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softquietsteadylove · 11 months

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Just Thena watching Gil work whenever he doesn’t look at her and noticing all the sweet things about him.

For the bodyguard one! A little analysis from Thenas view

"We're coming down the walkway now. I need all hands up."

Thena kept her eyes on Gil as they prepared to exit the show venue and make their way back to their ride. He was communicating with the rest of the venue security so they could be ready for people rushing the barricades, maybe even reaching out.

Gil didn't look back, eyes on his job as always. But his hand reached out behind him. He even wiggled his fingers slightly, "ready?"

Thena smiled, coming up behind him and slipping her hand into his, fingers interlocking together. "Ready."

Gil rolled his shoulders, his whole form seeming to become broader as he prepared for the journey. "Just stay close."

Thena was completely tucked into his back as she followed him out to the uber. Most would follow more loosely, wave and smile, maybe stop for a picture if there was time.

She wasn't most. And those who came to see her forgave her for that. They forgave her many anxieties and flaws and habits. She all but hid behind Gil's back and under his elbow as he led her through the parted sea. She did manage a little wave from behind his arm.

The crowd screamed their adoration.

Gil chuckled in front of her, only audible over the screams because she could feel his talking through his ribs. "You're feeling outgoing tonight."

She gripped the side of his suit jacket. She was feeling bold from within the safety of his protection. "Maybe."

Gil opened the door to the SUV and ushered her inside, holding her hand as she stepped up into the high vehicle. He spoke into his earpiece again, "we're up and out."

Thena sighed as he shut the car door for her as well, muting the roar of the crowd outside. She watched through the tinted windows as he made his way around the car and to the other side. Once he was inside and seated next to her, she truly relaxed.

Gil let out a groan, loosening his tie and pulling his earpiece out, "what a night."

"Hm," Thena hummed in faint agreement, eyeing him as he undid his suit jacket as well. She was not the only one finally able to relax now that they were away from the crowds. "Successful, I think."

"I'd say so," he gave her a lazy grin before leaning forward in his seat to grip the headrest of the driver in front. "Still on for our deal?"

Gil always paid a premium rate for the ride service to be completely private, no cameras or footage of any kind, and to take them through a drivethru of their choosing.

He looked over at her, "still want burgers?"

She nodded eagerly, desperate for something hearty and that would definitely put her right to sleep after eating it too. She started combing her fingers through her hair as they changed route, Gil muttering their order to the driver and handing over cash for as anonymous a transaction as possible.

He leaned back into his seat once he was satisfied his instructions would be followed. He ran a hand through his hair on one side and wordlessly extended the other hand towards her.

She smiled, unclipping her various accessories and jewels to give to him. He always did this for her, slipping them into his pocket to keep them from suffering her fidgety hands.

Gil slipped her jewellery into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out two phones--one for him and one for her. "How you feelin'?"

"Hm," she sighed again, the adrenaline leaving her and quickly being replaced with exhaustion. "Positively, I think."

He smiled at her too, taking the time to actually look at her despite the hundred and one things that were part of his job even now that the show was over. "That's pretty good, for you."

He knew how negative she could be in her own opinions of herself. He looked down at his phone, probably letting Kingo know that they were on their way home without incident. Tomorrow, if not the next day, they would have a meeting about the reception of this show as well as the next planned one.

Thena settled into her seat again, although she got the chance to admire Gil on his side of the car. She was buckled in properly to her seat, but Gil was somewhat seated between the other window seat and the middle hump. It wasn't that he didn't believe in seat belts (he did, very strongly in fact). But he knew that she liked him a little bit closer, just in case she reached out for him for whatever reason.

Gil was busy doing any number of things, working away so she could have the charmed, royal treatment she was used to--being driven around, food bought for her, escorted everywhere like a princess. If she was feeling whiny enough, Gil would even carry her.

He often carried her.

And maybe she would feel bad or embarrassed about it, if he weren't so damn sweet. He never complained, never told her she was too much, or being a diva. He always excused that she was tired, that she was exhausted and her social battery was way too small for the world of performing. He forgave everything the fans did and more.

He was handsome.

She wasn't ignorant to it. It was just that she didn't always have time to really admire it when they were dashing from one place to another. But in these moment, when it was - more or less - just the two of them, she could. The streetlights passing outside gave him a very nice silhouette, and by the end of the night he had a little scruff coming in already.

Thena scooted closer to Gil and closer to the tinted window as they pulled up to the drive thru--less chance of being seen and recognised.

Gil allowed it, even wrapping his arm around her and moving her as close to the shadows as possible. The driver did their part, speaking plainly and handing over the cash for the order. Thena had her face pressed into Gil's shoulder, just in case.

It was a good thing he smelled nice.

Once pulled away, the driver handed the bag back to them, still not speaking directly to them (as per the agreement). Gil opened up the bag and pulled out a fry, holding it up for her.

She gleefully took the limp shoestring fry between her teeth, munching on it. They could just eat it in the car, but she liked it most when she could enjoy it in the comfort of her penthouse with him.

Gil kept feeding her fries, probably from his order so she could still have all of hers when they got home, too. "Good?"

She nodded, giving him a smile despite her mouthful of potato. He grinned back. He had a beautiful smile.

In no time at all, they were back at hers. Well, they were on the street behind the garage of her building. They simply used too many ubers to let people drop them off actually at the front door of the building. Even without knowing which unit was hers, the risk was too high.

"Thanks," Gil nodded to the driver as he got out first. He walked over and opened her door again, "ready?"

Thena smiled, slipping out of the car with Gil's hand to support her yet again. He even held her waist in the short distance of her butt leaving the car seat and her heels touching the street. "Thanks."

Gil shut the car door and held her as the uber left them in the somewhat approximate location for dropoff. He always waited until they were completely out of sight before leading her into the parking garage. "Okay, lets get you home."

Thena just sighed, leaning into him.

He peeked down at her, "you want a lift?"

"No, it's okay," she mumbled, looking down at the bag of their food in her arms sheepishly. "I can walk."

"I know you can," he chuckled, his hand still at her waist as their voices echoed in the garage. "I'm asking if you want a lift."

Thena stopped and pouted faintly. He knew how weak she was to that. And these heels were killing her. She looked up at him.

He grinned; he knew she would agree the second he asked it. "C'mere, you."

Thena laughed faintly as he swept her up into his arms bridal style. She was starting to worry that she was carried by him more often than she actually walked in his presence. She held onto the food, "are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," he assured with a smile, carrying her like it was nothing. He even had the fob to the doors around his wrist so he barely had to move her to get the door open for them. "You keep that food safe."

Thena was long over being embarrassed about being seen on the building security cameras being carried by Gil like a princess. "I keep telling you, you don't have to."

"I know," he shrugged as he stepped into the elevator with her. He leaned so she could press the button for the top floor for them. "I keep telling you that I don't mind."

He was too sweet.

Thena settled in for the long - if admittedly quick - lift ride. She laid her head on his shoulder, listening to the hum of the machinery and the crinkling of their bag in her hands. "You're too good to me."

"It's my job to be good to you."

"You know, it actually isn't," she laughed so faintly it was nearly whispering. "It's your job to protect me, but you certainly don't have to be as sweet to me as you are."

Gil got the look on his face he got when he was trying to laugh off being shy. He shook his head, "call it earning my bonus, then."

Thena rolled her eyes and snuck in a peck to his cheek. "Always going above and beyond for the job."

Gil looked up so she wouldn't see him blushing, but his ears were pink (cute). "Something like that."

#Thenamesh Bodyguard AU #something like that #going above and beyond for her #every time #he carries her because he knows she's tired and her feet hurt #because he knows that all she wants to do is crumble into a heap on the ground #if he doesn't carry her in and set her down on the couch she'll just flop over and lie down and eat on the floor #the first few times they did this that was exactly what happened #he went into her room to lay out the accessories he was holding for her #came back out to find her sitting on the floor eating her tacos #he was like hello???#she just looked at him #her feet hurt #that simple really #to her at least #Gil was like tell me if your feet hurt that much!!!#he ate on the floor with her that night #and ever since he asks her immediately when they're alone if her feet hurt #no eating on the floor for this icon

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the-irrelevant-trumpeter · 1 year

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lmao the fact that they’re announcing a h*rry p*tter reboot series really shows how little people actually care about all of the communities jkr has damaged (or is currently damaging)

#(damaging isn’t the right word to explain it but it’s the best i’ve got. words hard.)#it’s just such a slap in the face move #‘oh this series and it’s author is full of harmful content that is spreading dangerous propaganda?#i hear you loud and clear but unfortunately this series is also a money making machine #and that’s more important to us than the lives of people in marginalised communities. sorry’#anyway. i hope the series flops and costs jkr heaps of money.#tw harry potter #tw jk rowling #just checked and apparently this has turned up in the hp tag #read another book. pretty please.

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livvyofthelake · 1 year

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ok well i had fun with my little movie <3 i fucking love a 90 minute movie! i love fucked up monsters as a metaphor for like all sorts of things… i love how norah characterized herself as a pessimist but crucially crucially she never once let go of any of her friends, and in the end she saved the two of them that were in love… and she BLEW. THAT. SHIT. UP. i love a movie that ends with an explosion of a corrupt institution seriously… the monster was both a metaphor for her grief and a metaphor for the consequences of big companies’ greed with the environment… it’s not about cynicism and it’s not about hope but it IS about love and human compassion and the drive to keep pulling your friend’s barely breathing body to safety because no chance is too small when it comes to saving his life, and then it’s about succeeding because you did everything you could and gave them a chance all while knowing you wouldn’t get the same…

#norah was sooo tris-core <3 miss her i have GOT to see her this weekend fr #omg did you guys know brian wrote the insurgent screenplay? or he was one of the writers #anyway. insurgent’s my favorite of the three so i guess that makes sense that it’s got that brian duffield flair 🫶#sorry i always heap so much praise on a man. he’s the only one tho and i really believe he deserves it for writing fun little movies for me #if he ever flops tho i’m shutting it all down. no sense defending a flop right. and for a man? i’d never #anyway gonna go look for gifs of my little movie :)#beth.txt

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here-there-everyfuckenwhere · 2 years

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18. What did you get for your birthday this year? And for 19. What did you get for your birthday LAST year? lol

18. Well the day is still young, but the main present I got a few months ago was *drum roll* HAMILTON TICKETS FROM MY PARENTS!!! so we're going to go see Hamilton in the city tonight, I'm super excited!!! Also my dear dear friend from university got me custom-made socks with Taika's face printed on them and I love them

19. Last year honestly was kinda shit because we were in lockdown, and I had a party and stuff planned and we had to cancel everything super last minute. But my parents still tried to make it fun, they got me a massive cake from The Cheescake Factory and those foil "18" balloons, and this heatpack that I always wanted that is like a stuffed sloth toy that you can microwave for when I get period cramps so I still had a pretty good day all things considered. Still hoping this year is better though yikes...

Come wish me a happy birthday!!!

#ray rants and junk #personal #good questions #birthday #birthday ask game #ask game #my asks #yeah my 18th kinda flopped ngl #it was a shit year for everyone though #it just sucks because my birthday fell right before that really long snap-lockdown #and i already had heaps of things planned #but oh well #thats sorta why im okay with keeping my birthday pretty lowkey this year

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first-son-of-finwe · 1 year

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I’m sick affff 🥲

#out of silmarils #at least i can get it out of the way before xmas hols #for once it’s at a fairly convenient time when i can just flop around at home and don’t have a heap of work to do

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arwenkenobi48 · 2 years

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I- I can’t even. He’s the exact same height as me!

I’m basically him but over 20 kilos heavier. This does not compute! *eye twitches erratically*

#dr neo cortex #*flops in a heap*#wow #just wow on so many levels #i am flabbergasted #and I need to lose a stone or two #lemonhead

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swampthingking · 2 months

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can’t study for my test because i’m having brain rot about neil accidentally getting super drunk and stumbling up to aaron like “andrew???” and aaron is like “wrong one” and neil is like “andrew.” and aaron is like “???? are you stupid” and neil goes to look for andrew but he stumbles into the table, and aaron has to catch him or he will get trampled for fucks sake, and neil just collapses into him in a drunk cuddly heap. and aaron is like “neil. you need to stand up” and neil is like “i am” and aaron is like “that’s because i’m holding you up” and they get neil to stand but neil kinda just flops into aaron’s arms again. and neil is like “i don’t hate you, i don’t, but it’s okay if you hate me” and aaron is like “ugh, ew are you really an emotional drunk???” and neil, to aaron’s horror, looks at him with tears in his eyes because you know when you’re too drunk and you kind of just get a little scared and you need help???? ya. and aaron is like … ok. and kinda holds neil until andrew comes back from the bar with more drinks. and he sees neil basically asleep on aaron’s shoulder, and aaron looking uncomfortable but accepting, so he kinda raises an eyebrow, an okay? and aaron nods and is just patting neil on his back

and tomorrow they’ll wake up and neil will toddle downstairs with his hand against his temple and aaron will have advil ready for him, and he’ll say “you’re annoying and you don’t know when to shut your mouth or mind your own business, but i don’t hate you” and the thank you for helping repair my relationship with my brother and thank you for testifying and thank you for staying goes unsaid but yeah

and that’s how aaron and neil became kind of friends

edit: vomited out a one shot for y’all (this will prob become a 5+1)

Aaron swirled his drink a few times, listening to the ice clacking against the glass.

Eden’s was packed tonight, courtesy of it being the end of the school year. College students and the regular patrons flocked to the bar, the dance floor, and all of the tables, leaving Aaron to reserve a high-top table, and his legs to dangle from the stool.

“Drew?”

Aaron ignored him in favor of the twinkling sound the ice makes in his glass. He’d already taken shots, danced, had another drink, danced again, and now Aaron’s body was heavy with alcohol and exhaustion.

“Drew,” Neil said again.

Aaron looked around their table and didn’t see Andrew. He remembered Andrew getting up and walking to the bar with their empty tray. Aaron found him a few seconds later, hands in his pockets at the bar. That and Neil, staring up at him, looking uneasy.

Before Aaron could tell Neil to get out of his face, Neil was speaking.

“Are you’nt having fun?” Neil frowned, blinking sleepy, hooded eyes at him. He leaned closer to study Aaron’s face.

“What are you doing?” Aaron grumbled, pushing Neil’s face away.

Aaron hadn’t even pushed him hard, he more removed Neil from his space rather than pushed him, but Neil wobbled like his world had tilted out of orbit. Aaron realized, quickly, that Neil was going to fall backwards. He grabbed two fistfuls of Neil’s shirt and pulled him forwards. Neil’s head lulled on his shoulders with the force, his chin hitting his chest then righting itself.

Aaron’s stomach lurched, sick with the thought that someone had put something in one of Neil’s drinks, as he would for anyone, but thankfully he’s never been put in that situation. Neil’s eyes were hooded, his face flushed. Aaron snapped once at Neil’s ear, and Neil recoiled immediately.

“Does your head hurt or anything?” Aaron asked. Neil shook his head, frowning.

“Are you dizzy? Follow my finger.” Aaron pushes Neil back so he can see his face, keeping one hand on Neil’s shoulder to hold him up. Neil follows Aaron’s finger as it moves back and forth, albeit a little labored, but not as if he’d been roofied. Aaron declares that Neil’s reaction times and responses are fine, but he still pulls the front of his shirt up and checks his belt, the button of his pants.

“What—?” Neil slapped a hand on his abdomen, stopping his shirt from being lifted any higher. Aaron didn’t need to see anything but his pants, but it was reassuring that Neil still had inhibitions.

His clothes were fine. His belt was still done, zipper up. No one had tried anything. Aaron relaxed.

“Sorry,” Aaron said. “Sorry, I just needed to…”

While racking his mind back to why Neil is this drunk, Aaron remembered Neil taking shots with Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin. Four shots. He’d seen Neil sip on another drink like the idiot had the tolerance for alcohol that the rest of them had.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Aaron said and released Neil. Neil attempted to step back, his hands raised in surrender.

“No?” Neil asked warily. Even drunk as fuck, he still respected boundaries. Andrew’s boundaries specifically, as it still hadn’t registered that he wasn’t talking to the right twin.

“I’m not Andrew,” Aaron said.

“Where’s Andrew?” Neil asked, turning his head pathetically in search. Aaron only had a good view of Andrew because they were seated at a high-top. Over the throng of taller people coupled with strobing lights, Neil’s view was obstructed.

“At the bar,” Aaron nodded in that direction.

Neil turned towards the bar. Well, he attempted to. He pivoted, lost his balance, and toppled into the table. He tried to right himself and started to fall to the other side. Aaron caught Neil before he could bust his shit and get trampled.

“Jesus Christ, Josten,” Aaron spat, righting Neil with hands on his biceps. Neil slapped a hand on the table and leaned his weight on it. The table quaked under such abuse, but held.

Neil turned slowly, grappling against the table as if he was standing in one of those spinning fair rides. In his excursion to simply spin 180°, his hand slipped off the edge of the table as he faced Aaron once again. He reached for the table, missed, reached for it again, missed, said, “Motherfucker,” under his breath, and finally gripped onto the edge. His eyes locked on Aaron’s again, and Neil’s useless hand landed on Aaron’s shoulder.

“Andrew,” Neil said. Aaron didn’t know if it was more a request or if it was just not registering.

“Wrong,” Aaron said, tense under Neil’s hand, but he didn’t push him off. He’d rather hold Neil up than peel him off the floor. “Aaron.”

“‘m very drunk,” Neil said, looking up pleadingly at Aaron as if he had a magical cure to shitfacedness, and all Neil had to do for it was look a little scared. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Aaron asked.

“I’m drunk.”

Aaron snorted. “That’s kind of the point when you’re at a bar.”

“But,” Neil said, taking a labored breath, “I’m…too drunk.”

This was beginning to feel exceedingly similar to speaking to a child. Aaron was annoyed, but not completely heartless, unlike the narrative of Aaron Neil had likely concocted. “It’s okay, Neil,” Aaron said. “You should sit down.”

Neil promptly sat as if there was a chair under him, but there was not. Aaron, still holding Neil vertical, got pulled out of his chair with the momentum. To avoid toppling to the ground—which did not get mopped as often as it should—Aaron planted his feet on the floor and hauled Neil up by his armpits.

“Help,” Neil murmured. His arms dropped to his sides as he yielded his dead weight to Aaron.

“Stand up,” Aaron grunted, readjusting to wrap an arm around Neil’s back. One of Neil’s arms flopped over Aaron’s shoulder.

“I am,” Neil complained.

“No, you are not.”

“I am.”

“Neil,” Aaron said through clenched teeth, “I am holding you up. You need to lock your knees.”

“Oh,” Neil said. He looked at his feet as if he needed to check they were on the ground.

To be fair, Neil did lock his knees, but he also leaned all of his upper body on Aaron, arms still hanging limply at his sides. He tucked his head into Aaron’s neck with, what seemed, every intention to make a home there for the night.

“Neil,” Aaron said, frozen against the hair tickling his cheek. “God dammit.”

“And…ron,” Neil spoke against his shoulder.

“Yes,” Aaron said sarcastically. “That’s me.”

“Can I j’stay here?” Neil slurred.

From what Aaron had seen of Neil’s dynamic with his brother, he knew Neil would get off if he said no. He could place Neil into a stool or pull up a chair with a back so he wouldn’t fall out and concuss himself. He could shove Neil off and make him fend for himself. He could pawn him off to Andrew.

At the moment, those other options seemed like far too much work.

That, or maybe it was the med student in him, the intrinsic urge to heal and help and nurture that smarted at the thought of pushing Neil off.

Aaron didn’t push him off when Neil readjusted and tucked an arm into his chest, the other gripping Aaron for stability. He didn’t when Neil asked again, a quiet, “Aaron.”

“Okay,” Aaron conceded. He rubbed a hand up and down Neil’s back placatingly, but also because Neil seemed like he needed it. And he came to Aaron for it. Well, he came to Andrew and got Aaron. But he didn’t push Aaron off, and Aaron hasn’t done the same.

And they just…stood like that. For what seemed like a long time, but it probably was only a few minutes before Neil spoke again.

“Aaron,” Neil said.

Aaron hummed in response.

“I don’ hate you.”

“What?” Aaron asked. “What the fuck are you talking about, Neil?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“What?” Aaron said again.

“I don’wanna fight.” Neil lets out a colossal breath.

“We haven’t fought in a long time,” Aaron says, his idea of agreement. Acceptance.

Neil was quiet, because it was true. Neil seemed content to lay in Aaron’s arms, and Aaron didn’t have another stool next to him. He sure as shit wasn’t giving his up for Neil, but Neil was genuinely so unsteady on his feet that Aaron couldn’t let him go.

He trembled a bit, and Aaron was almost amused that after everything Neil had been through, being a little too drunk is what finally did it for him.

But Aaron had felt that way before. Inebriated and scared in a crowded room of strangers. Neil, however, has people he knows. How can Aaron be upset at Neil for wanting the comfort that he also craved? How can he be upset that Neil feels safe enough with Andrew to ask for help? That his brother finally feels safe with someone too?

“Aaron,” Neil said.

“What,” Aaron said.

“It’s okay if you hate me.”

“Oh God,” Aaron groaned, “Ew. Are you really an emotional drunk?”

Neil pulled back and, to Aaron’s horror, there were actual tears in his eyes. His lip trembled as he bit it, holding the tears in. Aaron hated how much of himself he was seeing in Neil tonight. The harrowing fact that maybe they are quite similar.

“Oh God,” Aaron said again, mortified. He grabbed the back of Neil’s head and shoved it back into his shoulder, effectively hiding Neil’s teary face.

He cast a desperate look to Andrew, who was finally on his way back to the table. He patted Neil on the shoulder, like one would burp a baby when they have no idea how to do so.

“Andrew.”

Andrew didn’t need prompting to look. His eyes were trained on Neil and Aaron from the moment he turned around. By the nonchalance of his movements and his lack of alarm, Aaron guessed he had been watching their interaction.

Andrew set the tray down on the table and cast a significant look between them, settling on Neil’s intoxicated form keeled over on Aaron’s shoulder.

Andrew raises one eyebrow, a silent question, an okay?

Aaron finds himself nodding, and unsure why. All he knows right now, a few drinks in, is that he doesn’t hate this. And he doesn’t hate that Neil doesn’t hate him.

The smell of coffee set Neil’s feet moving like a Pavlovian response. He was half awake already with a pounding headache, like his eyeballs were beating his closed lids to death.

Neil toddles down the stairs with his eyes closed, a hand pressed hard to his temple, stabilizing his brain.

Aaron was standing at the counter already, facing the sputtering coffee pot. His arms were crossed, hair ruffled from sleep. At the sound of footsteps behind him, he turned.

The memories from last night played past Neil’s mind like a sped-up movie. He grimaced in embarrassment, and felt a little sick at how drunk he was. How stupid he was, to drink that much. He should have known his tolerance isn’t matched with the rest of them. He could have gotten hurt, could have said something—

Fuck.

“Fuck,” Neil said, covering his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Aaron said. He turned back to the coffee, though his posture was rigid.

Neil grabbed a glass of water. He noticed Aaron watching from the corner of his eye, but Neil chose to ignore him, figuring that’s best. He sat on the counter with his water, sipping it slowly while he and Aaron waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

The silence was thick, but they were both too stubborn to leave the kitchen. Usually, they preferred to wait and pretend the other wasn’t there.

That’s what Neil thought, at least. After a painful few minutes, Aaron huffed and grabbed the bottle of Advil from the drawer next to the sink. He shook two pills out and sat them next to Neil.

Neil stared at them until Aaron cast a pointed look at the pills, then physically gestured to them with raised brows. Neil took them while Aaron watched.

The coffee pot beeped. Aaron made a split second decision, grabbing two mugs and pouring coffee into them. He slid Neil’s across the counter. It sloshed over the side, but Aaron wasn’t capable of caring at the moment. His mind was busy, and he knew Neil had noticed his lack of eye contact; the analytical fuck.

“Look,” Aaron said. He did not look at Neil to say it. “You’re annoying, and you never know when to shut your mouth or mind your business. Most of the time, I’m convinced you have a death wish, and a lot of the time I find myself resenting you. You complicated our lives, put us all in danger, didn’t give a shit.”

Neil’s chest hurt. He didn’t know if it was anger or guilt. Aaron started talking again before he could figure it out.

“But I don’t hate you. I can’t, really. I can’t even fault you for the shitty things you did, because it all worked out.” Aaron glanced quickly at Neil, looked away. His cheeks were red.

The thank you for helping repair my relationship with my brother and thank you for testifying and thank you for being good to Andrew went unsaid, but Aaron hoped Neil wasn’t obtuse enough to force him to say it out loud.

Neil must have understood, because he nodded. Aaron figured that was as close to a reconciliation they were going to have, so he leaned against the counter and pretended everything was normal.

For the first time, they drank their coffee in silence without animosity orchestrating it.

Neil’s mug was half empty when Andrew joined them. He paused in the doorway, squinty eyed and mussed, looking between the two. Neil on the counter, Aaron leaning against it. Their silence, but lack of tension.

“This is weird,” Andrew finally said, his voice gravely from sleep.

“Yeah,” Neil and Aaron said simultaneously.

Neil glanced over his mug at Aaron, the corner of his mouth twitching. Aaron regarded it, but looked away, because something like contentment had made its way onto Andrew’s face.

Aaron smiled at that instead.

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kurokoros · 2 years

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shit, okay I want to start making gifs for real. do I just toss them on this blog, or make a sideblog for edits?

#this blog is an actual trash heap these days #but it's MY trash heap #the other issue is that I don't want the first set I'm planning on posting to completely flop #and idk how long it takes for side blogs to be recognized so the posts actually show up in the tags oof #also that means I need to come up with a url and blog title and oof #alisha babbles

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mediumgayitalian · 3 months

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“Piper?”

“Here.”

“Damien?”

“Here.”

“Clovis?”

No answer. Nico reaches over and pokes him, hard, and the son of Hypnos startles awake long enough to manage a garbled, “Present!” before nodding off again. At Chiron’s nodded permission, Connor procures an airhorn from what appears to be thin air, grins, and blares it right next to Clovis’ face. He shrieks, flailing off the chair, and would have slammed his face in the ground if Nico hadn’t caught him by the back of the shirt.

“Thanks, man,” he says, yawning.

Nico hauls him back upright, patting him on the shoulder. “No problem. I’m gonna let you fall next time.”

Clovis eyes him warily, shifting at Nico’s too-wide, sharklike grin.

“Noted,” he mutters, sitting straight to try and stay awake. “Jerk.”

Nico pats him on the shoulder again. “There, there.”

Chiron continues with the attendance.

“Butch?”

“Here.”

“Miranda?”

“Yep.”

“And…” Chiron sighs, peering through his reading glasses. “Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…” He glances down at his clipboard, slowly tapping his pen on the edge of it. “Where is Will?”

A groan ripples through the gathered campers.

“Just start without him!” someone shouts, sinking into their chair.

“He always takes forever!” another person agrees.

“Almost like he’s busy running the infirmary that keeps us all alive,” Lou Ellen says drily, but her one vote of confidence is drowned out by several dozen other voices, all complaining.

Before Chiron has to deal with too much of a coup d’état, the rec room door creaks open, and Will comes strolling in after it, ignoring the heaps of boos and launched ping-pong balls at his tardiness. The beam of sunlight from the one dusty window seems, suddenly, to become a great deal stronger, highlighting the blonde of Will’s hair and strengthening the gleam of his easy grin.

“Perforated artery,” he explains cheerfully, settling down in the one empty chair. “Rogue Ares cabin mine went off. Had to do emergency surgery.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth does he kick off his flip-flops, curl up in the rickety wooden chair, place his head on the nearest shoulder — Pollux, this time, who rolls his eyes affectionately and shifts to be more comfortable — and immediately starts snoring.

“Well,” says Chiron after a moment. “Let’s begin.”

“Wait,” Clovis complains, “how come he gets to sleep?”

Instead of answering, because there is no delicate way to say because he’s my favourite and I am a giant hypocrite, the centaur moves on. He gracefully avoids the various mutterings and calls for mutiny, instead running through the usual cabin check-ins at the speed of light to delve into the more interesting — and therefore distracting — things, such as Personal Grievances. This portion of monthly head counsellor meetings is Nico’s favourite, because he gets to sit back, be silent, and watch a bunch of teenagers yell at each other for his own personal amusement. On especially great days, he communicates with Connor through a series of complicated hand gestures to coordinate betting pools. Today, he is up seventy-two dollars. (Did he throw the pool by betting against himself and then inventing a fight with Chiara? Yeah. Did he cut her a deal for halfsies beforehand, making this technically fraud on two counts? Yeah. Can anyone prove it? Absolutely not. Suck on that, Stoll. You wanna be beat at your own game any day of the week? Nico’ll beat you at your own game any day of the week.)

As he’s accepting three dollars from a huffy Nysa (obviously the physical altercation count was going to reach six, c’mon, doesn’t she pay attention to these things), a hoof stamping the ground makes Nico jump.

“Boys,” Chiron says tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “that’s quite enough.”

Both campers immediately burst into louder arguments, continuing to flail and smack at each other as their voices get more and more raised and illegible.

“Boys!” Chiron stamps his hoof again. This time, they fall silent, staring at the old centaur with flushed, guilty faces. “Sherman, get Malcom out of that headlock. Malcolm, we are not building a pig pen in the dining pavilion so the Ares cabin can ‘eat in an environment more suited to their mannerisms’.” He pauses, nodding in acknowledgement. “As funny as that was, it was entirely inappropriate to say. Apologise at once.”

“My throat is too bruised to do so,” Malcom grumbles.

“My throat is too bruised to do so,” Sherman repeats, mockingly. “Gods, it’s like you’re asking for me to jump you.” At the immediate catcalls and jeers that follow, he reddens, hastily shouting, “Like mug! Jump like mug him, guys, like beat him up! Shut up! Shut up, or I swear I’ll —”

“Sit down, boys,” Chiron says, banging his hoof again. “For Hera’s sake. It’s like you want to embarrass yourselves further.”

Nico snickers with the rest of the counsellors as Sherman and Malcolm return to their seats. In their desperate attempt to separate from each other to assure their status as Heterosexual, Guys, Please, they manage to bump into each other, losing their balance and collapsing on a heap on the floor, more tangled than before. Predictably, this makes the flailing worse, which is unfortunate for them and their misery but a source of great entertainment for everyone else. Among the hooting and hollering and camera flashes, Chiron sighs, putting his head in his hands and muttering something about teenagers and being too old for this shit. Or something.

“If everyone’s quite done,” he says finally, ignoring Connor’s quip about how he could watch a few more minutes, actually, “I would love for this meeting to end. I have to do something that doesn’t involve teenagers for several hours. All of you exhaust me.”

“Except Will,” Sherman says petulantly, scowling at the still-sleeping medic. Pollux, who by close proximity has become endeared to the human disaster (Nico knows the feeling; he’s still convinced Will has weird powers that mess with one’s oxytocin levels by virtue of smiling as there is no way that someone so annoying can be so simultaneously endearing), glares somewhat protectively.

“Sh,” he hisses, at the same time Chiron says, “If the rest of you spent less time trying to kill each other and more time trying to fix the consequences of said attempted murder, I would be more lenient.”

Lou Ellen speaks up. “Also, Will has that whole cute, can’t-stay-mad-at-me thing.”

Various campers nod and mutter in agreement.

(Nico knew he wasn’t the only one.)

Nyssa clears her throat. “If we’re ready to return back to the actual meeting, I have a point of discussion.”

Chiron nods, gesturing for her to continue.

“The vans are breaking down,” she says bluntly. “Again. Because they’re, you know, older than everyone in the room.” She glances at Nico, frowning. “Well, except for him.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “Youngin’s, these days,” he says, shaking his head disdainfully. “No respect for their elders.”

Chiron raises a bemused eyebrow. “…Indeed. Nyssa?”

“I need parts again. Preferably from that place in Virginia? They don’t ask questions and price fairly. That would be best. Only I need the van to go get the parts, so. You can see the conundrum I’m in.”

“Easy fix with the chariot,” Chiron decides. “Can someone wake Will?”

“Gladly.”

“Without the airhorn, Connor.”

“Aw. I’m not doing it, then.”

“How tragic. Pollux?”

Gently, the son of Dionysus taps Will’s cheek, shaking him until he blinks awake.

“I was totally paying attention and I think we should go with the second option,” he says, yawning.

“Not asking you to settle a debate, but nice try,” Pollux says.

“Well, shit. That one usually works.” He flicks still-tired eyes around the room, smiling when his gaze rests on Nico. Nico rolls his eyes, willing down the heat to his cheeks. Judging by the teasing edge Will’s grin takes, it does not work. “Whattaya need, then?

“The chariot,” Nyssa says. “Vans are breaking down again. I need a part from a shop in Roanoke.”

Will straightens. “Like, now?”

“In the next day or so, yeah.”

“There’s a strawberry delivery on Saturday,” Miranda pipes up. “So sooner rather than later.”

Will nods. “Yeah, that works. Hell, I can probably be back by —” he checks his watch — “late tonight, honestly. Just gimme the part number and —”

“I kind of meant that I could go,” Nyssa interrupts, looking at him strangely. “I know what the part looks like. I just need to borrow the chariot.”

Will presses his clasped hands to his face, inhaling deeply.

“I would absolutely love to lend you the chariot blessed by my father who has gone totally silent,” he begins, in a tone that makes Nico think that he would not, actually, absolutely love to lend out the chariot blessed by his father who has gone totally silent, “only that the last time I lent someone this super important chariot it came back in pieces.”

“I remember.” Nyssa levels him with a look. “I fixed it.”

“Exactly! So you appreciate how much I would like it to not be broken. In fact —”

“Alright,” Chiron interrupts, holding up a hand. “You’ve made your point, Will, the errand is yours. Choose a buddy to lower the chances of you dying and check in before you leave.”

Predictably, this choice is not well-recieved. Because why would things be easy?

“Totally not fair,” Sherman protests, the loudest of all complainers. “Will’s no less likely to break it just because his cabin thinks they own it —”

“Finish that thought and I will curse you in twelve different ways for the next eight months, Sherman.”

The Ares counsellor snaps his mouth shut, sensing the new, hardened edge in Will’s voice. “Noted.”

“He’s got a point, though,” Damien hedges. At Will’s glare — boy, is that chariot a sensitive topic, Nico is noticing — he holds his hands up, shrugging his shoulders. “We draw straws for small errand-quests, Will, you know that. It’s not fair that you just get to call dibs.”

Will takes a long, slow breath, fingers pressed to his temples. When he looks back up, his expression is flatter than the entirety of the Midwest, jaw set and eyebrow raised. He narrows his eyes, contemplating, then clearly comes to a decision, nodding to himself. Everyone watches with bated breath as he climbs up to stand on his chair, folds his hands together, clears his throat, and says, voice carefully controlled, “Who can guess how many surgeries I’ve done in the last week?”

For a long moment it’s so silent that Nico can hear every rustled shirt as people fidget, every aborted cough and uncomfortable swallow. Will’s eyes are piercing, and he takes the time to stare at every individual counsellor until they meet his eyes, squirming, and look immediately away.

Nico’s impressed. Sometimes he forgets how godsdamn rigid Will’s backbone is.

Finally, someone offers a guess.

“One?”

“Try four,” Will corrects, smile more like a bare of teeth. “I have not had a circadian rhythm since I was thirteen years old. I sleep when I can. And yet, somehow, you clumsy fucks manage to near kill yourself at the exact moment my subconscious even considers approaching REM sleep, every single time, and then I get to spend my next several hours piecing your sorry ass back together by hand, since hymns barely work right now. If I have to see another surgical pin I am going to stab it through someone’s eye. Am I making a point?”

No one answers.

“‘Cause I can make it clearer,” Will drawls.

“No need,” Chiron says hastily. “The quest remains yours, so long as there are no further objections.”

Wisely, no one speaks up.

“Perfect. Nyssa, if you’ll stay behind with me to iron out some details, everyone else — dismissed.”

The tense air immediately evaporates as people practically spring out of their seats, sprinting for the door. Nico is among the last to leave, having to stay and stop several fleeing demigods to collect his wares. On his way out, a heavy arm slings over his shoulders, and he’s suddenly enveloped by the intoxicating scent of lavender body wash and pure sunshine.

“Get off me, Solace,” he complains immediately, coming up to wrap his hand around Will’s forearm in the guise of shoving him off. Will is entirely unfazed, holding him tighter.

“But I have a proposal.”

“Take it elsewhere.” He ducks out of Will’s hold and sweeps his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling with an oof. Unfortunately, he doesn’t look any less sunny and smiley from the ground, somehow making it work for him, actually. He settles against the soft grass, sighing, hair fanning out like a golden halo. He pats the spot next to him, eyes fluttering shut as he basks in the late morning sun, and Nico swallows roughly, joining him.

“You wanna come with me to Roanoke?”

“Yes,” Nico says automatically. Will grins, and he flushes. “I mean, I guess if I have to. Loser.”

“Ever so grateful, Neeks.”

“You should be.”

He keeps his voice prim and superior, attempting to uphold his image, and since he is delusional he convinces himself he’s successful. Will, though, is entirely undeterred, lazy smile still on his face and arms stretched above his head, the picture of unbothered. A sliver of skin shows where the hem of his shirt rises and Nico ignores it. He doesn’t even glance at it, or the glint of Will’s belly-button piercing, at all. Nor is he aware of Will’s shorts riding up, or the curve of his calves as he crosses his legs. All of these things go unnoticed. Obviously.

“I have a proposal for you, if you’re done checking me out.”

Nico shoves his flaming face in his knees. “Did you know that in all the corners of the Earth I have been to, I’ve only encountered three things uglier than you?”

Will’s grin only gets wider. His eyes, even, start to get squinty as the force of his smile squishes his cheeks. Entirely unsubtly, because Will is the least subtle person alive, he reaches out and sends a wave of calming energy into Nico’s body, slowing his rapid heart rate.

“…Right.”

“Three things, Solace.”

“Of course, of course.” He removes his hand, graciously allowing Nico the space to breathe and remind his lungs that their job is not voluntary. “I’ll come pick you up in a half hour? Wear a jacket.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Nico pauses. “Yes.”

“Stellar.”

“God, you say such nerdy things unironically. How do you have friends?”

“I dunno.” He gets to his feet, brushing the dirt and grass from his shorts. “You tell me.” He leans down and presses a smacking kiss to Nico’s hair. Nico presses his fingers into his eyeballs until they hurt, screaming silently into his palms.

He waits until the smacking sounds of Will’s stupid flip-flops retreat before braving the world outside his little ball of misery, squinting at his retreating form.

“I think I should get a lobotomy,” he says out loud to himself, because, realistically, if his braincells are already spilling out of his ears like loose quarters every time Solace so much as smiles at him then there’s not much to lose, is there? and stomps off to his own cabin.

Out of spite, he chooses the New York Giants jacket he got from Percy, just because he knows Will hates it.

That’ll show him who’s bossing who around.

Totally.

———

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tunatoge · 9 months

Text

only human - satosugu x reader

content: GN!reader, mentions of nudity (reader and geto are shirtless, no actual smut), mentions of scarring, sort of angsty with a fluffy ending, gojo realizes how mortal you and geto are.

the first time gojo sees you and geto topless after riko’s death, he’s astounded at how human the two of you are. the both of you are littered in scars: the entirety of geto’s torso is marred with a large, puffy ‘x’ and your torso is covered in scars of varying sizes. the both of you seem indifferent of each others’ scars but gojo can’t help but frown at the way the two of you show so many signs of mortality while his body is completely untouched.

you bring your shirt up to your nose and sniff it cautiously, pulling away with a little curl of your lip. as you toss it into your hamper you look over at gojo. he absentmindedly frowns as his blue eyes rake over your body.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, sliding a tank top over your head and stepping out of your dirty pants. you kick them into your hamper, narrowly kicking geto in the process.

gojo sighs as he flops down on your twin sized mattress, his feet dangling off the edge as he watches intently as you and geto change out of your summer uniforms. he’s completely shirtless and in a pair of striped navy shorts, his other clothes left in a heap by the foot of your bed.

“nothing,” he says, turning his reddening cheeks into your sheets and enveloping himself in the scent of detergent and your cheap perfume.

geto frowns as he digs through your closet and pulls out one of his stolen t-shirts. “is it because of the scars?” he asks as he eyes the shirt in his hands. “hey, when did you take this?” he turns to you as you dig around in a plastic drawer for shorts.

you peek up at geto, taking in his bare torso as he runs a hand along his lower stomach and scratches an area above his belly button. you glance at the shirt he’s holding out to you.

“i dunno.” geto rolls his eyes as he takes the shirt in both of his hands and flips it back and forth. “don’t think it’s gonna fit you anymore,” you say as you give up looking for a pair of clean shorts and pounce on gojo in your tank top and underwear. “guess you gotta go shirtless, that’s too bad,” you sarcastically lament, giggling to yourself.

geto rolls his eyes and watches as you roll over onto your side and prop your head up in your hand, watching as he tosses the shirt back into your closet and joins you and gojo on your overly small bed.

“so, why’re the scars bothering you, pretty boy?” you ask after geto lays down next to you. you roll on top of gojo’s bare back as you shape your hands into a telescope-like shape and stare up at the popcorn ceiling. “are they sexy?” you stick your tongue out as you trace your hand telescope along the water damaged ceiling.

geto chuckles tiredly, running his hand along your legs and pinching at the skin of your inner thigh. you smack his hand away before flipping over, forgetting about your little hand telescope and water damaged ceiling. you tuck your head into the crook of gojo’s neck, blowing cold air into the shell of his ear before pressing a kiss to his neck.

“do they bother you guys?” gojo asks as he turns his head and watches geto trace aimless shapes on your bare skin, his hand inching closer and closer to your ass. “do they still hurt?”

you let out a surprised hum before pulling away from gojo’s ear, “well… not really,” you say. “i think they’re kinda cool but sometimes the really big ones—the ones that were caused by really bad things like he-who-shall-not-be-named—give off some sorta’ phantom pain.” you twirl gojo’s snowy hair in between your fingers, ignoring the way geto fully kneads his fingers into your ass.

“sometimes the one on my chest hurts,” geto admits as he stops squeezing your bum and pulls you off of gojo and onto him. he wraps his arms tightly around your waist as he nuzzles his face into your shoulder, leaving a playful bite on the expanse of skin. “but i’ve always had y/n come and help me through it. it makes it more bearable that way.”

you shove geto’s face with a playful groan, “but wait… don’t you also have a scar, sato’? from when you first used rct?” you look over at gojo as he scoots closer to the edge and lets you roll into the small space between him and geto.

gojo shakes his head. “no, it vanished after my fight with toji.” you reach forward and brush his hair above his eyebrow upwards.

“huh,” you say, “it really is gone.” you settle his hair back down and tuck a strand behind his ear. you glance at geto who watches you fondly through tired eyes. “do you wish it stayed?” you ask as you turn to look at gojo again.

gojo swallows. no one asked him that when they found out his reverse cursed technique didn’t leave scars, they always told him he was lucky that his pretty face wasn’t marred or ruined.

“i don’t know,” he says, “do you wish it stayed?” he’s entirely ready for you to say no, that you’re glad it didn’t stay and ruin his face.

“mm… maybe a little,” you say instead, quickly glancing behind you when geto presses his palm into your shirt. he grins into your shoulder as you huff and turn back to gojo. “it would’ve proved that you’re human just like me, suguru, shoko, nanami… y’know?”

gojo nods slowly as he takes in your words.

“scar or no scar, you’re still human anyways, satoru,” geto says as he looks over your shoulder at gojo. he pulls his hand out from under your tank top and reaches forward, gently pushing gojo’s bare shoulder. “you’re just like the rest of us, even if you’re the strongest.”

you nod in agreement as you hike your leg over gojo’s hip, wiggling into a more comfortable position. “you love like a human, too,” you say without thinking, cuddling into gojo’s chest and closing your eyes as the summer heat overtakes your senses.

gojo sharply inhales at your words as he reaches up and gently slides his hands under the back of your tank top, rubbing circles into your skin as geto leans over and presses a soft kiss to gojo’s forehead where the scar should be.

“you’re still human, satoru, just like the rest of us.”

#vians.scribbs #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x reader x geto #geto x y/n #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #satosugu x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader fluff #geto x reader

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woso-dreamzzz · 4 months

Text

Snow

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first snow

You're dressed in the cutest snow suit possible with little black booties that make it very difficult for you to walk but you look like a marshmallow and Pernille thinks that's adorable.

"Okay," She says to you, zipping up the suit and shoving a green Wolfsburg beanie on your head.

You're still very little but you can walk now so Pernille takes your hand tight in her own and swings the door open.

It reached freezing last night and a large layer of snow covers the ground. You've never seen snow before and it makes you all wiggly in excitement.

You grunt out your frustration of Pernille still holding your hand. You kind of want to touch the white stuff. It's annoying you that Momma isn't letting you do it.

She laughs slightly before falling back. You fall on top of her, your movement made awkward by the layers of clothes she's dressed you in.

"This is snow, princesse," She explains to you, picking up some of the powdery white stuff and letting you touch it.

It's cold and it's a little crunchy under your hands. You grab a handful and smush it together. You know that it's really cold because you're wearing mittens and you can still feel it.

You kind of like the feeling and you move to high-five the ground while you giggle hysterically.

Momma laughs with you before flopping down properly and moving her legs and arms.

"It's a snow angel," She says before repeating the words in Danish, Swedish and German.

Pernille's trying to bring you up multilingual. She's not entirely sure if it's working but she's trying. She speaks just Danish in the house with you, a combination of German and English when outside and then Swedish when Magda's on the phone.

She hopes it isn't too confusing for you but, to be honest, you're not really paying attention to her right now, too focussed on sticking your hands in the snow and throwing it around.

"Snow angel," Pernille repeats just in case you passively take it in, repeating it firmly in all languages before helping you sit so you can one too.

Your clothes stop a lot of your motions so it looks a lot more like a blob than anything else but you seem happy enough with it, reaching down to swipe more snow.

"Hey, no," Pernille says quickly when it looks like you're going to put the snow in your mouth," We don't eat it. It's not food."

You stare blankly at her and move to put your snow covered mittens back in your mouth.

Pernille laughs as she pulls your hand away. You look a little annoyed at that but she distracts you easily by throwing a little heap of snow at your belly. You look down at where she's hit you, shocked like you never even thought that this was something you could do.

You touch the front of your suit with a little open mouth. You clumsily lean down to scoop up your own pile and throw it right at Pernille's face. Your aim is a little off though and it just spatters against her chest.

Pernille laughs and throws more at you.

You decide that this is a fun game and grapple to get more. None of them are ever made into proper snowballs, more like little handfuls of powder than anything else. There isn't much force in your throws either but Pernille plays along, letting every hit make her fall flat on her back and pretend to be wounded.

You must find this incredibly funny because you giggle hysterically every time she does so before flopping on top of her to check that she's just playing around and you haven't actually hurt her.

You roll around in the snow with her a few more times, making your blob-shaped snow angels but your head snaps up when a voice you recognise speaks.

"Well, don't you look all nice and cosy as a marshmallow?"

You don't understand all her words but you recognise the voice. You try to get up quickly but Momma's dressed you in lots of clothes so you fall straight onto your back.

You whine, holding your arms up.

Morsa pops up in your vision and immediately takes you into her arms, holding you nice and close like you love.

Pernille watches on, dusting herself off before wandering closer. "You're early. I thought you said that your flight wasn't until this afternoon."

"I got on an earlier one," Magda replies, still holding you against her body," I missed you both."

"We missed you too," Pernille says, pressing a kiss to her partner's lips softly.

"How has she been?" Magda asks," Good?"

"Like an angel."

"I can see that." Magda tilts her head to the you-shaped blobs on the snow. "But she's looking a little cold. How about we go back inside and warm up?"

Magda doesn't wait for an argument and leads the charge back inside. You seem especially happy when she strips you of all your layers and lets you walk around with your little toy walker.

It's with practised precision that Magda whips up two hot chocolates for her and Pernille that they drink while you wander about on your wobbly little legs.

At some point, you end up holding Magda's knee and try to climb up onto her. She has to put her drink to the side to pick you up. You lean forward to leave a breathy kind of kiss on her cheek before you completely crash out on her chest.

Magda fondly pushes your hair out of your face, soothed by the soft puffs of your breathing against her collarbone.

"She's exhausted," Pernille says, throwing Magda the baby blanket to wrap you in," I think she got a bit too excited about the snow."

"There's no such thing as too excited," Magda denies, wrapping you up nice and tight. She bites at her lip and glances down the hall to where your crib is waiting for you.

"Don't," Pernille warns as if she senses Magda's thought process," She goes down in the crib for naps, you know this."

Magda pouts. "Oh, Pernille, please? I haven't seen her in so long-"

"Literally last week."

"-Can't you let me keep her a little longer?"

Pernille sighs with such a strong eye roll that it's a wonder that they don't permanently get stuck in her skull. "Fine but you're in charge of dinner with her tonight. She can get you all messy instead of me."

Magda doesn't really care about that though as she tightens her grip ever so slightly to make you more secure. She adjusts her positioning so she's lying down with her feet in Pernille's lap and you're properly laying on her.

"You're going to stay right here," She whispers," Right here with Morsa."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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diejager · 4 months

Note

Okay so this is a character I have in the works but I'd love your interpretation.

What about a BunnyDragon!reader being introduced into the monster!141? Long drooping ears, a friendly temperament, spewing green flames that bring life and heal things rather than destroying them. But their claws and teeth just as sharp and deadly as any other dragon.

Rabid Cw: reader being a menace, fire, pyromaniac, tell me if I missed any.

Laughing, you dashed off, away from the mess you four created out of sheer boredom, green flames sparking and lingering on the corner of your lips were the only proof people had to link you to the few burning heaps around the base. Your ears flopped as you ran and hopped away, a skip in your feet and a bright smile splitting your face, flashing sharper than usual teeth at people who stood in your way. They all parted, little chuckles leaving their lips when they saw you, all used to your little pranks, the sly and mischievous gleam in your eyes when you got bored and the loud steps that followed you closely, either Price, Laswell or another superior chasing after you to scold you.

“Spread out!”

You separated from the others, taking your own path from the fork. Spreading out meant that it’d take more time to catch each and every one of you to bring to Price’s office, wasted time meant that you stalled your punishment and burned through Price’s anger and disappointment. You would rendezvous back on the roof or the airfield once you’d waited out long enough, or Price would hound you back to his office for a verbal lesson on behaving and not giving him and Laswell paperwork.

Which seemed to be your situation after he sent the others to find you, Soap brought back by the scruff by Ghost, Gaz by a stalking Horangi, Rudy by a snickering Alejandro and you by a touchy König. You sat on the armrest of the worn couch, giving space for your wings to breathe and flutter behind you, occasionally moving to soothe the small ache; and your tail to sway, moving back and forth on the floor like a dog wagging it’s tail. There was a slight excitement in your body, to see how Price would react to this stunt you pulled, bigger in scale and more obnoxious with the bright flowers and lively faun that bloomed after your flames died down.

“Want to explain it to me before we start?”

You all shared a look, seconds spent staring to convey a silent message that you all agreed on and that left you to work your magic. You gave him a cheeky grin, watching his eyes narrow and his arms cross before you stared your little explanation, going onto the blandness of the base, the sheer boredom you all felt and having to find something to occupy yourself with. You could feel disappointment ooze off Price in waves, his furrowed brows and shaking head to the small snickers and laughs from the men who caught you.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Price sighed, stepping away from his desk and moving towards you with big and quick strides.

You only smiled up at him, gazing at him through squinted and amused eyes, head perked up to his bowed figure, face nearing yours with a stoic expression.

“But you love me,” you let slip out, feeling especially cheeky and proud of your work, bringing life to a grey area.

“But I love you,” he agreed with a small smile, hitting your horns with his, a display of love and affection for dragons, “Doesn’t mean you’re not getting punished, any of you.”

Taglist : @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts

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lazyjellyfish300 · 3 months

Text

I'm Here.

Miguel O'Hara x Fem reader

Synopsis: Miguel is here to help fix your back pain. Fluff ensues. 💕🖤 Word count: 2k

A/N: for the lovely @ilovetoomanymen . Thanks for the inspiration! I ran across one of their posts with this prompt in mind and decided to give it a go. Hope you like it. 😁🫶🏽 Cuddles with Mig would be soooo heavenly. Mrpmphhhhjj. This was written for fem pov, but besides the gendered terms the story could be enjoyed by anyone.

TW: established relationship, back pain, crying, fluff, some heavy kisses

Miguel sighs loudly as his mask dissipates, rubbing his temples as he shuffles towards your shared bedroom, nearly tripping over the jam-packed laundry basket with a mountain of clothes that's now begun to lean lopsided, until he knocked it slightly, sending the underwear, shirts, and dirty sheets on top into a heap on the floor with Miguel rolling his eyes in annoyance.

He kicks a stray sock off his foot and opens the door carefully with a small creak. The TV is playing your favorite show, but it's long forgotten, the autoplay on its sixth or seventh episode by now, no longer following the plot. You're sprawled out in the middle of the bed, sheets askew. You let out a small groan, your sweatpants you're wearing are starting to ride up on one leg, socks mismatched, your hoodie is making your skin itch but you're in too much pain and feel too lazy to move. Your hair is wild and one of your arms is covering both of your eyes as it lays across your face. You dip slightly as Miguel sits on the bed next to your torso, the soreness of your back triggered by the mild disturbance and you let another loud groan escape, this one slightly more dramatic than the previous.

Miguel raises an eyebrow, one of his hands gently pulling at your arm that's covering your eyes, wanting to have you look at him. "Looks like both of us had a shitty day, huh?" A very faint chuckle rolls from his chest as he notices your arm flops like a dead fish, but his eyes grow slightly wide in alarm when he notices your eyes are wet. Your glistening lashes blink rapidly at him as more tears build up in your irises below, gravity already causing some to leak out of the corners, racing down your face and grazing your ears, the temperature warm, the feeling salty, your face puffy indicating this wasn't the first time today you cried.

¿Qué pasa? ¿Por qué lloras, mi alma? (What happened? Why are you crying, my soul) Miguel murmurs, laying on his stomach as he cups your face in his hands, looking down at you as you look up at him, his face upside down in your vision because of how you're positioned.

You shake your head with a small sniffle, one of your hands pawing weakly for the tissue box that lay next to you. Miguel reaches over, taking the box and offers you one. You greedily pull out one after another, Miguel's brows raising slightly at how many tissues you could possibly need. You sit up, a pained wince flashing across your face as you blow furiously into the Kleenex bouquet.

Miguel watches you patiently as you furiously rub your nose, your breath shaky as it exits and you turn and look at your boyfriend fully for the first time. "My back is killing me."

Miguel's eyes flicker across your form, as though he was trying to search for the spot that was giving you trouble. "Where?"

"Everywhere..." you whine feebly, a scowl appearing on your face as you go to lay backwards again. "I slept on it funny last night...I had to call off work today because there was no way I could do everything in this much pain..." You suck in air between your teeth as you try and shift positions and move the pillows.

Miguel sits up, trying to stop you from overexerting yourself. "Hey...hey..." He drags a pillow to your front, patting it so it's nice and fluffed, flipping it to the colder side. "First of all....you shouldn't lay directly on your back if it's hurting, mi vida..."

You brace yourself for more pain to radiate through your body, squinting as you gently lower yourself down, laying on your favorite side. Miguel places both hands on either side of you, guiding your head to the pillow which you hit with a gentle sigh. The cold temperature of the fabric brushing your face in a satisfying feeling that tickles your brain, soft purrs of contentment leaving your lips. Miguel smiles and hums, one of his hands sliding down your hip as he gently lifts your knee, propping another pillow between them for support.

"That better...?" he asks in a soothing tone, careful not to make his voice too loud and disrupt the pain-free trajectory you were finally on after hours of discomfort.

"Much better, baby...thank you."

"You're welcome, baby..." He presses a soft kiss into your cheek which you answer with a faint twitch of your mouth.

Miguel's eyes wander to your overcrowded nightstand, the space being taken up by empty bottles, plastic drink tumblrs, bobby pins and a couple of your favorite books you keep forgetting to finish. "You been drinking enough water?"

"Mmm..." you lazily answer, the cozy position you were laying in already making your eyes droopy, your mind struggling to form coherent thoughts to audible sentences. "Yeahhh kiindaa.."

Miguel shakes his head and gets your water cup off the night table, brushing all the empty bottles into your mini trash can, carefully creeping across the room and down the hall to get you a fresh glass.

Once he's back, he sets the glass in the nightstand, gently waking you up for you to take several generous sips before you get comfy again. Miguel brings the bed comforter over you, tucking your feet in like a human burrito. "Where you going, babe?" You ask him, your voice a little sad at the thought of him leaving you already.

Miguel gives you a soft look, crouching down to your level next to the bed. Crimson irises flicker with tender study as they look back into your own. "I was gonna see if you needed anything else?"

You shake your head, one of your hands reaching behind his head, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck, making his face go warm. "Just you..."

Miguel gives you a dazzling smile, standing up and walking to the other side of the bed. He lays behind you in the spoon position, being careful not to press too forcefully against you and hurt your back again. He props himself up on his elbow, looking down at you, running his fingertips across the side of your face, tracing the outline of your body as you squeak out a small yawn.

"Rub my back, please?" You ask, closing your eyes. Miguel nods, sitting up, gesturing for you to reposition so you're on your tummy. You wince again as you lay on your stomach, Miguel positions himself over you so his knees are in between the gaps in your legs, lowering his upper body so he's hovering and careful not to press too much weight onto you.

He brings both hands to your shoulder blades, working his palms into a gentle caress on the skin below. You suck air between your teeth, jerking your head slightly upwards in pain with a whimper.

Miguel tilts his head in concern, "I hurt you?"

You nod a little, pressing your cheek back into the pillow. "It's okay..."

"Pobrecita..." (Poor thing) Miguel murmurs, moving his hands away from that spot for now, working on the other areas of your back.

Miguel's not a stranger to back pain, although his physical ailments he's dealt with are usually few and far between after his transformation into a Spider person. If he is feeling crummy he doesn't need to deal with it for long, thanks to his enhanced ability to heal. The scientist he is, he loved anatomy and studied muscle groups, incorporating it into his trainings and used the knowledge to help him maintain his envious physique. Now, he was transferring what he knew into this moment as he began his massage on your tender back.

He hummed quietly as he worked on you, calloused hands from climbing, webbing, and fighting normally tense and rough handling you as though you were made of glass and paper. Gently kneading, skillfully transferring weight between different parts of his hand, murmuring to you in a sweet tone, checking to make sure you were doing alright, that he wasn't overwhelming you, that he was handling you gently and properly rubbing the muscles without triggering your pain.

Your skin utterly melted under his touch. His hands the brush and your back morphing into something of a canvas. Your chest gently heaved, breaths becoming more relaxed, more content as you just allowed your discomfort to leave you and he soaked it up like a sponge. You could feel the tension and worry being tugged out of your body with each ginger press of his fingers. You could never get over the way this seemingly intimidating man to those who didn't know him seemed to evolve into the biggest sweetheart who wouldn't hurt a fly the moment you entered his orbit.

You were dissipating at this point, your skin and your body rendered to a liquid underneath this man. He stayed silent, save it for his soft murmurs and your gentle purrs of satisfaction. He looked at you when you weren't looking like you were responsible for putting the breath in his lungs, a quiet sense of pride making him feel warm all over when he saw how successful he was at making you feel better. His sweet girl.

When you were fully satisfied with his work and your pain much more manageable, he shifted so he was laying behind you once again. You felt an emptiness when you could no longer sense him above you. "Miggy..."

"I'm here." He reassures. His tone dulcet. "I'm here...." he coos again. Mellifluous, soothing melody that silenced all your fears and put them to sleep. You exhaled as you felt his body press against yours in the bed, making yourself small against him. His strength wrapping you up like a hug.

He pulled you closer to him, a fuzzy feeling running through his veins at the outline of you. A shape he could never get used to, a pattern he became an expert in. Handling and taking care of your body was a job he'd gladly accept and take ownership in. It made him feel special, the way you so trustfully lent yourself to him, though he knew how stubborn you could be. You all but turned to putty in his hands.

He rests his chin in the crook of your neck, letting the silence between you amplify in tranquility when the gentle patter of raindrops begins to beat against the window. He presses soft kiss after kiss into your temple, the plump feeling of his lips on your skin is too sweet to resist. You gently roll over, meeting his kiss and he groans feebly, his turn to become completely helpless under the tenderness of your touch.

You lay there and kiss him, your fingers tangling themselves in his tousled locks, the soft moan you release in his mouth causing him to respond by lightly sliding his tongue into your mouth. You oblige, the kiss deepening, making him sigh. His pleasant noises leaving you with a healthy dose of desire, your pain all but a distant memory at this point.

He pulls away for a moment and you shift your face closer to his, your gazes become intertwined for several intimate moments.

"I love you, you know that....?" you ask softly.

Miguel places a hand on your hips, his thumbs leaving tiny circles, gradually finding residence underneath your hoodie so he can feel your bare skin. His touch sending a tiny pulse of electricity up your spine. He leans in closer, "I sure do, beautiful..."

He plants a kiss in the middle of your forehead. "Te quiero tanto, mi cielo(I love you so much, my sweetheart)..." He murmurs against your skin, the tremor of his voice calming your soul.

"Mi cielo..."(My sweetheart) He presses another kiss, this time on your cheekbone, gently dragging his lips down to yours, a trail of adoration on your face. You lock lips with him again, softly sighing and moaning, both your hands and his all over the other's body, raindrops persistent on the roof of your little apartment, light slowly draining, leaving the sky a murky gray, his lips the only thing keeping you grounded in this moment as your heart stirs alongside his in your cozy bed.

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