saying with a whisper, and began planting soft kisses along your neck. 

Instinctively leaning into the kisses, you nodded your head, closing your eyes and taking in all of the senses that were exploding within you. That’s when it hit you. 

“Oh my god!” You sat up quickly, eyes wide with regret. 

JJ furrowed his brows in confusion, watching you carefully, “What’s wrong?”

You turned to him, a slight blush creeping its way to your cheeks, “JJ, we didn’t bring the sleeping bags!” 

To your surprise, JJ shrugged, not caring about the missing items in the slightest.

“I’m fine with that, just means we will definitely have to keep each other warm with body heat.” 

Before you could react, JJ swooped you up into his arms, planting kisses on your neck, and jaw, and finally your lips. You held on tightly, your hands finding their way to the curls that rested at the back of his head. 

JJ carried you swiftly to the tent, not bothering about anything else in the world other than you in that moment. Your focus was fully on the gorgeous blonde hovering over you, who didn’t allow either of you to sleep very well that night. 

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Hi there! I love your works so much, can I request yandere style lost boy headcannons? I mean i know they are pretty much into slowly getting what they want eventually but what if that was upped?

“Hey I just wanted to stop by to say I came across your blog on another i love the way you write the boys so much it made me watch the movie I was wondering if I could request something with them how they would be in a yandere situation?” -Anon

So, I got two asks for a yandere situation, but I feel like they’re asking for different things. The first one seems to be what if the boys were the yanderes, and the second is what if their s/o is the yandere. Since my serial killer au is basically a yandere s/o situation, I’m gonna focus on the boys being the yanderes. Hope you enjoy!!

Poly!Lost Boys x Yandere Situations

They pretty much already are yanderes. The minute they notice you, they begin watching you from afar. Even if you’re not technically theirs yet, they still feel a possessiveness over you. You’re their mate, and no one else is allowed to have you

They hide it well. Behind their smiles and their teasing, you would have no idea the things they do each night. Paul teases you and flirts with you, and Marko is constantly giving you affection. David will give you smiles and soothing words, and Dwayne stands like a silent, gentle statue besides you

David followed you everywhere. With or without the boys. On the nights you hadn’t gone to the boardwalk, he’d tracked down your scent. He wanted to make sure you were safe, and that you weren’t with anyone else. If you were, he’d drop from the sky the minute you left. It didn’t matter who they were. No one was allowed to have your attention, and no one was allowed to keep you from coming to the boardwalk. You’d told him once how your friends kept disappearing, or how they would change rather suddenly. He’d given you a small frown and brushed your hair from your face, commenting on how odd that was. He, then, gave you a charming smile and said, “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.” He told you, and it had given you a small wave of relief. You could tell that he meant it, but you didn’t know how much. He offered to pick you up from work if you were nervous that something weird was going on in Santa Carla, just so someone could walk with you to where the other boys were from the shop on the boardwalk, and you’d been too grateful to deny it. He picked you up from work every night (always late shifts at a local tourist trap), and you couldn’t remember when you’d told him where it was. You couldn’t remember when you told him a lot of things. But you always pushed it off as your own forgetfulness. Cause how else would he know your favorite color (the same color as the walls in your room) or that you liked to collect cassettes. If you ever asked him how he knew something, he’d always furrow his brows in confusion and say, “You told me? Last week, remember?” And suddenly you would. Just a fragment of an image, but it was there. Like it had always been. You also hadn’t remembered leaving one of your scarves at the cave. When you’d found it, David had assured you, just like all those other times, that you’d simply forgot about it. You didn’t know that he’d knicked it from your room.

Marko always seemed to pop up around you wherever you were. Of course, that was only at night so it wasn’t that noticeable. It was just coincidence, right? He popped up at your work, and he seemed pleasantly surprised when he saw that you worked there. He’d chatted a bit, bought what he needed, and then promised to see you later. Your co-workers had giggled and asked who he was, and you’d told them, “Oh, that’s just Marko.” You’d waved it off, but Marko started dropping by more and more. You’d see him at work, when you went out to get take-out, when you went to the store or the laundromat. It was always obvious that it was just a coincidence, or at least he made it seem so. You didn’t know that he’d learned your schedule and your habits, and he knew just how to make it seem like every meeting outside the boardwalk was a simple, happy accident. He’d joked once about it being fate that the two of you seemed to bump into eachother so much, and he’d seemed more than pleased when you jokingly agreed. After that, he became far more touchy. Small brushes of his hand against yours became him holding it. Short hugs became an arm around your shoulders or waist. Once, when you’d been talking at the laundromat, you hadn’t realized he’d been practically boxing you against the washing machines until you went to take a step back. He always joked that maybe you were meant to be. You had so much in common. Same favorite places to eat, same music taste, and you even went to the same laundromat. You had to brush it off, because he couldn’t be serious. Could he?

Once, Paul told you that he had missed you, even though you’d seen him just the night before. It had been something he’d said in passing right as you came up to them, and he’d pulled you into a tight hug. You’d laughed it off and given Marko a hug right afterwards, and you hadn’t noticed the way Pauls eyes lingered on you. He hadn’t just missed you. He’d been devastated when you’d left early the night before, and he’d been holding your hand when you said you had to leave that night. His hand has subconsciously tightened, almost enough to hurt. But, he’d covered it with a smile and an offer to drive you home. You’d rolled your eyes, reminding him that you drove to the boardwalk. He’d teased you right back, saying, “What, don’t want me to know where you live?” And you’d laughed as you gave him a small push. It didn’t matter anyways. He already knew. He started offering more and more, however. He wanted to hang out with you alone, and you started to suspect that perhaps he had a crush on you. You wouldn’t be surprised. He flirted with you constantly. One time, when he’d brought you back to the cave, he’d made it clear that he didn’t want you to leave. “Oh, c’mon! It’s not that late.” You had rolled your eyes and told him you were tired, and he’d smiled his laid-back smile. “Stay for just a little longer, please? We never get to hang out with you!” That was a lie. You hung out with them every night, even after your shifts. “C’mon, stay. For me?” He had begged like that for another few minutes, and finally you had agreed to stay for another hour or so. You didn’t want to be so tired that you couldn’t go home, and Paul had offered, once again, to drive you. That way, you could stay until four in the morning. If you wanted to, that is.

Dwayne was always quiet around you, but his small smiles and intense gaze was almost too much sometimes. You had started receiving letters a few weeks after you met the boys. You didn’t know who they were from, and you never would have guessed they’d be from the brunette. He was always so quiet. He seemed to clam up whenever you were near them, but really you had no idea that he was just doing his best to keep his feelings to himself. You made him nervous, paranoid. He was worried he was going to scare you off, so he sent you letters instead. They were the only way he could get his feelings out, and, at first, he’d obsessed over whether or not you would guess that he was the one who was sending them. But you didn’t. He would watch you take it out of your mailbox, and he saw how you’d smile whenever you saw the familiar envelope and seal. He didn’t have a proper way to wax seal it, but he thought it was far more romantic. He saw how you seemed a little happier whenever you got his letters, and he’d once heard one of your co-workers, another young girl, tease you for having a secret admirer. He’d frowned when another one of them had said it was a little creepy. He and David had shared a look, and it was decided that they wouldn’t last long. Finally, one day, you told them about it. Dwayne was positive that if his heart could still beat that it’d be hammering in his chest. But you had no idea who was sending them to you. He tried to make it a little more obvious, just subtly. Leave little hints and clues, but nothing that would tip you off too much. Finally, you’d asked him about the letters one time. You’d asked about how your last letter had a line from one of his favorite books, and he’d hummed. He’d confirmed that was true, and then he’d watched you flip through the pages of it. Finding the line itself. He gulped. The line was underlined, and he quickly looked away before you could look back at him.

It had taken you awhile to confront them about it. You couldn’t be sure, but you thought that perhaps they all liked you. When you’d subtly asked them one night if any of them would date you, under the guise of a conversation about how no guys seemed to want to talk to you anymore, they had all been painfully obvious. Well, now that you knew what to look for. Paul had fidgeted, but he’d quickly hid it under one of his smiles. He was quick to say, “Why, you offering?” It was clearly teasing, and you rolled your eyes. Marko had leaned his head on your shoulder, murmuring something about how, “I mean, that wouldn’t be too terrible.” With a mischievous grin on his face. David had blown smoke out from his smiling lips. “You’re always with us anyways. We practically are already dating.” He’d commented, and Dwayne had barely looked up from his book. He said a small, “Yes.” And that was it. You’d hummed, and told them, “Thank you.” And you had barely waited a beat before Paul had cracked. He wasn’t subtle at all when he asked, “Would you date any of us?” And you had to keep your smile to yourself. You didn’t know how obsessed any of them were, or how possessive they had become. You thought they had a simple crush, so you’d flipped the page in your book and said, “I guess.” 

[dwellordream]

“...Because if we want to ask “What was life as a woman like in Sparta?” we really need to ask “What was life like as a helot woman?” because they represent c. 85% of all of our women and c. 42.5% of all of our humans. And I want to stress the importance of this question, because there are more helot women in Sparta than there are free humans in Sparta (as from last time, around 15% of Sparta is free – men and women both included – but 42.5% of Sparta consists of enslaved helot women). If we want to say absolutely anything about the condition of life in Sparta, we simply cannot ignore such a large group of human beings living in Sparta.

...The primary economic occupation of helot women was probably in food preparation and textile production. And if I know my students, I know that the moment I start talking about the economic role of women in ancient households, a very specific half of the class dozes off. Wake Up. There is an awful tendency to see this ‘women’s work’ as somehow lesser or optional. These tasks I just listed are not economically marginal, they are not unimportant. Yes, our ancient sources devalue them, but we should not.

First: let’s be clear – women in ancient households (or early modern households, or modern households) were not idle. They had important jobs every bit as important as the farming, which had to get done for the family to survive. I’ve estimated elsewhere that it probably takes a minimum of something like 2,220 hours per year to produce the minimum necessary textile goods for a household of five (that’s 42 hours a week spinning and weaving, every week). Most of that time is spent spinning raw fibers (either plant fibers from flax to make linen, or animal fibers from sheep to make wool). The next step after that is weaving those threads into fabric. Both weaving and spinning are slow, careful and painstaking exercises.

Food preparation is similarly essential, as you might imagine. As late as 1900, food preparation and cleanup consumed some 44 hours per week on average in American households, plus another 14 hours dedicated to laundry and cleaning (Lebergott, Pursuing Happiness (1993)). So even without child rearing – and ask any parent, there is a TON of work in that – a small peasant household (again, five members) is going to require something like 100 hours per week of ‘woman’s work’ merely to sustain itself.

Now, in a normal peasant household, that work will get split up between the women of the house at all ages. Girls will typically learn to spin and weave at very young ages, at first helping out with the simpler tasks before becoming fully proficient (but of course, now add ‘training time’ as a job requirement for their mothers). But at the same time (see Erdkamp, The Grain Market in the Roman Empire (2005) on this) women often also had to engage in agricultural labor during peak demand – sowing, harvesting, etc. That’s a lot of work to go around. Remember, we’re positing a roughly 5 individual household, so those 100 hours may well be split between only two people (one of whom may be either quite old or quite young and thus not as productive).

...Let’s start textiles. Spartiate women do not engage in textile manufacture (Xen. Lac. 1.4) as noted previously, nor do they seem (though the evidence here is weaker) to engage in food preparation. In the syssitia, at least, the meals are cooked and catered by helot slaves (Plut. Lyc. 12.5, 12.7). In the former case, we are told explicitly by Xenophon that it is slave labor (he uses the word doule, “female slave,” which clearly here must mean helot women) which does this.

So helot women now have an additional demand on their time and energy: not only the 2,200 hours for clothing their own household, but even more clothing the spartiate household they are forced to serve. If we want to throw numbers at this, we might idly suppose something like five helot households serving one spartiate household, suggesting something like a 20% increase in the amount of textile work. We are not told, but it seems a safe bet that they were also forced to serve as ‘domestics’ in spartiate households. That’s actually a fairly heavy and onerous imposition of additional labor on these helot women who already have their hands full.

We also know – as discussed last time – that helot households were forced to turn over a significant portion of their produce, perhaps as high as half. I won’t drag you all through the details now – I love agricultural modeling precisely because it lets us peak into the lives of folks who don’t make it into our sources – but I know of no model of ancient agriculture which can tolerate that kind of extraction without bad consequences. And I hear the retort already coming: well, of course it couldn’t have been that bad, because there were still helots, right? Not quite, because that’s not how poor farming populations work. It can be very bad and still leave you with a stable – but miserable – population.

Let’s talk about seasonal mortality. As the primary food-preparers in the helot household, helot women are going to have the job of managing a constrained but variable flow of food through an extended family that may include their husband, children, older relatives, etc. Given the low productivity of ancient farming, this is a tricky operation in systems where rents are extracting 10% or 20% of the farming yield every year, but given the demands of supporting an entirely unproductive class of elites, it becomes even harder. The key task here is stretching one harvest through the next planting to the next harvest, every year. That means carefully measuring out the food consumption of the household against the available reserves, making sure there is enough to last over the winter. If too much food is extracted by the elites, or the harvest fails or (likely) some combination, the family will run into shortage.

Now, the clever helot woman knows this – peasants, male and female, are canny survivors, not idiots, and they plan for these things (seriously, far too many of my students seem to instinctively fall into the trap of assuming serfs, peasants, etc. are idiots who don’t know what they are doing. These people have survived for generations with very few resources, often in situations of significant volatility and violence; they’re not stupid, they’re poor, and there is a difference!) – so she will have strategies to stretch out that food to try to keep herself and her family alive.

But that in turn often means inflicting a degree of malnutrition on the family unit, in order to avoid outright starvation – stretching the food out. It also probably means a lot of related strategies too: keeping up horizontal ties with other farming households so that there is someone to help you out in a shortage, for instance. Canny survivors. That said – especially in a situation where shortages hit everyone at once – a shortfall in food is often unavoidable.

But, we need to note two things here: first: humans of different ages and conditions react to malnutrition differently. Robust adults can tolerate and recover from periods of malnutrition relatively easily. For pregnant women, malnutrition increases all sorts of bad complications which will probably kill the child and may kill the mother. For the elderly and very young children, malnutrition dramatically increases mortality (read: lots of dead children and grandparents), as compromised immune systems (weakened by malnutrition) lead to diseases that the less robust old and young cannot fight off.

Second – and this is the sad and brutal part – feeding the agricultural workers, meaning the adult males (and to a lesser extent, adult females), has to come first, because they need to make it to the planting with sufficient strength to manage the backbreaking labor of the next crop. If it’s a choice between the survival of the family unit, and taking a chance that you lose Tiny Tim, our helot mother knows she has to risk Tiny Tim.

So in a good year, there is food enough for the entire household. Families expand, children grow up, the elderly part of the family makes it through another winter, imparting wisdom and comfort. But the bad years carry off the very young and the very old (and the as-yet unborn). For children who make it out of infancy, a series of bad years in early childhood – quite a common thing – are likely to leave them physically stunted. It was very likely that most helots were actually physically smaller and weaker than their better nourished spartiate masters for this reason (this is a pattern visible archaeologically over a wide range of pre-modern societies).

The population doesn’t contract, because the mortality isn’t hitting adults of child-bearing age nearly as hard, meaning that in future good years, there will be new children. In fact, societies stuck in this sad equilibrium tend to ‘bounce back’ demographically fairly quickly, because massive external mortality (say from war or plague) frees up land and agricultural surplus which leads to better nutrition which leads to less infant mortality which leads to rapid recovery.

...And so helot women must have spent a lot of time worrying about food scarcity, worrying if their sick and malnourished children or parents would make it through winter. Grieving for the lost child, the lost pregnancy, the parent taken too quickly. Probably all while being forced to do domestic labor for the spartiates, who were both the cause of her misery and at the same time did no labor at all themselves and yet were better fed than her family would ever be. Because peasant labor of any kind is so precariously balanced, we can really say that every garment woven for the spartiates, every bushel turned over, represented in some real sense an increase in that grief. Subsistence farming is always hard – but the Spartan system seems tailor made to push these subsistence farmers deeper and deeper into misery.

The instances of brutality against the helots – the murders and humiliations – which our sources preserve are directed at helot men, but it seems an unavoidable assumption that helot women were also treated poorly. Spartiate women were, after all, products of the same society which trained young men to ambush and murder helot men at night for no reason at all – it strikes me as an enormous and unsubstantiated leap to assume they were, for some reason, kind to their own female domestic servants.

In fact, the one thing we do know about spartiates – men and women alike – is that they seem to have held all manual laborers in contempt, regarding farming, weaving and crafting as tasks unbefitting of free people. I keep returning to it, but I want to again mention the spartiate woman who attempts to shame an Ionian woman because the latter is good at weaving, which in the mind of the spartiate, was labor unbecoming of a free person (Plut. Mor. 241d, note Xen. Lac. 1.4). The same attitude comes out of a spartiate man who, on seeing an Athenian convicted for idleness in court, praised the man, saying he had only been convicted of being free (Plut. Mor. 221c). This is a society that actively despises anyone who has to work for a living – even free people. Why wouldn’t that extend to its treatment of helot women?

To this, of course, we must add now the krypteia and incidents like the 2,000 murdered helots recounted by Thucydides (Thuc. 4.80). While the murdered are men, we need to also think of the survivors: the widowed wives, orphaned daughters, grieving mothers. This must have been part of the pattern of life for helot women as well – the husband or brother or cousin or father or son who went out to the fields one day and didn’t come back. The beautiful boy who was too beautiful and was thus murdered by the spartiates because – as we are told – they expressly targeted the fittest seeming helots in an effort at reverse-eugenics (Plut. Lyc. 28.3).

Finally, we need to talk about the rape. We are not told that spartiate men rape helot women, but it takes wilful ignorance to deny that this happened. First of all, this is a society which sends armed men at night into the unarmed and defenseless countryside (Hdt. 4.146.2; Plut. Lyc. 28.2; Plato, Laws 633). These young men were almost certainly under the normal age of marriage and even if they weren’t, their sexual access to their actual spouse was restricted.

Moreover (as we’ll see in a moment) there were clearly no rules against the sexual exploitation of helot women, just like there were no laws of any kind against the murder of helot men. To believe that these young men – under no direction, constrained by no military law, facing no social censure – did not engage in sexual violence requires disbelieving functionally the entire body of evidence about sexual violence in combat zones from all of human history. Anthropologically speaking, we can be absolutely sure this happened and we can be quite confident (and ought to be more than quite horrified) that it happened frequently.

But we don’t need to guess or rely on comparative evidence, because this rape was happening frequently enough that it produced an identifiable social class. The one secure passage we have to this effect is from Xenophon, who notes that the Spartan army marching to war included a group he calls the nothoi – the bastards (Xen. Hell. 5.3.9). The phrase typically means – and here clearly means – boys born to slave mothers. There is a strong reason to believe that these are the same as the mothakes or mothones which begin appearing with greater frequently in our sources. Several of these mothakes end up being fairly significant figures, most notably Lysander (note Plut. Lys. 2.1-4, where Plutarch politely sidesteps the question of why Lysander was raised in poverty and seemed unusually subservient and also the question of who his mother was).”

- Bret Devereaux, “This. Isn’t. Sparta. Part III: Spartan Women.”

[saylors-universe]

All Hands on Deck, five

Rowaelin Cruise Vacation AU

masterlist here

word count: 5234

[This is an interactive story! I will include Authorʻs Notes throughout the chapters to inform you when to start a particular song that you can find here in the All Hands on Deck playlist (Also can be found on the masterlist). For the best experience, listen with headphones, AND FOLLOW ALONG WITH THE STORY. Please try to use your imagination when listening and reading - live through the words. Have fun :) - Saylor]

-

This week has been HELL. Sorry for the late upload :( Anyways, enjoy the chapter, thanks for reading <3

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Day 4 - AT SEA - “Todays Cruise Activity: SCAVENGER HUNT from 1-3, Find an activities staff for more info!”

-    Aelin wakes in a soft, ivory, long-sleeve undershirt, light blue dress with a matching white apron. Confused by her attire, she finds two large books in her embrace, like she had cuddled with them in her sleep.      -

[A.N.] Play “Beauty and the Beast Medley” by BYU Vocal Point feat. Lexi Walker now, follow along, and let your imagination put on a show. Find playlist here.

-    Recognizing that sheʻs alone in her dark cabin, she leaves her room and notices no one in the dim, candle-lit hallway. She searches for any sign of life throughout the corridors, navigating through the different levels until she appears in front of the bakery, responsible for divulging her deep cravings of chocolates and treats.     -

Aelin:      LITTLE TOWN, ITʻS A QUIET VILLAGE

               EVERYDAY LIKE THE ONE BEFORE

               LITTLE TOWN, FULL OF LITTLE PEOPLE

               WAKING UP TO SAY

-    Suddenly, as if on cue, a parade of crew and staff appear in a flash mob.  -

Cruise Staff:          BON JOUR,  BON JOUR

-     A baker stands behind the counter, kneading dough.   -

                         BON JOUR, BON JOUR, BON JOUR

Aelin:     THERE GOES THE BAKER WITH HIS TRAY LIKE ALWAYS

               THE SAME OLD BREAD AND ROLLS TO SELL

               EVERY MORNING JUST THE SAME

               SINCE THE MORNING THAT WE CAME 

               TO THIS POOR PROVINCIAL TOWN

Baker:      “Good Morning, Belle”

-     Aelin, puzzled by what is happening and perplexed by why she is compelled to sing, magically transports to The Antica. She is ushered by Emrys and Luca in their cooking attire, along with the rest of the ensemble, who seemed to have rehearsed a big musical number.     -

Emrys:     BE OUR GUEST, BE OUR GUEST

               PUT OUR SERVICE TO THE TEST

               TIE YOUR NAPKIN ROUND YOUR NECK, CHERIE

               AND WE PROVIDE THE REST

               SOUP DE JOUR, HOT HORS DʻOEUVERS

              WHY, WE ONLY LIVE TO SERVE

              TRY THE GREY STUFF, ITʻS DELICIOUS

               DONʻT BELIEVE IT? ASK THE DISHES

              THEY CAN SING, THEY CAN DANCE

               AFTER ALL, MISS, THIS IS FRANCE

               AND A DINNER HERE IS NEVER SECOND BEST

               GO ON UNFOLD YOUR MENU

               TAKE A GLANCE AND THEN YOUʻLL

               BE OUR GUEST, OUI, OUR GUEST, BE OUR GUEST

Ensemble:  BE OUR GUEST, BE OUR GUEST

                   OUR COMMAND IS YOUR REQUEST

                   ITʻS TEN YEARS SINCE WE HAD ANYBODY HERE

                   WEʻRE OBSESSED

                   WITH YOUR MEAL, WITH YOUR EASE

                   YES, INDEED, WE AIM TO PLEASE

                   WHILE THE CANDLESTICKʻS STILL GLOWING

                   LET US HELP YOU, WEʻLL KEEP GOING

-    They all line up and begin a grand kick line.   -

                   COURSE BY COURSE, ONE BY ONE

                  TILL YOU SHOUT, “ENOUGH, IʻM DONE”

                  THEN WEʻLL SEND YOU OFF TO SLEEP AS YOU DIGEST

                  TONIGHT YOUʻLL PROP YOUR FEET UP

                  BUT FOR NOW, LETʻS EAT UP

                  BE OUR GUEST, BE OUR GUEST, BE OUR GUEST

                  PLEASE, BE OUR GUEST

-      Aelin is completely taken aback by the magnificent performance put on by the crew. In awe, she is transported once more to the elegant ballroom, but now she is fitted with a dazzling, gold ballroom gown. A dashingly, groomed Rowan approaches Aelin, wearing a charming black tux. He offers his hand, in silent question for a dance. She places her hand in his and he guides them to the center of the floor where they begin to waltz.       -

Aelin:   TALE AS OLD AS TIME

            TRUE AS IT CAN BE

            BARELY EVEN FRIENDS

            THEN SOMEBODY BENDS, UNEXPECTEDLY

-   Lorcan/Elide, Aedion/Lysandra, Dorian/Manon join them on the dance floor, following along in the waltz as Fenrys and Connal stand by beatboxing.    -

            JUST A LITTLE CHANGE

            SMALL TO SAY THE LEAST

            BOTH A LITTLE SCARED

            NEITHER ONE PREPARED

            BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

            EVER JUST THE SAME

            EVER A SURPRISE

            EVER AS BEFORE

            EVER JUST AS SURE

            AS THE SUN WILL RISE

            CERTAIN AS THE SUN

            TALE AS OLD AS TIME

            SONG AS OLD AS RHYME

            BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

            TALE AS OLD AS TIME

            SONG AS OLD AS RHYME

            BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

            WHOA-OH

“WAKE UP YOU FREAK”

Aelin lurches awake, back in the comfort of her own bed, Manonʻs long, sharp nails digging into her skin.

“OW!,” Aelin massages the crescent indents in her arm.

“You were singing in your sleep ... really loudly. Lys came over to make sure you werenʻt dying, and took a few embarrassing videos of you,”

   Aelin murmurs a defensive sigh and seeks refuge under her comforter, reflecting on her dream, What the fuck? Why did I dream of Rowan? She convinces herself that her subconscious was just playing tricks on her and decided to leave their past in the past. Given the new circumstances, they were merely co-workers, sort of, and nothing would happen between them, well not again. Sheʻs learned what happens when you fall for a Whitethorn, you get your heart broken. 

   She will never forget that afternoon. Rowan had received a large envelope package from Orynth University, his dream school. Aelin, her parents, Maeve, Rowansʻ aunt and legal guardian since the passing of his parents when he was young, his whole family, all gathered in her small living room while he read out his acceptance letter. He was so excited. Not wanting to ruin his news with the sad announcement of her rejection letter, she plastered on a bright smile and consumed the happy energy of the night.

   Once the party turned down, he led her outside on her porch. He knew her better than anyone and could tell that something had been off. She confessed in sobs, excusing that she did not want to take the attention away from his amazing opportunity. He immediately offered to apply to the local college, or other universities in the area, or get a job, anything to stay near her. She forbade him, he had just been accepted to his dream college, where he had been talking about going all his life. She refused to hold him back from his dream so she brought up the option of splitting up, which caused his turn to cry. 

   After hours of tears, talks, and “i love you, to whatever end,” they both agreed to end things, which broke her heart even more. She knew it was mainly her decision, he would have done anything he could to be with her, done long distance, found a different school, anything, but she couldn't let him pass up this opportunity. She wouldn't have been able to live with herself if she had trapped him in their relationship, no matter how much they loved each other, sometimes the best thing you could do for the ones you love, is let them go. 

   The most painful part was watching him leave. Waving him goodbye as he went up the escalator to security of the airport, praying that he didn't look back. He was her first love, she gave her heart to him. They both had decided to end things, but a part of her hated him for leaving, even though she made him. He left. He left her. He left their dreams. He left their plans. He left their future. He left for his dream, his future. She made him leave. She hated herself most of all.

   Now here they are, eight years later, stuck on the same boat and brought together again by Lorcan Salvaterre nonetheless. In spite of the years with other lovers, the years of not keeping in touch, they were in love once, completely in love. Once youʻve had that kind of love, you never stop loving them, they will always carry a piece of your heart. And damn him if he has more than just a piece, Aelin vowed.

   Her mind wandered to the song he played in the ballroom just the other day. “Do you remember when, midnight drives when youʻd sing, Iʻd play you songs you were in...Do you remember when, with Rome below us that day, you said ʻI wish we could stayʻ?” She didn't want to read too much into it, but the song had to be about her. Right? How many people could he have serenaded on a late night drive? How many girls confessed their love for him under the stars and moonlight by the Trevi fountain? “Do you remember when?” Does she remember? How could she ever forget?

   Before she could over-analyze the situation any further, Manon pulled the comforter from her bed. Aelinʻs body went in shock from the sudden lack of warmth protection, the brisk midday cool kissing her skin, and groans a very unladylike curse. 

“Time to get up sleeping beauty, oh Iʻm sorry, Belle I mean,” Manon heaves into cackles. Aelin swears that in another life, Manon was a witch, wicked and ruthless. 

   In a very unusual, chipper mood, Manon getʻs Aelin up to speed on their plans for the day. She had gotten word of a scavenger hunt Dorian was putting on and eagerly volunteered their friend group to participate. 

   The two got ready for the rest of the day and gathered their friends to grab some brunch before their fun activity. While settling into Emrysʻ section of the bar, a few fans tracked them down, asking for pictures and autographs. Meeting their fans had always been Aelinʻs favorite part of what they do, seeing people enjoy their music and support them. Luca treats them to some bacon and eggs, and they snag some fresh chocolate croissants from the nearby bakery. They stay and share many stories and laughs between the court and the chefs, until it is time to find Dorian and begin the scavenger hunt. 

   Aelin wasn't surprised when Manon had been the one to locate him. She couldn't tell if this would be just another chase for Manon. In the past, sheʻs had a difficult time making attachments with people, everyone but Elide it seems. A part of her hopes that Manon would pursue an actually relationship with him, from what she could tell so far, he had a dark, wild spirit about him, one that would challenge her antics quite well. 

“Good afternoon everyone, weʻre just waiting on one more group,” Dorian flashed a wicked grin and a flirty wink in Manonʻs direction. Aelin watched her friendʻs complexion redden and blush as the Cadre arrived, looking as daunting and intimidating as ever.

“Okay letʻs get started shall we? You guys have signed up for the adult scavenger hunt,” he passes out a list of items, “so how this works is you guys will be split up into...,” he counts the nine of them, “two groups. Each groupʻs goal is to take a picture of someone in the group with an item on the list, different items vary on points given based on difficulty or creativity. Without a member of your team in the photo, it will not get points. You guys have two hours and then we will meet back here to go over the photos and assign a winning group. Winners get free drinks at our private island port,” they cheer at the prospect of free alcoholic beverages.

   Dorian splits them up into teams. Team one being Elide, Lorcan, Rowan, Connal, and Lysandra. Team two: Aelin, Manon, Fenrys, Aedion, and Dorian adds himself to even out their numbers. Dorian looks at his timer, “Two hours starting...Now!”

Both teams, consisting of extremely competitive adults, disperse to huddle up with their groups and assess the list of items to find and capture. 

   TAKE A PICTURE WITH....

-  The shipʻs steering wheel  (10 points)

-  A ship staff member AND team member with a chef hat on  (5 points)

-  Someone playing the piano  (3 points, 5+ bonus for video)

-  A King and a Queen  (5 points)

-  Spa brochure signed by spa employee  (5 points)

-  A staff member (the higher rank, the more points)

-  Someone on your team kissing a stranger  (10 points)

-  Yellow Duck  (5 points)

-  Poker chips  (3 points)

-  Someone on your team posing on a stripper pole  (5 points)

-  Drink umbrella  (3 points)

-  Towel animal  (3 points)

-  Someone wearing a sea sickness patch  (3 points)

-  A Conga line   (5 points)

-  A member of your team in the pool   (5 points)

-  Each member of your team with a different drink   (10 points)

-  Someone on your team playing mini golf  (5 points)

-  Someone on your team using exercise equipment   (5 points)

-  The room numbers for the following rooms: 829, 318, 560   (3 points)

-  Ice Cream cone  (3 points)

-  Someone with a bad sunburn  (5 points)

-   Someone dancing inappropriately  (3 points, +5 bonus for video)

-  3 different food menus  (3 points)

-   A performer in full costume with a mask on   (3 points)

-   Someone in a bikini with the life preserver ring   (5 points)

   Aedion takes charge as group leader. They collectively decide to find the rooms 829, 318, and 560 first since it seemed like the most straightforward, and easiest task. The five of them find the room 318 first, take a group selfie in front of the room number, then proceed to do the same with the remaining rooms, ending with 829. 

   They discuss going to their rooms quickly to change into swimsuits, thinking forward to a few of the scavenger hunt items that require either a change of attire, or the possibility of getting wet. Aelin and Manon retreat to their room and change into flattering bikinis, Fenrys and Dorian to their respective rooms to change into swim trunks, and Aedion to his, right across the hall. 

   Fenrys and Dorian, both shirtless and in all their glory, meet the girls in front of their door. “Wow, you look amazing,” Aelin overhears Dorian compliment Manon. The two go off into their own little world, leaving Aelin and Fenrys to get to know each other better. The two immediately click. Fenrys was the perfect balance of funny and flirty, and that kept a beaming smile and standby laugh on Aelinʻs demeanor. They shared a common sense of humor and both were very quick and witty, so they got along very well. 

   Aedion walks out of his cabin in the silliest blue and yellow duck swimming trousers. “Forgot I brought these,” he fibs, his face plastering a bright ruby shade. The four stay silent for a few seconds, really trying to hold in their laughter. Aelin was the first to break and the rest followed. 

“Ha-ha, laugh all you want, but I just got us 5 points,” he pulls out his phone and takes a selfie of him in his swim trucks, pointing out the yellow duck. “I also snapped a pic with the towel animal in our room, so thatʻs checked off.”

Whenever room service came by to turn in their room, theyʻd leave towels intricately folded into cute animals, todayʻs was a small elephant. 

“Okay whatʻs next boss?” Fenrys says once calmed down. 

Aedion reviews the list once again and the his head darts up, “Hey Ace, youʻre using those sea sickness patches right?”

“Everyday,” she nods and then he whips his phone around to get a selfie with her, folding her ear to show the small, circular patch behind.

“Okay weʻve got the rooms, the towel animal, the yellow duck, and the seasickness patch. Good start guys. Fen you know where the gym is?”

“Yes, sir,” he answers, flexing his biceps. Manon rolls her eyes and falls in line when Fenrys guides the team to the gym onboard. It was a large, well equipped workout room, only a few people occupying different machines. Treadmills lined the mirror wall, cycle bikes adjacent to those. There were squat racks, dumbbells, bench presses, pull up bars, lat pulldown machines, leg press machines, pretty much everything Aelin used in her normal, rigorous routine. 

   Aelin adjusts the squat rack to her height, leveling it at around her chest height, and loads 250 lbs. to the bar. The mens eyesʻ widen, in disbelief that this quaint creature could support that much weight. Aedion knew however, that she had been training all her life. Physical fitness had always been important to her so she made sure she worked out regularly and vigorously. She turns back to Fenrys, “Spot me?”

“My pleasure,” he purrs expecting to rescue this damsel in distress who is in way over her head. He takes position right behind her. With Aelin in just her bikini and Fenrys his trunks, his bare, sculpted chest was flush behind her bare back, her exposed legs guarded by his. 

   Manon opens her phone, prepared to capture the task on video, also hoping to capture Fenrys and Dorianʻs expression. Aelin balances the bar across her shoulders, lifts the bar and steps back from the rack. She manages about eight reps of correctly formed squats with ease, Fenrys following down with her in every one. 

   She hears the gym door open, Rowan and his team had the same idea and came to use some exercise equipment to check it off their list. Their glances met once in the mirror, then quickly, deliberately broke. She canʻt quite explain why she suddenly felt guilty, as if she had been caught doing something wrong, being in the position she was with Fenrys. So she returns to the rack and sets the bar down, finally starting to feel some burn in her glutes. 

“Damn Aelin, thatʻs impressive,” Dorian praises.

“Thanks, letʻs get out of here and go find more of our items.” They leave the gym, letting the other team to make use of the space. 

   They were near the casino and club so Dorian suggested they find what items they could there. Finding and snapping a photo with poker chips were a breeze. They ran across a stripper pole in the dance club and Fenrys stopped to model a sexy, scandalous pose on the pole and Aelin held the photoshoot, both of them giggling endlessly. 

   The team found the show girl performers walking around the club in their full outfit and masquerade mask. Aelin snapped a photo with two of them wrapped around Fenrys shoulders. 

   Drawing from the same chaotic, wild energy, Aelin and Fenrys started a conga line in the club to which Manon, Dorian, Aedion and many strangers added onto. Aelin at the front of the line, selfie recorded a crazy, upbeat video of the dance. 

   The team takes a breather at the bar, trusting the bar tender with the choice of drink for each person as long as she made each drink different. They also requests that one came with an umbrella. Fenrys, being friendly and personable as always, makes conversation with the bartender Ansel, sliding a few flirty remarks in here and there. She takes note of his group and promises to take good care of them, she says with a wink. 

   Ansel prepares their drinks based on what she felt from each person, giving Aedion a Sazerac, Dorian the AMF (Adios Motherfucker), Manon the Aunt Roberta, Fenrys a jungle juice with an umbrella, and Aelin a Tequila Blue Blazer that she lit on fire. They took a group selfie with their drinks, the umbrella and Ansel, then downed their drinks. 

   After another strong drink, Aelin starts to feel a little buzzed. She grabs Manon and they take stage on one of the clubʻs platforms, matching the rhythm of the loud music. They dance with each other, on each other, skin on skin, lips nearly touching, earning the attention of most of the men in the room. Itʻs Fenrys turn to be behind the camera, recording the show, and he enjoys every second of it. 

Their team leader does his duty and puts the pin in their fun, “We better go look for the last few things on the list, Dorian how much time do we have?”

“A little less than an hour”

“Come on guys,” Aedion gathers his team members like a chaperoning parent.

   Aelin has a light bulb moment and shares, “Oh I know where we can find a piano,” she leads them to the ballroom, the grand piano vacant and begging to be played. She sits at the keys, closes her eyes and plays.

[A.N.] Play “Symphony (feat. Zara Larsson) - Acoustic Version” by Clean Bandit now, follow along and let your imagination do itʻs job. Find playlist here.

-  Aedion starts recording.   -

Aelin:    IʻVE BEEN HEARING SYMPHONIES

             BEFORE ALL I HEARD WAS SILENCE

             A RHAPSODY FOR YOU AND ME

             AND EVERY MELODY IS TIMELESS

             LIFE WAS STRINGINʻ ME ALONG

             THEN YOU CAME AND YOU CUT ME LOOSE

             WAS SOLO, SINGINʻ ON MY OWN

             NOW I CANʻT FIND THE KEY WITHOUT YOU

             AND NOW YOUR SONG IS ON REPEAT

             AND IʻM DANCINʻ ONTO YOUR HEARTBEAT

             AND WHEN YOUʻRE GONE I FEEL INCOMPLETE

             SO, IF YOU WANT THE TRUTH

             I JUST WANNA BE PART OF YOUR SYMPHONY

             WILL YOU HOLD ME TIGHT AND NOT LET GO?

             SYMPHONY

             LIKE A LOVE SONG ON THE RADIO

             WILL YOU HOLD ME TIGHT AND NOT LET GO?

             IʻM SORRY IF ITʻS ALL TOO MUCH

             BUT EVERY DAY YOUʻRE HERE, IʻM HEALINʻ

             AND I WAS RUNNINʻ OUTTA LUCK

             I NEVER THOUGHT IʻD FIND THIS FEELING

             ʻCAUSE IʻVE BEEN HEARINʻ SYMPHONIES

              BEFORE ALL I HEARD WAS SILENCE

             A RHAPSODY FOR YOU AND ME

             AND EVERY MELODY IS TIMELESS

-    Manon moves to sit beside Aelin on the piano bench.    -

Aelin and Manon:     AND NOW YOUR SONG IS ON REPEAT

                                 AND IʻM DANCING ONTO YOUR HEARTBEAT

                                AND WHEN YOUʻRE GONE I FEEL INCOMPLETE

                                SO, IF YOU WANT THE TRUTH

Aelin:    I JUST WANNA BE PART OF YOUR SYMPHONY

            WILL YOU HOLD ME TIGHT AND NOT LET GO?

            SYMPHONY

            LIKE A LOVE SONG ON THE RADIO

            WILL YOU HOLD ME TIGHT AND NOT LET GO?

-     The women lean into each other.    -

Aelin and Manon:     Ah-Ah-Ah-Aah-Ah-Ah-Ah

                                 Ah-Ah-Ah-Aah-Ah-Ah-Ah

                    AND NOW YOUR SONG IS ON REPEAT

                    AND IʻM DANCING ONTO YOUR HEARTBEAT

                    AND WHEN YOUʻRE GONE I FEEL INCOMPLETE

                    SO, IF YOU WANT THE TRUTH

Aelin:      OH

           I JUST WANNA BE PART OF YOUR SYMPHONY

           WILL YOU HOLD ME TIGHT AND NOT LET GO?

           SYMPHONY

           LIKE A LOVE SONG ON THE RADIO

          OH, SYMPHONY

           WILL YOU HOLD ME TIGHT AND NOT LET GO?

           SYMPHONY

           LIKE A LOVE SONG ON THE RADIO

           WILL YOU HOLD ME TIGHT AND NOT LET GO?

   The ballroom fills with applause and the boastful cheers from the men. The girls sarcastically get up and bow, like after a recital performance. Realizing that they donʻt have much time, they rush to the Lido deck and seek out Emrys and Luca. 

   They track the two down and ask for a picture, Aelin stands in between the them and as Aedion counts down, “Say cheese, one...two..” Aelin swipes Lucaʻs chef hat and put itʻs on quickly as the picture snaps. They look over the photo and laugh at a mischievous grin on Aelinʻs face and a confused, grumpy Luca not looking at the camera but instead at Aelin.

   Having another bright idea, Aelin runs to the large chess board game on the deck and catches a selfie with the giant King and Queen chess pieces. When she returns to Emrysʻ station, a familiar back is seated in the stool she was just accompanying, and she had another brilliant idea.

“Sam? Hi,” he turns and realizes who she was.

“Oh hi!,” he responds kindly, “Iʻm sorry, I donʻt think I got your name.”

“Aelin,” she gives her hand out for a handshake, he returns with a firm, grip.

“Well itʻs nice to officially meet you, Aelin,” her cheeks warm.

“This may seem like a forward request, but is there anyway my friends and I could see the shipʻs steering wheel? Iʻm told youʻre the captain,” she smirks.

He chuckles, “One of them yes, and totally, let me take you guys.”

   She gets Manon, Aedion, Dorian, and Fenrys and introduces them to Sam and vice versa, mentioning that heʻs the captain and heʻll be showing them the ships steering wheel. He leads them to the command bridge, on the way Manon pulls her aside.

“Ace we can knock out three birds with one stone,”

“What are you talking about?” Aelin says, not quite understanding.

“Kiss him in front of the steering wheel.”

“What?”

“In the photo weʻll have the steering wheel, check, a team member kissing a stranger, check, and a staff member (the higher rank, the more points) aka, CAPTAIN! 3 items, one picture, plus we donʻt have much time left, come on.”

Pressured by the time constraint, Aelin caves. “Fine. Have your phone ready.”

   Aelin hurries back to the front near Fenrys and Sam, staying close to both. They make it to the command bridge and Sam gives them a tour of the different controls, putting on his captainʻs cap, a look that suited him, Aelin thought. 

They stood in front of the steering wheel and Aelin quietly asked Sam, “I apologize, another forward request,”

“Iʻm getting the feeling that thatʻs your thing,” he whispers back. She softly snickers.

“Could I kiss you?”

   Obviously taken off guard, Sam blushes, then cups Aelinʻs face in his hands and brushes a soft, sensual kiss to her lips. Manon takes the photo. Aelin melts in his touch, returning the kiss with more fervor. Aedionʻs forced cough ruins the moment, the two disconnecting, both with warm, rosy complexions.

“Um, thank you for the tour, we have to go now,” Aedion says plainly. Manon and Dorian quietly laugh and the group make their leave, Aelin joins once out of earshot. 

   They return to the Lido deck and split up to try and get the last few items on the list. Aedion assigns himself to find the ice cream and the 3 food menus, Manon and Dorian volunteer for the spa brochure and mini golf game, and they go their separate ways. 

   Aelin and Fenrys stand at the edge of the pool when he turns his back to the pool and faces her.

“You know, I must confess, I find you extremely attractive,” he professes.

“Is that so, pretty boy?” She moves her palms to lay flat on his chest, looking up to him. She starts to tippy-toe, and he leans forward in for a kiss. When their faces get an inch apart she pushes him forward, he flails into the pool, and she laughs her guts out.

   She whips out her phone and takes a photo of an unamused, cock-blocked Fenrys in the pool. She looks around the pool, looking for a life preserver ring nearby. She catches sight of one hooked up to the deck railing. She releases it and returns to the pool, Fenrys just getting out, dripping water everywhere. 

   She hands him the phone and he snaps a few photos of her posing in her bikini with the life preserver ring, satisfied and proud of his work, he whistles back up at his model.

   Dorian and Manon return warning them that it is time to meet back with the other team. Aedion returns shortly after with a mustache of ice cream. Aelin cleans him up and they travel back to their meeting place to determine a winning team. 

   Team one shows their photos and videos first. They had mainly the same idea as Aelinʻs group. For their King and Queen item, they took a photo of the King and Queen from a standard deck of cards. For their yellow duck, Lysandra took a picture of Aedionʻs matching boxer briefs to his trunks, the whole group found that humorous, but made sure he didn't feel embarrassed of his attire choices. One of the photos that Aelin picked out was their kissing stranger photo. In the frame was Rowan kissing a pale blonde woman with bright, cerulean eyes. 

“Ro, is that Remelle?” Fenrys asks, also pointing out the photo. 

“Yeah, Benson and Essar are here too,” Rowan responds, the first thing sheʻs heard him say all day. 

“Whoʻs Remelle?” Aelin asks, trying not to seem too eager to know.

“Remelle, Benson, and Essar are our regular groupies, they follow us literally everywhere we go, theyʻre at every show, every concert. Pretty much our biggest fans,” Fenrys informs her.

“Biggest stalkers,” Lorcan corrects.

“Still strangers though, they know everything about us, we know nothing about them really,” Connal defends, making the record clear that the photo is still valid. 

   Team two takes their turn showing their photos and videos. Fenrys emphasizing Aelinʻs squat video, her and Manonʻs dancing pictures, their song, and the photos he just took of her and the life preserver ring. The other team, especially Elide and Lysandra, hype her and Manon up, calling them “hotties” and a “baddies” every so often.

   Manon shows the photo of Aelin and Sam. Elide and Lys gasp, “Is that THE Sam?” Aelin laughs and nods. “Good work Ace.”

   Dorian calculates the final points and calls for attention.

“Great job today everyone, you all did amazing. Results are in, team one got 112 points,” everyone applauses in congratulations, “and team two got 124, congratulations team two!” 

   Everyone cheers and congratulates each other, very maturely and sportsman-like. They spend the rest of the afternoon splashing each other and playing in the pool.

Night 4 - AT SEA - “No band performance tonight, Live Crew Performances during Dinner!

   The two bands stayed in the water for hours, playing throughout the glorious sunset. They had definitely gotten closer, more comfortable with each other. Throughout the play fighting they discussed possibly teaming up on shows and performing together. Itʻs an idea. It would probably be really fun, adding a different dynamic to both groups.

   Aelin notices Rowan laying on a pool deck chair, staring into the sky. She exits the pool, dries off a little and joins him, laying down on the deck chair next to him, star gazing into the extraordinary abyss of light. Heʻs the first one to break the silence.

“Lyria was really into astronomy,” he chocked a little, not enough to pick up unless you knew him, “she knew all the constellations by name, all the galaxies,” his gaze never leaving the cosmos. “Sometimes I like to think that sheʻs one of these stars now, burning bright, watching over me every night.”

“She soundʻs incredible. I wish I could have met her”

He smiles, “I think you would have liked her.”

She turns her head, adjusting her arm to rest her head on her forearm, facing him. “Tell me more about her?”

   He obliges. He tells the story of how he and Lyria first met, running into each other on their way to class, dropping all her books and supplies and bumping heads when they both reached down to pick them up. He shares of their first date, their first kiss. 

   She couldn't remember being tired but something about Rowanʻs voice soothed her into submission, her eyelids dropping with weight. Before she knew it she passed out, falling asleep right there on a deck chair, listening to her ex talk about his dead fiance. 

   When she finally awoke in the middle of the night, she was back in her bed, her comforter tucked into her sides. How did I make it back here? She didnʻt have the energy to investigate her questions, the night claimed her once again and she drifted off one last time. 

----------------------

All Hands on Deck taglist:   bolded tags aren't taggable, lmk what I can do

@smalltddygothgf 

@booksbqueen

@underworldboxers

@live-the-fangirl-life

@islabyrnex

@kathi2599​

@booknerdproblems​ 

@rowaelinismyotp​ 

[secondhand-trash]

Servant and the Red Chicken

A/N: Haven’t writen a full length fic since Christmas and this happened after I saw this post and I was like “Hawks??? Is that you???”. Love me a fairy tale au so here you go with this kinda half crack half serious thing I came up with.

Pairing: cursed prince!Takami Keigo x reader

Description: Rumours of the prince who suddenly disappeared casted a shadow across the palace. But that was none of your business, you were just a servant trying to make a living. Rather than the royal gossip, you would much get answers to why there was a loud chicken following you around the palace grounds.

Word count: 4150

Playlist:

Beautiful Loser//Bob Seger

Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa//Vampire Weekend

Flowers In Your Hair//The Lumineers

-

Life in the palace was not easy. You got up before the sun barely showed its face every day and spent the coming hours with your hands soaked in cold water filled with substances that were probably not safe for the human body. If you were lucky, you might be able to get some scraps from the kitchen on top of the hard slice of bread that was both your life line and your salary but that was under the condition that no one was there to catch you sneaking in. If you slipped and got caught, well good luck to you I supposed, have fun being hit by a wooden stick. The bed you returned to after a day of hard work was more like a hard board. It was fine in summer but when the winter frost hit, it was like sleeping on plain ice. There were more rules in the palace than you could remember, some you never even heard of until you got yelled at for making a mistake. Getting yelled at was the least painful punishment as you were told by other servants in your quarter, chances were you might lose your head if you crossed the paths of the wrong person.

Basically, being a peasant in the royal court was tough but hey, at least you had a job that lets you shove something down your stomach every day and even have extra coins to send back to your family. Behind the tall walls and expensive velvet were many rumours and mysteries but you had learnt to never ask questions, satisfying your curiosity was not worth risking your life.

The royal family of the kingdom was the favorite topic of gossips among servants and others who happened to go in and out of the palace gates. There was a great risk in talking about the power above, but that was the charm of it you guessed. People would always be attracted to danger, it was only human nature. The hot topic when you just step foot into the palace was the mystery of the missing prince who disappeared over night. Still being new and learning the ropes, you didn’t say anything when the other servants chattered while sitting in a circle and rinsing the linens. From what you had heard, the prince had opposed his father in marrying the new queen, his stepmother which led to a lot of arguments and tension in the royal family when it happened. The wedding went on as scheduled against the prince’s protest, which you knew because that was what the entire kingdom was talking about in that one month of non-stop celebration. It was only a coincident that the king’s only son went missing right after the night of the wedding with no trace to be found. The royal guards were still searching for his whereabouts but there was no progress.

Rumours were that it had something to do with the queen. Those of power often overlooked the measly servants they shoved to the side but it was always those who were unnoticeable that knew the most. Someone said that they found what might be tools for witchcraft in the queen’s chamber which stirred the theory that the prince was cursed by the queen for a hot second. But rumours went as rumours did, the people quickly stopped talking and focused on something else the moment anything more recent and exciting surfaced. The missing prince was quickly glossed over by the newest gossip that the count’s daughter were making plans to run away with her handmaiden.

In retrospect, you didn’t really care much about these quick whispers. It was not like the royals would have anything to do with you, a servant, anyways. They were just something harmless bored workers talked about to make thier hard life more exciting and that was what it was to you. Even if you were curious to know more, you knew better than to ask questions. There were more practical things to wonder about other than who was bedding who and how the ladies in waiting tried to impress the queen.

For example, why the hell was there a red chicken running around the royal courts and why did it like to follow you around so much?

The first time you ever saw the red chicken was when the head of the servants’ quarter, Mrs Carter, was taking you around the place. She was a chubby lady in her late 40s, stern at first look but you would soon realise that she was way softer inside than she let it out to be. Making your way to the kitchen, she explained each station and everyone you needed to know as she walked in front of you in such a speed that you had to sprint to keep up.

“This is Marinette, the one who makes all the butter around here. That’s the cutting station, we start preparing ingredients for dinner at 4 each day and you might be asked to help in the kitchen when needed. Please go speak to... Where is Paul? Oh there he is. Paul at noon each day to see if you are needed...” 

Desperately trying to memorise each detail and all of the new faces, you felt like your head was about to explode. Being in a whole new environment was terrifying, let alone the palace where the kitchen was already bigger than the town square from where you were from. 

You were so close to seeing white when Mrs Carter suddenly screamed. Jumping from her high pitched screech, you could barely react when the entire kitchen went into a state of chaos.

“It’s the chicken! The damn chicken is here again!”

Everyone dropped what they were doing and grabbed whatever they could get at their hand. It was madness as people ran around, pots falling to the ground and everything went flying. That was when you saw a red blur sprinted across you, nearly knocking you off. The blur was fast, jumping onto counters and passing the dozens of people who were trying to catch it with whatever they could find. The pastry chef swung the rolling pin but missed and hit the milk maid instead, someone tried to trap it with a pot but tripped over. There were shouts and screams everywhere but as you stood there, completely dumbfounded, you caught a glimpse at the kitchen window to see a red chicken with a piece of bread at its beak. How did it got there in such a short amount of time? You blinked as the bird flapped its wings and hopped off of the window frame, leaving the absolute wreck it created behind.

“Where did it go? Urgh! We let it run away again!” Mrs Carter yelled, her face was an angry shade of red as she looked around the mess. “The goddamn... Never mind! What time it is? Christ! We are late! Quick, follow me. Now don’t just stand there, catch up!”

You snapped out of your haze and ran across the room to go into the next doorway, still thinking about that sly chicken if it even had the ability to be sly.

For some reason, that little accident in the kitchen might just made the nerve in your chest disappear.

As you slowly eased into the busy courts and your role as a servant, your confusion as to why there was a red chicken running around only grew. It seemed to be anywhere chickens should probably had no way getting into. The laundry room, the servants’ quarter, the Royal Guard’s training field... Anywhere with people it could bother, it would be there at the most random times and it was sure to cause chaos. After some mindless observation, you had come to realise that the red chicken took a liking to messing with anything that had to do with the king and the queen. It was like it knew the structure of the palace at the back of its tiny, feathery head. Whenever the queen would stroll around the royal gardens with her ladies in waiting, the chicken would show up to run across everything. Whenever screeches and yelps passed over to where you were, you knew that the chicken was at it again. It was also loud, very loud in fact and the noises it made were rather chirpy for the being it was. 

Oh, and also, you felt like the chicken recognized you now. After that chaos in the kitchen on your first day, the red chicken would always be there whenever you were alone. You were wary at first, worried that it might cause trouble for you and in turns got you some ruthless beating, but it was oddly calm every time that you had come to accept that being followed by a red chicken was simply part of your life now. Every time you were on your way to another manor or in the woods for errands, you bet the chicken would show up and walk with you. You could not believe that you were saying this but the chicken was actually a nice company if it wanted to be. If you said anything. it would flap its wings and chirp in response. You were certain that the stress had gotten to you but you were convinced that it might understand what you were saying. When you had time in your hands, you would bent down and stretch the chicken’s head to which it would coo so you assumed that it liked pets. 

Now that you thought about it, wasn’t it a bit strange that the chicken was nicer to you than it did everyone else? Well, the chicken was your friend now and it was not like you were complaining. We did not ask questions around the palace and if a red chicken wanted to be your friend, might as well accept it and bring it breadcrumbs as a token of thanks.

But a chicken runnigng around causing chaos was not something of your concern right now as you carried a huge pile of linens in hand, the fabric so tall that you could barely see in front of you. Trying to make out where you were going, your eyes lowered to look at the ground to make sure that you were still walking on the path and there was nothing tripping you over. With the heavy weight at your hands, the only thing on your mind was to get to the laundry room quickly and dropped it off there. Barely able to walk in a straight line, you silently cursed at how the road to your destination seemed to be so much longer than usual.

Another thing worth nothing about the palace was that it was ridiculously huge with many pathways zigzagging everywhere. Make one wrong turn, then you might found yourself walking around in an endless circle towards every direction but the one you were supposed to be heading. If you had remembered this, you would have taken a pause in the middle of the unusually long road and look at your surroundings. If you had done that, you would notice that you were nowhere near the laundry room and in fact, you were starting to head into the woods. But with the ache in your arms, that was simply not something your running mind thought off.

“Bok!

Suddenly, you looked over the pile of linens to see a pair of red wings hopping out of the bush. As the chicken wobbled its way across to you, it tilted its head as if you ask you where you were going. 

You sighed. “Not now! My arms are so close to giving up and I need to get to the laundry room.”

“Buck!” The chicken flapped its wings and pecked at your shoe, standing in the middle of the road behind your back.

Struggling to even turn around, you groaned. “I promise I’ll come back later when I have time, ok? But I have to leave now!”

“Kahcaw!” The chicken pulled at the bottom of your apron when it saw that you had no intention to turn around. 

“What is it?” You yelped. It seemed like it wouldn’t let you go anytime sooner. “Are you hungry?”

“Kah!”

“No? Then do you want pets?”

“Kah! Kah!”

“I’m so confused! What do you want?” You exclaimed. The chicken seemed to be panicking, if that was something it was capable of doing, and flapped its wings while running in a circle. Looking at it, you finally glanced at where you were and realised that you were very lost. 

Was it trying to help you?

“Are you trying to tell me where to go?”

“Bok!” The chicken seemed to be delighted that you finally understood what it wanted and started walking down the path. Were you really going to follow a chicken? You thought to yourself, but it was not like you had much of an option anyways. Gritting your teeth to find the last bit of strength in you, you walked behind the chicken towards a direction you had never been on. It was nice enough to stop and wait for you to catch up every once in a while. It was only a matter of time before you saw the laundry house from down the road.

You were made sure to bring extra bread with you so you could have something to thank the chicken for helping you out but it only left you with more questions clouding your head as to why it knew its way around the grounds so well.

The court was a dangerous place to be in, if it wasn’t already established by how you nearly got lost in the woods and needed a red chicken to come save the day. It wasn’t just the dark roads and the many rules that made each step you took require extra attention to it, the people rushing in and out every day might just be a lingering threat as well. You could never be too careful, as people said. Sometimes, one quick moment you let your guard down was enough for a life-long mistake to be made.

As you rushed back to the sleeping quarters with nothing but a dim oil lamp in your hand, you cursed at how you were foolish enough to go out without bringing a shawl with you. The palace could be awfully scary at night which was something that everyone knew of, the fact that you were ordered to deliver something to the carpenter who lived in the middle of the woods when there was no way you could make it back before dawn was yet another reason why you were certain that the temporarily person-in-charge had something against you. Mrs Carter was away in town to handle some errands for the house keeper and the moment you saw the lean man walked into the kitchen, you knew that he would be trouble for you. What exactly had you done to make him hate you so much? You seriously had no clue but it was not like a proper reason was needed for anyone to make your life miserable anyways.

You shivered when the wind hit you in the face. You did not want to be here, you did not want to be here at all. You missed Mrs Carter, at least she had always been kind enough to make sure that everyone would get back to the quarters safely.

Something about the pitch black road made you felt unease even though you were certain that you were on the right track. Perhaps it was your own paranoia but you had a faint sense of danger lurking at the back of your head.

Was someone following you? 

Your pace quickened at the thought and you held the oil lamp higher to your face as if it was any help. The shadows from the trees seemed to become taller and the end of the road was nowhere to be seen. Every time the wind blew across the leaves, the rattling it left only made you skin crawl. You forced yourself to think of something pleasant, something that would kept your lingering thoughts at bay. Think of the bed, think of the other people greeting you once you arrived at the door, think of the fire crackling in the kitchen, think of the red chicken that might show up next morning during breakfast, think of-

“Don’t move or I’ll slit your throat!”

The oil lamp dropped as you were suddenly yanked back, a hand covering your mouth and something cold pressing against your neck. It was like your pulse paused right then and there, you could not find the strength to scream if you dared. 

“Hand over everything you have with you!” It was a voice you had never heard of, one that was rough and domineering enough to convince you that whoever it was holding the blade across your neck, they would not hesitate to end you if it comes down to it. 

Your blood curled when you remembered that you had nothing valuable with you. Was that what it had come to? Everything you had worked so hard for only to have you dying alone in the woods with no one to discover your body until the next time someone crossed the path far away from the main buildings. It was late and no one would be here to help you. 

Dear god if you are listening, you prayed as you shut your eyes tight to prepare for the inevitable pain, please sent someone, something, anything...

“Babok!”

You could not believe your eyes when you saw a large object hitting the burglar. The man pushed you to the ground with the sudden attack and when you finally gathered your breath, still not yet calmed down from the scare you just experienced, you nearly tear up at the sight of the big red bird that was aggressively flapping its wings at the burglar.

The burglar waved his knife in the air as the chicken jumped to chase him away. The man let out a loud yelp when the chicken succeed in biting his nose and swung the bird to the ground before scurrying away with a bleeding nose.

Your breath paused when you saw that the chicken was not moving and you used all your might to get the oil lamp that was rolled to the side before crawling to where the chicken was. Taking a closer look, you gasped when you lifted the lamp so see its feathers being tainted by a much darker shade of red than its own feathers. There was a huge cut at its chest, and you winced at how you could see the flesh underneath the cut through feathers.

“Oh no.. Oh no no no...” Quickly putting the lamp down, you tear off a corner of your apron to press onto the wound, “Please don’t die on me, please...”

The chicken’s chest raised slowly as it let out a weak “Bok”. Trying to hold it without touching its wound, you placed the chicken onto your lap as you caressed its head. Even with its final breaths, it still tried to rub onto your fingers as if to tell you not to worry but the sight only made your heart wrench.

It had risked itself to save you and now it was dying in your arms. Your nose ached at the sight when you sniffled. “I’ll get you somewhere, we can find something to patch you up! So please just stay with me, stay with me...”

The sobbing was no longer contained when you felt its head went limp in your hand. In the middle of the woods, all that could be heard was the sound of wind howling and your cries echoing through the trees. There would be no one waiting for you when you carry linens to the laundry house anymore, your stomach twisted together when you thought of how the red chicken would no longer show up to wreck havok and made you laugh anymore.

Amidst your tears, you did not feel the shifting at your lap, passing it off as the wind. It was only when you felt something that resembled a human finger wiping away your tears that you blinked and opened your eyes at the sudden touch. The red chicken that was placed on your lap was there no more. Instead, you saw a head of golden hair and the face of a handsome young man staring back at you. You were too shocked to say anything as the man continued to caress your teary cheeks with his thumb.

“What?” You managed to choke out in between your heavy breaths. Were you dreaming? But the warmth from the hand and the weight at your lap felt way too real for it to be a fragment of your own imagination.

“Don’t cry for me,” the man smiled when he saw that your crying had stopped, “it would pain me to think that such a lovely face is filled with sorrow because of me.”

Taking another look at the man, the blonde curls and the golden eyes along with the handsome feature looked way too familiar. It only hit you that this was the same face you had seen in the royal portraits when you cleaned that corridors every morning when you saw the badge symbolisng his status pinned in front of his battered up shirt.

“You’re the missing prince...” Your eyes widened in shock at the realisation, “but you were also the red chicken...”

“Hello, darling.” The prince chuckled but winced when he moved the cut at his chest and you instantly pressed the fabric to it once again to stop the bleeding. 

“Come on, let’s get you back to the castle.” You said as you put an arm at his back to help him up.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes?” You said, your voice laced with concern. How strange that you didn’t care so much that you were talking to the crowned prince of the kingdom, all that was on your mind was the red chicken who had helped you time after time.

“Would you still rub my head when after I turn back?”

“...you’re bleeding.”

“I know.” The chicken, or should you call him the prince now, hissed through his teeth as he pouted, “But would you?”

You sighed, something never change and in all honesty, you were very glad that he didn’t seem to act much differently than he did when he was still had wings. “Of course.”

Your heart fluttered when the prince beamed.

You were not surprised at all when you walked into the kitchen the next day to hear people rambling on about how the prince had returned and the dramatic ending to the case of his disappearance. Turned out, the queen hired someone to curse Prince Keigo and transforming him into a chicken, the only way to turn him back was tears of genuine love for the prince. When you heard the maids talking about who could possibly the one to break the curse for the prince, your heart leaped out of your chest to which you brushed it off as nothing when they asked. No one needed to know about your little encounter in the woods with the red chicken the previous night. 

Everything escalated from there. After a lot of investigation, the queen’s crimes were confirmed when the Guards caught the warlock who performed the curse for her and she was to be executed. 

You were glad that the prince made it back safely, but a part of you missed your feathery friend. You nearly cried tears of joy when the prince, who insisted that you called him Keigo instead of all the formalities, waited for you at the pathway like he used to when he was still the red chicken. Pulling him into a tight hug, it was only later when he pressed a chaste kiss to your hand like the pecks he would give you with a grin that you remembered he was no longer a farm animal but a young man your age. The mad blush that spread across your face only seemed to make him do it more often than before.

So with the prince’s return, the rumour was settled and everything returned to normal. But rumours went as rumours did, and there would never be a day when the palace grounds could go without any new gossip being passed around by everyone. The most recent gossip by the way, in case you were curious to know, was that the prince’s newly betrothed spouse, who the prince was madly in love with, used to be the young servant who carried linens to the palace’s laundry house.

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #231: Up From the Depths!

May, 1983

So back to where we were before a detour in Annualsylvania.

Time for Roger Stern’s first issue where he can do his own thing and not have to tie up someone else’s story. Although he did a really good job tying up someone else’s story so I’m hype to see his other ideas.

And the cover is. Uh. Thor, She-Hulk, and Captain Marvel trying to beat up a tree? Yeah, take that, the Lorax.

More seriously, its just good that cover artists have gotten the note about her outfit.

We start this story when some uh swamp thing looking things march out of Chesapeake Bay just before dawn.

“They are not men... not yet.”

Huh.

The narration informs us that in addition to not being men... not yet, these figures don’t even have bones.

Then one of the things just squishes through a chain link fence.

Ah, the ol’ T2 maneuver. Good show.

The things sneak up on a hilariously yellow-suited SHIELD agent, hold him down and knock him out.

One of the things turns into the guy they just grabbed.

Whoever: “No help is needed, Agent Farber. Farber... yes, that’s your name... my name now. The master was right. Farber’s surface memories are mine.”

Then New Farber sets off on Farber’s patrol route.

What a perplexing happening.

Several hours later, now for something completely different.

The Avengers, plus former members Vision, Scarlet Witch, Wonder Man, and Beast have gathered together at Meadowglen Memorial Gardens to... well...

Vision: “We have gathered here this day to pay our final respects to a former ally... a friend who gave her life trying to end the threat of Ultron. The robot Jocasta was never officially an Avenger. In truth, we barely knew her. What joys she held, what pain she felt, we can but guess. That is our failure... that is our loss. Now, we can only remember her gallantry, and mourn.”

=(

She was too beautiful for this world.

Also, I know you already did the mea culpa on it, Vizh, but you personally barely knew her because you blew her off whenever she tried to socialize with you.

And the Avengers barely knew her because they constantly forgot that she was there.

Yeah, you admitted its your failure but I really want to make it clear what a big failure it was. You goons.

So what happened? Well, in Marvel Two-in-One #92-93... Jocasta pays a visit to the Fantastic Four and complains that the Avengers used and discarded her (which is half right but she actually ran away before they could reveal they wanted her to officially stay on as a substitute Avenger because they didn’t bother to mention it to her ahead of time).

She started living in alleys because society didn’t accept her. But she started having malfunctions that caused her a lot of pain so she came to seek Mr. Fantastic’s aid.

Overnight, Jocasta starts having nightmares about Ultron.

The following morning, Insurance Worker Aaron Stack meets with the Thing and decides to follow him around when Thing mentions he has to go deal with a lady robot. Because Aaron Stack.

Jocasta goes to the factory where Ultron was trapped in adamantium and frees him because Ultron hid a program in her brain to compel her to resurrect him. He tries to make her his bride again and she’s like ‘ew no’ again.

The Thing and Aaron Stack show up and Thing ends up mind controlled by Ultron who uses him to attack Aaron Stack.

Aaron Stack manages to get away with Jocasta. While repairing his Battle Damage, Aaron asks Jocasta why she doesn’t just call in the Avengers and she basically goes ‘i had a very dramatic exit and i’m not ruining it.’

The two robots go and confront Ultron again. Jocasta winds up wrestling with Ultron over a power cannon and it goes off blasting them both but specifically blasting Jocasta in half and not blasting Ultron in half.

Aaron Stack manages to defeat Ultron by reaching down his throat and ripping out his power supply.

... It feels like Aaron Stack does that kind of thing a lot.

Anyway, that’s how Jocasta died. And that’s why I’m sad.

The various Avengers and former Avengers all have their own thoughts during the heads bowed moment of silence.

Cap is just thinking about how many people he’s known have fallen in battle. Captain Marvel and She-Hulk feel the loss despite never meeting Jocasta. Thor wonders whether there might be room in Valhalla for her, despite being a robot. Hawkeye manages not to say anything disrespectful at all “for once.” Wasp is feeling like she lost a sister she’d never known. Really should have spent time with her. Granted, Jocasta felt weird about hanging out with you. Wonder Man thinks about the time that he died because everything reminds that guy of the fact that he died once. Beast feels like he’s been to too many funerals lately. Huh, did all the Defenders die already? And Vision is an inscrutable bastard even to the narration. Rude.

When the Avengers and co break up into smaller groups for chit chat, Beast asks Cap where the heck Iron Man is?

Cap(tain America, ‘natch) can only say that they left word for him about the service but that something must have come up.

Where the heck is Iron Man? His absence has been a plot point for several issues now.

LATER at 10 o’clock, Nick Fury, director of SHIELD, is in a helicopter with President Ronald Reagan on their way to inspect a SHIELD base where the agents are hilariously yellow-suited.

But when they get out of the helicopter, all the agents point their guns at the president.

Aw hey! And here I thought SHIELD sucked!

Okay, okay, okay. Its probably a gooey swamp plot, for some reason.

Also, Nick swears. I’m telling.

Five minutes later, at Avengers Mansion, the Avengers assemble for their regular meeting.

Except Iron Man hasn’t shown up.

As he hasn’t shown up for many meetings.

Cap wants to wait a couple more minutes because he’s just suuuuuure that he’ll be here any minute.

Poor, Cap.

Because right when Jan is going to start the meeting, they get a call on the priority phone.

Its Iron Man!

Wasp: “Iron Man! We’ve been trying to contact you for weeks! Where have you been?!? What happened? Are you all right?”

Iron Man: “Huh? Oh, yeah... I’m fine. But there’s been a lot of hassles here lately... at Stark International, I mean. The boss... Mr. Stark’s been going through a lot of changes, and he’ll be needing my help on more of a full-time basis for the time being. What I’m trying to say is... I have to quit the Avengers.”

This causes no small amount of consternation.

Cap even grabs the phone from Jan and tells Iron Man that they need him and that if there’s anything wrong, the Avengers can help.

Iron Man just says hey you guys are pros you can get along without me bye.

And then he hangs up as Thor is asking for his turn to talk.

Geez, what a weird call from Iron Man!

So whats the deal?

Here’s the deal.

Remember how Tony wasn’t looking so great last time he showed up in the book? Was kind of manic and unshaven?

Over in the Iron Man book, Obadiah Stane has been gaslighting Tony. Leaving bottles of whiskey out for him. Getting Indries Moomji to seduce Tony and then dump him. Hypnotizing a bunch of businessmen at a meeting to shout gibberish at Tony for some reason.

Presumably on top of all the nonsense going on in Avengers like the stress over what happened to Hank and with Jan, Tony falls off the wagon and starts drinking again.

He gets so drunk he starts flying around in the Iron Man armor, smashing every liquor billboard, which is funny if alarming. Deep in the bottle, Tony reveals to Rhodey that he’s Iron Man and then passes out.

Rhodey puts on the Iron Man armor and fights the villain de jour. Afterward, Tony refuses to take the armor back and leaves it in Rhodey’s care before going off to go be drunk some more.

So now Rhodey is Iron Man. Pretty exciting news for fans of Rhodey! It also means we’re getting closer to Secret Wars because Rhodey was the Iron Man in that story.

But, alas, for Tony Stark fans. Especially after having his identity revealed to Cap and Wasp, opening up a whole new dynamic among the Avengers.

Rhodey quits the Avengers because he doesn’t feel comfortable pretending to be the same Iron Man among them and doesn’t feel that he should reveal that the man inside the armor changed out of respect for Tony’s secrets.

Sooo. Yeah. Iron Man is off the team. Geez.

Stunned by this but doing her job as chairwoman, Wasp announces that the first order of business for their meeting is to fill the vacancy in the roster.

Who will it beeeeeeeeee?? -remembers the Starfox tease from last issue- Oh god no.

Meanwhile over at scene change, a scene changes.

10:15 AM, back to the SHIELD base.

Hilariously orange-suited Jasper Sitwell clasps his hands like a villain and announces that he’s holding the president ransom for...

ONE BILLION DOLLARS

President Reagan: “A billion dollars!! Good lord, man! Be reasonable! The federal budget can’t take that much added strain!”

They’ve already spent so much on the Iran-Contra affair.

Wait... -checks wikipedia- Oh okay, yeah it started in 1981 so this dig is historically justified.

Nick Fury, despite all the guns pointed at Reagan, decides to tackle Sitwell. All while thinking that base commandering this base was just too much pressure for poor Sitwell and clearly he snapped under the strain.

But then Sitwell grabs Fury mid-leap and slams him into the wall.

Nick Fury: “You... you’re not Sitwell!”

Not Sitwell: “No, but I’m a very good double, aren’t I? My men have replaced every single agent on this base! Now, are you ready to notify the proper authorities?”

So seconds later, Fury makes a broadcast to the White House situation room.

Nick Fury: “I... have some bad news, Pete. The boss an’ me are prisoners here.”

BUT! The person who got the message realizes that Bad News Pete is actually Agent Gyrich’s codename.

Which cracks me up.

And since Agent Gyrich is SOMEHOW still the Avengers liaison, despite the fact that they all hate him and refuse to deal with him in person, this is a code from Fury to call the Avengers.

So Henry Peter Gyrich calls the Avengers and tells them what’s going on and before you know it, the Quinjet is flying out of the mansion.

Apparently the launch bay is in the third floor now because the wall just swings open and the Quinjet flies out.

Neat.

On the flight over, Cap, She-Hulk, Thor, and Wasp try to strategize.

Try. Because they know where all the artillery emplacements are but without knowing where the President is being held, they don’t dare make a move.

Hey, Avengers, maybe you don’t have to be bad enough dudes to rescue the president from swamp monsters?

But since that’s not an option, the Avengers decide to wait until they hear from their advance scout.

Also, She-Hulk and Hawkeye are still bickering despite coming to a new understanding of each other recently. Peace was never an option?

So who is the advance scout? Captain Marvel, of course!

This is pretty rad, actually.

She can just turn to x-rays and invisibly zoom through the base going through all the walls she likes.

 Like, yeah, once its known that Captain Marvel is on the Avengers, I bet you can expect villain liars to suddenly start having radiation and energy detectors because of this precise sort of thing, but its neat that this is one of the things Captain Marvel brings to the table.

While zooming around, Captain Marvel also finds a sealed chamber full of gas where all the real SHIELD agents are conked out.

And the most heavily guarded room where she finds Nick Fury and a snoozing president.

Moments later, Captain Marvel nyooms back to the Quinjet as it passes Wilmington, Delaware to deliver her report.

Hawkeye: “Whew! She flew there, searched the place, and got back here before we’d flown much more’n a hundred miles! That’s some kinda fast!”

Drinking some respect Monica juice, Hawkeye?

Captain Marvel reports that Fury and the president are being held in the base commander’s quarters, behind a six inch steel door and four armed men and that the real SHIELD agents are all unconscious in a chamber on the other side of the complex.

This information is enough for Cap(tain America) to start formulating a strategy.

But meanwhile, in a submarine in the bottom of the bay. Its a mysterious figure in a silly outfit who is the one who is behind the doppleganging swamp men.

He receives a report from Simuloid-One aka Not Sitwell who reports that the ultimatum was delivered to the White House and that if they don’t receive a reply in an hour, the president will be killed.

Mysterious Mastermind: “Excellent! If the ransom is delivered, I will have riches enough to work miracles! And if not -- America will be placed in a state of chaos which I will easily turn to my advantage! Either way, I win!”

Simuloid-One agrees that things couldn’t look brighter.

-ominous thunder-

Hee.

Thor is great for irony.

Outside the SHIELD base, Thor stands atop the Quinjet, looking not at all to scale, and destroys radar towers and gun emplacements.

Good thing Tony is missing so he doesn’t have to pay for any of this later.

Actually, is this going to wind up being much cheaper than paying the one billion ransom?

Because when the Quinjet lands, She-Hulk just tears open the ground at Cap’s insistence to reveal the central underground corridor. That’s gonna cost a pretty penny.

Thor stays above ground to finish beating up people and also tanks (although he’s already knocked out half of the fake SHIELD agents on the surface) and the rest of the Avengers slip into the base.

The Avengers split up per Cap’s strategy. She-Hulk and Cap go one direction, Hawkeye and Wasp in the other.

No sooner than they split the party, Cap and She-Hulk are bogged down in a group of the fake SHIELD agents in hilarious yellow suits.

Cap: “Heads up, She-Hulk -- we have company!”

She-Hulk: “Like I said before, no problem! I just wish we weren’t in such a hurry -- so I could take the time to enjoy this more! This is the best workout I’ve had in weeks!”

She-Hulk is fun.

Over with Team Wasp and also Hawkeye, Hawkeye holds off a different gang of swampmenfakeagents as Wasp slips out through a vent to get reinforcements.

Meanwhile, on Team Monica, Monica shows up where Nick Fury is taking off his belt and Reagan is taking a nap. Her part in Cap’s plan is to help Fury guard the president.

Meanwhile but back in New York, a rocket lands at Avengers Mansion.

Since the Avengers have a security at least good enough to detect that, an alarm goes off and Jarvis runs outside with a frying pan to bludgeon whoever it is.

Good hustle, Jarvis.

But its Starfox.

Hit him anyway, Jarvis.

Starfox: “I beg your pardon. I suppose I should have radioed ahead, but I wanted to surprise my old comrades. You must be Jarvis... Thor spoke of you. I am Eros of Titan. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

Jarvis: “Eros? Why... yes. You were allied with the Avengers against Thanos!”

Starfox: “Ah, I thought my fame might have preceded me. Are the Avengers about?”

Jarvis: “I... I’m afraid not, sir. They’re engaged in a most important mission.”

Starfox: “Really? Where?”

Jarvis: “I’m not at liberty to discuss -- !”

Starfox: “Oh, come on! You can tell me!”

Jarvis: “W-well...”

Starfox! You’d better not be using your space charisma on Jarvis! He is an angel!

Back at the plot in Maryland, Thor, Cap(tain America), She-Hulk- and Hawkeye have somehow managed to end up broadly in the same place fighting the combined two groups of fake agents.

And considering its the Avengers hitting them, they’re not going down.

She-Hulk is hitting them and they keep getting up for more!

That’s alarming and impressive.

But... Hawkeye shoots a blast arrow too close to some of the fake agents and one of them loses an arm.

But this isn’t the modern age. That’d be too graphic.

Its only wood.

Its described as brittle wood but again: they were taking hits from She-Hulk.

And based on one of the wood agents getting stuck in a loop, Captain America decides that they’re not only not men, they’re also not even sentient.

I don’t know that matches with what we’ve seen from these simuloids in terms of holding conversation and apparently having personalities. But I guess its only virtual.

But now that the Avengers know their enemies aren’t human and aren’t people, they don’t have to hold back.

They just sort of. Start dismantling the wood men and breaking them to bits so they can’t get back up.

If it weren’t wood, it would be pretty brutal!

Back at the submarine and the secret mastermind, the secret mastermind isn’t pleased that the Avengers are overrunning the base when there’s only six of them and nearly a thousand wood men.

Not Sitwell: “The odds would seem to be in our favor by your calculations, master, but their power is such that -- !”

Secret Mastermind: “Silence! Do not speak to the Plant-Man of power! Mine was the genius that gave the semblance of life to unthinking plant tissue! There can be no greater power than that! Avengers or no Avengers, I will not be thwarted!”

He tells Not Sitwell to dispatch all other simuloids and for Not Sitwell to see to the president and Nick Fury himself.

And since Plant-Man is fairly fed up being made to look the fool by people like the Avengers, he’s not going to take the loss gracefully. And he has a special weapon to crush all opposition and he’s gonna use it!

So! Plantman!

A Mega Man robot master?

No, no. Its Samuel Smithers. Also that wood man we saw in jail last issue. But that was clearly a decoy. How sneaky.

Plantman was originally a Human Torch villain who was a botanist who invented a ray gun that controls and animates plant life.

Much like every other Human Torch Strange Tales villain, I can’t take this man too seriously. He was a grown man who devoted his life trying to bully a teenager.

Also, he joined Nebulon’s cult for a while. So. Even less respect.

His costume also doesn’t scream ‘i control plants.’ He just looks like a doofus.

Anyway, in section C, Hawkeye and Wasp have found the chamber where the real agents of SHIELD are being kept sedated. Wasp finds the air circulation controls and vents the gas.

She sends Hawkeye to go back up Cap and sees to the rousing agents herself.

First things first, she tells them to get undressed.

Dammit, Jan! Time and place!

Jokes aside, I feel like this is a shirts vs skins thing.

What with all the identical people in yellow suits and face obscuring helmets and goggles.

In section B, Not Sitwell is following Plantman’s orders. He takes the elevator from the base communications center to the CO’s office.

Which opens right in front of the CO’s office for some reason.

That just seems like its asking for trouble. Like the CO falling down an open elevator shaft because the elevator just opens right in the floor!

Who designed this base!

What happens if you take the elevator up right when someone is leaving the office and they trod on your head! This is why elevators aren’t located in the middle of the floor!

Anyway, Not Sitwell tells the door guards to cover him while he eliminates the prisoners.

Inside the CO office, Nick Fury has finished taking off his belt.

So much undressing in this issue!

Okay, but seriously. Apparently, just in case of a situation exactly like this where he’s disarmed, Nick wears a belt that he can convert into a slingshot. Including an explosive pellet that could blow down a steel door.

That’s thinking ahead!

To a weird degree. Hopefully its a stable explosive and won’t go off in case anyone ever kicks him in the dick.

Anyway, he never ever gets a chance to use it because Cap(tain America) and She-Hulk beat up the guards and Not Sitwell and came in to help rescue Fury and the president. And they give him Not Sitwell’s gun so there’s no reason for Nick to ever use his belt explosive.

It be like that sometimes.

Then there’s a K-BAM that shakes the base so Cap(tain America) sends Cap(tain Marvel) and She(-Hulk) to investigate while he stays with Fury to protect the president.

Meanwhile, the president the Reagan wakes up from his nap. This isn’t important but this is the characterization the comic is going with. Sleepy Reagan.

Captain Marvel zooms off at literal light speed with She-Hulk telling her not to hog all of the action.

But then She-Hulk finds Hawkeye who has been pinned under some collapsed ceiling after that K-BAM. She(-Hulk) helps him out but his leg has been broken.

Then a bunch of shirtless people run in to She-Hulk’s alarm.

But its okay! Its the people Jan had get shirtless! And it was, probably, for shirt vs skins reasons!

Wasp tells She-Hulk that they’ve cleared out most of the fake agents and that they’ll keep an eye on Hawkeye, so She-Hulk should find out whats going on topside.

She-Hulk: “Holee -- ! What the devil is that?!”

Turns out that whats going on topside iiiiiiiiis

A giant-sized man-thing?

No, no. But definitely some kind of large... swamp... thing.

It apparently stomped out of the bay, according to a bolt of electricity. Who is Captain Marvel. Who also reports that the giant-sized swamp thing is pretty resistant to electricity.

Which makes sense. Vegetation isn’t a great conductor, is it?

She-Hulk: “The only thing a monster that big understands is strength!”

Then she runs at it Leeroy Jenkins style and gets stomped.

So thaaaaaaaat explains that cover. Good to know, good to know.

She-Hulk is strong enough to start lifting the foot off of her and Thor makes it even easier by smashing the monster in the leg, making ti topple to the ground.

Then Captain Marvel basically turns into a laser and bounces all over the monster, carving bits off.

Problem: This thing works under Sorcerer’s Apprentice rules.

Every piece chopped off becomes an angry tree man.

Those are some angry Ents.

Which unfortunately puts the Avengers right back where they started vis having a small army of angry wood men they have to beat up.

... Son of a damn is the giant-sized swamp thing an asteroids monster? You beat him into smaller monsters and have to beat those into monsters too small to be a threat anymore?

Dammit, Plantman!

She-Hulk points out the obvious that Captain Marvel can just set all the wood men on fire.

Which she does. She just starts emitting infrared radiation until a miniature, ambulatory forest fire starts.

Plantman: “This can’t be! They’re destroying my mightiest creation! What next?”

What next is that a rocket hits the giant-sized swamp thing in the face, destroying it.

Annnnd out pops Starfox.

Trading one problem for another.

Ha ha.

Ok, maybe he’s not actually so bad. We’ll see.

With the giant-sized swamp thing destroyed, Plantman flees the scene in his submarine. Luckily smart enough to not have shown his face so the Avengers don’t know he was involved.

Order is restored to the base and all the agents put their shirts back on, presumably to Jan’s chagrin.

President Reagan is grandfatherly or whatever and instead of complaining about this laughably massive security breach, just raises SHIELD’s budget so they can plug this swamp slime hole in their security.

And I’m surrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre SHIELD will never have massive security breaches everrrrrrrrrrrrrr again.

Then again, he slept through most of the story so I’m sure he has no idea what happened.

And apparently Captain Marvel was moved from trainee to full, active Avenger at some point between issues.

Everyone pats her back and tells her that she did a good job, which she did do.

Starfox slides into the conversation and also adds his congratulations, slightly flirtily.

Captain Marvel is like holy shit an alien. What are you doing on Earth?

Starfox: “Why, I should think it’s obvious! I’ve come to join the Avengers!”

Everyone: “WHAT?!”

Hawkeye: -facepalm- Oh, no!

Womp, womp!

Heh. I’m amused that the Avengers have a similar reaction to me about this guy showing up to join the team.

So as Stern’s first issue not completing someone else’s story? Very good job, Stern. This was fun.

The characters were used effectively. The plot was fresh. Hawkeye’s leg got broken.

You’re doing a really good job!

Follow @essential-avengers​ because together we can make fun of Starfox much more effectively. Also like and reblog to let me do I’m doing a good job.

[polymathemawrites]

Hand Holds 2/?

cw: same as before but we’re adding on descriptions of borderline hypothermia to the mix

Mathias and Flynn find themselves up against the elements and get snowed in together

Posting the letters at the mailbox, Mathias waits till the flap goes back down, snapping into place as whatever odd Dalaran magic sucks the letters off and away. Moving towards the gryphon master he notes out of the corner of his eye, Fairwind shoving their mugs off onto one of the lodge workers. By the time he's finished arranging for Shadowtalon's return to Boralus after her rest the Captain has finished and come to stand at his side.

"But won't you be wanting to go with her?" The gryphon master asks, peering up at the dark sky, "If you plan to go on foot somewhere, I'd do it another day, this storm is going to turn nasty soon."

Mathias followed the man's gaze but only saw the same slow flurry of snowflakes that seemed to always fall this time of year near the mountains. "How soon?" It still paid to listen to locals, every bit of intel helped.

"By morning at least but you'd get better information from a Tidesage as to what the water wants to do."

"Not a lot of them about here right now, mate. Otherwise we would have had your fires put out in minutes." Fairwind smiles amiably at the man, "What sort of storm are we talking?"

"At least twelve inches of cover, likely. See how much colder it's gotten with the sun down?"

Used to Elwynn's more mild winters in comparison to Tiragarde, Mathias considered it was always colder here but did note that there'd been a sharp drop earlier. Thanking the gryphon master he checked his bag one last time, going to stand behind the inn as he did it, unsurprised that Fairwind had followed him there. 

"Where are we going?" Fairwind asks, casually leaning against the side of the inn, the bustle of recovery efforts a hum behind him. 

"This isn't a we. I'm scouting and you're not coming, Captain." He can't look at the man, he can't bring himself to, as if he knows if he does, his entire resolve will crumble. 

"Have you ever scouted through Tiragarde on foot, Master Shaw? It's not easy, not that I'm doubting your abilities, Tides know you have enough of them, but when a storm comes on it's impossible to wayfind your way out unless you know the area intimately, even then it's a gamble. I'm sober for once," Fairwind laughs and Mathias turns to him against his better judgement, the man is suffused with warmth and good cheer, the colour of his eyes is hidden in the dark corner they're tucked into but the glint of them is unmistakable, the man is not just easy on the eyes, he is breathtaking like this - a private moment stolen, a view of the man that was entirely Mathias' and no one else, "And I know Kul Tiras like the back of my hand, let me be your guide for the night, you won't regret it."

That Fairwind could make that sound like a sexual invitation really doesn't surprise him, what does is his own response.

"Fine, but you need to keep up with me or I'll leave you in a snow bank to freeze." 

He wouldn't really leave him in a snowbank to freeze and Fairwind seems to know this for he laughs softly as if it's a joke. Mathias realizes that maybe it is, seeing as he wouldn't just leave him. With Fairwind's steady stride and slightly longer legs it's not too difficult for the man to keep up anyway. By the time they're onto the road and skirting a field of ice elementals the Captain has told him about the history of the Lodge, the Wendigo that had devoured an entire encampment of guards in one night, and the time he fell off a horse and nearly broke his leg. Two of these things were regionally applicable, the horse bit had absolutely nothing to do with anything else happening and Mathias was turning mental summersaults attempting to figure out how Fairwind had connected it all together.

He's forced to give it up when the man asks him a direct question, "Where are we heading again?"

"I never told you actually, so there is no 'again' at all." 

"Fairs that, so where are we heading?"

In the distance he can see the watchtower of Vigil Hill and above them the steady snowfall has continued, but it doesn't seem to be picking up much, if at all. "Down the Drustvar coast, some adventurers caught sight of a Horde encampment and I want to get eyes on it as soon as possible." He hears the apprehension in Fairwind's steps and manages to outpace the man by a few feet before the ex-pirate picks up his pace to fall alongside him again. After one run in with the Horde today, he's not surprised by the reaction, the Captain wasn't a soldier, he wasn't a fighter, he was a sailor who worked for profit and Mathias should have told him right off, it probably would have dissuaded the man entirely. "You can turn back or stay in Vigil Hill, I'll understand." 

"Oh don't worry, you won't get rid of me that easily." The levity and bravado is back into Fairwind's voice and step and Mathias is warmed faintly by the courage in the man, or perhaps idiocy, save he doesn't think it is that - Fairwind is perfectly capable of measuring the risk to reward of any given task, it's what makes him such a good runner of Azerite, amongst other things. It's just not entirely clear what the reward is here, what has the man following him on a scouting mission at all. Certainly Mathias isn't such splendid company that it's reward enough to follow him into a potentially dangerous situation? 

"Good thing I thought to pack some food to bring along, thought I'd need to bunk down for the night but they had it all well in hand by the time we even got there."

"Yes, Holton seems to keep things running smoothly." 

"Should be enough to feed the two of us, hopefully. You could eat enough for an ogre when you get your mind into it." Fairwind's tone is fond so the comment doesn't rankle him as much as it would coming from someone else. Many things the man says would have caused him a bit of ire coming from anyone else, which just goes to show how compromised he's become concerning his feelings for the Captain. "Not that you look like one, has anyone told you lately how beautif-" Fairwind's words are cut off abruptly by Mathias throwing his arm out to prevent the man from walking his way off the path and into a ditch, but also because he didn't think he could handle hearing the rest.

"Oh, thanks love, wasn't watching where I was going, too busy watching you!" Fairwind laughs and throws him a charming smile which he turns his attention from entirely, although silence and ignoring him had never worked on Fairwind even once. He nearly trips when the full sentence catches up with though, the casual use of 'love' and the flirtatious turn of phrase - it is only the years and years of training that kept his footing stable. 

"You would do best to pay attention to your steps, I'll let you tumble into the ditch next time."

"Wouldn't want you any other way, hardly yourself if you just follow me around keeping me out of ditches." 

Mathias sighs, "Please do not make me regret allowing you to come with me." 

"Do my best, love, but if you end up killing me and burying me in the snow, will you at least pour one out for me?"

Mathias throws him a worried and slightly confused look, "Why would I kill you? We're on the same side, Fairwind."

"Oh I meant, if I ever get on your nerves, or I suppose more of them than I usually do." The actual sheepish and self conscious tone of the man's voice sends a spike of guilt and something softer and sadder through him.

"You're charming and pleasant company, Fairwind." More than pleasant, Mathias had to admit to himself, he's relatively sure any number of people who knew him would have laughed at him for a number of things he'd done that day, from getting caught up in Feathermoon's trap to agreeing to let Flynn Fairwind himself follow him on a covert operation. Noticing the Captain has gone silent he glances to the side only to see a dark flush striping across Fairwind's handsome face. "Captain?"

The ex-pirate looks at him with an abrupt jerk, that curious flush tinting darker, "Oh, you're not putting one on?" The man cocks his head to consider Mathias and as such he's not watching where he's going and despite what he'd just said about letting Fairwind meet his end in a ditch he carefully maneuvers the man to cross into Vigil Hill without ending up in water. "Just a little hard to believe coming from you, mate."

"I like it when people can keep up with me in actions and words." The repartee they'd shared during the Vault job and after had been a pleasure, and Fairwind was capable of keeping up with him in many ways. He was perhaps overly lonely to have the company mean so much to him but the temperature was swiftly dropping and Vigil Hill was empty at this hour (and after much of the inhabitants had fled during the Ashvane funded incursion of pirates earlier in the year) so someone keeping up with him meant more than it probably should. They were ignored by the Night Watch, being just two men passing through, and Fairwind didn't bring attention to them by replying until they were out of the outpost and headed toward the northern point of the little isle.

Now far enough away from Kenning's Lodge the air lacked the acrid burn of smoke and instead set his lungs on fire via the cold. The snow was beginning to fall in a speed with which Mathias was starting to believe would be up to a gnome's knees soon. The northern end of Vigil Hill was home to a dock and moored there was a row boat and a lone watchman who stood from his chair as they made their way to him, grease lamp held high. "If you're looking for passage I'm not takin' anyone further than Hangman's Point."

"Come on, it's colder than a witch's tits and you won't take us down the coast?"

"Go get your own boat if you want to go further." The man looks old enough to be Mathias' father, not that he ever knew the man himself, still he could sympathize, the water looked ready to turn to slush and the man's spine was already bent, the cold probably wasn't helping.

"Just passage to Drustvar will do, thank you ferryman." Mathias cut in before Fairwind could make enough of a nuisance of them to have the man's mind change entirely about taking them over at all.

The trip over is uneventful after the aging boatman is convinced to let them row instead. Falling into a silent syncopation allows Mathias to center himself again and leave behind the Captain's flirtations.

When they disembark the ferryman holds his hand up to halt them. "If you're coming back this way you won't need a boat lads, the water will be frozen by morning, thick enough to walk on it."

"We will likely be taking a gryphon from the town north of here, thank you for the advice and safe passage." Mathias bows.

Fairwind, shaking out his hands gives his own farewell, "If it's going to be frozen you get yourself into a warm place then and take care crossing, you won't have us to feel guilty and row for you."

The ferryman laughs and his voice carries eerily over the water, the sound of the oars dipping into slush following.

Turning away from the water to look at the thick forest of Drustvar he felt more than saw Fairwind do the same as the man's arm brushed against his.

"Can't say I wanted to spend the day before Winter's Veil eve in Drustvar, but the company is worth it."

"Are you going to flirt with me the entire time?" Mathias turns, footprints left in the sand, looking for the nearest path to cut into the woods and away from the open air of the shore, the feeling of exposure sent a curl of chill down his spine which didn't help the fact that he was now freezing.

Flynn was remarkably silent for once when he strode to follow after him. "That coming from the man who just said he enjoyed my company. But I'll confess, I wasn't sure if you even knew I was flirting, mate. If it makes you uncomfortable I'll stop."

"It doesn't." It comes out before he even has a chance to stop himself, and then he's backpedaling, "But it's highly inappropriate and you should stop anyway."

Fairwind's footsteps falter behind him but then speed up and the man is at his side again despite Mathias trying very hard to outpace him at that exact moment. Damn his longer legs, damn all of Fairwind really.

"Inappropriate for who, or for why at that matter?"

There is a break in the treeline, what looks like a trampled path, maybe caused by animals, or maybe by men. He carefully pulls himself up the rocks before the trees, stopping only to turn and hold his hand out to help Fairwind as well.

Without pause, the ex-pirate takes his hand and uses the hold to help himself up. Standing suddenly chest to chest at the edge of the treeline, Mathias falls still and shivers.

"You're cold-" the Captain begins, only for Mathias to cut him off.

"You're not my subordinate, I have no rank over you, but I am the Spymaster and you constantly doing this in public, without me reprimanding you for it, will likely only result in people thinking I'm a pushover. No one is allowed to take those liberties with me, Fairwind. I do not allow it, if you were one of my agents I would have put a stop to it long ago."

They're still holding hands, still close enough to embrace.

"I'm not your agent." Fairwind smiles down at him, it sends a thrill through Mathias that settles like heat in the pit of his stomach. "No one could ever call you a pushover, love. No amount of rank and class is going to get me to stop, only you. You tell me you don't want it, and I'll stop, for you." He registers Fairwind's other hand coming up slowly, toward his cheek, before it can touch him a familiar and unwanted sound proceeds the sudden and sharp slash of air through the trees.

In Northrend, the howl of a blizzard was something he'd come to recognize. Even kept safe in the thick walls of the keep the wailing of nature was prevalent. Here, it hit with such sudden ferocity he grasped onto Flynn's arm for support, about to tell the man they needed cover when Flynn shouted it for him.

"If we don't get inside we'll be snowed under, love!"

He doesn't even need to spur them on, Flynn is practically dragging him along the path, and he kicks off at speed, rushing them along faster.

Maybe in Tiragarde the snow would have come down slower - there was something supernatural about the speed with which the forest was being buried by this storm. With local legends (or truths) about Witches running rampant and the Drust plaguing the place, it led credence to those thoughts. He could only hope that the Horde outpost to the south was being similarly affected.

Within minutes visibility was gone, their only boon was that the path they'd found kept them from needing to beat down the bush cover.

He hadn't been frozen before, not now that the howling wind was cutting him to the bone, the only source of warmth he could feel was the hand still clasped in Flynn's own.

When practical thoughts of survival turned steadily toward an acceptance of death, when he began to feel hot - he knew he was right about the magic in the snow. His pace was sluggish and yet Flynn still dragged him onward, he could hear the man howl something at the sky, but he didn't understand it, or maybe he was hallucinating.

The idea that he was beginning to slip became even more likely when he could swear he saw the impression of a building. Except then they were sheltered from the howl of the wind before it and Flynn was about to kick the door in so Mathias came to his senses enough to pull the ex-pirate back. He dropped their linked hands finally to go for his lock picking kit. The door's defenses fell away readily enough and the door was saved from having it's hinges broken. That his hands were shaking so much it put an extra few seconds on the lock no one could fault him for. It would have been unfortunate if they'd had cold air and snow blowing in on them.

Inside with the door shut against the intolerable chill allowed Mathias the moment to consider how he'd likely been ready to die. He'd have to take stock of that later, much later, and not now, and likely talk to one of SI:7's medics about his mental state. Or - or he could push it off till later and then never do it and throw himself into work as soon as he got back to Boralus. Not that he had experience doing that, oh not at all. 

Realizing he'd been standing in the middle of a one room cabin doing nothing but mentally snarking himself for his workaholic solutions to every problem for a few minutes now, he finally moved to help Flynn with the potbelly stove in the corner. While the entire cabin had a fine film of dust upon it's furnishings, the precut wood by the stove was dry and between the two of them they had a fire going soon. Luckily the pipe was clean and so they didn't end up smoked out either. 

"Mathias," Flynn drew his attention, forcing him to realize he'd been standing there in front of the stove holding himself and shivering for an extended amount of time, "We need to get you out of your armor." He also noticed that Flynn had somehow shed his own soaked-through clothing without drawing attention to himself and was down to his skivvies and nothing else. He stares, numb and perhaps stupidly, unable to do anything but stand there, even as Flynn comes forward and carefully begins to undo the clasps of his pauldrons. 

He's kickstarted by Flynn's touch and follows his lead, hands shaking. Remarkably Flynn isn't shaking nearly as badly as he is. "H-h-how-" Mathias tries and then gives up, until his teeth stop chattering he doesn't have the patience for himself. 

"Shh, love," Flynn's voice is so soft and low, worried maybe, and caring, "Just let me take care of you."

Maybe if he'd been capable of it, he would have flushed but he was too frozen right now. He moves his limbs as Flynn instructs him to and soon enough his armor is discarded on the ground and Flynn is pulling him under the dusty covers of the cabin's single bed. With his head tucked under Flynn's chin and his body tangled up with the ex-pirates he found some relief finally. Flynn was not hot so much as he was luke-warm but even that slight temperature difference was beautiful, rapturous, intoxicating. Like a blast of holy light flooding through him and for a man of the shadows it was almost too much - almost, but delicious enough to curb that overwhelming sensory experience. 

"I take it you've never fallen into a frozen over river." Flynn speaks against his hair and Mathias makes a hum in the negative not that it's very clear either way. "Didn't think so." Flynn added so he must have understood him anyway.

As the pain and shuddering slowly abates bone-deep exhaustion takes it's place. He doesn't realize he's fallen asleep until Flynn is moving from the bed to put more wood in the stove and easily drifts off once more when he's back in Flynn's arms.

[argent-vulpine]

The Queen’s Scheme(r)s

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: G

Characters: Yuri/F!Byleth/Claude, feat. Seteth

Chapter Three: Rest & Relaxation

Read it on AO3

Seteth, ever the caring (doting) hard worker (over-worker, frankly) had very decidedly forced Byleth to take a day off. No paperwork. No church business. No cardinals’ meetings or construction planning or anything that resembled more than relaxing. He had very firmly told her that the bags under her eyes were unbecoming the Archbishop and that she should get some rest.

He was also a massive hypocrite, but she knew it was pointless to argue. They’d become good friends, despite such a rough start to their acquaintanceship, and she really did trust his judgment, especially in matters regarding the church. Deep down, she thought he would have made a much better Archbishop, but now certainly wasn’t the time to try and shift that authority around.

She’d give it a few years. Maybe.

In the meantime, she would do exactly as he suggested and take a break. If she were being honest with herself, it was much needed and she knew it. The strain of running an entire country – kingdom? – alongside the Church of Seiros was a lot.

There was a pang in her chest, the desire to see and talk to her father stronger than ever. What would he do, in her position? Not that he’d have allowed it. Jeralt the Blade Breaker as crown? She could imagine the look of disgust on his face.

“There’s that smile I love so much,” said a voice at her shoulder, startling her out of her thoughts. Claude grinned and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “We heard Seteth forced you to take a day off,” he continued, pretending oblivion to the look now gracing her face, “So we decided to help out. Yuri’s already drawn a bath.”

He took her hand in his, giving her a gentle tug. Byleth gave a longsuffering sigh but followed behind him anyway, barely managing to hide her smile.

Claude knew, anyway. He could tell from the way her eyes lit up, the very faint crinkling at the corners. Byleth might never emote as openly as others, but all the little things were there to be read by anyone who cared enough. And he – and Yuri – definitely cared enough. They’d seen the tension building in her shoulders, the way her neck was stiffening, the muscles around her eyes tight with stress.

He wasn’t sure if the spymaster had also spoken to Seteth, but Claude most definitely had.

Thankfully, the advisor had agreed that Byleth needed a break. She didn’t have to know that the concern had come from anyone else. She didn’t like to worry them, after all.

Their trip up to their suite was blessedly short; no one stopped them to talk to Byleth – Seteth’s doing, perhaps? – and so they were able to progress unimpeded.

True to Claude’s word, Yuri was waiting in the bath itself, the water already drawn, heated to exactly how Byleth liked it. Lavender petals had been added to the water, the scent permeating the room.

“You two are too good for me,” she murmured, giving Claude a brief kiss before moving to do the same to Yuri. “Even if you aretroublemakers.”

“Ah, but we’re your troublemakers,” replied Claude with a cheeky grin and an even cheekier wink.

Yuri shot him a look that bordered on annoyed contempt. They all knew it was an act. “Speak for yourself, Khalid. I don’t make the trouble; I deal with it.”

Byleth snorted at that, allowing them both to help her remove the many layers she wore for her duties as Archbishop. “Is that so? What about just last week when I found that trap on the passage leading to Abyss?”

“Well, you can’t be too careful. That door is too close to our quarters and there’s no telling who might find it,” he retorted primly, carefully hanging her robe.

“The trap wards on the terrace?” chimed in Claude, earning a slight frown from Byleth.

“Wyverns and pegasi don’t only belong to the church corps. The wards are to deter unwanted guests from landing.”

“And do those wards know how to tell friend from foe?” Byleth asked, knowing that they didn’t. Or that Yuri hadn’t bothered to have Claude recognized. “You can’t set fire to Khalid and his wyvern just because he poisoned your tea. Although,” she rounded on the man in question with a glare, “You shouldn’t be poisoning his tea to begin with.”

That set off a chain of bickering between the two of them, during which Byleth finished disrobing herself and slipped into the water, sighing happily as the warmth surrounded her, penetrating down to her bones. She tuned them out, used to their antics by now even if the rest of the monastery wasn’t, nor was likely to ever be.

She knew the real people behind the schemes and the pranks – and the vague (or not-so-vague) threats of murder.

Byleth was dimly aware when the bickering stopped; more aware when two bodies entered the very large bath with her, their presence a comfort at her sides. Her eyes were closed, relaxing and resting as she’d been told to do, when one of them – Yuri, she thought – began to carefully wet her hair, using a small cup to pour the water on the green locks.

Claude had one of her hands in his and was gently massaging. Byleth hadn’t even been aware her hands had been that tight, but it certainly explained the increase in cramps of late. Who knew signing papers was more strenuous than wielding a sword?

With Yuri gently washing her hair and Claude massaging her hands and arms, it was no wonder that Byleth drifted off into a light doze. Their careful, loving ministrations reminded her why she loved them in the first place, despite their antics… though she had to admit that their antics had also had something to do with it.

She was only vaguely aware when they helped her out of the bath, drying her off with soft towels. Claude, noting how she was only barely awake, had scooped her up into his arms and carried her to their bed, depositing her gently in the middle while Yuri fussed with the covers, tucking her in.

They left her to sleep and to take care of their own business. Just because Byleth was being made to take a day off didn’t mean they could do the same.

The sun hadn’t traveled that far by the time Byleth awoke, stretching languidly in the bed. It had been perhaps a little more than an hour, but she felt much better than when she’d first woken for the day. Her husbands were nowhere to be found, but that wasn’t surprising. She had missed their comforting presence in the bed, but duties called, she was sure.

One of them had laid out fresh clothes for her, she noted, spotting the pile on the vanity chair.

Might as well get dressed and head out. It wouldn’t do for her to be abed all day. She needed to at least be seen, even if she wasn’t working.

She almost laughed when she saw what clothes had been chosen for her. An outfit resembling her old mercenary garb was laid out – a clear sign that she was neither the Archbishop nor the Queen for today.

Once dressed and with freshly brushed hair, Byleth ventured out of their rooms, giving a smile to her personal guard – the former gatekeeper – who grinned and saluted with a jaunty “Nothing to report!” as she passed.

Byleth took her time heading down the stairs, enjoying a leisurely pace that she maintained even when she took to the halls, nodding her greetings at those she passed. It was almost amusing, really; gone were the days of her zipping through the halls, startling people and causing no small amount of consternation with many of the inhabitants.

It was perhaps unsurprising that she ended up at the little dock on the pond, casting a line out over the water as she settled down, the tips of her boots barely skimming the surface.

She was alone for some time, her basket steadily filling with fish that she would take up to the dining hall when she was done, before she felt the shadow of a visitor fall over her. “Are you finally taking a break of your own?” she asked the shadow, smiling when Seteth huffed out a sigh and joined her at the end of the pier.

He did sit, though he didn’t put his legs over the end as she had. “I was checking in on you… but I suppose it can’t hurt if I take a little break.”

She gave him a slight smile, gesturing with her chin toward some spare rods. He took and baited one from her supply of bait, casting out his own line. “I see Leonie taught you well,” she noted. “You didn’t struggle even a little that time.”

Seteth gave her a look that she knew to be his feigned disapproval. It only made her smile broaden. “Yes, well, she was an invaluable resource.”

“Oh, an invaluable resource, you say? I’ll be sure to let her know you said that when I next have tea with her. She’s due back from the field in the next week or so.”

With Byleth unable to take over her father’s mercenary band, Leonie had decided to give it a shot herself. She’d been earning quite the name for herself. Jeralt would have been proud, she was certain, even if he hadn’t quite understood the woman’s attachment to him. And the group had taken to her easily, to the point she was unquestionably their leader.

They still called themselves Jeralt’s group, though. After all, his name had clout even if the man himself had long passed.

Beside her, her advisor made a strangled sound in his throat, perhaps mild panic. “Please do not tell her I said such,” he finally ground out.

“Mm. Perhaps I won’t.” They fished in silence for several long minutes before Byleth spoke again. “I’m glad that you have made true friends, Seteth. It’s not good to live such a lonely life.”

“I am glad, too. And for you, as well. I wonder… I wonder if Sothis suspected what would happen when you came here.”

“Hmm. Intuitively, perhaps. But she never did say anything.” A pause. “Anything that wasn’t heckling me, at least. Or making comments about others.”

He looked startled at that; Byleth had never before offered up what kind of things had been going on in her head, her secret conversations with the goddess. But the shock wore off and he laughed, a rich sound she didn’t get to hear often. Byleth grinned, pleased with herself as she saw some of the tension drain from his shoulders. “I’d ask what she said about me when first we met, but I’m certain I don’t want to know.”

Byleth hummed in agreement, turning her attention back to the pond. “I miss her voice still, sometimes. But… all the friends I’ve made, they help. I think she would be proud of where we are now.”

“That… that is nice to hear. Thank you, Byleth.”

The conversation drifted away after that, leaving the two in companionable silence until Seteth excused himself to return to work, taking the baskets of fish with him.

Byleth stayed a while longer, not fishing but simply enjoying the way the light played on the water’s surface, before she too rose and left, casting one last glance at the pond.

A fish – the one known as the Goddess Messenger – leapt out of the water, executing a perfect arch, before splashing back down. She smiled and turned, leaving the fish to its fun.

[justreadingfics]

Looking For a Heartbeat (19/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Series Summary: You and Bucky used to be in a relationship. Feelings were hurt, you left. It’s been two years and you’re back. You both will handle the reunion well, won’t you?

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings for this chapter: fluff, some angst, lots  of pinning, use of hormones as an excuse.  

A/N: @suz-123 is my angel and I love her. Links are messing up posts, you can find the masterlist link on my description.

“Hey.” Your smile is bright as you spot Bucky walking into the Doctor Nadine ́s waiting room.

“Hi,” He smiles back. As handsome as ever. He’s been keeping his face with nothing but a light stubble lately and the little jump in your heart reminds you that, despite loving his full beard; you also have a huge soft spot for that look. Maybe it’s because the light shade enhances the outlines of his beautiful and plump lips. He’s sporting his customary outfit: white henley and dark jeans which enhances every single delightful part of him as he walks and his many, hard muscles move through the fabric.

The sting on your lips makes you notice you’re biting them as you stare at him. You blink and swiftly compose yourself as he takes a seat next to you.

“Am I late?” If he noticed your shameless gawking, he doesn't let it show.

Goddamn those pregnant hormones, and goddamn Bucky for not helping at all by being that extraordinarily hot on a daily basis, only adding to your increasing frustration.

“Not at all. Doctor Nadine is, though.” You try to put on some nonchalance into your voice to disguise your current state of…distress.

“Here.” Only when he hands it to you, you notice the little paper bag in his hands.

Accepting the bag, you smirk and side eye him, as he shrugs.  You laugh when you find in your hands a stuffed little pig, all white except for some greyish brown stamps all over it and the nose and the inside of the ears, which are pink.

“I couldn’t resist.” He looks guilty as a shy smile curls up his lips, “The clerk said it's from a Disney movie called Moana.”

“It will look awesome next to the Unicorn.” You grin, pressing the stuffie against your cheek and relishing in its fluffiness before placing it back in the bag, “Speaking of that, the kids were pretty bummed by you leaving earlier yesterday. You have a couple of new fans.”

A chuckle rumbles through his chest, “They’re awesome…” His lively expression falls a bit as his eyes bore into yours and he bites the inside of his cheeks, “I had to sort something out... with Anna.”

“Oh…” You still feel his eyes on you as you turn ahead at the information, averting his eyes from him. “Ok.”

You both stay quiet. The silence isn't comfortable at all as you tap your fingers on your thigh, gripping the little bag hard in your hand. The unspoken question tugging at your tongue as dread pinches the pit of your stomach. God, you hate feeling like that.

“And did you?” You can’t hold it back anymore. “Sort things out?”

“Yeah, actually.” Bucky looks down as his eyebrows snap together, “It was a good talk.” Bucky nods, almost as if he’s talking to himself.

“Good.” You repeat his words, tightening your lips in a failed attempt of forming a smile for him, “Good, good, good…” The mumble slips out quietly from your lips as you turn your head to stare ahead, legs distractedly bouncing.  

“It was a very good chat.” Bucky talks again and you hum in acknowledgement. “We admitted our mistakes. Forgave each other.”

The sting is sharp against your chest as your heart drops to your stomach. You just nod, gulping down the lump in your throat, without once looking back at him. You shouldn’t be feeling like this… anxious… jealous... Weren’t you the very one to tell him he should talk to Anna?  Listen to her? Very sensible of you, right? You fight the urge to roll your eyes at yourself right before you hear his voice again.

“It was good to close this chapter. Getting romantically involved was a mistake.”

Your face snap to him. His eyes were already on you, but you can’t quite read his guarded expression.

“We agreed on that and now we can move on.” He adds, softly. His hands linked together of his thighs.

“Oh, so you ́re not back together.” You ask as your unwise faltering heart needs a confirmation.

He simply shakes his head.

“Good.” You definitely shouldn’t sound as joyful as you do. You clear your throat and try to keep an even expression on your face, for good measure.  “I mean… Are you ok?” You ask with honest worry. Despite the stupid feelings that keep making a fuzz of your chest, you know what Anna means to Bucky and, yeah, if it meant he would be happy, it would hurt you, but you would understand if they had gotten back together.    

“Yeah.” His lips curl down, “I was a jerk to her. You told me I would hurt her, and I did.” He shrugs, and you see the little bone in his throat moving as he swallows.

“Oh, Bucky, I-”

“But we're good now.” He nods to himself, not allowing you to lie and say you really didn’t mean that. You did. It doesn’t mean you’re happy about it, but you knew in  heart at  the time that he would end up hurting her. Running away is never the answer.  You learned this the hard way.

“Ok,” You nod, keeping the thoughts to yourself.  

His eyes meet yours and  you spot the softness in them when he speaks, just as softly, “Time to move on.”

You smile at each other.  A shared smile full of unspoken words. But it’s also full of history and easy and honest and it keeps plastered on your face the whole day.

~~~

A tiny kick makes you place your hand over your round stomach and smile.

“Are you waking up, peanut?” You mumble to your belly, drawing small circles over it.

You’re a little bit more than 29 weeks now and the baby has been making themselves noticeable for a few weeks already.  What started out as a fluttery sensation now has turned into full kicks and jabs. A child of two Avengers, no doubt about that. You love feeling them. Well, maybe except when the little brat hits you with the force of a tiny super soldier in your ribs, which they’ve been very keen to do the last few days.

The baby is big. So damn big  and heavy. 20 inches and already 7 pounds. A whole lot more than expected if they didn’t have a super DNA in them. As they develop that strong, it’s been getting more and more difficult for your body to carry the pregnancy. The appointments have been more frequent, almost daily. Doctor Nadine estimates you won’t get to the 39th or 40th  week, which has been making you a bit anxious, of course. As much as you’re dying to see the little face of your peanut, a premature birth is never ideal. What makes you sleep easier at night is that Tony’s has gone over the top and there’s medical assistance available for you 24/7 at a short walking distance to the Tower’s med bay.  

You and Bucky have been discussing names. He’s been allowing you to come up with all the options so he doesn’t let the sex slip with a biased suggestion. After hours, days and weeks of research and debates, so far you’ve narrowed it down to Mary or Ava if it’s a girl and Theo or Lucas, if it’s a boy. Being one of the best spies in the world, he didn’t put on any expression or say anything that could spill the beans.

Speaking of the daddy, he’s always around, always bringing a little cute souvenirs which he absolutely couldn’t resist buying on his way over the tower. He’s still living at his little apartment in Brooklyn and whether this would change after the baby arrived or not you don’t know and, to be honest, you won’t ask. You’ve been talking and talking and talking, but nothing more than things related solely to the baby. Anything that could lead to certain topics or interpretations have been avoided. Having him around has been more than you could ever wish for and you wouldn’t handle him getting scared and running away from you again.

You’ve decided to continue living at the tower after the baby is born, for the team of uncles and aunts pure joy. It is the safest place on earth, and the floor Tony has been remodeling into a mega apartment for you is almost ready and perfect. He’s been taking care of everything and you really don’t mind. You were never one to really care about decorations and stuff and it’s his way of showing love, so you gladly accept it. Well, except for the nursery, which you and Bucky were adamant to be responsible for and have been working on the room together.

Just right now, he and Steve are applying the wallpaper you two have chosen and putting the crib together while you’re in your new kitchen, which is already done and fully functional, squeezing some fresh lemonade for the two hard workers.

After you place the Jar and the glasses on a tray, you walk towards the nursery, but what you find when you cross the opened door makes you choke on air and almost drop all the lemonade to the floor.

Bucky. Standing on a ladder. Shirtless. With his built, bare back to you as he reaches the roller up to glue the highest part of the wallpaper. His locks are trapped in one of those damn low buns of his, as droplets of sweat ran down the deepened line between the muscles of his back. Your eyes descend his body and meet his jeans hanging low, showing you a large stripe of the black boxes he has underneath.

Shit. It’s been like this now. Just the sight of him making you dizzy and most definitely… bothered. As a rush of heat washes over your core, you tell yourself it’s the damn hormones fault and, of course, you being completely sex deprived for so long, but you’re not really sure if it’s really this or the fact you have him around you almost all the time now, and having him around had always been enough to cause a number on your body reactions.

You hear an inhuman sound when he stretches his back. Your eyes widen at the realization the sound must’ve come out from you when he looks over his shoulder and spots you there: pathetically standing by the door, holding a tray with lemonade, dumbly staring at him.

He smiles and promptly climbs down the stairs, “Hey,” He greets as he drops the roller on the floor, covered by newspaper, and walks towards you, using his forearm to clean some sweat off his forehead.

Goddamn.

“Hey,” You mumble back, somewhat breathless as his broad, shirtless, sweaty figure stands in front of you. Your tongue darts out to run over your dry lips.

“So? What do you think?”

“What?” You blink.

He narrowed his eyes at you an chuckles before pointing his hand towards the walls.

“Oh.” You jump, finally taking your eyes off of him to let them roam around the room. The balloons wallpaper is neatly glued, and you can see the room turning into a nursery by his hands, “Oh, Bucky.” You sigh, already feeling tears forming in the corner of your eyes. Yeah, besides horny as fuck, you’ve been easily emotional, too. “It’s perfect.” A huge smile across your face.

His smile matches yours, “It’s almost done. Steve went to his room to grab a toolkit so we can start putting the crib together.” He nods towards the closed box on the floor behind him, before his eyes drop to the trail in your hands.

“Oh, I brought you guys some lemonade.” You lift the trail, “I figured you’d be thirsty.”

When his gaze meet yours again, you spot the change in his eyes, the blue a bit darker and a hint of amusement sparkling on them, “You have no idea.” His voice drops a note and laces you by the core.

You swallow thickly, not sure if he’s deliberately trying to drive you crazy or it’s your pregnant dirty mind making you see things.

“Ahm, h-here,” you stutter and move fast to place the trail on a worktable which is right beside you and pour him a glass, handing it to him and trying to pay no attention to the flames burning you up from the inside.

You, obviously, can’t take your eyes off of him as he thanks you with a smirk and brings it to his lips. His eyes close as he gulped down the whole glass all at once. Your gaze drops to the scars on his chest… He must’ve got them treated, because they’re light and clean, almost blending to his skin. Very different from the angry marks you used to trace your fingers on while he was sleeping, feeling him sigh deeply under your touch-  

“Hmmm, ice cold and full of sugar. Delicious.” He licks his lips and your gaze snap up to his face, taking you out from your mind filled with memories.

“Of course,” You chuckle, “That’s the right way of lemonade.” As he laughs and his eyes crinkle adorably, you spot a drop slipping from his lips and running down his jaw. You need to do something about it, don’t you? Lemon could damage his skin, after all.  “Ahm, you have a… let me-” You reach to his face and he stiffens when you delicately brush your thumb over the his jaw to catch the drop. You sense the twitch on his jawbone, when, almost unconsciously, your hand cup his face and you let your thumb skim up to the corner of his lips.

You don’t know what you’re doing or why you’re doing it. All you focus is on the loud hammering of your heart as his eyes flutter close and he leans on your touch. You breathe through your parted lips and your gaze falls down to his mouth. His beautiful and rosy lips... It’s been so long since you got the chance to kiss them…  

“Ouch.” Your hand flies from Bucky’s face to your belly.

Bucky’s eyes swiftly open. For a second he seems lost, as if he’s just woken up from a dream and didn’t know exactly where he was.  When he spots your hand on your belly his eyes go round, “What’s happening? Are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah,” You chuckle, “The baby has kicked me. They’ve been doing this a lot, but it has never felt so strong-ah-” You gasp and laugh as your eyebrows draw together when the little one hits another heavy strike.

“Oh,” Bucky breathes, looking down at your belly as pure awe takes over his face. When he glances up to you, his eyes is evidently glowing with expectancy, “C-can I?” He hesitantly asked, raising his hand in direction of your belly just as timidly.

When you nod and takes your hand from your stomach to allow him to touch it, he immediately places the empty glass of lemonade on the worktable and steps closer to you. Not until that day Bucky had asked to touch your belly… The gentle touch of his hand through your dress is almost too much as the electricity runs down your spine unbidden and makes your heart race.

“Here.” Taking in a shuddering breath, you place your hand over his to slowly move it to the right spot where he would be able to feel the baby. He’s so close to you… so close.

“I-I can’t feel anything.” The disappointment is evident in his voice and in the small pout that follows.

“Ahm, why don’t try talking to them?” You suggest and he glances up at you, “It usually works for me.” You shrug.

His eyes narrow and he smiles tightly after focusing on your belly again. Your hand still covering his.

“What should I say?” He whispers.

“Um, why don’t start with “hello ``''?

“Ok…” He nods before taking in a deep sigh, “Hello, my baby.” He murmurs softly and carefully strokes your belly, “I’m your daddy.”

Just like that, as if it had been planned out, you feel the kick. Bucky promptly lets out a breathy smile.

“It was a big one. Did you feel it?” You ask, quietly, trying hard to not ruin their moment.

He nods quickly, his lips pressed hard against one another. As his gaze remains down, yours remain on him. His forehead almost touches yours and you try to breathe. The magic you had experienced moments before enveloping the both of you again. The three of you, actually.  

“I can’t wait to see you,” He keeps talking to your baby and it kicks again, “I love you so much already, my baby.” The blue of his watery eyes meet yours, “Our baby.”

Your melt under his words as you sulk in a breath and nod, “Our baby.” Your hand tightens the grip on his as the warmth of a single tear runs down your cheek.

Every single one of your days, you spend trying to suppress, deny and bury the feelings, the stubborn and immeasurable love you have for him. The love you once felt so afraid of…Because it’s the right thing to do. It’s what’s best for you, but most importantly it’s what’s best for him… You’re not afraid of this love anymore… You haven’t been afraid of it for a long time now. But he is. He is and what you’re afraid of is he’ll run away from it, from you…

Every day is a fight against your feelings, sometimes you lose, others you win. Today...one simple touch and the fight is slipping off your grasp...  

His right hand doesn’t move from where he feels your baby saying hello to him, while you shudder at the cold sensation of metal meeting your middle before his arm circle your waist, pulling you closer to him as the warmth of his body rolls off to yours. Your legs turn into jelly and you’re grateful for his hold keeping you stand. He drops his forehead to yours and all you have to do is move one inch and you would be able to feel the taste of him again, after so long…

“Bucky…” You whisper, as your eyes flutter.

“Hey, pal. I think this will do it-”

You could feel the soft brush of Bucky’s lips on yours before you quickly let go of him, ceasing any kind of contact as Steve bursts into the room.  

“Ahm, am I interrupting anything?” Steve asks, frozen in place with the toolkit in hands, after an uncomfortable silence settled in the room.

From the corner of your eyes, you spot Bucky, with hands on each side of his waist and head hanging low as his chest heavies, “No, of course not.” You put on a smile for a skeptical Steve, “I was just here to bring you two some lemonade. There it is.” You point to the jar, “Help yourself, Steve. Ahm, I – I gotta go to the bathroom, my bladder is the size of a marble, now, you know? I’ll come back later for the tray.” You cringe rushing to the way out without taking a breath to spill the words, or sparing another glance at Bucky before you leave the room.

Today, you lost.

~~~

Ch. 20 coming soon(ish)