#she has to run away. can she run fast. debatable. will she climb a random tree and assume it means shes safe

[feminurge]

love how myrkul chose ketheric. big guy. big vibes. zaddy, tbh, if anyone cares. love how bane chose gortash. rich prick energy. still a decent sized guy. he looks like a wattpad villain. and then bhaal turned around and literally just took the first rabid stray he found and of fucking course it had to be a chihuaha-sized woman

[galvanizedfriend]

The Wolf Outtake

This is a little outtake, if you will, of The Wolf universe. It actually fits within the post-TW2 headcanons I've been writing to keep myself happy, so somewhere in S3. It's something that would never fit within the actual story because it's pure domestic fluff. lol I wrote this for @recyclingss, baby Eve's number one fan who yells at me when the child doesn't make an appearance and who’s also the biggest cheerleader this story’s ever had. 💖

This is set much later in the future, and you will notice baby Eve is actually more of toddler Eve here, but I've removed any specific context to make it so this would fit into any point of The Wolf post S2E14, I guess.

Summary: Just random KC+baby moment in The Wolf. It's fluffy, domestic, features the child and Klaus' bitter feelings for Bayou wolves. Nobody asked for it, but I figured, after the WEEK we've all had, maybe people could use some fluff? Hope you guys enjoy it! :)

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Klaus doesn't even realize it's morning already until Caroline stirs next to him, making a lazy hum deep in her throat that pulls him out of his idle reverie. He blinks his surroundings back into focus; the fluorescence that had been filtering in through the windows last time he checked has now been replaced by warm sunlight. He didn’t even notice so much time had gone by.

Caroline rolled onto her side and was quickly lulled into blissful sleep after their late-night exertions. Klaus was distracted by the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest for a long time until his mind was ensnared by its usual culprits, thoughts trapped in the latest batch of torments and woes to take over the Mikaelsons’ lives. 

 When Caroline opens her eyes and offers him a slow smile, Klaus feels himself touch ground again.

 "'Morning," she slurs in that husky voice, still thick with sleep.

 "Good morning, sweetheart," he replies with a short grin.

 Caroline yawns as she stretches out her body under the thin sheet covering her modesty.

 "Did you sleep at all?" she asks, blinking sluggishly at him.

 "I'm well-rested, if that's what you're asking."

 "It's not." Caroline props herself up on one elbow to stare levelly at him. Some of that drowsiness in her eyes dissipates, disappointment panging through him for bringing her back to the harshness of reality so fast. This is why, sometimes, especially on those not-so-rare nights when he ends up not getting any sleep, he'd rather not stay in bed. It allows the reprieve that slumber offers Caroline to last a little while longer. "Is it about Elijah?" she inquires, a knowing look on her face.

 Klaus' eyes wander away from hers. "It's about everything," he states vaguely, but not untruthfully. 

 Caroline hums unconvinced. "While I know you don't need to sleep, I also know it spells nothing but trouble when you can’t. It’s never good when you spend the whole night thinking."

 "Well, not the whole night," he says with a suggestive leer. "I did spend a good portion of the time engaged in far more pleasant activities."

 She rolls her eyes at him, but her smile is more than a little satisfied when she leans into him. "You're not as smooth as you think, Mikaelson."

 "I beg to differ." Caroline chuckles, shifting under the sheets to press herself against his side, placing a kiss on his shoulder, then his neck, his jaw. Klaus snakes a hand around her back, pulling her closer still, feeling the familiar stirrings of heat in his underbelly. "Shall I prove my point?" he all but purrs.

 Caroline smirks against the corner of his mouth, her palm coming to rest on his chest. Klaus covers her hand with his, angling his face to take her mouth into a kiss. Her breasts pressing against his skin sends a tingle shooting through his body, and his other hand is already sliding down her spine, ready to guide her to straddle him, when lively conversation in the next room makes them pause.

 "Oh-oh," Caroline mutters. "I guess that means Mr. Wolfy is up early today."

 Klaus lets out a disappointed sigh.

 Eve doesn't cry so much when she wakes up anymore. Now, she either stays quietly in her crib until someone sees to her, or she starts playing with her toys. A social butterfly like her mother, she loves to engage in complex conversations with that hideous stuffed wolf Jackson gave her and her absolute favorite toy, the wooden knight Klaus carved for Rebekah when they were children.

 When he started to wake up to the sound of her talking to herself, he became worried, thinking maybe she was seeing things they weren't - which, in New Orleans, could mean a number of horrifying deals. But Caroline assured him that it is perfectly normal for young children to talk to inanimate objects, especially one who lives exclusively amongst adults.

 Apparently, it's good exercise for her imagination, or something.

 When Klaus is watching her, he will make a point to take part in her debates, always highlighting Mr. Knight's grandeur compared to Mr. Bog Scum. 

 "Sweetheart, this filthy dog here is the enemy. He wants to shroud you in flannel, carry you away to the swamp and bore you to sleep. Mr. Knight is here to save you from this stinky animal's claws."

 He's convinced one day she'll understand what he means.

 What’s most troublesome, however, is that Eve has started to attempt to climb out of her crib on her own. They always lock the other door to her bedroom when she's asleep, but the door connecting her room to Caroline's is always left unlocked for safety reasons. One of these days, Klaus thinks, their little wolf is going to catch mommy and daddy in very compromising positions. The idea mortifies him, especially because he and Caroline can get a tad carried away. They are a hybrid and a near-hybrid, after all. Too much energy and whatnot.

 "No rest for the wicked," Caroline speaks around a sigh before peeling away from him. Klaus watches her naked form with wistfulness as she climbs out of bed, his prospect of a lovely morning enterprise disappearing alongside the shape of her beautiful breasts as she shrugs on a fleece robe.

 Caroline vamps off to the en suite bathroom to freshen up a bit and then follows to Eve's room.

 "Good morning, sweet cheeks!" she greets their daughter sunnily. "Good morning to you, too, Mr. Wolfy!" Oh, for goodness' sake, Klaus curses inwardly. "And Mr. Knight!" Much better.

 Minutes later, Caroline returns with Eve, comfortable in fresh diapers, right on her heels, carrying Mr. Inconvenient and Mr. Knight.

 When she sees Klaus, she takes off towards the bed, her little legs getting more and more agile by the day. He pulls the sheets and covers up to his chest while she tries to hoist herself up. With ease, using just one hand, Klaus lifts her up and puts her sitting on his stomach.

 "Good morning, my littlest wolf," he says. "Where's my kiss?"

 His daughter leans down and smacks a loud kiss on his cheek, and then holds Mr. Fleabag close to him for a kiss as well. Klaus makes a face. "Not the dog, Eve."

 "Seriously?" Caroline says with a bored air about her. "You're antagonizing a stuffed animal now?"

 "This thing is a health hazard."

 "That thing has a cute little name, Mr. Wolfy, and your daughter loves him."

 "I refuse to treat a swamp dog as though it were a gentleman. Besides, I'm sure she loves Mr. Knight way more, don't you, love? Where's Mr. Hero?" She shouts something that sounds like Miter Nigh before pushing it onto Klaus' face. He cracks a proud smile at her. "There you go." He attacks her with tickles, and Eve bursts with sweet laughter.

 Caroline shakes her head at him, but he notices she's quite clearly biting back on a smile. "You're impossible."

 "I’m quite possible, I assure you," he replies smoothly. "Where are you going?" he asks when she starts tying her hair into a ponytail and taking clothes from her drawers.

 "Running with Marcel."

 "Oh, for goodness' sake," he protests. "Can you believe this, Eve? It's not even seven in the morning and your mother is willingly stepping out of the house to run. I sometimes fear she might be a psychopath."

 She scoffs loudly. "You would know, wouldn't you?" While she walks by him to go into the en suite, she slaps him lightly across the legs. "Stop telling my child that I'm a psycho, psycho."

 "How else am I supposed to explain this insanity? What kind of person runs for pleasure when there is an infinite array of far more gratifying activities to invest your energy into? Just now we were about to -"

 "Not in front of the small child, Klaus!" she chides from the bathroom.

 "She doesn't know what daddy is talking about, do you, love?" Eve giggles while he lifts her up above him, holding her like a flying superhero. "Blissfully clueless."

 Caroline steps back into the room, already in her exercise gear. Klaus lets out an infinitely despondent sigh. He would love nothing more than to get her out of those.

 "It's inappropriate conversation to have in front of the toddler," she remarks, putting on the smartwatch she bought recently to exercise with and measure her sleep patterns or whatever the bloody hell that is. She showed him all of this gizmo’s functionalities, swearing it’s the best thing ever invented by human minds. Klaus thinks it’s adorable, however incomprehensible, that someone with such close ties with the supernatural world would still be so impressed by technology. There’s literally nothing that cannot be sorted through magic. How is a watch that counts steps supposed to awe you once you’ve seen someone brought back from the dead? Caroline’s attachment to her humanity goes way beyond her empathy. "Besides, it was gonna be a quick activity because I'd go meet Marcel anyway,” she adds after a beat.

 "I can make you see stars in five minutes," he leers, a smirk growing on his face.

 Caroline whips her face at him with what is clearly an attempt at outrage but turns into something else when she can't hold her own smile. She can't deny him when his point was proved just the night before. Several times, in fact.

 "Shut up," she retorts simply. "Can you give her breakfast? I left chopped fruits in the fridge. You can wait about an hour after the bottle and give it to her as a little treat - not Fruit Loops."

 "She loves that thing."

 "Of course she does, it's pure sugar. That's exactly why we don't let her have it all the time. She needs to eat real fruits."

 Klaus rolls his eyes, sitting up in bed and putting the baby beside him. "Honestly, sweetheart, your mother sometimes..." 

 Caroline narrows her eyes at him. "You really love to make yourself out to be the cool parent, don't you?"

 "I don't have to make myself out to be anything, love. I am the parent who doesn't deny her the little joys of sugary treats. If that makes me cool, then you’ve only got yourself to blame." 

 "You're the parent who'll spoil her rotten, that’s what. Let's see how you'll feel when she's 16 and her boyfriend is climbing the balcony in her room in the middle of the night because she never learned how to take a no."

 "Oh, I would love for her suitors to climb her window in the middle of the night. It’ll be the last thing they do,” he says, smiling innocently at Eve.

 “You’ll be such a ray of sunshine when she starts dating.”

 “As per usual," he says with a bite of arrogance. "Hold the child so I can get decent, will you?"

 Caroline picks Eve up and keeps her looking firmly the other way while Klaus flashes out of bed and into the bathroom. He hears Caroline teasing her with “Where did daddy go?” and laughing at what he knows is Eve's extremely confused but astonished face. She thinks they're magicians. It's one of her favorite things, to watch as Klaus makes full use of his vampire speed to all but vanish right before her eyes. Modern technology has got nothing on him.

 There's something extremely heartwarming about his daughter's innocence. One day, she'll be old enough to understand why he can do the things he does. When that day comes, Klaus will cease to be a creature of magic and wonder, to become what he truly is: darkness made flesh. 

 He has never been ashamed of what he is, hardly ever had any qualms with filling the villain shoes, quite glad to do it, in fact, but he suddenly finds himself dreading the day when his child will figure out what it means to carry the Mikaelson name. When their family’s history will weigh down on her shoulders as it does on theirs.

 While making people cower in fear at the mere sound of his name has brought him an obscene amount of satisfaction and pride over the centuries, Klaus has to admit he's fascinated by the pure sparkle in his child's eyes. She's the first human being in a millennium who does not see even a fraction of monstrosity in him, no shadow, no taints, no mortal flaws. Not yet, anyway. All she sees is a funny man who makes her laugh and can hold her up with his finger, tells her stories about evil werewolves and keeps her safe and that's enough for her to adore him. Sometimes, he feels unworthy of such love. As though he's a fraud, deceiving his own daughter and taking advantage of her innocence.

 It still astonishes him that he should ever be capable of making something as pure and bright as that little girl. In a thousand years, Klaus Mikaelson has only ever brought misery and pain into this world. Eve is the first genuinely good thing he's ever done. Then, of course, she inherited all of that from her mother, who holds herself open for compassion and kindness even though she is herself in a symbiotic existence with her own beast. Caroline has taken control of her darkness in ways Klaus doesn't think he's ever seen a vampire as young as her do before. She truly is extraordinary, and every day he hopes, from the bottom of his withered heart, that Eve will turn out to be every inch Caroline's daughter more so than his.

 Klaus can still smell last night’s sex all over himself, so he takes a quick shower and puts on a pair of denims and a shirt and vamps back to the room again, just to surprise Eve. She gasps when he materializes next to her, flinching, and then starts laughing like a little maniac, reaching out to him. 

 "Remember," Caroline says as she lets Eve slide over to Klaus' arms. "Bottle, fruits. No Fruit Loops. I'll tell your other child you said hi."

 "A child who enjoys running has clearly learned nothing from me," he grumbles. “Hopefully I’ll do a better job with this one.” 

 “Start by not feeding her Fruit Loops,” Caroline remarks with a grin before she smacks a loud kiss on Eve's cheek and then one on his.

 When she’s gone, Klaus turns to look at his little wolf, watching him with those dark blues of hers as though she's studying her father. Sometimes he wonders if toddlers know more than they let on.

 "Do you want to do magic?"

 "Yes!" she practically screams, her face splitting with a wide, toothy grin.

 "Get ready, then. Are you ready?" She gives him an exaggerated nod. "Keep your eyes open. One, two..." And then he flashes out of the room with her.

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✨ Thanks for reading! :) If you’ve enjoyed this silly thing, please drop me a comment! Your reblogs are also much appreciated to help this reach more people. ✨

[excelsi-or]

just a little sweeter (pt. 11)

Double post today! Enjoy parts 10 & 11 :) 

BIPOC rec: I’ve recently read The Gilded Wolves by Roshani Chokshi. I don’t want to spoil anything. It’s excellent. The writing is detailed and amazing. It’s set in Paris in like the 1800s with magic and fun and a heist. It’s the first of a trilogy and the second one came out this year. I can’t wait to read it.

w.c. 2.1k (fluff, brief angst but it’s over pretty quick)

pt.1; pt.2; pt.3; pt.4; pt.5; pt.6; pt.7; pt.8; pt. 9; pt. 10

“You need to tell her.”

“Tell her what?” Jihoon demands. His eyes are going over the brief of the meeting. He cannot believe that it was brought up in front of everyone, making it everyone’s problem.

“That there’s evidence to out you guys,” Jeonghan says. “She deserves to know. Even though you already made your decision on the matter extremely clear.”

“The company’s buying the photos,” Jihoon points out.

“But there’s a possibility that they’ll make the decision to put the photos out anyway,” Jeonghan reminds him. “Seriously. Just to be a good boyfriend, mention it to her.”

Jihoon frowns, but tries to rearrange his expression into something else when he sees Eunha running down the hallway. She grabs his hand and pulls him back to the studio where she’d been colouring during the meeting. He ends the phone call of the phone on the table and sits down on the floor next to her things. Eunha begins walking him through a bear story, something akin to the Blue’s Clues episode they had watched. He had stumbled upon the show on YouTube and Eunha had taken a liking to it. While most of it is in English and he really only understands 60% of it, Eunha sings along to the songs and seems to know what’s going on.

Enough to give him a similar story anyway with a bear and ant as the lead characters.

The phone in his pocket starts singing the FaceTime ring tone. Eunha’s eyes widen and she climbs into his lap, immediately assuming it will be someone she knows. When he pulls the phone out, he helps Eunha sound out the name.

“Hey,” Jihoon says.

His second favourite smile in the world smiles back at him. “Hey.” She waves at Eunha. “Hi kiddo.”

Eunha holds the phone with both hands so she can put her face as close to the camera as she can. “Hello!”

“What’s up?” Jihoon asks, chuckling at his baby’s antics.

“Jeonghan oppa sent me a text telling me to call you when I had a chance.”

Jihoon restrains himself from rolling his eyes. Jeonghan isn’t usually one to meddle too much; that’s usually Seungkwan. Yet here he is. Meddling. “Yeah…”

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” He pauses. “Well, not really.” He glances at Eunha in the screen. “Can you hold on for one second?”

She glances up at something past the phone, probably an employee. “Sure.”

Jihoon puts the phone down and scoops Eunha up. “You’re going to play with Uncle Soonyoung for a little while, okay? Say goodbye.”

Eunha calls her goodbye and waves.

“Bye kiddo!”

Jihoon starts to walk out the door.

“Can I bring my colours?”

“Of course you can.” Jihoon goes back and picks up her things. “Hold this for me, okay?” He hands her the notebook, so he can hold the crayon box and juice box. Then he takes her to the practice room. Some of the members have a television shooting, which is likely why Jeonghan sent the message to her at all. Jihoon won’t be able to chew him out until later.

Luckily, Minghao and Jun are in the practice room. They’re going over choreography for the upcoming concerts. He doesn’t even bother to ask where Soonyoung is.

Jihoon sets Eunha down at the front of the room and looks between the two men. “Can you just watch her for a couple minutes? I have to take a phone call.”

Minghao smiles. “Yeah, sure, hyung.”

Jun is already squatting down next to her and asking about her art.

Jihoon hurries back to the phone. She’s humming as she types on her computer. He recognizes the tapping of the keys. “Hey.”

The sound slows before she turns back to him. “Give me one more second.”

“Sure.”

Jihoon sits in his chair and then hears the audible whoosh of her email being sent. She leans into the camera, smiling. “Alright, I’m all yours. What’s up?”

“Jeonghanie hyung wanted me to talk to you about the meeting we had this morning.”

Her brow furrows slightly. “That seems kind of random, but okay. I’m listening.”

“It had something to do with you?”

“Me?” Her furrowed brow turns into a frown. “What about me?”

He clears his throat. “Apparently, there was a reporter following me and they happened to get a picture of us on our date last week.” He watches her eyes begin to widen in panic, so he attempts to diffuse the situation as quickly as possible. “But the meeting was about whether I wanted them posted. Sometimes they come through the company before photos get posted like that. Obviously, I said that it wasn’t me and that even if it were, I didn’t want the world to know. Jeonghan hyung just thought that you should know they exist and that it isn’t in my control if they get posted.”

Her expression is the epitome of shock. She stares blankly at the screen, as if she’s still processing all his words.

“Please say something.”

Her eyes close and she begins to speak, her voice coming out strangled. That’s not good. “So, you’re saying that photos that you don’t own of us are floating around in the ether and that you can’t control whether they get posted or not?”

“The company is trying to buy some of the photos off them, but who knows how many they have? Or if there are any that look exactly like me.”

“How much control do we get over them?”

“Well, honestly, not much control. If we get seen together more often and whatnot.”

She takes a deep breath. “So, I can’t go out with my boyfriend anymore, because I have to worry about people with cameras following him around?”

Jihoon’s hand fiddles with his ear. “Maybe.”

“I already have to worry about hiding my face when we have Eunha with us. Now I have to worry about just being with you in public?”

Jihoon can feel his heart sinking. “Yeah.”

“I—” Jihoon hears someone call her name. “I’ll be right there,” she responds. The door closes and she looks back at the screen, completely bewildered. “I… I need to think about this. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay.”

“Bye.” She hangs up before he can say anything. He stares at his lock screen. It’s a photo of her and Eunha drawing in the apartment. She was teaching Eunha how to draw a bear.

He quickly sends off angry messages to Jeonghan before going back to the practice room to pick up Eunha. He peers into the room and can see her contentedly drawing while Jun and Minghao practice. He decides that maybe he can stew in his confusion and anger a little while longer alone in the studio.

“Has she called you back?” Jeonghan asks that night.

The members caught him just as he was about to take Eunha home and they offered dinner at the dorms. She’s busy playing with Seungkwan and Soonyoung in the living room, so Jihoon doesn’t mind sounding pissed off.

“No. She hasn’t. And if you hadn’t told her that there was something I needed to say, she probably wouldn’t be mad right now.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “She deserves to know the consequences of dating you.”

“I think the ‘biggest consequence’ of dating me is sitting in the living room right now.”

A soft voice and a tug on his sweatpants pull his attention away. Jihoon looks down and sees the hurt expression on Eunha’s face, though she doesn’t acknowledge it. “Uncle Seungkwan and Uncle Soonyoung want to know when dinner is ready.”

Jihoon takes a deep breath and squats down in front of her. “It’ll be done soon, okay?”

She spins on her heel and scampers out of the kitchen. Jihoon glares back at Jeonghan.

“You have a tiny daughter! I didn’t see her come in!” Jeonghan exclaims.

Mingyu, the one actually doing all the cooking, glances over his shoulder. “I think you need to apologize and explain to both the girls in your life what’s going on, hyung.”

“Since when did you get so enlightened?” Jihoon grumbles.

When he puts Eunha to bed that evening, he sits cross-legged on the floor next to the bed. “Hi, little one.”

She pouts and stares at him. Her little arms are wrapped tightly around a bunny plushie Chan had gotten her for her birthday.

Jihoon runs a hand through her hair. “Did you hear me when I was talking to Uncle Hannie?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Ah. Okay.”

“But…” Her pout deepens. “It was mean.”

Jihoon holds his breath. “I didn’t mean what I said. Even if you didn’t understand, I shouldn’t have said those things.” He leans forward to kiss her forehead. “I’m sorry.”

Her voice softens. “Do you not like me anymore?”

God, he hates that Soonyoung taught her that phrase. The man says it so much around Jihoon, he should have known his intelligent child would learn how to use it.

“That’s not it.” He doesn’t know how to explain his feelings to her in a way she’ll understand. She’s using her entire vocabulary already by having this conversation. Jihoon rests his chin on the bed. “Life’s just hard.”

“‘Cause of me?”

“No. Not because of you.” He pecks her forehead again, and runs a hand over her head. “Never because of you.”

Eunha asks if it’s because of his girlfriend.

“Not because of her either. It’s all because of daddy. This is my fault.”

“Why?”

“It’s complicated. Is that okay?”

Eunha doesn’t know what complicated means, but she seems to accept his answer, because she snuggles beneath the covers.

He gets to his feet and gives her one more kiss. “I’m sorry again. I love you.”

“Love you,” she mumbles, already falling asleep.

Jihoon leaves the door open a crack. The actual baby monitor is on next to her. He makes sure that he can hear her breathing then he plops himself on the couch and stares at his phone. He debates calling, wondering if she’d call when she’s ready. It’s been at least twelve hours. She should be going to bed soon and they did agree to video chat tonight.

He doesn’t have to wonder too long, because she calls him instead.

Jihoon answers in a second.

“That was fast,” she mutters. “Thought I’d have a few more rings to pull myself together.”

She’s sat in bed. The only light coming from her phone screen.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

There’s a long bout of silence he doesn’t know how to fill.

“How mad are you?” he finally asks.

“Not mad,” she clarifies. She must see the skepticism on his face. “Seriously, Jihoon, I’m not.”

“So why haven’t you talked to me all day?”

She tips her head back with a groan of frustration. “Because it’s hard to process what you told me this morning.” She meets his gaze. “There are so many rules. I don’t…” She shakes her head. “You’re high maintenance.”

He gets the jab. “Am I so high maintenance that this is over?”

“I don’t know.” She sighs. “I only get to see you in person a few times a month, and only once a month with just the two of us. Now we’re limited to staying in, because people are actually stalking you.”

Jihoon doesn’t mention that there was always the risk of people following them. “So, what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. You can’t do anything about it. It’s not your fault you’re in a famous idol group and have a daughter. I knew that you came with those things when we started dating. I just… I didn’t realize how much of my life would have to change because of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” She runs a hand through her hair and flips it. Jihoon loves when she does that, though he’s never told her. “I thought that I could keep it separate. My own life and then whatever our life together is. And I can, but when people in my life ask me about who I’m dating, what I’m up to, I’m so limited as to what I can say. Only my mom and Soobin know that we’re dating and that you even have a child. Everyone else thinks that I have an elusive boyfriend who doesn’t want to meet them.

“I just didn’t realize that when we got together that there would be a huge part of my life that I’d have to hide.”

Listening to her talk about it this way makes him wonder if it’s worth it for her. She sounds so discouraged with him and their situation. But she’s right; he can’t do anything about it. This is his life. But it doesn’t have to be hers.

Before he can even think about how to broach the topic of breaking up, she says, “But I adore you and I adore Eunha. I want this to work.”

Jihoon lifts an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. As of right now, I want to work through this with you.”

“Do you… want to come over?”

She glances down at her pajamas. “I’m in bed right now.”

“Come over and cuddle?”

Her eyebrows rise. “Tempting.”

“Come over, cuddle and watch Avengers?”

She laughs. “Give me 10.”

[wordsablaze]

15~ someone you can trust

tell me your problems (i’ll chase them away) Internal scars can be difficult to deal with but Eskel vows to heal any that Jaskier is weighed down by if it’s the last thing he does…

A/N: okay so i’m sorry it’s been ages but here’s a slightly longer than usual dose of these dorks being in love that i hope compensates :)

previous chapter

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@random-nerd-3 @betaray-jones @w-s-kibela @in-love-with-writing002 @screaming-flapjacks @havenoffandoms @lasaga666 @mayastormborn @alllthequeenshorses @little-piece-of-tamlin @selectivegeekwithstandards

-

Eskel wakes in an empty bed.

It’s more than a little disorientating because the last thing he can truly recall is getting onto Scorpion and he has no idea how they got back to the inn - if he really had been that injured and unaware of his surroundings, he doesn’t want to think about how low his chances of getting back in other circumstances would have been.

“Jaskier?” he asks as he bolts upright, then winces as the healing wounds on his back complain that he’s moved too fast. Giving himself a moment to adjust, he rolls his shoulders and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

He doesn’t get a reply, obviously, but Eskel can hear singing from below and he assumes the bard must be performing. He has no idea how Jaskier can perform for several days in a row, especially with his logic that every performance deserves his best efforts, but it’s impressive to say the least.

By the time he gets downstairs, the noise has died down almost entirely, which he’s been around long enough to know means the performance is close to ending. He orders food for both himself and Jaskier before settling at the only empty table, not bothering to ask for a drink because he’s more than sure Jaskier’s rose song will take care of that. And as expected, both Jaskier and two pitchers arrive at the table within the next few minutes.

“Eskel! What are you doing? Aren’t you meant to be resting?” Jaskier asks a little breathlessly before grabbing a drink and promptly finishing most of it.

He shrugs. “I’ve had long enough to rest.”

Jaskier smiles, then notices the plates and his eyes light up. “And you managed to get us food!”

Eskel frowns; he really didn’t think acquiring food would be considered such a hardship. Before he can ask what’s so special about it, Jaskier starts eating and, not wanting to interrupt that, he does the same. Except it’s not the same because Jaskier is doing something odd with his hands, in the sense that he seems to be trying not to do anything with his hands despite eating with them.

“Are you okay?” Eskel blurts.

Jaskier freezes mid-chew and smells like sharp panic for a good few seconds before he shakes his head and swallows, then nods quickly. “Of course. Whatever made you think otherwise, darling? I could not be better!”

Well, that’s not very convincing.

“Jaskier? Why are you lying?”

This time, Jaskier stops eating altogether. He smells like ash and mud and burnt vegetables and Eskel only has enough time to deeply regret his words before Jaskier is gone, an empty mumbled excuse hanging in the air between them as the red of the bard’s doublet disappears through the door.

Eskel curses.

He wants to immediately follow Jaskier like he had last time but he can’t just leave his lute lying around; he deposits it back in their room as fast as possible before leaving the inn, closing his eyes for a moment and letting himself seek out the warm honey and ink that the bard seems to leave a trace of wherever he goes.

Left.

Then right.

And right again.

Through a very narrow alleyway.

Left.

Around a bend.

And past a broken gate.

“Jaskier?” Eskel calls softly, but it’s not like he needs to; he’s in what seems to be an isolated patch of wildflowers and it’s clear which way the bard has run through them. Trusting his instincts, he walks over to the nearest tree and leans against it, sighing softly. “I apologise, bardling, I didn’t mean to… upset you. I was just worried, is all.”

He counts a full minute before Jaskier lands beside him. Literally lands beside him because he’d apparently been in the tree. He blinks, resisting every urge in his body that tells him to jump backwards, and glances over Jaskier, happy to find him uninjured at least.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Jaskier says quietly.

“You didn’t,” Eskel says immediately, then shakes his head when Jaskier raises an amused eyebrow at him. “Well, I suppose you did. But I only meant that you don’t need to lie if uh, if you’re not alright.”

Jaskier bites his lip as if he hadn’t considered that and whether or not Eskel had been worried before, he definitely is now. Still, he waits for Jaskier to finish contemplating whatever it is he’s contemplating, unwilling to risk offending him further and ruining yet another of his days - the bitter expression on the bard’s face when he’d thought Eskel was leaving yesterday is still fresh in his memory.

“I wasn’t lying,” Jaskier says eventually, his voice oddly thick, “I’m fine. I’m merely tired from playing for such an unprecedentedly energetic crowd but it's nothing a lovely meal and warm bath won’t fix. In fact, I very recently purchased some lovely rose oils and I simply cannot wait to use them.”

“Why didn’t you just say so back at the inn?” Eskel asks. Ash mixed with lavender. Something bad along with something good. Eskel has no idea what to make of Jaskier’s emotions because the bard himself can’t seem to pick between them.

Surprisingly, Jaskier steps back. “Alright so I may quite possibly be lying now. In truth, I didn’t purchase any rose oils because Alija ran out and I couldn’t bring myself to bother her with a singular order and really, that would take a week and a half at the very least, at which point we’d be long gone and it wouldn’t be worth all the hassle anyway. Did you know there are several different types of rose oils and only two of them are truly suitable for-?”

“Jaskier. Stop, please,” Eskel interrupts.

He stops.

Eskel sighs deeply before offering the bard what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Did something happen yesterday?”

Jaskier just shrugs, smirking a little.  “Nothing out of the ordinary, really. Giving an excellent performance, saving a ridiculous witcher, acquiring a meal free of charge, the usual results of my endless charm.”

“Then why did you run?” Eskel asks. He hates how this feels like some kind of interrogation but he can’t understand why the bard had gone from enjoying his food to seeking refuge in a tree and he doesn’t want it to become a recurring mystery.

“I don’t… I don’t know?” Jaskier replies eventually, frowning. But when Eskel says nothing because he knows better than to believe that, Jaskier sighs. “I just thought it’d be better if I gave you space. You’re already injured, I didn’t want to make it worse.”

There’s a moment in which Eskel debates on whether or not to tell Jaskier that he’s done nothing but somehow make life impossibly better, but he decides against it for the time being. Instead, he gently nudges Jaskier and shakes his head. “I didn’t need space. It’d have been better if you’d stayed.”

Jaskier blinks at him. “You mean that? Even though I, uhm, lied?”

“You don’t owe me total honesty,” Eskel replies, shrugging, “I was only asking in case there was something I could do to help.”

He doesn’t like the way Jaskier looks as though that’s a foreign concept to him. He also doesn’t like the way he’s immediately filled with the urge to find whoever’s responsible for that and make them regret it - he’s not even sure how he’d do that to be honest.

“As much as I appreciate that, darling witcher, I’m afraid it’s merely a consequence of providing so much bardic goodness to the world, nothing to be done about it. Should we- that is, would you like to return to the inn?” Jaskier asks, and still it’s unclear exactly what emotions he’s experiencing.

Eskel swallows down the instinct to ask anything more and simply holds out his hand. Jaskier hesitates for only a moment before a wide grin spreads on his face - accompanied with the scent of honey and ocean waves so he knows it’s not forced for the sake of politeness - and he slides his fingers into the gaps between Eskel’s.

Gods, he’s addicted to the feel of their hands being connected.

“I ought to thank you,” Jaskier whispers as they begin walking. “I simply have to thank you, really. For- for following me. I can’t say I was expecting it but I greatly appreciate it.”

“How did you learn to climb trees so well?” Eskel asks, unsure of how to react to such gratitude, glad that walking means he doesn’t have to face the heavy sincerity in Jaskier’s eyes.

Jaskier chuckles, squeezing his hand. “How else was I meant to observe the life of witchers without being devoured or torn apart or meeting some other equally ugly end?”

Eskel splutters on nothing in particular, turning to face the bard with wide eyes. Jaskier only raises an eyebrow and tilts his head to the side, and Eskel is abruptly reminded that he’s not the first witcher to be claimed by a bard.

“So you’d… watch from above?”

“Sometimes,” Jaskier replies, turning his head back towards the road, though his gaze seems to go somewhere far beyond the path, into a past that Eskel cannot follow no matter how hard he tries. “It wasn’t always an ideal plan if the monsters could climb too. Or fly.”

He thinks Jaskier’s pulse quickens but it’s back to normal before he can question it, and he wonders - not for the first time but certainly more deeply than he has before - just how different this version of the bard is from the version that Geralt had half-heartedly grumbled about over several winters.

Jaskier gasps sharply as they get back to the inn, letting go of Eskel’s hand and sprinting inside. When he too enters, Jaskier is standing by the table they’d previously occupied, his teeth worrying his lip as he frantically glances around.

“What is it?” Eske asks, concerned by the abrupt shift in mood.

“My lute! I left her behind! Eskel, I left her and she’s gone! Oh, how could I have been so careless? Stupid, stupid, stupid-”

“Wait, wait. Jaskier, your lute’s back in our room,” Eskel interjects, placing a hand on his arm and gently pulling his hand out of his hair where he’d started to pull on it.

“Back in our… what?” Jaskier trails off, predictably heading straight for the stairs as soon as the words register.

This time, he enters the room to see Jaskier kneeling on the floor, cradling his lute to his chest as if it were his child. Not that Eskel has much knowledge of what it’s like to cradle or be cradled but he’s been alive long enough to gather as much.

“I can never thank you enough,” Jaskier declares when their eyes meet.

Eskel’s face heats up and he shrugs, shutting the door behind him. “It was the least I could do, bardling.”

“You are impossibly considerate, my darling,” Jaskier says in the same no-argument tone, placing the lute down gently before rising to his feet and throwing himself at Eskel, his arms looping around the witcher’s neck.

None of Vesemir’s training had ever prepared him for anything like this.

“Your… your darling?” Eskel echoes. He knows Jaskier had referred to him as his witcher before but that was halfway in jest and regardless, to be known as someone’s witcher is hardly the same as to be known as someone’s darling.  

Jaskier pulls back, his palms settling against Eskel’s cheeks, the tips of his fingers sliding ever so nicely into his hair. “Are you alright with that?” he asks, his breath just about brushing over Eskel’s lips.

Eskel is honestly too busy wondering what he’s supposed to do with his hands to consider the concept properly. Thankfully, Jaskier seems to realise that and his sour-scented nerves dissolve into amusement, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles warmly, his thumbs tracing small curves under Eskel’s eyes. “I’ll let you think further on that, shall I?”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply as being overly aware of how close they are means Eskel can clearly feel as Jaskier winces, even though his face barely gives his discomfort away. He frowns, covering Jaskier’s hands with his own and guiding them down between them, stepping back a little as he does.

“You’re hurt?” Eskel asks; Jaskier’s fingertips are red and warm to the touch and judging by the guilty expression on the bard’s face, that isn’t exactly normal.

“I- It happens. It’s only painful when I play for rather extended periods of time. I may have also used up the last of the salve I had without checking to see whether I would be able to acquire any more but it’s nothing serious, I promise,” Jaskier explains, pulling his hands out of Eskel’s grip.

Not that Eskel lets him, tightening his hold on Jaskier’s wrists only enough to keep them in place as he hums thoughtfully. “I might have a solution for that.”

Jaskier’s curiosity seems to outweigh any doubts he has and he shrugs. “Alright then, do your worst.”

“I’ll do my best for you, bardling,” Eskel chuckles, sitting down cross-legged in front of the bed and waiting until Jaskier does the same, which doesn’t take long on account of their hands still being connected.

Eskel lets go of Jaskier’s left hand and places both hands around his right one, guiding him into curling a fist and slowly letting it go again until his fingers are flat, stretched out. He repeats the process several times until Jaskier’s confusion fades into acceptance, then gently squeezes his hand reassuringly.

He finally takes his eyes off Jaskier and the bright awe in his eyes as he keeps one hand around the bard’s wrist to steady him and uses the other to gently rub circles into his first knuckle, moving along to the next after a few moments. Jaskier’s breath hitches as his fingers brush the calluses on his fingers and Eskel pauses, forcing his hand to slow down lest he ends up causing pain instead of relieving it.

It would be nothing short of a crime, he thinks, to be trusted with the hands of bard and break that trust by compromising their ability to play. In fact, the weight of trust Jaskier is placing in him by letting him, a witcher who more often than not uses his hands to create violence as opposed to comfort, do as he pleases lies heavy on his shoulders.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, moving onto the next finger and going a little more softly this time. There’s an unfamiliar scent around them, something quiet and golden and herbal, but Eskel doesn’t let his focus waver, making his way along each finger until he’s done, then carefully tugging on each one to stretch them and watching as Jaskier exhales, his shoulders relaxing.

Jaskier starts to pull his hand back as they both pause for a moment but Eskel laces their fingers together and shakes his head. “We’re only getting started yet,” he says quietly.

“My mistake,” Jaskier mumbles back, an easy smile playing at his lips.

Eskel uses their interlaced fingers to flex Jaskier’s wrist, slowly bending it in every direction before taking his hand back, stroking from the tips of his fingers to the edge of his palm, smiling each time Jaskier’s hand instinctively curls and he has to pull his fingers back. Jaskier seems to find it just as amusing as him, both of them laughing quietly when it happens for the fourth time and it seems like he’s simply attempting to steal Eskel’s thumb.

He flips Jaskier’s hand over and traces invisible paths from his nails to his wrist and back again. When he moves on to the skin between each finger, Jaskier gasps, not in pain but in something like surprise. Eskel waits for him to nod his approval before continuing, then repeating his earlier sequence of working his way down each knuckle, this time taking special care to focus on his fingertips and gently relax them.

“Almost there,” he murmurs as he moves his attention to Jaskier’s wrist, once again flexing his hand before rubbing upwards from the base of his palm. Jaskier shivers as Eskel’s fingertips run along his arm, his eyes falling shut as he leans his head back against the bed, the air around them filling with what must be the scent of sunbeams themselves.

When Eskel is satisfied that he’s made a difference, he laces their fingers together again and squeezes gently, letting Jaskier take his time to react. And take his time he does; Eskel is beginning to suspect he’s fallen asleep to the feeling of Eskel’s thumb tracing patterns onto his hand when Jaskier finally opens his eyes.

“How did you learn to do this?” Jaskier whispers, his voice ever so quiet and thick with a gratitude that Eskel’s not sure he deserves for something so simple.

Eskel shrugs. “Just here and there.”

“You amaze me,” Jaskier says, and Eskel can smell nothing but genuine admiration in his voice; he has to look away so he doesn’t do anything to embarrass himself.

He’s internally very pleased that he’d managed to help though. It only feels right to have been of some comfort after Jaskier had managed to get him back to a bed in one piece yesterday and although he’s not even remotely well-versed in articulating his appreciation, at least he can pay some of that concern back.

Jaskier pokes his forehead.

“What-?” Eskel manages, jerking back a little.

Not very successfully holding back a grin, Jaskier shrugs. “You were frowning again. What else was I meant to do?”

Eskel blinks slowly, then lets himself laugh. He’s half-aware that it wasn’t quite funny enough to warrant the way he laughs so hard that he almost starts struggling to breathe but he’s lost in the freedom of this casual hysteria for longer than he’ll later admit to and, in the moment, he can’t bring himself to feel bad about it.

When he recovers, there’s a sparkle in Jaskier’s eyes that hints at something dangerous, something like fondness, something that Eskel wants to keep close for as long as possible. And if he is to take Jaskier for his word, keeping it - keeping him - close is actually far from impossible. What a strange and hopeful prospect.

“I find myself needing to thank you once again, Eskel. I already feel a hundred times better,” Jaskier says, pulling his hand free and flexing his fingers gently as he stretches his legs out in front of him.

Eskel raises an eyebrow, holding his hand out with the palm facing upwards. “Your other hand, if you wouldn’t mind. I’m not done.”

“Oh,” Jaskier whispers, biting his lip for a moment. “Are you sure you have time?”

“I’m meant to be resting anyway, aren’t I?” Eskel asks.

At that, Jaskier’s expression brightens once more and he nods. “Yes, of course you are. I suppose this works out for the best then, doesn’t it?”

It does, but their reasoning is likely very different. Eskel doesn’t comment on that, simply shifting so he’s facing Jaskier, taking his hand and starting the same way he had before, curling his fingers into fists before stretching them out again.

Since he’s more aware of how much pressure to apply this time, his left hand is a much quicker process than the right. Again, both of them laugh as Jaskier’s fingers automatically wrap around Eskel’s thumb when he moves it over his palm. And again, both of them smile as Jaskier’s breath hitches when Eskel’s fingers brush over his calluses. But this time, Jaskier doesn’t make a sound as Eskel finishes up by lacing their fingers together, and the air around them is neither warm nor golden, unexpectedly salted.

Eskel glances up sharply to see Jaskier using his free hand to push tears away from his eyes. He lets go of Jaskier’s hand immediately, shuffling backwards as his stomach drops. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. What did I do wrong?”

Jaskier lets out a noise that would land somewhere between a laugh and a sob before shaking his head. “No, no no no. It wasn’t- I mean, nothing hurts. I… I’ve been a bard since I was a child and nobody has ever… Nothing has ever helped like this.”

Oh.

Eskel doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t even try to think of anything, just silently moves so that he’s propped against the bed too, his arm leaning against Jaskier’s as he too stretches out his legs in front of him. Wordlessly, Jaskier takes his hand, squeezing carefully before his head lands on Eskel’s shoulder; Eskel tenses for a second before exhaling and forcing his muscles to relax again, adjusting so Jaskier’s head is in a comfortable position.

“You have my utmost thanks but I think I’m going to fall asleep now,” Jaskier mumbles.

“I don’t mind,” Eskel whispers. He thinks he should mind in some way or the other but he also just doesn’t have any reasoning that’s good enough to refuse the honour of acting as a pillow.

Granted, It feels a little strange to remain as still as possible whilst the bard dozes off but really, it’s nothing he hasn’t done before when various animals - usually goats - have fallen asleep in his lap or on his limbs. Although he’s almost certain that no other experience, no matter how small or adorable the animals may be, will ever compare to the soft and gratifying weight of Jaskier seeking comfort in his presence.

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shout out and thank you to @jayjayjayne for being absolutely lovely and inspiring the idea of a hand massage - i hope i did it justice <3

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thanks for reading! masterlist | witcher sideblog: @itsjaskier​ | next chapter

[yetremains]

♡ + can I also have our OT3 and/or OT4 plz?

SEND ME ♡ + A SHIP AND I’LL TELL YOU…

I've been found dead in keyboards Under another read more for length! I will always indulge you and so you get both

OT3 with Hanzo/Ryou/Yang

Who is the most affectionate? Out of the three of them all capable to indulge one another, the affection between them is very high. But out of all three I feel it might just be Hanzo in this regard. He has been confirmed to be a cat. While he will be the larger affectionate one, Ryou and Yang will have him in the middle of a cuddle puddle.

Who initiates the handholding? They each will more than likely take turns on who is reaching for the others hands first, and will absolutely rely heavily on the moods and what the touch can convey. It more than likely would end up with snuggling in the end and quiet conversation. But if they were just going for the hand touching, it might just be Yang.

Who worries more for the other? It's three varying levels of dangerous choices and getting themselves into danger. Hanzo is at the top who will do literally anything for those he loves and won't hesitate to throw down. Then in the middle is Yang, she will protect the other two adamantly and without fear while carefully debating if she should snap someones neck or not. Warning: She just might. And of course, while he is just as dangerous as the others, Ryou is the more collected of the three. And he is no doubt the one that worries the most.

Who is more likely to ask for help? So what happens when you have a room of stubborn people trying to do things on their own? A lot of frustrated grumbling with one calm one sighing. Okay but seriously, all three of them are quite capable in their own way and can handle a majority of things on their own. But in the end it is possibly Yang that would willingly ask for help first.

Who is the one always losing the keys? Between three of them, no keys are lost, ever. And if anything should even remotely be hard to find then one of them will be able to locate whatever the lost object might be.

Who leaves little love notes for the other? There would be a series of notes left around to communicate too each other. Little loving comments and gentle reminders of the simple things. Maybe one day they are all grumpy and moving about the house a lot, so a series of built up notes ends up in this long ridiculous line on a table at some point, of arguing and grumpy one liners. Yang would be the one to crack and burst out laughing at how utterly silly it all is and the three of them doing this.

Who can’t sleep unless the other is there? A problem with sleep is a trait all three share. And becoming workaholics is only made it worse. But while two of them might be able to rest, it wouldn't be entirely peacefully until the third is there to climb into bed, to be immediately snuggled and enveloped by the two who have been waiting. But I see out of all three of them, Ryou and Hanzo would be the worst of them with being unable to sleep.

Who is more likely to propose to the other? Being in a poly relationship such as this one means that if the prospect of marriage came up, the three of them just might propose too each other with simple, yet heartfelt rings that reflected the ones they were meant for. First there would be deep conversations about it, and then keep it a secret what rings they were getting one another.

Who introduced the other to their family first? Again, there is no real family left here for any of them. But the friends of found family is absolutely a thing, and potentially adopted children they each have. It might be a lot of the same circles of friends, but still. This would be something they wouldn't exactly keep a secret I feel, and absolutely tell those close too them.

Who is more likely to play with the other’s hair? TWO partners with gorgeous hair? Yang is spoiled! Once again she'd be at the top of this list given the chance. But more than likely it would be like a rotating door of a sort of just who was stroking whose hair the most on the given day or hour. But if it is very late night and Yang awakes, while the other two are still sound asleep, then she will softly stroke their hair and tuck it back, enjoy the quiet moment, before snuggling back in.

Who makes sure the other has meals/stays hydrated? In that home there is no one going without food or drink. The kitchen is very well kept, stocked on groceries, and has enough space for them to cook together, or take turns.

Who is more likely to stand up to anyone for the other? If it's the random public problem or nuisance, someone trying to be judgemental at all on Hanzo and Ryou or all three of them, then Yang is going to square the fuck up. Ever seen someone murdered with words? Now you will here because that will happen, unless she needs to throw a punch. However if it is a truly dangerous situation that involves a fight, then I feel like the one going to go off the most and stand up is Hanzo, complete feral territorial and protective cat, while Ryou is ready to play the defense to pull him out if he goes too far, keep him safe even from himself, while Yang can tap in and give them both cover.

Who is the most likely to prepare a surprise for the other? I can see any mix of two planning a surprise or gift for the third, and this often times swapping between them all in some way. But honestly, Yang would make a small whittle carving made from wood of the three of them together, as to surprise the other two.

Who makes the other pinky promise not to do certain things? Between all three of them, it is no doubt a need to make each have their own individual pinky promise depending on moods and events that could set one of them off. But Yang would certainly have to make a pinky promise not to let herself go too far.

Who puts a blanket over the other when they fall asleep on the couch? All of them. There is no when or why reason, there more than likely has been at some point, one of them each has fallen asleep on the couch, and one gets a blanket, while another gets a pillow. But they will make sure that each other doesn't sleep too long there in the end.

-

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OT4 with Johnny/Hanzo/Ryou/Yang

Who is the most affectionate? With an entire Quad Squad, the most affectionate can vary with the mood and demands or needs. But I feel like in the end it would be Johnny with his words and flirting, or Hanzo with his poetics and warm touches the most. But be careful, Yang and Johnny will feed off each other in the flirting stage and turn it on both Ryou and Hanzo. More than likely making Ryou take the reigns to turn the tables back with Hanzo taking initiative real fast. But in the end, it will all become a very content loving group together to just enjoy the safety each other brings in their warmth.

Who initiates the handholding? This is a wild card, and it's anybodies game! With so many hands to hold, this changes throughout the day and depends on whom ever happens to be closest and near by. But with the currently events and three of them together, more than likely it will be Ryou taking the initiative on hand holding, a reminder they are all here together, and ground them all.

Who worries more for the other? Yang probably worries most about the other three, even though all four of them absolutely can take care of themselves. She will still be very worried over their welling being. And on the flip side, the paranoia all of them have of even coming close of loosing each other, oh the fear is real if things get critical.

Who is more likely to ask for help? It will be a toss up between Johnny and Yang more willing to ask for such. There is a lot of stubborn energy with each of them in their own varying ways, but it is not impossible for opening up and admitting a need for assistance.

Who is the one always losing the keys? With all of them, this isn't exactly a problem. Even with each of their own lives outside of the home, someone can help, even if loosing keys is rare. But between all four of them, Johnny Cage is probably the most likely to loose his keys. Only to find them later rather quickly.

Who leaves little love notes for the other? The most likely to do this is Hanzo and Ryou, leaving messages and notes for all of them. Yang would leave lyrics or poems, while Johnny will send cute as fuck text messages.

Who can’t sleep unless the other is there? Someone is missing? They will be questioning where the hell they are if it's not the usual times they are back or around. But if schedules collide and clash, there will always be at least two capable at any time for sleeping together. The worst out of all of them would be Hanzo or Ryou more than likely. Followed not far behind by Yang, and then Johnny. Cage looking at the other three and going to make sure they sleep one way or another damn it.

Who is more likely to propose to the other? Johnny Motherfucking Cage. Because if he doesn't do it, then it might be too slow, and not all of them have eternity to wait. If it isn't him, then Hanzo would make that leap himself.

Who introduced the other to their family first? Again here we have Johnny doing this first. All of them introducing their close friends and adoptive family in whom they have found, but Cage want's to gush about his family, and he will show you pictures too. But keep in mind, he will also probably show his followers on twitter or instagram, or whatever he might use, just who he is involved with. He'll share selfies with all of them.

Who is more likely to play with the other’s hair? If I could post a gif of overwhelmed I would. Because here we are, Yang will run her fingers through each of their hair, letting them lay in her lap as she does so to help ease away stress, nerves, anxieties. While taking great enjoyment in such. The next one after her would possibly be Ryou I feel. That calming nature he has with the soft touch could make any one of them just sink into it.

Who makes sure the other has meals/stays hydrated? Ain't no one going hungry or dehydrated in this house, not at all. Someone will be cooking and taking care of each other, or even taking responsibility on meals. Even if it is Johnny noticing the other are tired or drained, then he's going to god damn order a take out feast to spoil them. Yang can handle the dishes after, she will insist to do that much.

Who is more likely to stand up to anyone for the other? Depending on the situation, it will vary. Someone being rude or assholeish either in public or online? Then Johnny Cage is going to put someone in their place real fast of Yang doesn't first. But if it ends up coming down into Kombat, then this Quad Squad Team won't leave anything standing by the time they are done. Wildly different skill sets and varying fighting styles they can change between, someone is going to end up on the ground real quick.

Who is the most likely to prepare a surprise for the other? There are always going to be sweet little gifts and surprises left from one another, heartfelt ones and carefully thought out. But if a real surprise is going to happen, Johnny is going to be the one to do it. This is a man whom, even despite his age and wisdom, still knows how to go all out and awe someone if he wants to. Even if it's something simple and not extravagant, he will go out of his way to make sure it's a good one.

Who makes the other pinky promise not to do certain things? Ryou will absolutely make the others promise not to go feral or do something completely stupid or off the wall. He probably has to worry the least about Johnny doing that, but there are still moments where he could get himself into trouble. However if things were to get bad enough, then it's the Edenian making the promise instead.

Who puts a blanket over the other when they fall asleep on the couch? It rotates really on whom is on the couch, but it will more often than the other two, be Johnny or Yang that gets found snoozing on the couch. But this scenario pans differently. While pulling the blanket over is all well and good, more than likely one of them will be picking up who ever is sleeping on the couch and carry them too bed instead.

[365days365movies]

January 30, 2021: Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior

So, now that I’ve gotten through the first of these movies, it’s probably time to talk about the director of all four films, George Miller.

Miller’s an Australian director and medical doctor. Yeah, dude went to medical school, and in his last year there, started getting into filmmaking! Nice. He immediately came off as a budding director, and made his official directorial debut with his first film...Mad Max. Yeah. Very interesting guy. Today’s entry is his second film, and he’s since made films including Twilight Zone: The Movie, The Witches of Eastwick, Lorenzo’s Oil, Babe (yes, the pig one), Babe: Pig in the City (yes, the OTHER pig one), Happy Feet (not the pig one) and its sequel, Happy Feet Two. So, a pretty good filmography!

But throughout it all, Miller’s flagship passion was the Mad Max franchise, continuing with this movie, and eventually ending with Fury Road. And from what I’ve heard about these remaining two films, I’m in for a ride. Pun half-heartedly intended. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

An elderly narrator brings us in, telling the tale of the Road Warrior, Mad Max Rockatansky (Mel Gibson). He speaks of the downfall of modern society, punctuated by increased savagery, and the takeover of gangs on the world’s highways. People are ruined and forgotten, and they lose themselves. And these people include Max, who’s wandered out into the wilderness since losing his family. Yeah, Jess from the last movie? Dead. Guess she wasn’t doing so great after all.

Max and his dog are on the roads of Australia, where things have definitely changed. Ho longer around any vestige of civilization, the Road Warrior’s driving the Interceptor, being chased by punks on motorcycles, led by Wez (Vernon Wells), a cray, screaming dude with a bike and a mohawk..

After the chase, Max happens upon a recently-wrecked truck leaking gasoline, a much treasured resource in this post-apocalyptic landscape. Wez leaves, having been defeated, and Max gathers the fuel and goes his way. He drives through the desert until finding a mini-helicopter (a gyrocopter, it’s called), abandoned on the ground. 

After taking care of a carpet python (Morelia spilota; don’t know the subspecies), he finds himself ambushed by the Gyro Captain (Bruce Spence), who holds him up for his fuel. However, using his dog, Max gets the upper hand. Frightened, Gyro tells him of a huge supply of fuel somewhere in the desert. He agrees to show him in exchange for his life. Max agrees, and does this.

Yeah, he tied a string to the trigger of a gun, and tied the other end to Dog’s bone. Fuck yes.

Gyro’s true to his word, and he takes him to an oil refinery in the middle of the desert. It’s being used and guarded by a gang of some kind. Max sets up camp, tying Gyro to a dead tree and spying on the gang. That night, many gang members leave the refinery, and return the next day. I should mention, at this point, that we start to see some of the crazy vehicles I love so much in Fury Road. Which, yeah, HERE for that!

Anyway, the bikers, including good old Wez, go after a guy in a tricked-out buggy, incapacitating him and...taking...his wife. Yeah, these movies are really leaning on that to vilify their bad guys, huh? First it was Toecutter’s gang and the young couple, and now it’s these random people. Not the best gimmick in the world, but...OK?

Well, Max goes down to take their gasoline, and finds that the man has lived. Max brings him back to a small settlement, where they take him in. Meanwhile, a child with a boomerang, called Feral Kid (Emil Minty), watches. Cool.

Max is taken into the settlement, where oil is being refined as well. The settlers definitely don’t accept Max, and are ready to take his car and oust him into the wilderness without fuel. And then, the bikers return. And there are a LOT of them.

These are the Marauders, and they’ve taken some of the settlers captive. They’d gone out, only to be taken captive by Wez and the others. But Wez isn’t their leader. No...no, that would be the Warrior of the Wasteland! The Ayatollah of rock-and-roll-ah! THIS...is Lord Humungus (Kjell Nilsson)!

...Am I in love with this movie? Holy shit, I might be I mean, LOOK at that dude! With his voice and his scraggly-ass hair and Jason mask, he notes that the settlers sent out sentries to find a truck, with which to carry their gasoline and take it out of the desert. And as this is taking place, Feral Kid pops up, throws his steel boomerang, and kills Wez’ right hand man. WHAT

YES. MORE PLEASE. Feral Kid’s boomerang is thrown at him, misses, comes back and severs the fingers of the hand of Humungus’ mouth of Sauron dude, Toadie (Max Phipps). Humungus tries to calm the throngs, Wez included, and ends up putting Wez in a Sleeper. He tells the settlers to “just walk away, and [he] will spare [their] lives. Just walk away.”

...Yeah, I love Humungus. And his inevitable death saddens me more than I can properly say. Anyway, the settlers start debating whether or not they should walk away, and Max uses a little music-maker that he found to befriend the Feral Kid. The leader of the settlers, Pappagallo (Mike Preston) tries to convince them to flee with their fuel to a safe place. They continue to argue, until Max interjects with an offer.

Max can get them the vehicle to carry the tanker of gas that they have, but demands as much gas as he can carry, and the return of his vehicle. They agree to his terms, and Max heads off into the night to get the truck from earlier, with gas canisters and Dog in tow. With a little help from Feral Kid, he escapes the notice of the Marauders waiting nearby.

He catches up to Gyro, who’s managed to break free of the tree (well, mostly), and is quickly caught by Max in order to carry the gas canisters for the truck. They get back to Gyro’s gyro, where someone has died after being bitten by his...nonvenomous snake. Yeah, these films haven’t shown very high knowledge of zoology, huh?

They take to the air in the gyrocopter, and easily fly to the truck from the beginning of the film. They get it started, and Max leaves Gyro behind, although he protests to this, and follows behind in the copter. And then.he drives past Wez, who’s still enraged after losing his partner to boomerang hit.

By the way, I didn’t mention this about the gang, but they’re literally all wearing what looks to me like leather bondage gear? Like...I’m pretty certain that’s exactly what that is; it’s pretty obvious. ESPECIALLY Humungus and Wez’s partner, lemme tell you. Just a note, as this change in visual tone and style is going to carry throughout the rest of the series.

The Marauders run Max down, and Gyro saves the day with his snake, throwing it at one of the cars chasing him. Max JUST makes it into the Settlement, but a couple of the Marauders make it in as well, Wez amongst them. He kills a Settler using his favorite weapon, HIS OWN HEAD (fuck, this movie rules), and makes his was through the compound.

Max climbs the top of the wall, and uses a flamethrower on some of the men. Feral Kid throws a boomerang at Wez, who runs off with the rest of the Marauders. Gyro also arrives, landing in the settlement. Pappagallo, in the process, is shot in the leg with an arrow. Unfortunately, the damage sustained to the truck will take 12 hours to fix.

The Settlers thank Max for his help, but that doesn’t mean he’s staying there. That night, however, Humungus retaliates, and strings up their captured settlers for all to see, torturing them throughout the night. Nobody will make it out alive, by his promise. 

For the time being, Max and Gyro are still in the settlement, waiting for their chance to leave. Gyro tries to sneak away with a young woman, but she opts to stay out of loyalty to the Settlers. Also, her hair looks like a Who from Whoville. It had to be said...it had to be said. Pappagallo berated Max for just leaving, rather than helping the rest of them and driving the tanker. Max shoves aside Feral Kid, and he takes off.

However, this is NOT the best move on Max’s part, as he drives RIGHT THROUGH the Marauder camp, and Wez isn’t far behind him. Using a NOS system (EAT IT FAST AND FURIOUS FRANCHISE), they easily overtake Max and run him off the road, DESTROYING the V-8 Pursuit Special, and injuring Max something fierce. Somehow, though, he manages to escape. But one of them KILLS DOG WHAT THE FUCK MAN

Max crawls away and escapes, but is found by...Gyro! Gyro picks him up with the copter, and takes him back to the settlement. He wakes up in a medical tent, still quite hurt. Pappagallo details the plan: use the tanker as a distraction to allow the others to escape. Max, although still injured, volunteers to drive the tanker after all. He doesn’t say exactly why, but he is now stuck there without a method of egress, and he’s the best chance they have. I’m going to choose to believe that he does it for Dog. JOHN WICK STYLE BABY

The time has come. On both sides, they head for conflict. Gyro’s air support, dropping bombs on them. But he’s quickly shot down. Meanwhile, the settlers get out in vehicles of their own, taking advantage of the distraction of the tanker. And once they’re all out…

Now, all eyes are on Max and the Marauders! With the assistance of Warrior Woman (Virginia Hey), Feral Kid, and a few more settlers, Max tries to outdrive Wez and his group. And a LOT of shit happens here, so do yourself a favor and watch this video!

Rebecca and the other two settlers die, leaving only Max and Feral Kid behind. A LOT of Marauders die in the process, and then Lord Humungus catches up. As they shoot out the tires, Gyro (still flyin’, baby!) and some of the Settlers show up as backup. And...yup, another video. Yes, really.

After ALL OF THAT, Humungus ONCE AGAIN goes the way of Toecutter, and is killed by a head-on collision with a truck. Said truck careens off the road, and Mac and Feral Kid get out. It’s then that we see that the truck NEVER had fuel in it! No, instead it was a decoy! It allowed the vehicles, which actually contained the fuel, to escape to the safe North, away from the gangs.

The Narrator comes back, revealing that he’s the Feral Kid, and that their new leader was Gyro! And the Road Warrior. That was the last they ever saw of him. He lives now...only in his memories.

And THAT...was The Road Warrior, AKA Mad Max 2. WHOOOOOOOO!!! Second verse, same as the first; epilogue at the end of the weekend! LET’S GO PART 3

January 31, 2021: Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome (1985)

[popsunner]

Moonlit Champion: Part Two, Air

@cubedleo it’s been three weeks but like... tada

A/N: AO3 Link!! Jsjdbvjv bet y’all thought I forgot

Summary: Sokka sighs and crosses his arms as he stands again, walking with his hands tucked under his armpits. “Travel with the Avatar, they said. You’ll have a good time, they said.”

Aang hasn’t let go of Sokka since he woke up, soaking wet under a pile of his crying friends.

To be fair, Toph and Katara have been more clingy lately too, but it’s nothing compared to Aang.

Maybe because he was the one who almost (did?) died back in Ba Sing Se. He wasn’t there when they were all struggling to stay hopeful, to stick together. In simple terms, this isn’t Katara or Toph’s first rodeo.

(Which makes Sokka’s heart ache, when he recognizes Toph’s forced teasing and Katara’s sad smiles.)

“Aang, I kind of need my arm to start this fire,” Sokka says, and he tries not to sound annoyed, because he remembers how hard it was to leave Aang’s bedside after Ba Sing Se, to sleep or eat, let alone make an invasion plan.

“Oh.” Aang untangles his arms from Sokka’s, scooting away to give him room. He doesn’t scoot very far. “Sorry.”

Sokka gives him a small smile, and he watches as Aang’s eyes travel slowly up to stare at his hair.

Yeah, that’s hard to get used to.

“How far do we need to fly tomorrow, Sokka?” Katara asks for the fourth time.

It’s her own way of attaching herself to him, asking him questions like she’s reminding herself he’s there every two seconds. He doesn’t miss the way she watches him start the fire warily, a hand ready by her water pouch.

“Not far, we’ll probably have some down time. Maybe stop at a nearby town?”

“No thanks,” Aang says quietly. Katara gives him a worried look.

Sokka presses his mouth into a tight line. “I’m going to go check on Toph.”

Aang jumps up, “I’ll go with you!”

Sharing a look with his sister, Sokka nods. “Alright air-head, let’s go.”

“Ha! Air-head! Good one,” Katara says, laughing louder than she needs to.

Sokka thinks he might scream.

Aang grabs onto his arm again as soon as they start walking, and Sokka lets him. “Feeling okay, buddy?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Aang squints at him, “Are you okay?”

Sokka wants to say he’ll be better as soon as everyone stops treating him like a child, but instead he just nods. “Just sad about my hair.”

“I think it looks cool!” Aang jumps up with a gust of air, hanging on Sokka’s shoulders so he can see his hair up close. “You and Appa match.”

“Wow, everything I’ve always wanted.” Aang jumps back down, twirling three tiny woven ropes in his hands. Sokka raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been messing with those all week. What are they?”

Aang goes red, and he shrugs. “The Monks always made them whenever one of us got our tattoos. The bands are supposed to symbolize achievement and growth.”

“Huh. Is it for mastering earthbending?”

If possible, Aang goes even redder. “I still have a lot to learn from Toph, there’s no way I’ve mastered earth. They’re… actually for you.”

Sokka looks down at the kid, who’s got his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he tries to tie a knot, and tries to think of something meaningful to say, to thank him. “Oh.”

Brilliant.

Aang holds the bands out, and Sokka examines them as he takes them. They’re braided in a way Sokka hasn’t seen before, but the strands bend and curve awkwardly in places Aang made a mistake in the pattern. “Is this orange from your shirt?”

“The blue is from yours!”

Sokka might think that was weird if Aang didn’t look so excited. “Where do I put it?”

“Anywhere you want!” Aang drops onto his back with a huff, sticking his leg in the air. “Mine is on my ankle!”

Sokka laughs. “How about on my wolf tail?” he holds the band out to Aang, “Help me out?”

Aang jumps up to his feet and then to Sokka’s shoulders so fast it makes him dizzy, and Sokka starts walking again, hands wrapped around Aang's ankles to keep him steady as he ties the band through Sokka’s hair.

Toph is sitting next to Appa, throwing berries at random and cackling when Momo dives after them.

At least someone is acting normal. “Hey, Toph.”

“Who’s there?” Jumping to her feet, Toph holds out her arms in a defensive position. After a few seconds, she drops them. “Oh, Sokka, it’s just you.”

“Did I just startle you? With those feet?”

“Hey, back off. It’s hard to get used to that.” Toph points in Sokka’s direction with a huff.

Sokka wrinkles his eyebrows. “Me?”

“Yeah, you’re different now.”

“But you can’t see his hair,” Aang points out, climbing down Sokka’s arm to get to the ground.

Toph rolls her eyes and steps closer to point at Sokka’s chest. “Not his hair, that.”

“You can’t see my scar either.”

“You’re both idiots.” Toph pokes his chest roughly. “Your heart, obviously. Ever since you got back, it’s different.”

Aang’s eyes widen and he turns to press his ear into Sokka’s chest. “Different how? Different bad?”

Toph drops her arm. “Just different. I’m used to your individual heartbeats, and yours sounds… unfamiliar lately.”

“Oh goody.”

“Maybe Katara can heal it?”

“I said different, not broken!”

Sokka pats Aang’s head, then pushes it away from him. “Come on, food time.”

“You’re really telling me you can’t hear the difference?” Toph continues, leaning into Aang’s face.

Aang puts his hands up in surrender. “Should I be able to?”

“Yes! That’s the center of my earthbending! That, by the way, feather brain, I taught you!”

“Oh.”

Sokka leans against a tree, watching and trying to decide if he’s annoyed or amused as they argue back and forth. In a few minutes, Toph will tire herself out and they can go eat.

“Help!”

His shoulder slipping from the tree, Sokka stumbles, spinning to try and find the direction of the voice. “Did you guys hear that?”

Aang frowns and looks around. “Hear what?”

“Someone calling for help.”

Toph stretches her hand out towards him, tilting her head to listen as Aang circles to his other side. “No.”

“Help me!”

Sokka spins, startling both his friends. “There it was again!”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Aang says slowly. He points towards the direction of the fire. “Maybe we should go get Katara?”

Toph nods. “I would hear it if someone was there.”

“No! I swear-” When Sokka turns his head, he’s met with two worried looks. Two scared looks. He forces himself to take a breath. “You know, I think we’ve all been on edge lately. Must’ve been a bird.”

That seems to be good enough for Aang, who grabs his arm and Toph’s, pulling them back towards the fire. “Come on, Katara’s waiting.”

Toph glares at Sokka’s shoulder, but doesn’t say anything.

***

Sokka adjusts the map spread across his thighs awkwardly, trying not to wake up Aang, who’d passed out leaning against his legs an hour ago. Sokka’s calf is starting to cramp up painfully, but at least the kid’s asleep.

Toph is snoring no more than two feet away, both feet planted firmly on the ground and a hand reaching out, just barely brushing Aang’s with her knuckles.

“They look so tiny,” Katara says. Sokka looks up and watches her poke at the dying fire.

“They are tiny.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Katara’s eyebrows furrow, and she keeps her eyes trained on the embers. “Do you ever worry?”

Sokka snorts, “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“About them.” Katara huffs and begrudgingly adds, “About us.”

“Only every second of every day.”

“I worry too, you know.”

There’s something like indignation in her tone, and Sokka smiles. “I know you do, you don’t exactly hide it.”

“Hey! You’re one to talk about subtlety, Mr. Sneak Attack.”

She has a point. Sokka sticks his tongue out at her.

“Aang said he gave you the band he’s been making,” Katara says, her voice soft again.

Sokka nods and points at his hair. “I think it looks cool. Like dad’s beads.”

“Yeah. The mark of a warrior.”

Sokka smiles at that, Katara doesn’t.

Aang stirs, and his head flops to the side so fast Sokka barely has time to reach out and catch it, adjusting it gently to lay against his knee.

Katara watches him, and says nothing.

The last of the fire goes out as a breeze carries itself through their camp, and the world seems to still around their tired little group.

“Someone please help me!”

***

Sokka wakes up without the warmth of his friends at his side.

He shivers and stands, looking down at Katara, curled up with Toph and snorts. There’s no way either of them will admit they’d been cuddling in the morning. Aang is snoring, his arms thrown over Sokka’s sleeping form.

Sokka stumbles back and trips.

His sleeping what.

“Alright, Sokka. You’re dreaming.” Sokka stands, brushing himself off. “This is some wacky dream that’s just… weirdly realistic, and you’re going to wake up any second-”

“Help!”

The voice is louder here, and it cuts through Sokka’s skull. Something inside him makes him take off after it without stopping to think.

Low hanging branches and twigs from bushes snap against his arms, and he feels nothing. The ground under his feet is soft, and his breath comes out in puffs of frozen white, like it always did back home. The air is warm.

Everything contradicts itself, and Sokka is having a harder time convincing himself this isn’t real. He reaches up to his head, running his fingers along the band Aang gave him. He debates going back to their camp to try and wake up the group. Animals are supposed to sense things people can’t, right?

Maybe he can go get Momo.

Sokka turns, intent on heading back, and runs smack into a tree he swears wasn’t there before.

Did he get his hands on cactus juice again? Sokka looks down at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Alright. What would Aang do?”

After a few seconds, Sokka plops down into a sitting position and rests his hands on his knees. He closes his eyes and draws in a slow breath, letting it out again as slowly as his lungs will let him.

Impatient, Sokka opens one eye, scanning the area. No Aang.

“This is probably something about you, right?” Sokka sighs and crosses his arms as he stands again, walking with his hands tucked under his armpits. “Travel with the Avatar, they said. You’ll have a good time, they said.”

No one actually said that and Sokka knows it. He scowls. “Why do I always have to get carried off into weird, spooky places?”

Weird, spookily familiar places.

Sokka’s eyes widen and he stops, resting his hand on a tree trunk. He’s been here before. The air that feels like it’s not there until he tries to breathe, the ground that seems to pulse like a heartbeat under his feet. The changing landscape.

He spent a night here, what feels like years ago. Sokka looks up, spinning in a circle, trying to catch a glimpse of the moon.

There she is, high in the sky and bigger than she ever is in his world.

“What’s going on?” He asks her, gesturing around him. “Why am I back here? How come I don’t have my body this time?”

“She doesn’t usually answer.”

Sokka shrieks and pulls his arms in front of his face, sticking a leg out in front of him, poised to kick. After a few seconds, he lowers his arms, staring at the… spirit? In front of him. “Hi?”

The spirit waves. They look like some sort of cross between a mushroom and a ten year old. Roots run like veins through their arms, sprouting clovers and fungi that shimmer when the moonlight hits them. “I’m glad you came.”

Sokka gasps, dropping his foot back to the ground, “It’s you! You were calling for help!”

“No.” The spirits face darkens. “My twin was.”

“Oh.”

“Are you here to help them, Champion?”

Sokka rubs the back of his neck. “Champ who now?”

The spirit squints at him. “You were chosen as the Moon Spirit’s protector, weren’t you?”

“If I say no, are you going to eat me?”

“You have her touch,” The spirit says, reaching out to tug gently on a strand of his hair. “You are her chosen. Therefore you are the Champion of all the spirits under her.”

Sokka just wants to wake up. “That’s… nice.”

“So you will help my twin?”

Sokka opens his mouth to say no, to tell them that they should really just go get the Avatar, since he’s the bridge to the spirit world and all. Before he can say anything, a wave of calm washes over him, and he looks up at the moon. She seems to glare back. “Really?”

The moon, obviously, doesn’t answer, but Sokka sighs and nods at the spirit. “Yeah, I’ll help you.”

The spirit smiles and takes his hand, tugging him forward. “We have to hurry, the sun has infected them.”

“Your twin has a sunburn?” Sokka frowns. “Then we should really get my sister, she’s-”

“Not a sunburn, they’ve been infected.” the spirit yanks harder on his hand. “Moonwalkers don’t belong in sunlight. I told them, and they wouldn’t listen. They never listen to me.”

Sokka snorts. “I know the feeling. What’s your name anyway?”

“You can call me Pan.”

“And your twin?”

“Puck.”

“Okay, Pan. How worried should I be about seeing this Puck?”

Pan glances back at him, their gray-green hair falls over their face. “If the sun rises again and they are not saved, I’ll lose them forever.”

“Oh.” Sokka looks up to glare at the moon again. He loves her, he really does, but come on .

“Save me!” the voice from before screams. Pan’s hand changes grip, almost like they’re switching from leading him to hanging on for dear life.

They push past a few more trees and into a clearing and Sokka stops, staring in shock at the sight he’s met with. “You said we have until sunrise?”

“Yes.”

Sokka gapes at the yellow dragon in front of him. “Awesome.”

[marbledaesthetics]

Only on Principal | afi | part ii

masterlist part i

pairing: ashton irwin x ofc

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn, mutual pining, fake (semi-coerced?) relationships, injuries, implications of anxiety

word count: 4.4k

a/n: sorry this took so long, I just recently restarted classes and I never have the time to write. I wish I could say the next one will be sooner, but I haven’t even started it (oops). I do have an idea of where this will go moving forward, so hopefully, once I can get around to writing, it will go quickly. 

~~~

It’s nearing 10 o’clock when Ashton pulls up to the building Hylla described, a brick building with tall windows, two stories high. The sign above the front door reads The Ink Pot, but he passes it by in favor of following the small alley to his left, as per her directions, where he found a small side door.

He hesitates before knocking, knowing he’s a few minutes early. He’d spent the past week kicking himself over the way he had treated her, and he was anxious to see if she would still be upset by it.

The door swings open, snapping him from his thoughts, to reveal Hylla, holding a mascara wand and small, squirming dog. “Hi, you can come on up, I’m not quite ready, yet.” She motions for him to follow him up the stairs just inside the door. “You can chill wherever while I finish up.”

Hylla disappears after setting down the small pup, who immediately scuttles over to Ashton, at the top of the stairs. He crouches down and scratches its ears lightly, giggling when it attempts to climb into his lap. “Well, hello there.” He moves to sit on the end of her couch, leaning back down to continue petting it.

Hylla comes back a minute later, shaking her head in amusement at her dog, who is now lying on Ashton’s foot while he scratches her stomach. “Are you being needy, Karma? Worst guard dog I’ve ever seen,” she teases, laughing as the dog gets up and barrels into her shins.

“What breed is she?” Ashton asks, brushing a bit of dog fur from the bottom of his jeans.

“A mini Australian shepherd. She’s super smart, but she’s also a total brat.”

Ashon giggles, and she immediately yearns to hear the sound again. She mentally scolds herself, reminding herself that she needed to keep their relationship amicable for the next eight months.

“Are you ready, then?” Ashton asks, breaking the slightly awkward silence. He stands and slides his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, I just need to put this little one somewhere she won’t cause trouble.” She herds Karma into a corner of the kitchen full of dog things, closing a baby gate to keep her there. Upon watching this, Ashton notices that most things he could see are baby proofed.

Gesturing to the nearest baby lock, he asks, “Do you have a kid?” then quickly backtracks. “Wow, that was really blunt, sorry.”

Hylla just laughs, brushing it off as she pulls on her shoes. “No, like I said, Karma is super smart, but she loves causing trouble. She knows how to flip light switches, open cabinets, doors, the fridge, so: baby locks.”

Ashton laughs, a full sound from deep in his chest. “That’s amazing. In theory, that would be great, but I could see how she could make a mess, though.”

Hylla makes a small noise of affirmation, and they head out. They make small talk on their way, allowing the radio to fill stretches of comfortable silence.

Ashton parks a few blocks from the coffee shop, giving them a chance to be spotted before they enter. He gives Hylla a small, reassuring smile before hopping out of the car, opening her door. He helps her out of the car, lacing their fingers together as they make their way to the shop.

A handful of fans recognize Ashton, but none make a fuss about Hylla’s presence, being kind without prying.

They choose to sit at a bar along the front windows, keeping an eye out for the paps that were bound to arrive. They continue to keep their conversation light, occasionally speaking to fans that approach.

After some time, they notice the herd of paps outside had grown to a size plenty more than sufficient for their purposes. They meet each other’s eyes before rising from their seats in unison. 

Ashton takes Hyllas free hand in his, squeezing lightly. “You ready?”

She smiles back and nods, using her drink to gesture for them to leave.

As soon as the door opens, they’re overwhelmed by flashes. Ashton makes a point of ignoring the cameras, leading Hylla toward the pier, where it would be more difficult for the paps to follow.

Hylla tries to keep her head down, knowing there are already enough pictures of her face for Twitter to find her. The noise was overwhelming, with questions being shouted over each other, and Hylla is forced to press closer to Ashton to keep her balance as they fight their way through the crowded sidewalk.

One man pouches forward, gripping her arm tightly and asking a question she doesn’t quite hear. She freezes, eyes going wide as the man’s grip grows tighter. Immediately, Ashton puts himself between the two, dropping her hand in favor of pulling the man’s off of her and pushing him back. As soon as she’s freed, she stumbles back, heart still racing, and watches Ashton shoo away everyone who hasn’t already taken their cue to leave.

Once they are gone, he turns back to her, concern pinching his features. “Are you alright?” he asks softly, lightly brushing his fingertips over the bright red marks left on her elbow. 

“I’m okay,” she says quickly, “just a little shaken up— I wasn’t expecting that.” Her reply comes almost too fast for Ashton to believe her, but he just nods, drawing her closer to him, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before continuing toward the pier. 

Their silence is comfortable as they walk, filling the long stretches between bits of small talk.

Occasionally, a fan will ask Ashton for a picture, and Hylla happily takes the photos, opting to stay behind the camera, despite several invitations to join them.

They eventually find themselves at a picnic table, their gazes drifting between each other and the water.

“I’m actually kind of surprised we didn’t get more questions today,” she mentions, absentmindedly running her nails through the groves in the worn wood.

Ashton shrugs, drumming his own fingers on his thigh. “They usually aren’t the type to pry, but those pictures are probably trending by now.”

“I suppose it’s nice how they don’t track you everywhere. I imagine that would get old.”

“It can when it happens a lot, like when we’re on tour. Usually, it screws up plans more than anything.” He pauses for a second, taking in the sounds of the boardwalk before looking back to her. “So, I still don’t know much about you. Where are you from?”

“I grew up in Long Beach. My mom grew up in the LA area, but my dad is actually from Puerto Rico.”

“Puerto Rico, I think you might have mentioned that last week.”

She raises her eyebrows a bit, shocked he remembered. “Yeah, I did.”

“Does that mean you speak Spanish?”

His voice is genuinely curious, but Hylla can’t help but tease, “How original, no one has ever asked me that before. But, yes, I speak Spanish.”

“Well, I’m sorry I asked,” he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I feel like you mentioned your mom, too. Are you a family-oriented person?”

“Yeah, my entire family is pretty close.”

“Mine, too. Do you have any siblings?”

“Two brothers and a sister, plus a few cousins I’m super close with.”

Ashton gave a quick glance around, making sure everyone was out of earshot before speaking. “This whole thing must be hard then, not being able to talk about this.”

“A little, but I’m honestly so busy I don’t get to see them half as often as I’d like to even have to avoid talking about it. I assume it’s gonna get even harder with this being public now.” Hylla spoke quietly, also concerned about potential eavesdroppers. “This probably isn’t the place for this conversation.”

“You’re probably right,” He said, standing up from the table. “Should we move this somewhere more private?”

He held out a hand, which she took, lacing her fingers in his as they made their way back up the pier. “What other things should you know about me?”

“Well, apparently you speak Spanish. Any other fun talents you’ve been hiding from me?”

“You already know I do art. That takes up most of my time.”

“Other than tattoos, what kind of art do you like to do?”

“Uh, a little bit of everything, I guess? I do a lot of digital things because they’re the easiest to get to clients that commission me, and I can print them into stencils. I paint, sometimes. As long as I have a pen and something to write on, I’ll doodle. How about you? Any random talents you’re holding out on?”

“Nothing spectacular. I can whistle really well, but I suppose that goes with the music thing.”

They spend the rest of the walk back to the car chatting, talking just enough to fill the silence. They had almost made it back to the car when they saw a few more paps; though, they appeared to be less pushy than the ones they encountered earlier.

Hylla’s first reaction was to ignore them, avoiding direct eye contact, but Ashton smiled at them, politely telling them he would answer any of their questions. She was honestly surprised they left graciously, allowing the pair to go about their business.

Ashton opened her door for her, allowing her to climb into the passenger seat before getting in the car himself. Neither of them spoke until Ashton pulled into traffic. “Are you doing okay? I know all of this can be overwhelming.”

Hylla shrugged, running her fingertips over the seams of the center council. “I’m fine, I wasn’t really as prepared for dealing with them as I originally thought, but it’s something I’ll just learn with time, I guess. Honestly, the fact that they just left when you asked them to really shocked me.”

“They aren’t all quite as pushy as the ones this morning,” Ashton assured her. He made quick glances at her while he drove, debating whether he could hold her hand without people around. “The shoving and mobbing is something we hardly ever have to deal with around here, and security is usually with us in places where the pushy ones like to show. Speaking of which, how’s your arm?”

Hylla hadn’t really had much time to think over the morning’s events, so she was surprised to see how dark the bruises were when she looked down. “It looks worse than it feels. It’ll probably be pretty sore tomorrow, though.”

“Once we park, I can take a look at it. I might have something at home that could take care of them.” He couldn’t help but feel guilty, partially responsible for what had happened. “We probably should have iced it earlier, stopped it from getting this bad.”

Hylla shook her head, shrugging off his concern. “It really doesn’t hurt, Ash. It’s not a big deal.”

“I know, but I hate that they hurt you. I should have expected something like this.” He speaks quietly, shifting his eyes back to the road.

“This isn’t your fault, Ash,” she said, not even thinking as she put her hand over his on the gearshift. “You know that, right? I signed up for this. This whole thing doesn’t need to make me your responsibility.”

Ashton’s fluttering heart sank at her words, feeling pushed away. “I know that we really aren’t that close, that I don’t necessarily need to, but I’m still worried about you, and I still care that you got hurt.” His face is red as he pulls into a park’n’ride, catching her gaze before quickly averting his eyes. “Is it okay if I take a look at your arm?” His words are cautious, not wanting to overstep any boundaries or make her uncomfortable.

“That’s fine, Ash.” She twists slightly in her seat to face him more and whisks the knuckles of her uninjured arm over his cheek to bring his attention back to her face. “And, thank you for caring, even if you don’t really have to.”

“Of course, Hylla. I’m not about to just ignore you as soon as we aren’t in public, even if I technically can.” He speaks softly, but with a tone of finality that affirms his words. 

Hylla hums softly in response, taking more reassurance from his words than she realized she had needed. 

He takes his time inspecting her bruises, softly grazing them with his fingers. Ashton sighs, his tone softer when he continues. “I know I wasn’t particularly pleasant when we first met, scratch that, I was a total douche, and there isn’t an excuse for that, but I really would like us to be friends, to be able to enjoy each other’s company if we’re going to be spending so much time together.”

“I completely understand why you acted the way you did that first day; I probably would have reacted the same way if our roles were reversed. You didn’t get a choice in the situation, and I was the person they were forcing onto you, so you lashed out. I’m not upset about you having feelings, Ashton, and I also want to be able to enjoy each other’s company throughout this.” She paused in a way that suggested she wasn’t done talking, but couldn’t bring herself to suggest that their relationship could go further than just friends.

Hylla was snapped from her thoughts when Ashton’s gentle hold on her arm trailed, taking her hand in his, drawing her gaze back to his. “I’m glad we both want that.” He wore a light smile on his face, gently stroking her hand with his thumb as he spoke. “Those bruises are getting kind of gnarly. Want to maybe get some food and head back to mine so I can clean them up?”

His tone is meek, bracing himself from the rejection he feared, expecting her to ask him to just bring her home. Despite her reassurance that she understood, he still was worried he had screwed over anything that could have ever possibly happened between them with his behavior.

“That sounds good.” She squeezes his hand, smiling at him. He sighs lightly with relief, taking her acceptance of his offer as a good sign. With a small, mischievous smile, she mutters, “Feels good, too.”

Ashton barks a loud, sudden laugh and throws his head back, completely caught off guard by the change in mood. He continues to giggle as he pulls back into traffic, heading toward his house. “A pun at my expense? Already?” He trails off into a fit of giggles, his smile growing further. “Oh, you are just gonna love the guys.”

Ashton falters, worried he’s jumped too far ahead of himself, despite the fact that they both knew that she would be meeting the guys sooner rather than later, but Hylla's unfazed. “It’ll probably be even harder for you to keep this from them than it will be for me to keep it from my family.”

Her comment throws him— he hadn’t even considered the fact that he couldn’t tell the guys about the nature of their relationship. “I guess we never did finish that conversation, did we?”

She shrugs off the question, hiking one knee to her chest and leaning against the door. “I don’t really know what else to say. I mean, it’s going to suck keeping this from them, but what more is there to dwell on, really?”

Ashton takes a quick glance over at her, sensing that the situation bothered her more than she was letting on, but decides not to push the matter. “Tell me about them.”

Hylla tilts her head just enough to stare, quirking her eyebrow at his request. 

“They’re clearly important to you, so, tell me about them.” She smiles, shaking her head as she thinks.

“Well, Kendall is the oldest, she’s 28. She loves to tease, and is bossy as hell, but her heart is always in the right place. Micah’s 26. He can be a little protective, but lets me get away with everything because he’s a total softy. Kian’s only twenty, but protective to the point of overbearing and likes following the rules. He loves playing tough guy, and hates acknowledging that I can handle myself. Issac and Lydia are my cousins, but we spent so much time together as kids that we’re practically siblings. Lydia is 27, and Issac’s my age— actually, he’s two days younger than me and I will never let him forget it.”

Ashton smiles as she rambles, listening attentively to her stories with the people she cares so much about.

She trails off in the middle of a story from her childhood, blushing when she realizes they’ve stopped in Ashton’s driveway. “Sorry, I got a little carried away.”

“Don’t be. They sound amazing.” They both exit the car, walking up to the house. “I wish I got to see my family more, but the guys are like my brothers, now.” 

Ashton opens the door for Hylla, stepping in behind her and dropping his keys into a bowl by the door. He kicks off his shoes, and Hylla follows suit before continuing to stand awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed.

Ashton shows her to the kitchen, telling her to make herself comfortable before disappearing upstairs to grab some things for her arm. Hylla perches herself on a stool at his counter, pulling out her phone to see the pictures of them starting to trend.

Ashton returns carrying an assortment of first aid supplies. He chuckles lightly when she shows him her screen, mildly impressed that they’ve already seemed to have identified her, along with several of her socials.

“Twitter really is better than the FBI, aren’t they?” He nods, pulling a stack of takeout menus from a drawer.

“What are you feeling for lunch?” he asks, flipping several of the menus to face her.

She glances up from her scrolling, returning her phone to her pocket. “I’m not picky, but I’m always a sucker for Thai.” She pulls a few menus from the stack, allowing Ashton to pick from those.

Once they’d placed their orders, Ashton sits facing her, inspecting her bruises again. He holds her arm gently, careful not to put more pressure than necessary on the sore area. He rubs a balm over it before wrapping it with a soft ice pack, smiling at her gently.

“You really need to stop feeling so guilty about this, Ash.” Her words stun him, and he meets her eyes again. “This is not your fault, and your guilty face is making me sad.” She jokingly pouts at him, earning herself a giggle.

“I know,” he sighs lightly and sits up straighter, twisting to face the counter, “but I can’t help but feel bad that being around me got you hurt.” He has his own small pout, fuming over the incident.

“It’s a bruise, Ashton. It’s not even that bad.” She moves the compress, poking it harshly to prove her point, but the small wince she makes nullifies it. “Okay, maybe it’s a bad bruise, but I’ll be fine. I’ve probably given myself worse bruises running into tables, so you can stop worrying so much.”

Ashton resituates the compress, holding it there to keep her from moving it again. “Was awful to you that first day, and now this happened. I can’t help but think that you're gonna hate me if this sort of thing keeps happening.”

“I’m not a dog, Ash. A few bad days aren’t gonna train me to hate you.” She chuckles a bit, smiling warmly. “I already told you that I’m not mad about you being in a mood that first day and that this isn’t your fault. You don’t need to be so hard on yourself.” She reaches out to cup his face, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone soothingly.

Her touch feels natural, and Ashton has to restrain himself from leaning into it. “I’ll try to stop worrying so much, but you need to leave your ice pack on so it actually starts healing,��� he teases, placing his hand on her knee, brushing the inside of it with his thumb.

“Deal.”

They remain in a comfortable silence for a bit, enjoying each other’s touch within their own little bubble, until the doorbell rings, startling them both. They jump apart guiltily, breaking their worry free bliss, and they both flush. Ashton sighs lightly before moving to answer the door, already missing her touch.

Hylla readjusts in her seat, trying to process the moment they shared. She ached to return to it, to pursue a romance outside of their contract without regard for the consequences, but she chastised herself, unable to push her worries from her mind. No matter what happened between them in private, they would be forced to regularly see each other until their contract expired, and she wasn’t sure she could keep something like that to herself for so long.

Ashton comes back with their takeout a minute later, firmly refusing to allow Hylla to pay him back for her meal. Once they are both settled with their food, he rekindles their conversation for a third time. “Tell me more about your family.”

Hylla thinks for a moment on what she should start with, surprised at how interested he is. “Well, my dad’s family is from Puerto Rico; They moved here when he was eleven. My mom’s family came over from Southern Europe before the first world war. They’re both deeply connected to their cultures, so we have a lot of strong traditions. Between running the shop and now this, I don’t get to see them half as often as I’d like, but we try to make a point of doing big family dinners as often as we can— which you will most definitely be getting dragged to at some point in the near future. There is no way they will let me get away with not bringing you around more than once, now that we’re public.”

Ashton chuckles, heart fluttering at the prospect of meeting the people that were so important to her. “Well, I’ll give it a week at most before the guys start showing up here unannounced to try and meet you, so I guess we’re even there.”

“Speaking of meeting people, we’re going to need a solid story of how we met because my family will pick up on anything that doesn’t quite match up, so our details need to be on point without seeming rehearsed.”

“The guys won’t necessarily need details, but if the situation seems weird, they’re gonna start asking questions we probably won’t be able to answer.”

“So we need details and a vibe.”

They sit quietly, only the sounds of their chewing disturbing the thoughtful silence as they run through scenarios. They occasionally bounce a few ideas off each other, shooting down the ones that would spark too many questions, before settling on meeting at a farmers market they both occasionally shop at.

They discuss the details of the meeting, occasionally jotting down details to remember, until long after their food has been finished. The conversations strayed frequently, and Hylla longed to hear more about the man beside her, who she suspected was holding something back, giving few details of his own life when she tries to reciprocate his curious nature.

Even after the details had been arranged, their conversation flowed easily, but Ashton remained reserved, worried if he shared too many of his own experiences, he’d lose sight of what he has in common with Hylla. He could recognize so much of himself within her— valuing her connections to her family and culture, the strong sense of creativity she pursued— despite the fact that they led completely different lives, and he clung to that connection, terrified she would lose what little interest in him he hopes she has without it. 

What Hylla does learn about him is mundane, but she adores the knowledge, nonetheless, They exchange random favorites— foods, movies, authors— and other small things, keeping their conversation light until Hylla decides she’s stayed her welcome.

Upon arriving home, she immediately takes Karma for a walk, taking some time to think over the predicament Ashton presented. She’s close with her family, and has never been good at hiding things from them. If one of them directly pointed out something was weird about the couple, she isn’t sure she will be able to keep up the act.

Her worries continue to pester her as she sets things up in the shop for the next morning, and while she attempts to sleep. Eventually, after giving into her insomnia, she pulls a sketchbook from the pile on her desk and settles back on top of the comforter to draw.

She doesn’t pay as much mind to what she’s drawing as she does to blending each part into a single piece. She starts with thin line work, dainty lines flowing to the edges of uncompleted figures, but quickly switches to thicker, bolder marks, all but overtaking the delicate start to the piece. When she comes back from her place deep in her thoughts, and takes the time to examine what she’s done, she is shocked at the wholeness of the piece. Even without the detailing of a finished piece, it seems cohesive and clear-cut, as though it told a story.

The upper half of a wolf vaguely encircles the dainty, loopy outline of a girl holding a flor de maga, a Puerto Rican hibiscus flower, as though using it as a pen. The wolf’s teeth are bared, but its expression is soft and curious as it faces the girl, who appeared to be unbothered by the beast’s presence, focused on the image below them. In roughly the shape of a tiara, vague figures of half sketched people struggle toward a man holding a flag, standing firm against strong winds. The piece bleeds with emotion, feelings of passion, admiration, understanding, and inner strength.

Hylla stays up until the wee hours of the morning, shading and adding details to the piece until she feels as though she’s done it justice. It’s raw, and she doesn’t quite understand why the textures and patterns work together, but everything fits together in a way that satisfies her. Finally, she moves the sketchbook to her nightstand, sprawling out on the bed to get some sleep before she has to open the shop.

~~~

masterlist

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[thorsstorms]

Abroad Pt. 12

(Chris Hemsworth x Reader) Summary: Being the Hemsworth Kids’ Nanny, you were vowed to keep it strictly professional for their sake, but do the stolen glances go unnoticed between you both? 

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: none

A/N: if you want to be tagged, PLEASE SEND AS AN ASK. 

Masterlist 

You had three months with him. You of course made the most of it, but could never ignore the count down that was floating around you at all times. It seemed stupid really. It is not like he was going to be dropping off the face of the earth. He left for a two week period in the beginning for the MIB press tour and premiere, but came back for a weekend before he was gone again for another week doing more press. So maybe you only had about 2 months with him.

Regardless, in that time you celebrated birthdays, had his friends over for dinner a few times, watched movies that he forced you into, and spent time playing it low key for awhile. Though your closet and all of your belongings were stashed on the other side of the house, you could probably call his bed your own.

Your goal was to smother the kids with his presence so they would eventually get sick of him and tell him to go away. The plan only back fired, of course.

India was latched to his side on his last day before leaving. Of course he would come home when he had two or three days between filming, but they were few and far between. She followed him around the house while he was packing. She sat on the kitchen counter while he cooked dinner for you all, the last time for a while.

She wedged herself in the middle of the bed and was determined to stay until he left. The boys didn’t miss out on the party. Tristan was latched onto his other side and Sasha laid between you and India. While the boys chanted for a sleepover, you willingly let them hog their Papa.

The boys liked to talk to keep themselves awake. It came to the point that you stopped replying and just listened to them have a conversation between each other.

They started to argue about whether the Power Rangers were better than Ninja Turtles, and who would beat who. You peaked your eyes up to Chris at the head of the bed who was doing the same thing you were - trying to hold back a laugh at them.

Their innocent conversation, communicating to each other. You can almost distinguish their own style of communication that they have established. They had to eventually fall a slave to the tire and warmth of the bed, or maybe it was you drifting to sleep before them.

His alarm went off just after 6am. He flipped it off so fast, praying that the kids wouldn’t awake to it, they can sleep for another hour before he has to leave. It was hard for him to pull out of bed, but when he did he almost climbed right back in. Sasha was tucked into your side while India was almost holding your limb like a pillow.

He snapped a photo of the pile smiling to himself. He knew what he wanted.

As soon as India woke up to the shower running, you woke up to her tiny fists trying to bang open the bathroom door. You shushed her and rushed to prevent the noise, kneeling down next to her. Trying to console her was much harder when you saw the distressed look on her face. She woke up with him gone, of course she panicked. She turned on the water works almost immediately.

Just as soon as she agrees to wait till he gets out, the water turns off and she is back to yelling for him to let her in.  The door flew open, the bathroom light almost blinding you in contrast to the darkness of the room. She ran inside latching to his towel covered waist, telling him he can’t leave yet. The apologetic look on your face was not enough to portray the hurt you felt for her. He cracked the door shut to block out the light to talk to her while you crawled back in bed trying to shush the boys back to sleep. It didn’t work, but it was enough to get them to sit there and talk with you quietly until he came out fully dressed with a little one with red eyes following him around like a robot.

Right when he came out, you were forgotten in their minds, scooting off the bed to follow him out of the room. There was no chance of sleep after that, not that it was a priority at the moment anyway.

It wasn’t long before two of his friends were pulling into the driveway to pick him up so they could make the flight, both grabbing his luggage for him after assessing the situation.  After he put the boys back in his bed, laying till they fell back asleep, India was not having it. Her distress turned into anger quickly, she made it known that she was upset that he was leaving. Saying anything she could to upset him, he didn’t show it, but you knew it did.

All he wanted was to give her a hug and tell her he would be back before she knew it, but she was crowding you, telling him to go, go away. Between her shaking and pushing him at his waist away from you, and him trying to give you a quick kiss goodbye. You almost started to cry with her, but you couldn’t, you wanted him to do this, you encouraged it. You were not the one that was going to make it any harder than it already was.

“Go Chris, she’ll be okay.” You weren’t sure that your reassurances did anything for him.  After you said your goodbye, he put on a Dad facade and told her to stop acting like that and tell him goodbye. She reluctantly pulled away from his hug and tried to take a deep breath.

When the garage door shut, she was back burying her face into your shirt, sobs racking through her. It was enough for a few tears to escape of your own.

“India please,” you pleaded with her but it was ignored. You took a deep breathe and hauled her up to your waist, walking to the couch. She was almost to big to be carrying, but she wasn’t going to move on her own.

She sat on your lap, cooing cries into your shirt. Her sadness was on full display, trying to keep up with breathing, her frame shaking under your hands. You pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and pulled it around her and over your legs.

“I want my momma,” her voice broke her tears, making your heart sink.

“We can call her tonight, she is sleeping right now.” You rubbed her back and brushed her hair out of her face until she started to drift to sleep. This was going to be so much harder than you thought it would be. The boys were bound to be thinking the same thing when they woke up again.

You remembered when you first had to start looking for another job. Always thinking the children you watched were rotten from their parents doing, spoiled from their parents doing. The job usually turned out to be much more than just babysitting here and there, you learned that from your first live in experience back home. You become the kids’ best friend, someone they turn to and trust. They confide in you when they feel like they cant to their parents, and they seek you for comfort when you are who they are comfortable with. They tell you secrets, big and small. You create inside jokes and learn new things. Every family is different.

Sometimes you put them to bed at night and be the first person they see in the morning. You get to read them a bedtime story, and tuck them in while they babble about something random from their day, then ask if you will still be there when they wake up.

You have had older kids where you’d had to take away their phone and punish them for the parent, because they could not be there to do so. It is hard and it is easy. It is rewarding to earn the smiles and the trust but draining to say goodbye and do the dirty work, or be the ‘bad guy’.

But nothing hurts worse than devoting your life and time to these children that are not even your own, then being pushed aside as if you are nothing more than a secondary entertainer for them. That is not what was happening, obviously. But it hurt the same, no less.

Realizing you cannot be the one to comfort them, or be the person they want to be comforted by. You can try and console where they have been let down, but it doesn’t always make up for it. You couldn’t help but feel guilty for her tears. You could have left the damn papers alone for him to forget.

You fished around your pockets while trying to keep still for her and pulled out your phone. Before she could even answer the phone with a groggy ‘hello’, you were already in tears, overwhelmed.

“Bri, can you come over?” She was alarmed and sat up in bed by the tone of your voice. She knew what today was and was out the door of the apartment before you both hung up the call.  

You took a breath, looking down at her. After debating a bit, you decided to try and stand up and carry her to the bed to sleep with the boys, you were not going to be walking up stairs with her like this.

When Bri arrived you were sitting at the dining room table still in your pajamas trying to plan some of their school work with the laptop open in front of you.

She only stayed one night with you, she was a Med Student, she can’t just not go to classes, especially with what it took to get her there. It was enough for you anyway. She was full of the ‘I told you so’ attitude that was going to permanently ruin your eyes from rolling them so hard.

“You seriously can’t tell me you never think about it!” Her nagging never went away. The food on the stove was about to get the wrath of your annoyance if she didn’t quit.

“Bri, It’s just… not on my mind, for two more years at least.” If she would just change the subject...

“Two years! That’s it! That’s long term!” - “Bri!”

“Okay, you know what, I’ll stop. I got my answer.” You glared at her, turning back to the stove. Thinking of a future with Chris, you just knew it would give you a headache if you started. You can barely comprehend your relation with him now. You love him, he loves you. It does not need to be jinxed.

“Will you just go tell them that dinners ready?” She hopped off the bar stool and walked towards the movie room to retrieve them. She was going to be the death of you.

You laid in India’s bed next to her while she was on facetime with her dad. The boys got there turn and have better of closed their eyes by now.

“Papa I want to go to school.” Your ears peaked up at her confession.

“You what?” He said, taking his eyes off the road and looking into the camera.

“I can be a first grader at school,” she said again, gaining confidence in her tone.

“Are you sure Indy? There are a lot of kids in a classroom, you wont get to go outside and work with your brothers and I won’t be there with you, and (y/n) won’t either.” Her eyes flicked over to you then back to the screen.

“I know, but I want to.” You listened as he told her that he would think about it, telling her it was passed her bedtime. They said their goodbyes before you took the phone and left her room, walking down the stairs.

“What do you think?”

“Oh, I’m not telling you what’s a good idea or bad idea anymore. I refuse.” You sat down on a patio chair and watched him. It was daylight there, probably just now 10 AM, where as the moon was hanging high on your end.

“No love, I need you on this. This does involve you,” you sighed knowing he was right.

“I think it would be good for her.” He didn’t say anything so you continued. “She could meet new friends, and be around more kids her age. Give her a bit more stability.”

“She’ll really be nailed down there, you and the boys will.” You could see the gears turning in his head, watching as he parked the car somewhere. “You know what? I dont- I dont know that it is a good time to start that, I can’t be there all the time. Not after, dammit, not until after I finish this contract.” It wasn’t on purpose, you knew that, but you started to feel guilty again. The guilt never really left your system in the first place, but this put India in a predicament, not just him.

“It’s whatever you want to do,” you were careful not to say much more, regardless of what he thinks, you were done trying to influence his decisions. You paid little attention to his rambling about scheduling for the future how it would restrict him. He definitely was thinking too much into it but you didn’t say it, it wasn’t your place to.

“Whatever you want to do, I can handle it. Just take a few days to think about it, you don’t have to decide now.”

“You are right,” he huffed and his eyes caught the clock on the dash. “Shit, I have to go, I’m late. I love you.”

“I love you too, see you in a few… weeks.” A sad smile was all you could muster.

He hung up and checked the address on his phone again before getting out of the car. Right place, just almost ten minutes late.

~

“These are the main catalogs that you could use to draw inspiration from, feel free to take them with you to look them through.” Chris picked up the two booklets sat on the desk in front of him, taking a deep breath. At least he didn’t have to decide today, though he didn’t know when he could meet with her again. It would be short notice.

“Just get a rough idea of what you want, and we can talk it through next time, there is no rush.” She clasped her hands in front of her on the desk as he flipped open a few pages.

“So what? What is there to all decide exactly?” He looked away from the sparkling pages, nothing jumping out at him.

“Well there is the type of metal, band styles, gemstones or diamonds, shape, setting, and most importantly, what suits her best. Let me show you a few so you can see the difference.” She reached under the case and pulled out a sleeve of rings. Trying to explain the white gold, from the silver and platinum bands. Pointing out the differences between the diamond grades.

~

You were now a master at wrangling the kids when it was just you with them. A routine was in place for them and they know it like the back of their hands, it wasn’t as hard on your own as it was in the beginning. You worked to be better on keeping communication with your family. After some group calls that excluded you, you got news that you were to have visitors soon!

Ty was sitting on facetime, propped up on the counter while you piddled around the living room. He wasn’t talking much, just watching you, listening to what you’re doing, just company to have.

“Did you tell her yet?” You heard a girls voice come through the phone, you stopped what you were doing and saw the camera move from his end, like he picked it up from the workbench.

“Tell me what? Who is that?” You stalked closer to the phone screen.

“Jace, Chaz, and Emily are here. We, well not Jace, but we have something to tell you!” You picked up the phone holding it closer, when he flipped the camera to show them all lounging in the garage with Jace’s truck pulled in.

“Well spit it out!”

“We are coming to Australia!” Chaz yelled at you, skipping over a ‘what the fuck, I wanna go’ from Jace.

Bri, Ty, Chaz, and his girlfriend were all coming at the same time, right when the weather starts to warm up again and already booked a VRBO in town, ready to surprise you.

Later when you finished talking about the time they would spend here with you, Chris received a text from you telling what was going on. When he woke up to the text he was more determined and nervous than he would have expected. But that was only because he had something to be nervous about, but he wouldn’t show it to you and risk possibly bringing down your excitement. A surprise is a surprise in his mind.

Chris was coming home a mere three weeks later. He had to admit that he had fun shooting, he knew he would. Pratt was fun to work with, of course, Tessa soon was to be there as well.

Chris called to tell you that he was catching a flight home a day early, headed out in a few hours instead, but it slipped his mind when he saw you were enjoying yourself at dinner with a homeschool group family that you had grown closer with, sitting on the outside patio watching the kids together at the table next to the adults. You were a bit preoccupied at the moment and he decided not to impend on your time with actual adults, other than himself and Bri. He would see you soon anyway, though you didn’t know how soon.

He said goodbye while you stuffed yourself with another jumbo shrimp, Tristan taking the phone out of your hands, though you didn’t bother to go retrieve it. You couldn’t hear him too well anyway over the chatter of your surroundings and the music from patio speakers.

You woke the next morning, earlier than usual to a horrible feeling settling in your stomach. You stilled a moment, focusing to see if the cramping would go away but it didn’t. It quickly had you running across the room and throwing open the doors to the bathroom, barely making it before you puked up anything you had eaten in the last 24 hours.

“Fuck,” you groaned, sitting back on the floor. Your head was spinning and the cool tiles underneath you did nothing to help your brain decypher up from down.

“(y/n),” you heard Sasha’s voice come into the room. He crawled into bed with you during the night and a door banging against the wall woke him up.

“Sash, Can you- can you go get me water bottle from the fridge?” You barely heard his footsteps pad rushedly across the flooring.

The cramps lessened a second before they started to come on stronger again. You pulled the hair tie off your wrist and quickly tried to tie up your hair against shaking hands before you started again but barely made two loops before once again, evacuating all traces of nutrients from your body.

The sickness subsided again. This time leaning against the wall, trying to force your arms to tie your hair back properly. You reached forward and flushed the toilet, that was not something anyone should ever have to see.

“Sasha!” You croked out. How long does it possibly take to come back with a water?

“Oh, god,” you whispered trying to mentally prepare yourself for another wave. You pressed a hand over your stomach when it started twisting up. You had just started to hear his footsteps coming back when you lazily forced yourself back over the toilet again.

You pushed away from the toilet when you were done, shutting the lid closed while you drew back slumping against the wall. It was almost as if you could feel the tension release from your stomach, the muscles loosening down your neck and back from dry heaving.

You closed your eyes, feeling a lightheadedness take over, catching yourself on your elbow before you fully fell over, regardless of the wall behind you.

“Fucking hell, (y/n)!” You felt hands pull under both your arms, sitting you up straight. You peaked opened your eyes wanting to feel excited to see him standing in front of you, but you just felt regret from him moving you too quickly. “Are you- are you done?”

“I think so,” you whimped out, unsure if he could hear you or not.

“Well let’s get you back in bed,” he started to pull you up.

“No, no, I need a shower,” you said, forcing your eyes back open, focusing on him.

“Love I'm not sure you can stand, how about a bath?” You nodded, regretting it again, scrunching your face up as a swift wave a nausea came and went. You heard him holler back to Sasha to go back to bed.

You felt him toss your arm over his own shoulder so he could pick you up from the ground, a hand going under your knees and another under your back. You felt the cool tile around the bathtub through your clothing, him sitting you down and reaching behind you to turn on the water. The sick feeling starting to slowly drain from your system.

“I’m never eating shrimp again,” you thought out loud whilst he started to tug your shirt over your head, the cold air stomping across your skin.

As soon as you were submerged in the hot water your head was almost completely clear. It gave you a moment to finally appreciate him being home slightly earlier than planned. He sat on the edge of the tub while you run your fingers across the bubbles, asking him how his first few weeks of shooting had been.

A pure moment in time filled with giggles passed through as he told you that they had him back in the fat suit and the long hair and beard, won’t calm till a few more weeks. While he faked annoyed about how much time it took to look like that, it was pure amusement for you while he showed you a few pictures him and Pratt from the set.  

“How long do you get to stay Chris?” You wondered out loud.

“Till tuesday, I wanted to take India to her first day of school.” It was sweet, you knew it was important to him that he does and at least meet her teacher.

A beat of calm trailed while he watched you shy away from his stare, “Can you get me some clothes?”

“Yea, yea,” he pushed off the edge of the tub, leaving a towel and and ‘I missed you’ in his wake before making his way out the door.

The afternoon was left open, spending time at the park so the kids could play. It was a tad to cold for any swimming recently, so going to the park, and mini exploring games that boys were making up was your best bet.

Chris sat next to you on the picnic table while you both loosely observed the kids and a few other strays that had come to the park. “Anything new since I’ve been gone?”

“I’ve educated them on some classics, like Highschool Musical. All three, of course.” He rolled his eyes while you continued, “Oh, and you might be happy to hear that India now requests the Camp Rock soundtrack, as well as some Jonas Brothers in general. Though she tries to call him ‘Shane’, like in the movie.” You laughed a little thinking about it. It was almost prideful to be able to share those movies with her.

“I think that’s it really. I took her shopping for school clothes. So there is a lot of sequence and glitter. And I bought her some lip gloss that she carries around with her everywhere. It’s really cute,” You trailed off realizing that he probably don’t think it was going to be that cute, but he didn’t mind. If he did, he didn’t show it.

There was nothing in the moment that could damage his mood while he was able to spend time home.

Taglist: @keithseabrook27 @odinson-barnes @jonsnowisthesexiestbastard @weekendswithnewtmas @innerpaperexpertcloud @toomanyflowerboys @thefashioncomplex  @basmaraafat @imaginationintowords @taketimeandappreciate @superheroesaremytea @vampiregirl1797 @ynm1505 @danathewitchywoman @avengerswhonow @thorfanficwriter @disaster-rose @cap-just-said-language @xmarveled @kemkem101

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Jake Ryan would include~

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(Y/f/n = your full name)

- You meet Jake in school. You’re two years younger than him but you guys have independent study together.

- You catch his eye when you walk into class and like most people you’re infatuated with the boy.

- After a few days of awkward glances toward each other and him slowly finding you prettier and prettier he pays a ‘nerd’ to tell him about you.

- He learns your name, number, some interests and your grade. He kind of finds it cute that your younger than him and seemingly interested in him. That day when he’s driving home he recites your name to himself with a smile.

- After at least a month of school he hears a rumor that you like him and he’s overjoyed. He can’t wipe the smile off his face and keeps imagining you coming up to him and shyly asking him out.

- He still has a girlfriend at this point and decides it’s unfair to be thinking like this while he’s with her; they break up but he doesn’t exactly tell her why.

- His friends give him shit but it becomes obvious to them that he likes you and rumors spread. You don’t really believe them. How could the most popular jock in school like a quiet sophomore girl? Hell you’ve never even talked to the boy.

- When you glance at him; he smiles at you and bites his lip but frowns when you turn away with wide eyes. He wonders if you even like him or if the rumors were all bullshit and he threw away his relationship for nothing.

- He goes to your friends and asks them about you; they’re completely shocked of course (and slightly flustered because it’s Jake Ryan) But they nearly instantly reply that you’re single.

- He smiles and laughs (on the inside he’s screaming at himself that it’s his chance and that he should finally make a move).

- Jake asks them to put in a good word for him with a wink and of course they agree.

- You assume nothing when your friends are trying to convince you to talk to him; you just assume they think you have a shot because of the rumors.

- He really starts to try and impress you. Are you for some reason at his gym class? Watch him do excessive chin ups or run faster than anyone during laps. Anywhere near him? He’ll put on his most attractive look and tries to make himself look like he’s naturally perfect.

- He basically basks in your gaze, he relishes the moments where you pay him attention.

- It’s only a few days after he heard you liked him that he left his last class on a mission. He was ‘at least going to talk to you’ was his first thought. His second was ‘fuck it if I’m going to talk to her then I’m taking my chances’.

- You were standing by your locker when he began walking towards you, he acted casual although he really felt like running up to and kissing you. You realized he was actually there for you when he sidled up to your side, smiled and leaned against the locker next to yours.

- He asked if he could drive you home with a dazzling smile and the smile you gave him in return made his heart melt.

-His friends hollered at the two of you as you both walked toward his car, he only slipped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his side. You honestly pinched yourself thinking you were dreaming.

- He opened the door for you and watched as you climbed in. He was trying to act cool but he felt the same as you and genuinely thought he was dreaming.

- After a few minutes of small talk and driving he glances over at you and asked if the rumors are true. Your heart kind of dropped thinking this was some elaborate scheme to make fun of you and/or ambush you.

- Your face flushed and you stuttered out something like ‘what rumors I have no idea what your talking about’. He glanced over at you and grinned.

“Red looks good on you”

“ Listen, I’ve seen the way you look at mez I like it, you know? Your eyes on me it’s a nice feeling; I could get used to it. I mean your insanely attractive, who wouldn’t want your attention. I just think we’d make a cute couple but you don’t have to agree. I mean if you don’t no harm done you know, this was just a drive and we can both forget about it.”

- He sounds smooth and unbothered but he’s secretly praying that you’ll agree with him like you would ever say no.

- He almost crashes the car when you lean in and kiss his cheek

- He bites his lip and smiles, managing to keep his cool as he pulls into your driveway. He opens the door for you and the two of you stand next to the car glancing at each other in silence for a few moments before he speaks again.

“Correct me if I’m wrong but I feel like you do like me.”

“I feel like you’re enjoying my embarrassment way too much.”

“You won’t have to be embarrassed if we’re dating. No shame in liking your boyfriend ...in fact it’s kind of an unspoken rule.”

“So if I agree to date you…?”

“If you agree then I’ll probably just have to kiss you.”

“I think I would like that.”

“So is that a yes?”

“ I y/f/n wholeheartedly agree to date you Jake Ryan.”

- He pulls you to him by your waist and gives you one of the most breathtaking kisses you’ve ever had.

- When you break apart he has one of the biggest smiles on his face, he picks you up and spins you around promising that it will be the ‘greatest date you’ll ever have’.

- You had to agree; it definitely was the best date you ever had whether that was because of the date itself or because it was with him is up for debate.

- He picked you up at your house with a big bouquet of flowers. When you got to his house he put his hands over your eyes and led you to the set up.

- In his backyard he had set up a hammock, chairs and a projector. He set up a barbecue and some random junk food.

- You spent the evening eating, talking and once it turned dark he set up a movie on the projector. The two of you ended up snuggling together on the hammock watching some stupid teen movie.

- Jake couldn’t stop watching you. And kissing you. He was just all over you the entire time. You were both still in a dreamlike state thinking you were gonna wake up any second.

- There’s a lot of compliments and cute comments throughout the date.

“You just look so adorable in my arms.”

“You have to admit this feels right...us being together. Just you and me.”

- You ended up falling asleep cuddled up to each other and woke up late at night. He watched tiredly rubbing his eyes in a bleary state as you panicked and quickly tried to gather your things.

- He found it kind of cute and funny, he kept trying to assure you that he was sure everything would be fine. He finally stood up and pulled you to him so he could kiss you which only calmed you down slightly.

- You scared your parents half to death and they scolded you for it but you still thought it was worth it. Your parents most likely threatened him as you stood by his side red faced hiding your face in one of your hands in embarrassment.

- He apologized over the phone a few hours after he drove back home. He was so sorry that he had gotten you in trouble that he completely diregarded the fact that he too got yelled at. In fact most of the yelling was directed towards him.

- At school you kind of thought he would want to pretend you weren’t together since you were younger and not incredibly popular. This idea was quickly dismissed as you stepped out of your front door and found him waiting to drive you guys to school in the morning.

- He gave you his jacket and wrapped his arm around your waist as you walked through the doors of the school together. He seemed completely calm and unaware of the eyes on you.

- People whispered and passed the news that the two of you were together extremely quickly. You were genuinely surprised at how fast word had traveled.

- Every girl was envious of you every guy became envious of him though they hid behind comments like ‘she’s not even that hot’ or ‘she’s so young, he’s basically a cradle robber’.

- You became the ‘hottest couple in school’.

- You catch him looking at you a lot, usually with a smile on his face. It never fails to make you flustered and leaves you with warm feeling in your stomach.

He likes to pick you up when you hug. He wraps his arms around you tightly and buries his face in your shoulder or the crook of your neck as your feet leave the ground momentarily.

- Slow kisses while he keeps his hand on your jaw and on your waist.

- Cute thoughtful dates, that make you smile.

- Not a lot of Pda because his friends give him shit for it and he doesn’t want to totally embarrass you in front of the whole school because undoubtedly everyone’s watching. So you guys keep it innocent and light.

- When you leave school it’s a whole different story. He can’t keep his hands off you.

- There’s constant affection pouring out from him.

- He really finds you adorable and can’t contain his love for you.

- He says ‘I love you’ really casually most of the time; like it’s no big deal for him to say. He means it wholeheartedly everytime, it’s so easy for him to say because he was saying the words in his head a while before you started dating.

- He walks you to class and drives you to and from school everyday.

- He gets you little gifts and leaves cute notes in your locker and on your desk. Sometimes he even makes someone whose in your class hand deliver them to you.

- Lots of cuddling. Doesn’t matter what way or for how long but it’s happening everyday. He prefers to hold you as close to him as possible with a grip that’s just tight enough.

- He bites his lip at you a lot, sometimes just absentmindedly and sometimes purposefully but it always makes him smile when you blush/become flustered.

- He makes jokes every now and then about him being older. He likes when you lightly swat his arm with a small smile on your face.

- He also makes some grade A dad jokes too.

- During fights there’s a lot of arguing but not really yelling, you eventually get so aggravated you leave the room or building. He’ll always follow you, mostly trying to see what the hell you think you’re doing.

- Then it becomes obvious that you’re trying to leave to walk home. He tries to convince you to stay as you ignore him. He’ll get worried and start his car, telling you that he’ll drive you home even as you continue to walk.

- He’ll get in his car and drive beside you telling you to get inside, you don’t say anything and keep walking. He’ll honestly keep it up until you’re like a block or two away from your house and there’s no way you’re gonna talk to him and no reason for him to ‘drive you home’. He’ll sigh and yell out a goodbye before driving off.

- He genuinely cares and worries about you. He won’t stop calling you all night, in school he’ll try and get you to talk to him any way he can even if you explode on him. If you yell at him than that’s just one step closer to getting your issue resolved.

- He’ll make this note in independent study it’s like a ‘check yes if you like me’ kind of thing but it’s ‘check yes if you still like me’. You can hear him tap anxiously on his desk as the notes passed over and you read it.

- You end up laughing, you can’t stay mad at him when he comes up to you at the end of class. You hand him the note checked ‘yes’ as you shake your head with a smile. He grins and lifts you up as he kisses you.

- He can’t say no to you 90% of the time. If you ask him to do something for you there’s no doubt that he’ll say yes.

- He’d do anything for you. If you even hint that you want something, it’s done, it’s yours.

- Sometimes he can’t believe that he’s dating you which he finds funny because he’s the Jake Ryan and yet he feels lucky that you’re his.

- He loves hearing how much you like him or that you were talking about him. It never seems to get old to him.

- He’s not too jealous of a person, he knows you love him and not many people in the school can really compare to him; let’s be honest, but it still irks him when he hears that someone asked you out or has a crush on you.

- He has no problem threatening them and usually does but you’ll never find out and even if you do hear about it how could you believe that Jake Ryan would feel threatened by a geek.

- He’s very protective of you. If anyone says anything bad about you it’s all over for them. They might as well drop out because every second they’re in that school they’re in danger.

- He always tries to help you with your work even though he mostly just distracts you. You’ll be trying to understand what he’s saying about algebra and then the next second his hand is on your shoulder and it’s all over.

- His parents are out of town a lot so you often have his house to yourselves. You convince your parents that you’re staying with a friend over the weekend and bribe your friend into covering for you while you stay with him.

- You’ll either wake up with him spooning you or with his head on your chest with his arms are wrapped around you.

- You have a new nickname everyday, he never seems to run out. Babe, honey, darling, angel, etc, etc...

- You take your relationship kind of slow, you guys are together for a while before you actually have sex. You probably lost your virginity to him.

- He’s a very sensitive boy and just wants to be loved.

- He’s the perfect gentleman. He opens doors for you, pulls out chairs, gives you his jacket when your cold, literally carries you over puddles.

- He has no idea of what ‘expensive’ means. He’s practically rich so price really doesn’t matter to him 99% of the time. Honest to god when you got your license he and his parents bought you a car.

- His parents really love you although they were a bit surprised that he broke up with his previous girlfriend for you. Once they get to know you they can’t blame you.

- Your parents love him and hate him at the same time. He’s to likable to fully hate but they feel like he’s to old for you and a ‘bad influence’ because you sneak out to see him and he doesn’t always get you home on time.

- He always remembers your anniversary and always plans this big extravagant day for you guys.

- You are definitely obligated to go to his graduation. He couldn’t imagine you not being there in the seats watching him. He’ll definitely return the favor when you graduate and will cheer louder than anyone.

-There’s a bit of a long distance relationship for a while when he goes off to college. He comes back to town nearly every weekend and visits his family and especially you. After that he’s pretty much ensured a job at his fathers business and is back in town.

- He plans on marrying you, in fact he thinks about it practically everyday. His parents sort of had to convince him not to propose when you turned eighteen. You guys move in together when you graduate from college and he proposes to you not long after. He buys you the most beautiful engagement ring you had ever saw and your wedding is something out of a fairytale.

[spideycents]

Spider-Man Songfic Series: I Don’t Care - Ed Sheeran & Justin Bieber

summary: Pre Infinity War, post Homecoming. Dinner with the Midtown Tech decathlon team after a day of competing.

word count: 1,554

pairing: PeterxMJ

WARNINGS: swearing

a/n: repost cause user error :P

*****

        “How many?” The hostess at the restaurant asks.

         Mr. Harrington turns around and starts counting heads. Ned rolls his eyes and answers for him.

         “Eleven,” he smiles at her. “How are you doing tonight?”

         “I’m alright,” she says simply as she collects the menus and steps out from behind her podium. “This way.” She starts walking and the decathlon team shuffles after her.

         “So,” Ned continues. “What time do you get off tonight?”

         “Dude,” Peter groans under his breath and quickly ducks past them to slide into one of the booths she’s led them to.

         She doesn’t respond to Ned. She straight up pretends she didn’t hear him while she sets out the menus on the tables.

“Your waiter will be with you soon.” She smiles at the group, making a point of skipping over Ned while he tries to catch her eye, then heads back to her station.

         “Smooth move Ex-Lax,” Flash laughs as he steps past Ned.

         Ned slumps down into Peter’s booth on the opposite side of the table and picks up his menu.

         “You good?” Peter asks him.

         “Fine,” he responds. “Let’s just move on before Flash comes up with anymore insults.”

         They look over their menus while the rest of the group picks their seats. Rather than push a few tables together so they’re all sitting together, probably because it’s a busy night and there seem to be quite a few big groups here already, the hostess gave them a few booths that are back to back and right across the aisle from each other.

         Mr. Harrington and the other chaperone take their own table and the students cram into the remaining two. Peter and Ned end up sharing with four other people. Both pressed up against the wall, Ned sits next to Abraham with Cindy on the edge and Peter’s struggling for elbow room beside Charles, who’s decided to sit as comfortably as he possibly can while still giving Michelle enough space at the end. Peter’s forced to basically become one with the wall, because he’d rather be uncomfortable all night than make MJ sit on the corner of the seat.

         “There’s room over here,” Flash says when he cranes his neck over the back of his booth.

         They all glance each other, but no one moves.

         Their table decides to split bottomless chips and salsa and they fall into overlapping conversations. Reviewing the questions from today’s meet, judging the students and their uniforms from the other schools, and picking back up the main topic most of Midtown Tech, and basically the whole country has been talking about again after another press conference with the Wakandan king: what the hell is really in Wakanda??

         “It’s Area 52. No, strike that. Area 69.”

         “Shut up, Charles.”

“It’s where they’re hiding all the clones they’ve made since those sheep.”

“How do we know for sure that those were the first?”

“Exactly.”

         “It’s where they’re keeping patient zero of the zombie apocalypse.”

         “It would’ve gotten out by now. Especially if it’s airborne.”

         “You don’t know that.”

         “Neither do you.”

         “It’s the biggest nuclear testing site.”

         “How the fuck is it so green?!”

         “It’s an illusion.”

         “You’re all wrong. It’s where they’re keeping all the alien tech and survivors and shit from the New York battle and all the Avengers fuck ups since.”

         Peter is very noticeably not adding to this conversation.

         He’s taken the liberty of collecting all the remains of the straw wrappers from the table and is meticulously twisting them together.

         “What are you making?”

         He looks up, but the table is still immersed in their discussions.

         “Looks cool.”

         He turns to his right to find Michelle leaning back to see around Charles’ back.

         Peter smiles slightly. “Thanks.”

         “What is it?” she gestures at the paper scraps.

         He looks back down at them and shrugs. “Not sure yet.”

         “Looks kinda like a bug,” Cindy speaks up from across the table and Peter looks up to find that the whole table has turned their attention on him.

         “Not a bug,” Abraham corrects. “More than six legs, possibly eight? Maybe it’s an arachnid.”

         Peter’s eyes widen and quickly flick up to meet Ned’s who’s have also grown to the size of half dollars. He quickly crumples the papers in his hands and messes them into a ball.

         “You’re all wrong,” he laughs lightly. “It’s a dung beetle. See, here’s it’s ball.” He opens his palm, displaying the crumpled paper and smiles awkwardly.

         Everyone is looking at him like he’s insane.

         Dung beetle was definitely not a good cover up. There are literally hundreds of thousands of insects out there and he had to go with dung beetle.

         Nice one Peter. Real nice.

         “Well anyway…” Charles cuts in, returning to their previous debate. “It’s Area 420.”

         “And we’re done,” Ned says finally right as the waiter appears with their food.

         Peter flicks his eyes to the side without turning his head and notices MJ looking questioningly at the ball of straw wrappers and then over to Peter and he quickly picks up his Coke and swallows some massive gulps before she notices he was watching her, because that fast response was totally a casual, normal thing to do.

          Eventually, after they’ve all finished their food the two booths become one when the other teammates drag over chairs and sit at the end of the booth or get up on their knees on the cushions and crane their necks over the top of the seats. The conversations turn into random games and stupid things and someone, Flash, proposes the idea of shots.

         “Don’t even think about it,” Mr. Harrington says loudly, without turning to look at them.

         “Non-alcoholic,” Flash whines over his shoulder then turns back around in his chair. “Who’s all got Coke?”

         Peter and a few others grab their glasses.

         “Anyone got any leftover limes?”

         A few students start picking them from their plates and Flash grabs an unused saucer to collect them.

         “Okay,” he starts once he’s got everyone’s attention, which is surprisingly instant. “Here’s what you do…” He demonstrates by first: licking the back of his left hand, then shaking some salt onto it, then licking his hand again, taking a large swig of the nearest Coke, and biting one of the lime wedges. He swallows it all together and finishes with a loud “Ahhh!” like in every soft drink commercial ever.

         “Gross,” Cindy says flatly.

         “Yeah, I’m not doing that,” seconds Ned with an added grimace.

         “Fuck it, I’m game,” Charles pops up.

         “Do we have to lick our hands?” Betty asks.

         Peter glances at Ned questioningly and Ned rolls his eyes.

         “Pass me a lime,” he says.

         Peter watches as everyone around the table takes their own non-alcoholic shot. Most are indifferent about it, a couple really don’t like it, and Charles goes back for seconds.

         After Ned downs his like a champ, earning some noticeable praise from the table, it dawns on Peter that he’s the last one.

         Or not.

         “Cheers, loser,” MJ nods at him and holds up her Coke.

         “Oh uh,” he picks up his own glass and raises it to hers. “Yeah, cheers.”

         They smile slightly at each other and clink their drinks, then lick their hands and toss back their shots.

         With their eyes on each other, Peter almost chokes on his Coke but manages to bite into the lime before things go south.

         “I gotta be honest with you, Eugene,” MJ turns to him. “I think I would’ve preferred to wait to try the alcoholic shot first.”

         Most of the table chimes in with a chorus of agreeds and sames and me toos.

         Not long after, their parents start to arrive to take them home and the group starts to break off. When it’s down to only about five people left, they wander outside to wait.

         Some people are hugging each other goodnight and it kinda feels like everyone’s supposed to hug each other so no one feels left out.

         Peter and Ned dramatically fake sob into each other’s shoulders as they hug tight, then turn to their classmates to continue overdoing it with their goodbyes. That is, until Peter comes to his last hug, with MJ.

         Unsure of who’s supposed to make the first move, they both end up hesitating for a step before wrapping their arms around each other. But, of course, neither knows which direction to go with their arms so they each end up with one arm over and one under.

         “Bye MJ,” Peter says.

         “Bye Peter,” she responds quietly.

         And it’s almost as if in that moment, maybe their classmates aren’t around and maybe their hug lasts a second longer than the others and maybe their heads turn into each other’s necks rather crane over their shoulders and maybe their hands linger on each other’s arms as they maybe slowly separate and maybe they smile shyly at each other as they turn away and maybe Peter’s cheeks are still flushed when he climbs into his aunt’s car and maybe he spends the rest of the night analyzing the hug and whether it means anything significant.

         Or maybe it’s just a hug and maybe they say see you tomorrow and maybe that’s it.

         Or maybe they’re both still thinking about it when they fall asleep that night.

*****

Hope the run-on sentences didn’t annoy anyone. My editor thought I should cut them up or rewrite them, but I really like how they make you read like a spiral. They feel innocent and rambly to me so I hope they worked alright.

Let me know your thoughts in the tags or drop a review or more song suggestions in my inbox.

See ya in the next one! :P

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

BTS “badboy” au

Thank you for the request anon! I hope you like it

Requests for bts, got7 and exo are open so don’t be shy!

Hoseok (J-Hope)

That one guy that can't handle his alcohol but no-one realises?

They think he's gone crazy at predrinks so when he's drunk after a few drinks at a party no-one calls him out

Party animal bad boy

Throws all the best parties

Lives for parties

If there's a party, you can bet your left foot Hoseok is there

Just out to have a good time

Carefree drunk that throws himself around

Always drunkenly breaking shit

That guy that has a collection of traffic cones in his apartment and no idea how they got there

Honestly has a lot of random shit in his apartment he doesn't remember stealing

Luckily his housemate his usually there to nudge his brain back into function and make the memories surface

Once, Hoseok tried to return someone's mailbox and almost got arrested for it

Has never tried to return anything he stole since

But he always feels bad looking at the items around his house so he sells a lot of it to his rich guy that seems to want all this shit Hoseok sells

Winds up with all this cash in his hands which is way too much for the junk he steals but he doesn't complain

People start thinking he's drug dealing from his house when a car with blacked out windows rolls up every Saturday without fail 

The more this car comes around, the nicer Hoseok's clothes get

Hoseok sells everything he steals except for one stupid garden gnome that stands pride of place on the front porch

He just can't seem to part with it and he has no idea why

(I know the gif isn’t relevant to the writing but I HAD to use it)

Jimin

Back in school, Jimin was a shy, timid little angel boy

Never did any wrong

Always smiling

Then he goes away for Uni after a gap year travelling and when he comes back for the holidays he finds out his parents are divorcing thanks some guy?

Storms straight around to this guys house and is surprised to find the guy is younger than him and that makes Jimin even angrier

Beats seven shades of black and blue into this homewrecker leaving him a bloody mess on his doorstep

When he goes back to uni and steps into his first lecture, that same guy is sat there right next to Jimin's usual seat

Results in another beating and the pure rage and ferocity Jimin emits starts his reputation for being a really fucking dangerous guy

Nothing Jimin does gets him back his angel boy rep so he decides to live up to his new feared reputation

One day sees the homewrecker and he doesn't care anymore

Homewrecker approaches Jimin when he spots him and asks him to teach him to fight 

Jimin refuses and after two straight weeks of pestering, they negotiate Jimin coming to his rescue when he needs it

He never expected to get called every damn week to rescue this kid but it makes them bond

Honestly, the guy isn't all that bad, except that he thinks with his dick

Jimin gets some tips unwillingly but it somehow results in them sometimes getting into a threesome and they soon make a habit out of it

Jungkook

It started with one older girl liking him

And now here he is three years later known as the guy that fucks married women and breaks relationships

He never intended to break up the first relationship

But he can't seem to stop now that he started

He's just weak for older women

There's a rumour that he fucked his friend's mum and that's why he doesn't have any real close friends anymore

The rumour is actually true tho so he doesn't blame anyone

but she was just so fucking pretty and naked and throwing herself at him

She was the start of his unhealthy obsession with married women

One time he split up the parents of this guy and it wound up getting Jungkook beaten the shit out of

But somehow he made friends with this guy and he's now Jungkook's back up?

Neither of them know how it happened but it did and they meet up often 

Jungkook never fails to mention the fact he fucked his mum

"That motherfucker" "No, I'm the motherfucker" 

sometimes Jungkook will go for a girl his own age but there's no challenge so it doesn't always get him in the mood enough

Once a rumour spread about him having a problem getting it up because of his inability to be attracted to girls his own age

The rumour left when Jungkook fucked the uni's entire female swim team in one night just to get his rep back

Namjoon (RM)

Although he's quiet and doesn't get in any trouble willingly

He always ends up in the middle of it

There was this one time he told this rich guy about some gun and ever since the rich guy seems obsessed with firearms

Another time, he got arrested for being with a guy vandalising a wall

He had even been accused of sleeping with a married woman by the woman's son

This guy has terrible luck

Especially when out with his housemate that's a bit of a kleptomaniac when drunk

Honestly, Namjoon often debates just getting up and moving town

But, he's too attached to the life he made for himself

Pretty much settles for being an accidental "bad boy"

Helps his housemate throw great parties and makes the music when his housemate learns he can rap

Quickly gets a name for himself in the underground rap scene

His usual accidental destructive personality and the company he keeps makes him king of the underground scene pretty quick

At one point, these guys start appearing at his house for parties regularly

Soon he's part of this group of five and he's somehow the leader

At first he tries to correct people when they claim he's a gang leader

But they never believe him so now he's a "gang leader" of these idiots that have claimed his home at his base

(^”I’m a gang leader? since when?”)

Seokjin (Jin)

Rich AF and uses that to his advantage

Turns up unannounced to big events and tossed a wad of cash at the entrance and bam, he's in

Likes old weapons because one day this guy told him some history on a particular gun and the guy looked so into it that Jin himself found his heart pulled to weapons

Kind of hopes that one day he'll meet his history buff again 

Not very secretive about his large collection of firearms

He doesn't see why he should be, it's not illegal

Technically, he's not actually doing anything wrong

Except that one time he accidentally bought from a black market arms dealer

But that was a long time ago and people should really get over it already

Actually has a permit to carry a gun with him at all times just because he wants to show off his collection

New weapon strapped to his body every day and people notice

Everyone thinks he's involved in gang stuff

Little do they know his gun is never even loaded

One day he spots his history buff going into a house and totally doesn't wind up stalking him to see if that's where he lives

Jin knows it's weird and fucking creepy but he doesn't care

Notices this buffs housemate always posting stuff online to sell...Jin hasn't paid someone to find his buff online or anything and learn everything about him...not at all...

Jin wants to meet his little nerd again so he buys literally everything the roommate puts up for sale in hopes of meeting his buff again

Doesn't work

Somehow the buff is always out when Jin arrives to collect his purchase

Without fail tosses whatever he bought in a dumpster on the way home a little begrudgingly

He spent way too much money on the item just to throw it out but seriously, who really wants a collection of 14 traffic cones?

Taehyung (V)

Artist of the spray cans and public surfaces variety

"graffiti is art too!" 

Honestly, he's really shit at it, he's much better with a pen and paper

But that doesn't stop him

You can guarantee that every night he's out painting the town

Often alone but sometimes his new friend joins him

Tae often gets too caught up in his artwork that he doesn't notice the world around him

That's kind of why his new friend makes the effort to join him

He's the lookout keeping Tae from getting arrested

Though there was that one time it was a little too late before either noticed the oncoming trouble

They didn't run fast enough and that was the first and only time the lookout let his guard down

Sure, they were only locked up overnight due to a mysterious anonymous person bailing them out in cash

But neither want to experience that again

Still hasn't stopped Tae going out with his bag of spray cans every night

Somehow ends up at a party where his lookout is one of the hosts

Makes friends with his lookouts housemate

Tae gives up one night a week to start with to go to parties with the pair

And then it turns to twice a week and Tae spends his free daytime at the house

There's a couple of bad boys from their uni there a lot too and Tae makes friends with them

They're a weird mismatched bunch but Tae is never bored

More than once got a picture message from the fuckboi of the group and the picture is often a girl giving oral to him with one of Tae's paintings in the background

Tae feels oddly endeared everytime he receives the photo???

One day recreates one of the photos on a wall in the spare room of the house

A party is thrown to show off his art and he becomes the king of "wall art"

Yoongi (Suga)

Has that careless attitude and doesn't talk much

Everyone is highkey scared of him

I mean he has a pretty nasty stare when he doesn't want to deal with people

Which is 24/7 

His reputation is all assumption

"Did you hear he served time" "I heard he's been arrested so much he has his own reserved cell"

Never actually been arrested

He never actually does anything to get himself arrested

Except that one time he got roped into one of this random guys drunken schemes to steal a garden gnome from this rich AF family

They nearly got impaled on the spiked fence climbing out and running away

Yoongi still has the scar on his shin from it

Honestly, he kind of wants to meet that guy again

He was the only person to not be instantly scared of Yoongi and involve him

Yoongi misses the drunken guy with the sunshine smile

Always at parties totally not looking for his sunshine boy 

Gets a job from a rich guy to research someone

Very few people know that Yoongi is incredibly good with technology and can find pretty much anything online about anyone

He probably could hack into private servers and databases if he wanted to but he never has a reason

But this rich guy pays him a lot and well, Yoongi is late on rent and could really use it

The guy doesn't seem dangerous just a little too interested in the person

So Yoongi researches him and what the fuck??? This guy he's been paid to research lives with sunshine boy??? Holy shit

This is Yoongi's opportunity

He goes to the next party sunshine boy hosts but he doesn't have the nerve to approach him because damn that smile reminds him of that night 

And it reminds Yoongi how it felt to be so easily accepted and it makes Yoongi's heart flutter and ache at the same time

Takes up a job at the rich guys driver just so he has more chance to be near his sunshine boy

AN- Honestly I don’t know why I always put so many gay undertones in these aus but I do and I’m sorry lol no im not  ~Chee

Masterlist

[myneighborhood-thelake]

Grand Canyon Rim-River-Rim, October 2019

Grand Canyon

Wednesday, October 23rd

Rim to River and Back details

4,600’ elevation gain

4,900’ elevation loss

18.2 miles

7 hours, 55 minutes clock time

6 hours, 53 minutes travel time

This included a side trip to Phantom Ranch

Route:

down South Kaibab

quick stop to put our fingers in the water

to Phantom Ranch

Back across the river

up Bright Angel

My best ideas are never what anyone would call “smart.”

Mark Markley had the idea a while back to do something really stupid.

OK, I’m listening…..

He proposed running the Grand Canyon. All of it.

From Rim down to the River up to the other Rim, down to the river again and finally back up and out to the South Rim. It’s also called Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim, and it’s something like 42 miles. You can probably guess, you are either going uphill or downill. There is no flat ground.

A bunch of us said we would do it. All of us but Mark Markley dropped out, and then Mark got injured.

Then I got laid off and needed to get the hell out of town for a couple of days. Family was up for it. United airlines was up for it (10,000 miles and $40 each way), and it wasn’t like training for distance has ever been that important to me. No, I wasn’t training for this. I think I had maybe 18 running miles since January of this year.

Whatever, I got the gear, I like to suffer. Why the hell not?

After flying with a very early departure out of SFO, I grabbed a rental car. Seriously Phoenix? Your rental car center is bigger than the Mall of America, and I was on the road, finally arriving in the town of Grand Canyon, or  whatever the hell they call it, around 3pm where I met Mark and Beth Markley at the Grand Hotel at the Grand Canyon. I also did a phone interview on the way. Unemployed means you do phone screens when they are available.

You may also notice a theme. Total lack of knowledge and thought. It’s pretty simple route - first you go down, then you come back up, so it doesn’t even really need a map. Yes, we forgot the damn map too.

That evening we did a quick recon trip to find the trailheads so we would be ready the next morning. It took us a bit to find South Kaibab trailhead which made it all the more important we did find it BEFORE the morning of. You can’t drive to the South Kaibab trailhead, so Beth waited with the car while Mark and I hoofed it in the ½ to ¾ mile to Yaki Point. When we found the actual trailhead, where the trail clearly drops into the canyon I was giddy like a 3 year old on Christmas. Practically bounced my way to the dirt and I think I said, “holy fuck man, this is it!”

I’m super eloquent like that.

So we cruised back, stopped for a pizza, and headed back to the hotel to pack. Which mainly meant Mark and I stared at our gear scattered around the hotel room and said, “I don’t know. What do you think we need to take?”

We knew the start would be cold with a forecasted low of 29F (that’s -2 for my Canadian peeps). We also knew we’d be heating up quickly on the trail. I opted for my standard coolmax sleeveless T-shirt (which I ALWAYS wear), a long sleeve duofold shirt and my Marmot Precip windbreaker along with my boony hat.

For shoes, I’d glued some velcro on a pair of crossfit shoes so my trail gaiters would stay down. I debated and debated about bringing trekking poles and finally decided to bring them. I hate trekking poles except when I need them, and these poles got a free ride to the bottom of the canyon and back up. But they were there if I needed them I guess.

3am wakeup and caffeine up. 4 am Beth drove us to the trailhead.

Seriously Beth, thank you. That was a serious crap detail to wake up with us and drive us. On the way, Mark and I complained that the temp was too high as we were seeing 32F (0 Canadian) on the Subaru’s thermometer. Beth dropped us off and the hike commenced at 0420. After just a couple of minutes we were at the trailhead and dropping into the canyon.

Within seconds we were already down several hundred feet vertical, and we were getting warm. It was probably only a ½ mile in before we decided to shed our jackets. While shedding our jackets we also decided to shed our long sleeve t-shirts and our hats. I kept my gloves on at this point, but I did stash my trekking poles in my backpack.

Down we went, switchback after switchback. Our headlamps trained on the trail ahead of us which, like all good trails, have completely random steps, and log retainers and granite slabs. Just look down and keep moving.

We didn’t have a map, and I didn’t even have a watch.

Yeah, I know. I’ve laughed at those idiots who had to be rescued because they were stupidly unprepared for reality. Oh well, just keep moving.

Somewhere about an hour in I powered through my first Rip Van Waffle, eg the stroopwaffles that you get on United flights. I think mine was snickerdoodle. I’m definitely bringing those on the next adventure. So good and just the right hit of thin waffle and honey filling.

At Cedar Point, it was still dark, and it took us a couple of minutes to find the trailhead across the clearing from the trail. Note: it’s literally directly across the clearing.

Down, down, down. Pausing occasionally to take a leak (check for urine color) or point out a headlamp either above us or below us on the trail. At some point we hit the halfway point sign. 3.5 miles to the canyon rim and 3.8 miles to Phantom Ranch.

It was cool. It was dark. We were just pushing on.

We ran for maybe 100 yards at one point, but the trail is so random it was best to just move at a steady pace. Honestly, we were pushing it even if we were “just walking.”

I was taking steady pulls off my camelbak and feeling well hydrated.

It was beginning to lighten up a bit with the sun in the west, and at some point we hit one of those amazing vistas and our first sighting of the river. Took my breath away for a few seconds.

We kept moving forward and were caught by some whippet little ultrarunner who prob weighed no more than 135 pounds. We were, of course, very polite as he went by, but after we spent a few minutes comparing him to Sean Prior who also is whippet thin and would have been much faster than us had he not broken his foot.

And then we saw the Phantom Ranch suspension bridge. And then we dropped down further and crossed the Phantom Ranch suspension bridge. Really. It was no easy downhill, but we just kept moving.

We took a brief detour to actually touch the river. You can do this entire route without actually touching the Colorado. C’mon, that would be lame.

Phantom Ranch is about ½ mile of the trail and up a canyon. This trail is the trail we would have to take to get to the North Rim, but we stopped at Phantom Ranch like the good, smart kids we are.

We’d been on trail for 3 ½ hours.

That said, I did ask Mark how pissed off Beth would be if we went ahead and did the North Rim too.

I wasn’t kidding.

I mean, it would have totally sucked, and Beth would have been HELLA pissed off, but I was thinking about it.

On the way up to Phantom Ranch we bumped into a guy who had come down the day before, was taking a rest day at the campground and would be headed up and out the next day. He was amazed that we were doing this in a day. He also mentioned that he fell pretty hard coming down because he was looking around too much. Another benefit of traveling by headlamp is that you can only see a little bit in front of you. No sightseeing.

After a short break at Phantom Ranch, I pulled my long sleeve t-shirt off again (I get cold when we stop), and we headed down towards the river, across the river and over to Bright Angel trail.

There were more people about. Bright Angel is a popular trail. As we motored along we saw a mule train behind us in the distance. One woman jogged by saying she wanted to get ahead of the mule train. Mark and I pondered picking up the pace, but thought it best to stick with our fast hike. Why waste energy now that we’d have to pay for later?

It was full sun by now, and I was wondering just how exposed the trail would be as we hiked up. You see, I had not brought any sunscreen.

There’s really not much to be said. After a mile or so we turned left and up into a notch as the upward portion of Bright Angel trail began.

We came across a couple of little creek crossings and hopped across them. They would have been full on torrents earlier in the year. We also came across a couple who were both seriously overweight, but they had packs and were making it happen. Kudos to them.

Up we went.  By this time we could see a person or two ahead of us. I use them as rabbits and try to pick them off by picking up my pace. I’m somewhat externally motivated like that.

More switchbacks, more climbing, the cliff sides blocked the sun from beating down on us.

It’s a bit of a blur. Fast walk, drink, eat (rip van waffle or espresso Gu), pee, keep walking.

Seriously. That’s all it is.

We made it to Indian Camp where we refilled our camelbak bladders.

There’s a mule ride location at Indian Camp, and we saw a couple get delivered to the camp by helicopter. Must be nice.

We also saw a mom and her 9’ish year old daughter who were hiking the canyon.

Mark had his sticks out by now for the uphill. My hands had their usual hiking induced edema and I couldn’t have held trekking poles if I wanted to. It’s really OK, because I didn’t want to.

Lot of people were coming down for the day hike, we were also cathing and passing many folks who were on their way up. Some were from an overnight at Indian Camp or elsewhere with heavy looking backpacking packs and tents and sleeping bags. Oh how I much prefer going light.

More uphill, more water drank from the camelbak, my last waffle. Trail was fairly crowded considering we had seen almost nobody on our downward trek.

We hit the 3 mile rest house (3 miles from the top) and kept going. No need to fill up on water.

By this time I thought we had a chance to finish in under 8 hours if we got to the top by noon. I know, my math was wrong, but I was feeling really good and had a ton of trail rabbits ahead of us to stoke my ego as we caught and passed them.

I’m always so damn barn sour.

Mark was feeling it by now and my ability (on a good day) to completely dissociate from the pain and tiredness in my legs was not aligning with how Mark was feeling, so we backed it down.

Bam! 1.5 mile rest house. Only 1.5 miles to go. Little did we realize, it’s a pretty darn brutal 1.5 miles. We were both surprised at how much that last 1.5 miles sucked in terms of steep trail.

Plus the short hikers were all over the trail. Folks who stay in the middle of the trail or hike 3 abreast. Thanks folks.. but MOVE!!!

And then we could see it, the buildings on the South Rim and the short tunnel through the rock at the end of Bright Angel trail. We hauled ass into the finish, weaving through a very crowded trail.

Sub 8-hours clock time (even if we did not finish at noon, I suck at trail math)

Mark had cell service, so he called Beth to swing by and pick us up - AGAIN, can I say how much Beth contributed to the success of this venture?

While we waited, I, of course, started freezing with my now soaked t-shirt, so I pulled on my long sleeve T and my jacket. Beth grabbed us in no time since she was already in the village and jetted us down to the hotel.

It’s been a rough couple of weeks, so I chose to pack up and head out to Phoenix where I had booked a super luxurious $35/night hotel room in Mesa. Why didn’t anyone tell me Mesa is not exactly close to the Phoenix airport?

It’s not. Lesson Learned.

By 6am the next morning, I was on my flight home.

Yes, I showered before my flight….

What an incredible trip and recon for doing Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim later. We learned that we can pull it off without running. We can make it happen on little to no training (that’s important for me because I don’t have any desire to actually train), and it’s a kickass adventure.

Thanks Mark!

Thanks Beth!

Start time:

4:20am - Beth dropped us off at Yaki Road and 64 (cars are not allowed onto Yaki Road, only park busses are allowed)

Took all of 10 minutes to get from the car to the trailhead

32deg temp at start

Gear

Reebok Speed TR shoes

Joe trailman gaiters

pair of Injinji socks and pair of Under Armor socks

compression shorts

Prana shorts

Nike sleeveless T

duo fold long sleeve shirt

Marmot precip jacket

pulled off jacket

decided to pull off the duolfold long sleeve  too! didn’t need it

Food:

Carried 4 Rip Van Waffles, 2 Dutch Vanilla caramel, 2  snickerdoodle

3 Vanilla bean Gu, 2 Espresso Love Gu

2ea 2 3/4oz Lays potato chips

Food that I Ate:

all of the Rip Van Waffles (8) - those things ROCK

the 2ea Espresso Love Gu’s that I had, but not the Vanilla Bean Gu’s

1 bag of Lays potato chips

A couple of Tum’s and 3ea ibuprofen somewhere on Bright Angel, but no thermotabs, I think I did the meds at Indian Camp

Water:

carried 100oz camelbak bladder

refilled at Phantom Ranch (was still about 1/2 full)

refilled at Indian Camp on Bright Angel (was still about 2/3 full)

Was maybe ½ full when we finished the hike

temps were very cool, stayed cool through the day

mostly trail was in the shade which was good

Next time BRING SUNSCREEN!!!

I got lucky and did not need sunscreen today, but if I had needed it I would have been roasted.

[fanficsofmine]

Swipe Right - Jongdae Fluff

Here is our first contribution from our guest writer- my sister, @watermonkey0!! She graciously took this prompt that I started and helped me finish it and make it 200% better than when I started it haha! Hope y’all love it! -T✨

Oh! He’s cute!” Trinity hovered over my shoulder. I swatted at her like she was a mosquito and rolled off her bed with my phone.

“Can I make my own Tinder decisions, please?” I snipped as I propped myself up at the end of her bed. Newly single, I had been adamantly against online dating. But after what felt like a lifetime of nagging on my best friend’s part, she whittled me down and my phone suddenly had four new apps.

“Stop being such a Debbie downer! You’re the one who said you were ready to get back out there.” She swung a pillow wide and smacked me in the back of the head.

“Ow! But this is stupid!” I whined and crumpled to the floor in a pile of pitiful moaning. “I wish I didn’t have to go through the ‘dating’ process again.” I lamented as she peeked over the edge of the bed. “It was nice having a stable boyfriend.”

“A stable boyfriend who treated you like crap.” She muttered.

“Hence the newly single.” I mouthed off, earning a kamikaze pillow to the face. For a short moment, it was okay. I wasn’t lonely, or cold, or bitter. I didn’t need a man when I could cuddle up with this squirrel shaped pillow. I’d sleep under Trin’s bed like a Hobbit and celebrate when she dropped Doritos on the ground…and I ignored the notion that eventually Hobbits turned into Smeagols. But like I said, the moment was short. “But I don’t want to start over!” I wailed as I sat up suddenly, knocking heads with Trinity.

“Ow!” She snickered and retreated as I climbed back up onto the bed.

“Sorry.”

“Look,” she sighed and grabbed my phone, “I know everything that happened was a little intense, but you deserve to be happy. The perfect guy is out there waiting for you, I know it. But you’re going to have to put in the effort. You can’t just skip to the happy ending.” Her thumb swept across the screen a few times, discarding some suitors and matching others. “What about this one?” She held the phone out for me to see and I hiccupped at the frightful picture. There was a mullet involved.

“No!” I cried and grabbed the phone before she could swipe right.

After that, I dutifully picked through the men while Trin watched Family Feud and fed me potato chips. I was nearly about to give up and demand that we break into her emergency stash of wine flavored ice cream when a final face popped up and grinned at me.

“Kim Jongdae. 26 years old. I love to sing and laugh. Swipe right! Don’t be afraid!” I mumbled to myself. The bio was cringe worthy, but he had a bright and honest smile.

“What about—” Trin snatched the phone as I tried to hand it to her. Apparently I couldn’t go fast enough for her ravenous matchmaking.

“He is super cute! And look, he loves to sing! You love music! It’s perfect!” She swiped right before I even had a chance to protest, although with those dimples, how could I refuse? “Oh my god!” She shrieked immediately and shoved the phone in my face. ‘It’s A Match!’ appeared on my screen, meaning he had swiped right on my as well.

“What do I do now?” I cried, flinching when she dropped the phone in my hand.

“Now you message him!” She laughed, but I tossed the phone back to her like a hot potato.

“You message him!”

“No! It’s not my profile!” She served it right back, and we devolved into an extreme game of telephone tennis before my phone chimed an unfamiliar tune.

“What was that?” It dropped between us before Trin grabbed it.

“He messaged you first!”

“What’s it say?” I threw myself into her lap as she opened the notification.

‘So, great news: I too have enough hoodies to call it a collection. But, while Iron Man is cool, Batman is way more badass.’ I read the apparent attempt to relate based on my profile three or four times, not meaning to, but memorizing every word.

“Ugh, he’s a DC kid.” Trin scoffed and relinquished the device.

“But, the fact that he knows…” I defended, blushing.

“Means he’s your kind of nerd, yes I know.” She waved it off, going elbow deep in the Doritos again, leaving me to struggle with my reply. Did I open with a joke? Did I discuss the finer points of the philanthropic playboy superhero? Did I ask about his singing? Did I beg him to keep me company at night when my cat abandoned me?

‘That is great news!’ I typed finally and hit the send button before I lost my nerve. It was a pleasantly neutral response, one I could stand behind should Trin, who was shooting my sidelong glances, say anything. But she kept quiet.

The eternity long seconds it took for him to reply were agonizing, and when the chime finally came again, I had it open before it was even finished.

‘So…Hi :) I’m Jongdae.’ I grinned to myself at his silly emoji. I quickly replied with my name and asked where he was from. ‘I’m from here, born and raised. What about you?’ I said I was as well, and we delved into our surface backstories; not wanting to give away too much because it was still new, but wanting to get a good enough feel as to whether or not to continue. As it turned out, we knew some of the same people, which made me feel a fraction of a bit better.

Not that it mattered really, because…I liked him. He was charming and funny, and not at all pushy. This was a dating app after all, my standards were already exceeded when he hadn’t asked for nudes by the 10th message.

‘So, are you doing anything Friday night?’ The question set butterflies free in my stomach. Was I free? Technically no, I told my mother I’d help her put up her Christmas tree, but Baby Jesus was going to have to wait!

‘I don’t have anything planned.’

‘Would you be up for a completely platonic non-judgmental dinner with a guy you met on Tinder?’

I wondered if maybe I should have waited a few more seconds before I replied, to at least make it seem like I considered it before accepting. But we were passed it now and my, ‘I would like that’ blazed on the screen. He sent me a time and a place, a casual restaurant on my side of town. I’d been there before and knew it had good food. So if he turned out to be a creep after all, at least I’d get decent leftovers out of it. I beamed back up at Trin in triumph, but she only grinned and told me to start planning my DC themed wedding.

~

The days between then and Friday were peppered with bursts of excitement and anticipation, sprinkled with just a dash of wild abandon. Meet up with a random man who could be an axe murder? Why not! When Thursday rolled around, I was just finalizing the last touches of my outfit in my head when my phone chimed that irresistible tune. Jongdae and I spoke often, every day in fact, always through the app. He was now synonymous with the Tinder ringtone. There was one time it dinged and it wasn’t him. Some random dude I had matched with tried to start something with a ‘Hey’. Psh, like that was ever going to be good enough again. Much to Trinity’s chagrin, I didn’t even open it. If singing Batman fell through, then yes, I’d move on down the list, but I was far too excited for our date tomorrow to entertain anyone else.

I clicked open the message I’d just received with a delighted hum…only for it to come out more like a sob.

‘Hey, I am really sorry. Something’s come up tomorrow. Can we rain check?’

I texted Trinity immediately, telling her we had an emergency meeting, and to bring some wine because I was about to—

‘Can I take you out on Saturday instead?’ I gazed down at my phone unhappily. I wanted to say yes, of course, but I had to work Saturday, and I couldn’t very well blow that off as easily as I had Jesus. Friday was kinda my only free night. I typed in a short response but a text from Trinity interrupted me.

‘Ask him what came up!’ It said, and then was directly followed with, ‘Ask him if it’s worth jeopardizing his Batman themed wedding.’

‘I refuse to have a Batman wedding.’ I shot back. It seemed too invasive to ask why he was cancelling. We weren’t so close that he owed me an explanation, but…I was dying to know.

‘I actually can’t Saturday, work. Can I ask what came up?’ My knees jumped up and down as I waited for his reply. It felt like he was taking an unusually long time to answer and I wondered if I’d just ruined everything by being nosy. What finally chimed in was unexpected:

‘Do you like soccer?’

And this was how I came to find myself, Friday afternoon, sitting in Trinity’s passenger seat, debating every single one of my life choices.

“Sit still, you’re shaking the whole car!” She grabbed my knee as it bounced to still me. We’d come almost an hour early to scope out the target and it was making me a nervous wreck. His request had been odd: meet him at a crowded sports complex. Trinity thought it was cute, but I was more worried that he was going to ask my uncoordinated ass to play soccer with him.

“It’s just running!” She argued.

“Do you not remember what happened the last time I ran the mile?” I paled at the memory of falling flat on my face.

“Okay, so maybe you should cheer from the bleachers?” She chuckled unapologetically. “Oh wait! Oh my god! That’s him! Is that him?” She smacked at me repeatedly before pointing at a sleek black sedan that was sliding into a spot a row over. Sure enough, a familiar face stepped out of the driver’s seat. He wore nice jeans, a slim leather jacket, and a fluffy cowl scarf. He opened the back door to grab a gym bag before locking up and heading inside.

“That’s probably his murder kit.” Trinity joked but I rolled my eyes.

“Just be here by 8:00 to pick me up.” I told her and climbed out.

“Ha! We’ll see.” She replied humorlessly before speeding off, leaving me with no alternative but to go inside. Trin’s car had been nice and warm, and now as I shivered in the sudden cold, I realized that I left my coat in her back seat. Frustrated, I turned tail and marching into the main building where I had seen Jongdae go. It would be fine. It was only December.

Through the sliding glass doors, I could see Jongdae’s back standing in the line at the concession stand. The murder kit was nowhere to be seen, but he had a nervous energy about him. I moved closer and was about to say his name when a man around our age joined him in line. I was near enough to hear their conversation and it seemed too good an opportunity to pass up.

“There you are, what took you so long?” The man asked. Jongdae turned to him shyly and I saw his ears turn pink.

“I couldn’t decide what to wear.”

“Oh that’s right, that girl is coming…the one you met on Tinder.” He said disapprovingly. I scowled openly at his distaste. Maybe he should try finding love in this day and age.

“Come on, it’s not like that. She’s smart and beautiful.” Jongdae listed and I felt my own ears go pink.

“And bold apparently.”

“You didn’t exactly ask if I had any plans before you signed me up for this.” Jongdae snickered.

“Sorry not sorry.” The man shrugged flagrantly.

“She was nice enough to compromise with me.”

“Where is she anyway?” The man asked and I hunkered down, just in case he glanced around and saw me leering at them.

“I told her to meet here at 6:00, so she should be here any minute.” Jongdae pulled out his phone.

“If she’s still coming, that is.” The man teased, poking Dae in the chest, who scoffed and smacked his hand away.

“Don’t jinx me. You know my luck is—” Suddenly, my phone rang loudly, and I haphazardly tried to silence it before…

The two men glanced back and Jongdae caught my eye. “—not as bad as mine apparently.” I muttered.

~

The air was cold as I sat on my hands in the bleachers. Stupid phone, stupid mouth, stupid gaping. When Jongdae saw me standing there like an idiot, I was caught off guard by just how gorgeous he was. His pictures did absolutely no justice to his soft features, or his bright smile. If I hadn’t been struck dumb by the sight of him, I could have played the whole thing off, like I simply hadn’t seen them. But by the way I was staring, it was pretty obvious I knew who he was. He had politely greeted me, and we stepped out of line.

“I uhh…I’m sorry—” I started but he waved it off.

“No it’s fine. You’re early!” His grin was genuine and it blinded me every time he flashed it in my direction. “Anyway, thank you for meeting me here. I know it’s probably not what you had in mind but…”

“Please tell me we’re not here to play soccer!” I blurted out before he finished. His eyebrows shot up in surprise before he let out an adorable laugh.

“No! Do you see the shoes I have on? I’d fall on my face!” He beamed. That alone made me feel better about myself, when the man who’d stayed in the line reappeared with an armful of food.

“Here, hold this.” He said as he tossed me ten boxes of Cracker Jacks.

“Hyung, don’t make her carry stuff!” Jongdae whined, and I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Brothers, I should have known.

“We need all the help we can get.” The older man said as he juggled a stack of Nacho trays.

“I don’t mind.” I added quickly, and Jongdae seemed to accept it, sighing as the three of us headed for an arena. The complex was large enough to have indoor fields, and I assumed that was where we would go, but instead, Jongdae guided us outside to a field covered in children. He must have seen my confusion because he rearranged the Hotdogs in his hands to gesture for me to follow.

“So, it’s my nephew’s first game. Jongyul wanted to make a good first impression with the other parents, so he volunteered to get the food.” Everything made a bit more sense now as I saw Jongyul—the brother—happily pass out the food to a green team of hungry kids.

“Which one is your nephew?” I asked as other parents came to help us with our loads. A group of boys dashed by and Jongdae snatched one up. The little boy squealed in delight as his uncle tickled him.

“This little monster!” Jongdae growled playfully, before setting him down and telling him to introduce himself.

“My name is Junseo!” The boy announced. I happily bent down to his level and told him it was very nice to meet him. I did conveniently leave out the part where I was on a trial date with his uncle, though.

“How old are you?” I asked.

“Five!” He shined, and held up his hand to show me proudly.

“Wow! And you’re already on a sports team? You must be really good!” I charmed. The same gaggle of kids from before came back around for another pass and Junseo joined them, waving goodbye to me. I waved back. As I turned, I caught Jongdae’s eye. He seemed to have been looking at me rather deeply, but he quickly cleared his throat and gestured towards our seats.

And now I sat on my hands between a platoon of parents and a beautiful boy in leather. I would have been perfectly content to shiver all day, because there was just too much unbridled joy around for me to be miserable, but Jongdae caught my shaking. He stood and shrugged out of his jacket, then draped it over my shoulders. I was instantly overwhelmed by the smell of him—fresh aftershave with a hint of peppermint. He smelled like Christmas. His jacket was big on me and still wonderfully warm from his broad back.

“But won’t you get cold?” I asked even as I pushed my arms through the sleeves.

He wasn’t getting it back.

“I should have told you to bring a coat, sorry. Don’t worry about me.” He assured me sheepishly, like the winter weather and my forgetfulness were both his fault. “Jongyul!” He called abruptly to his brother who was a row down and a few seats over. The man stood at his name and the two started to signal to each other in some forbidden brotherly language. A moment later, the gym bag was sailing through the air. Dae caught it easily and sat back down to open it.

“Oh, the murder kit.” I recalled and he stopped what he was doing to give me a weird look.

“The what?”

“It’s the bag where you keep all the stuff you murder your dates with.” I snorted, silently hoping he hadn’t actually been offended. It took him a moment, but then he chuckled.

“Nah, I left that one in the car. It’s heavy.” He winked. “This one—” He unzipped the bag and whipped out a fluffy yellow blanket, “—is what I use to woo the ladies.”

“Oh goodness,” I feigned, fanning myself dramatically, “I am wooed.” He leaned over and tucked the blanket over my lap, and then paused, as if debating. After a second, he’d decided and he sat back down, securing the cover over me alone. I stared hard at my tucked legs, not believing that he’d opt out intentionally. Surely he wasn’t going to—

He shivered. He tried his best to hide it, but I was hyper aware of him. With a theatrical sigh to make it less awkward, I pulled the blanket free and laid it over his legs as well. He sat still as a statue as my fingers accidentally brushed over the top of his thighs.

“I am wooed.” He whispered to himself. I probably wouldn’t have heard it if I wasn’t hanging over him, tucking him into the blanket burrito. Trying not to make a big deal out of the fact that I had, I slid back into my seat and curled myself into his jacket.

In the safety of his inner lining, I checked my phone. Just a text from my mother, wondering when I was going to decorate her tree for her. I typed a quick message to Trinity, telling her to be late. Knowing her, she was going to show up right on time only now that I’d asked her not to.

By the time the game was coming to an end, the sky was darkening, and the temperature was dropping. I don’t think Junseo won, but they were five year olds. It was more herding them from one side of the field to the other than any goals being scored. The heat emitting from Jongdae was exhausting, as I refused to let myself relax for even a second. He was too fun, too inviting for me to let my guard down. The whistle blew on the final play and I let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t a ‘great it’s finally over’ feeling. It was more of a ‘if I don’t get out of here I’m going to jump him in front of all these children’ vibe. I expected him to move or get up to gather his things, but he was as still as I had been.

“Thank you again for coming.” He said suddenly. “I know it wasn’t really a date or anything…” He trailed off and I saw the tips of his ears go pink again. But that could have been from the cold.

”What more could a girl ask for than Cracker Jacks and kiddie sports?” I shook my popcorn box at him, making him smirk.

Do you need a ride home?” He asked next, but his words were at odds with his posture. He wasn’t getting ready to go or making any indication he was going to uproot himself. Did that mean I shouldn’t either?

“Is this it?” I asked, puzzled. Maybe he was giving me a chance to run before he went for the murder kit, or—the worse of the options—he didn’t like me and was trying to get rid of me.

He jumped to his feet at my question, breaking the seal of the blanket. “That came out wrong,” He grimaced, “I wasn’t trying to…what I meant was…” The pink in his ears started to spread across his face the longer I stared at him, more than willing to wait for an answer. He took a breath before explaining, “I just wasn’t sure if you wanted me to take you home. I can, I will, I would love to, but we would have to go like right now because I have to be back for the viewing to pass out the—”

“The viewing?” I interrupted.

“Oh, yeah. The complex shows movies after all the games are over for the kids.”

“Outside?” I cried. “But it’s freezing!” I glanced around at the other groups of people, realizing that they had dressed for the occasion. Mothers were in full length winter coats, fathers were bundled in long scarves, and one little boy was even wearing snow boots.

“It’s kind of a tradition.” Dae said, but the cold was getting to him. Out from under the safety of the blanket, I saw him rub his hands together and glance at the warm seat he’d jumped out of.

“Oh man, now I really wish I would have grabbed my coat.” I muttered and bit my lip. Should I call Trinity and ask her to bring it? She was on her way already, wasn’t she? No, because I’d asked her to run late. I sighed.

“Do you want to stay?” Jongdae asked, like the thought hadn’t even occurred to him before this very moment.

“Do I look like I want to leave?” I returned, a little flabbergasted. So what if I had been trying to control myself all night? That was for the children’s sake.

“Even though I brought you to a kiddie soccer game on our first date?” His smile was growing the more he spoke, and I’m sure I was matching it.

“I thought you said it wasn’t a date.” I teased. He squeezed his eyes tight for a moment before leaping forward, grabbing my head and planting a kiss on my forehead.

Then he was off— “Stay right there! I’ll be right back!” He sang as he took the stairs two at a time up the bleachers back into the building. Dazed, I reached up and touched the spot where his lips had touched me. Resisting was a lost cause, I realized. I was going to date this kid and I was going to enjoy every single second of it.

[vagrantblvrd]

Fed by Hand (1/1)

Summary: Gavin finds her by chance, this little ball of fur and claws and sharp little teeth.

Notes: For @miss-ingno who asked for "Quick catch that cat it stole my wallet!” from this prompt list with Gavin, Jeremy and either Dan or Michael? :DDDDDDDDDDDD

AO3

Gavin finds her by chance, this little ball of fur and claws and sharp little teeth.

He's climbing down from a potential spot  to set up a sniping position for a job and hears it. This tiny little annoyed noise among the pile of garbage along one side of the alley. Some furious scrabbling noises that go on for a bit before that same tiny sound comes again, even more irritated this time.

And of course Gavin goes to investigate just like any good little idiot in a horror movie, because that's an interesting little sound, isn't it? Couldn't possibly ignore it and go on his way, meet Jeremy and Michael at the car and head back to the penthouse to let Geoff know things are running smoothly, goodness no.

He's quiet, years of practice that boils down to habit when he doesn't think about it. Avoids the crumpled cans and broken bottles, steps over random puddles of something that he hopes is water but knows aren't. (He then  has to take a moment to gag because his brain is cheerfully offering up unhelpful suggests as to what they could be in a voice that sounds far too much like Michael's.)

The scrabbling noise stops abruptly, and Gavin winces. Waits a second, and then another. Gives it a few more before there's a faint rustling noise and then whatever has been poking about in the garbage pokes its head out.

Dirty fur and two bright little eyes surveying the alley warily and Gavin's heart melts because it's a kitten.

Tiny and adorable and oh, what a little darling she is.

He smiles when she spots him, crouched a few feet away and watching her with what is no doubt a silly look on his face. Bites his lip to keep from cooing when her ears go back and she hisses at him, darting back into the safety of the garbage pile.

Fierce little thing, making little growling noises from the security of her hiding spot as if to chase him away. Peeks out at him when he doesn't budge an inch, teeth bared and ready to defend herself if he gets too close or does something she doesn't like.

There's no possible way he could leave the kitten out here in the wilds of Los Santos all on her own. Not when there are other strays out here with mean temperaments and people with even meaner ones.

He knows if he moves any closer she'll bolt, and if he leaves to get food to tempt her out of hiding she'll be gone just as fast. Dart out of hiding and away from the alley as fast as her feet will take her.

In his pocket Gavin's phone buzzes, and his eyes light up.

“Michael,” he says, when he answers, “I need a favor.”

========

Michael is not happy.

Michael is not won over by the tiny growling kitten glaring at them for all she's worth from within the safety of her little fort.

Michael is -

“I fucking hate you guys,” Michael says, for what has to be the twentieth time at least since he called Gavin to ask where the fuck he was, Jesus Christ, Gavin.

Gavin ignores him with the ease of someone who's known him for years, great friends really, and tears off a bit off the hamburger patty he's been using to lure the kitten out of hiding with mixed results.

Jeremy's beside him speaking quietly as he works at coaxing her to come out of hiding. Michael's somewhere behind them acting at being grumpy and annoyed and irritated with both of them for being the kind of idiots who have spent almost an hour trying to convince a stray they're the trustworthy sort, given their line of work.

It's working though, in fits and starts. Skittish little thing that she is, shell venture out far enough to grab a bit of the hamburger Michael and Jeremy went to get and scurry back to her hiding spot. Watch them, hissing and growling and scared.

“Idiots,” Michael says again, variation on a theme, and settles more comfortably against the wall he's leaning against to better heckle them. “She's going to pee on everything you love and claw the fuck out of everything.”

Still, Michael doesn't demand they leave the alley and the tiny kitten with the wary eyes behind. Tells Geoff they'll be on their way back to the penthouse after they take care of something first when he calls to ask what's taking them so long. Complains up a storm about it, but goes to get more food to lure the kitten out when they run out, Gavin and Jeremy loathe to go themselves.

Stays there with them until they manage to coax the kitten out, allow them to touch. Allows Jeremy to pick her up, little body trembling slightly as she continues to growl at them.

Only complains the tiniest bit when the kitten takes a swipe at him in passing as Jeremy walks by him with her in his arms. Gives Gavin a look when he tries and fails not to laugh, because Michael's a soft touch when it comes to it, and hates to admit it.

“Shut the fuck up, asshole.”

========

“Jeremy, we're not naming her after your ridiculous Rimmy Tim character!”

Jeremy's eyes go wide, hand over his heart like Gavin's mortally wounded him with his words.

“Gavin,” he says, small and shocked. “How could you?”

Gavin snorts, turning his attention to the fluffy ball of murder and rage glaring at them from her spot under the couch.

Newly bathed, fur puffed up everywhere and very displeased with current matters if the noises she's making are any indication.

Under the dirt and grime she's turned out to be a lovely little orange calico. Little patches of black on her face like a mask, and oh, that just perfect, isn't it?

Gavin glances at Jeremy, the look on his face that means trouble, a headache, because Jeremy is a damn menace. Smiling like a loon the moment he'd seen the kitten's coloring, making this high-pitched noise of utter delight.

And Gavin, he's well-versed in this particular series of terrible decisions on Jeremy's part. Sees it coming when he insists on burdening her with an absolutely awful name.

“No,” Gavin says, and flings the towel he used to dry the kitten off at Jeremy's face, already running when it hits and Jeremy lets out a yell of outrage.

Laughter his voice as he gives chase, Gavin squawking as he ducks past Ryan who's watching with an amused look in his eye.

========

Geoff claims he wants nothing to do with the kitten, but Gavin's seen him watching her thoughtfully when she ventures out from her favorite hiding spot. Skittish little thing who's slowly adjusting to her new home and the lunatics who inhabit it.

“The moment she claws the furniture she's gone,” he says, faint smile on his face as he throws out a little cat toy that the kitten attacks with a ferocious sounding cry.

“Of course,” Gavin agrees, filming the whole thing on his phone for posterity's sake. “Absolutely.”

========

Jack adores the kitten.

Careful around her the way everyone is, kind and gentle and a little furry shadow at his heels most days.

He spends some time doing a little bit of research, and builds and sets up platforms and walkways for her along the walls of the penthouse despite Geoff's bitching. Builds a cat tree for her out of the scraps, and tucks treats and cat toys around the place to encourage her to explore.

When she grows bolder, he decides she'd be the perfect accomplice when it comes to being an utter bastard.

“Oh, Jack,” Gavin says, watching with delight as Jack slips a little catnip sachet into the pocket to one of Geoff's jackets, “he's going to be so angry.”

Jack smiles, sweet as anything, and says, “I have no idea what you're talking about, Gavin.”

========

Michael's the one to settle the name debate once and for all.

Nixes all of Jeremy's entries because they're all terrible and a variation on a theme, all involving his alter ego, and Michael is a man with taste.

“Okay, but you saying that also means I have to say no to your suggestions, dumbass.”

Rude.

Michael snorts, watching the kitten as she stalks the feather toy Jeremy's sweeping along the floor in front of her.

She's smart and clever and a thief of all things left unattended for any amount of time. Seems to have a predilection for shiny things.

Just this morning Gavin had to go hunting for his sunglasses and discovered yet another stash she'd hidden away. Found things that had gone missing and a very put out cat eyeing him when she caught him sorting through it all.

Clever little thief with a sweet face who's so very good at stealing hearts, makes it look easy.

“Bandit,” Michael says, wry twist to his mouth as though he thinks it's a dumb idea, a dumb name, but -

“Oh, come on!” Jeremy says, laughing helplessly as the kitten, watching Bandit vanish under the couch with the feather cat toy as her prize.

Perfect.

========

Ryan, the brilliant bastard, has turned Bandit into quite the talented little thief, it seems.

Has been working behinds the scene almost from the start. Tempted her with shiny bits and bobs and rewarded her handsomely with her favorite treats. Used her obvious joy, interest, to go from there.

Has been training her up for weeks, months now. Working slowly and carefully and it's all paid off today, it seems.

“Quick, catch that cat it stole my wallet!” Geoff wails, running after a little flash of orange and black and white, exasperated and bewildered at having to utter those words. “Motherfucker, get back here!”

Ryan is laughing, loud and honest and helpless it as Bandit easily evades Geoff, wallet held tightly in her teeth.

The other are watching things play out in amusement, Jeremy breathless with laughter and Jack's trying hard to muffle his own. Michael is laughing that odd little laugh of his, quiet delight, and Gavin -

“Really?”

Ryan shrugs, soft little smile on his face, “Have to start somewhere.”

========

Gavin's got a bit of a problem sometimes, or so the others tell him.

Works too hard, as though there's such a thing.

Trades sleep and food and other supposedly important things when he's tackling a task for the crew, or his own purposes. Chasing after some tantalizing bit of information, some little piece of a greater puzzle.

The others have resigned themselves to this tendency of his. Take it in turns to make sure he eats something, stays hydrated. Gets sleep, the times they manage to remind him that's still a thing no matter how often he tells them it's not.

It works in the way Gavin's still alive in spite of himself, thanks to their efforts. An imperfect arrangement, to be sure.

Bandit doesn't seem to approve.

Makes her way into the room set aside for Gavin's computers, gear. Thee area where Ryan tinkers sometimes, gadgets and terrible little devices for work and just for fun. Make everyone's lives a little more difficult just because he can.

“And what do you want, I wonder?” Gavin asks, smiling at the way Bandit cocks her head at him

Splash of color at her throat, grudging concession to Jeremy and his obsession with his Rimmy Tim persona.

Bandit gives herself a little shake. Strolls over to curl up on his keyboard, looking him in the eye as if daring him to object. Calm and relaxed and so very different from the tiny, dirty kitten hissing and growling at them in an alley so many months ago.

Gavin watches her as she watches him and knows already he won't be winning this one. Has never been able to even when she was younger. Small and quiet and ready to bolt at the slightest thing, and astoundingly brave.

Coming up to him to drop one of Ryan's hairbands at his feet before moving just out of reach, just in case. Head tipped up to look at him as she let out one of her soft little meows, eager to play fetch the way Ryan had taught her. (First step into training her to be a bloody literal cat burglar in the making. A joke, certainly, just another devious plan to annoy the hell out of them.)

And now she does things like this, settling herseridiclf squarely in the way. Defiant look in her eyes and no fear to her at all. Going around as though she owns the place and views them as though they're incredibly dim and in need of extra care is they're to survive.

Bandit meows, inquisitive little noise, and Gavin sighs. Realizes there's no point in continuing to work when there's  when there's a very stubborn obstacle in the way.

“You're just so proud of yourself for this, aren't you?”

Bandit closes her eyes and starts to purr, which is answer enough.

[theemightypen]

2, 80, 152, 154 for Éothíriel, please :)

Other prompts are under the cut! :) 

2) “Not you again…” (Canon)

“Not you again,” Eomer grumbles.

“Eomer!” Cries Eowyn, horror plain her voice.

“Yes, me again,” Lothiriel chirps, unfazed by his less-than-pleasant welcome. “And it will be ‘me again’ until my cousin asks for a different chaperone.”

“Which I will not,” said cousin adds, grinning at both of them over Eowyn’s shoulder. 

“Chaperone,” Eomer grumbles. Gondorian courting methods are entirely too stuffy for his taste. Eowyn, however, seems not to mind them, as long as she is still able to spend time in her Steward’s presence.

As it is, his little sister is staring daggers at him until he begrudgingly offers the princess his elbow. Her touch is dainty, proper, and barely-there, as if it discomforts her to touch him. They stroll aimlessly around the gardens for a while, a “respectable” distance behind Faramir and Eowyn. Neither of them speak, though he knows silence comes as easily to her as it does to Pippin. 

The sudden press of her fingers at his elbow after they round another corner startles him. She must feel his flinch because she offers him a wry smile, nodding down at a particularly colorful flower. “Do you know what this flower is, my lord?”

“Gardening is not amongst my strong suits,” he admits. “So no, I do not.”

“Hm, let me think,” she says, peering at the flower with apparent interest. She looks and looks and looks–Eomer can feel his irritation mounting. 

He knows very well she is Imrahil’s daughter, Faramir’s favorite cousin, and not a person of little importance to Eowyn, either, who has so few female companions in Gondor, but he cannot stop himself from finally spitting out, “Are you quite finished, my lady?”

She blinks innocently up at him. “Yes, I remembered its name. A peony. It symbolizes a wish for a happy life and a happy marriage.”

“Thrilling,” Eomer answers, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. 

The princess remains unfazed, saying, “Isn’t it? Perhaps Eowyn would like–oh, but where have they gone?” 

The garden is empty. Neither Eowyn’s blonde head nor Faramir’s darker one are anywhere in sight.

“Oh, dear,” Lothiriel says in an entirely unconvincing tone, “I suppose they will have to continue on without us.”

He blinks down at her in surprise. “You…planned this?”

“Not all of us Gondorians enjoy stuffy traditions,” she answers with a smile. “And I like Eowyn. She and Faramir have earned their happiness, don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” he murmurs, staring at her as if seeing her for the first time. Surely, she has not always been so lovely? It must be the sun-soaked garden, or the heady smell of the spring flowers, that are making him notice the raven-sheen to her hair, the dark depths of her eyes, the flush of pink in her cheeks. 

Eomer’s hands move of their own accord to pull the nearest flower–the peony–and he tucks it into her hair, just behind her ear, before his common sense has the chance to catch up with him. The pink in her cheeks darkens, but a small smile plays at her lips as well. “You do know you have just wished me a happy life and a happy marriage, do you not?”

“I can think of no thing you deserve more,” is his honest answer.

This time, when her arm comes to rest in his again, there is nothing dainty–or barely-there–about her touch.

80) “Let’s run away together.” (Canon)

As Aunt Ivriniel launches into her third story concerning the local delicacies of Dol Amroth, Lothiriel can see the King of Rohan’s head dip dangerously close to the rim of his soup. Hiding a smile behind her hand, she lays her free one at the top of his wrist.

Just as she suspected, he all but shoots into an upright position, coming out of his daze at a warrior’s pace. 

“It is only me,” she murmurs.

Lothiriel sees, rather than hears, his sigh of relief. “Thank Bema for that.”

“Is my aunt boring you, my lord?”

The spots of color in his cheeks, just visible above his beard, are utterly endearing. “I–I would not say boring–”

“It is alright if you do,” she interrupts, “Amrothos and I have said the same thing for years.” 

She nods to where her youngest brother sits, exhibiting extremely unprincely behavior by picking at his nails with the tiny seafood fork. Eomer snorts, disguising his amusement with a cough as a few people shoot him curious looks. 

Lothiriel considers the recklessness of what she is about to say, but the way that Eomer has failed to shift his hand out from under hers gives her courage where she might have hesitated. “How good are you at escape plans, my lord?”

His eyebrow arches, but he answers readily enough, saying, “I was not made a marshal of the Mark without knowing how to move stealthily, my lady.”

“Good,” she whispers, “for I intend to show you something much more exciting than Dol Amroth’s stew recipes.”

She departs the table first, complaining of a headache. Ada merely waves her off with a sympathetic smile–he loves his sister, truly, but even he knows how long-winded she becomes after two glasses of wine–but Elphir frowns, clearly suspecting some mischief.

Always too wise for his own good, is her oldest brother.

Eomer must manage his own exit graciously enough, for he meets her on the stairs leading down towards the shore in nearly record time. Emboldened by their success, she slips her hand into his, though she could make this climb blind-folded, and he has a warrior’s grace in nearly everything he does. 

Eventually, they reach the shore, coming to stand along the sea-wall she knows so well. “Look up,” she orders, gently.

“Bema,” he says, “I have never seen so many stars.” 

“It is my favorite view in all of Dol Amroth,” Lothiriel admits. 

“Then it is mine as well,” Eomer answers, and something in his tone makes her shiver, despite the warmth of the sea-breeze. 

She can feel him shift, behind her, and then he is behind her in truth, his arms slipping around her to pull her back against the warm, strong breadth of his chest. Lothiriel bites her lip to keep from smiling and threads her fingers through his.

“This is,” Eomer says, his breath hot against the shell of her ear, eliciting another round of shivers, “infinitely preferable to listening to your aunt wax poetic about shellfish.”

Lothiriel could not agree more. 

152) “Stop texting me weird stuff late at night!” (Modern AU)

His phone buzzing at 2:30 in the morning is not the way Eomer would prefer to be woken up. In fact, he’d like to not be woken up at all, seeing as how Derby season was only a few weeks away, and he’d need every second of sleep he could get between now and then to properly function.

Groaning, wondering if it was Eowyn, fretting to him about her impending wedding, or more likely, Theodred, complaining about one horse or another, he lifts his phone.

Blinking at the unfamiliar number, and the even more perplexing text, Eomer can only stare at his phone in confusion. It must be the wrong number, he thinks, and sets his phone back down with a grumble.

A week later, he’s forgotten the text entirely, too caught up in preparing Firefoot for the races to worry about a surely accidental message from a random number. 

But then it happens again: slightly earlier, and on a Saturday night, when he and Aragorn have agreed to meet up for a beer. 

“What the hell,” he says.

Aragorn peeks over his shoulder and snorts at the text. “Interesting topic of discussion, Eomer.”

“I didn’t start this,” he protests. “I don’t even know who’s sending these messages–”

He’s not fast enough to stop his friend from snatching the phone from his hand and reading the other text about the damn penguins. The look on Aragorn’s face after he’s read it is horribly, terrifyingly smug. “I think,” he says, smirking, “someone’s got a crush on you, Eomer Eomundson.” 

Eomer rolls his eyes. “I think some kid has the wrong number.”

“Why don’t you answer and find out?” Aragorn prompts.

But Aragorn and Arwen–his wife of two years come summertime, not that either of them would let anyone forget it–are notorious matchmakers, and Eomer is not a fool.

“No,” he says, tone final.

And he holds to it. At least, he does until he gets another message, three weeks later, after Firefoot makes it through semi-finals. 

Eomer mutters a curse, finally texting back in the hope that the person–prankster, kid, weird veterinarian, whoever–would finally leave him be. 

The response is immediate, and weirdly enough, normal:

For some reason, that’s almost more disarming than the texts themselves.

Belatedly, he realizes this person must know it’s him they’re texting, making him the only one in the dark. Against his better judgment, he finds himself saying:

Eomer hesitates–it could be anyone texting him. A nasty prank from one of his exes, a less-than-tasteful joke headed by Merry and Pippin, or truly a wrong number after all…but he agrees, anyways, blaming the insanity on the stress of the season, of the fact that Eowyn was about to be married and move thousands of miles away, for his lapse in judgement.

The next morning finds him wired off two cups of coffee, anxiously tapping his leg underneath the slightly ramshackle table. He doesn’t recognize anyone–a good sign, and a bad one–and he’s honestly debating leaving when there’s the sudden appearance of a hand at the opposite corner of the table. In said hand is a moderately-sized pebble.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” comes a familiar voice, warm with amusement.

He looks up to find Lothiriel–Faramir’s cousin Lothiriel, who he hasn’t seen since she left two years before to do a stint with some endangered species protection agency–smiling down at him. She’s always been pretty–not that he’d have admitted it before now, because she was Faramir’s cousin and younger than Eowyn to boot–but she looks nothing short of beautiful now, her hair longer than ever, her figure more filled out, a smattering of–frankly–adorable freckles across the bridge of her nose. Abruptly, he’s reminded of that one, ill-timed kiss at her graduation party that they’d both agreed never to discuss again. 

Apparently, they hadn’t been in as much agreement as he’d thought.

He’s strangely happy about that. 

“Well,” he says, reaching out to pluck the pebble from her hand, “I wasn’t about to be outdone by a bunch of animals.” 

Lothiriel’s smile is worth every hour of missed sleep. 

(She doesn’t stop texting him weird things late at night, even when they’re married. 

)

154) “There’s only one bed…” (Modern AU)

Lothiriel isn’t sure if she wants to strangle Pippin or kiss him, for pulling such a stunt. 

“Come to Hobbiton!” Her supposed friend had said. “Merry and I’ll put you up!”

But Pippin had failed to mention that Merry had invited Eomer as well, and that both he and Merry had live-in girlfriends now, the pair of them wouldn’t mind sharing the guest room, would they?

“Besides, we all shared a room for Eowyn and Faramir’s wedding!” 

Well, they had, but it had been a very large room, with eight separate beds for the bridal party, and three other women–Tauriel, a friend of Eowyn’s from roller-derby, Wilfled, Eowyn’s cousin, and Arwen, Aragorn’s obscenely pretty and kind wife–there as well. 

Eomer must be thinking something similar, if the muttered cursing is anything to go by.

“Eomer, it��ll be fine,” she finds herself saying. “We’re both adults, the bed is plenty large. It’ll…it’ll be like a sleepover!”

“We’re not a pair of teenage girls, Lothiriel,” Eomer answers, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Kindly refrain from calling this weekend a ‘sleepover’.”

“Well, fine,” she says, determined not to let him catch on how much the idea of sharing a bed with him–Elbereth, just being in the same room as him–makes her pulse race, makes her thing horrible, dirty things about her best friend’s brother, “I’m taking the right side.”

Dinner manages to be a pleasant affair, despite it all. Diamond–Pippin’s girlfriend–and Estella–Merry’s girlfriend–are exceedingly friendly, and balance out Merry and Pippin’s tendency towards the inane with grace. Eomer relaxes after his third whiskey enough to smile at her when she tells some story about Amrothos embarrassing himself at his latest sailing competition. His smile is as handsome as ever and she’s very, very glad that the wine has already put color into her cheeks. 

This is fine, she thinks, it’ll be fine.

It is not so fine, however, when they manage to stumble their way to the guest bedroom after one last drink. Lothiriel has to nearly hurl herself into her suitcase in her hurry to look away when Eomer carelessly flings his shirt over his head. She shimmies out of her jeans, trying–and failing–not to notice how the noise from his side of the room abruptly stops as she wiggles into the old t-shirt of Erchirion’s she usually sleeps in. She would have brought pants if she’d known she’d be sharing a bed, but as it is, she hadn’t. As if things weren’t awkward enough. 

Lothiriel crawls into bed, trying to ignore the frantic thrum thrum thrum of her heart in her ears. It’s only made worse when Eomer slides in beside her, the heat of him nearly unbearable, even under the thin sheet. 

“The light,” he says, voice strangely hoarse.

She nods, flipping the switch and blanketing the room in darkness. 

It does little to help: she feels hyper-aware of everything. The sound of his breathing. The smell of whatever shampoo he uses. The gentle brush of his hand over her jaw–wait. 

“Eomer?” She asks in a tiny voice.

“Lothiriel,” he says, and Elbereth, she can feel his nose nearly against hers, his breath a hot gust horribly, wonderfully close to her mouth, “tell me if…tell me if this isn’t–”

She laughs, a quiet huff in the stillness of the room. “You are,” she says, reaching out blindly and finding his shoulder, sliding her hand until she finds the back of his neck, “so incredibly thick-headed, Eomer Eomundson.” 

His kiss is exactly what she expected and not: passionate, of course, and achingly, wonderfully good, but infused with so much tenderness that she could nearly cry from it. The press of his mouth and the heat of his hands is made better by the dark, by the way he pulls back to kiss her forehead before trailing a string of kisses along her jaw, down her neck–

Merry glares at both of them, the following morning, bags apparent under his eyes.

Pippin, however, looks positively gleeful. “You’re welcome,” he tells her.

“Oh, eat your food,” she says, half-heartedly, because Eomer’s hand is in hers under the table, and she can’t recall feeling this happy in a very, very long time.