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marvelwitchergilmore · 4 months ago

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Sleeping, Dancing and Mistletoe

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Times when people found evidence that you and Logan were possibly a couple, and the one time you both finally confirmed it.

Disclaimer: Mostly fluff, mentions/illusions to sex, Logan checking you out. Couple of swear words here and there. This has been unfinished in my drafts for at least a week so...yeah. This is finished. little Christmas at the end. Not Proof Read.

For what felt like the thirtieth time in the hour, you turned over with a huff and pressed your pillow to your ears, trying to muffle the sounds coming from next door.

And just as it finally died down, you sighed and was just about to thank some ancient being for hearing your prayers when…it started again.

“That’s it.”

Changing out of your longer pyjama bottoms and into some sleep shorts, you made your way out of your room, keeping your footsteps as quiet as you could until the noises faded away and you started to reach your intended room.

Opening up the door, you found exactly what you were looking for.

Shaking his shoulder as he lay on his stomach, you whispered his name, hoping he’d hear you.

“Logan.” You shook him for a third time. “Logan.”

Nothing.

With another sigh, you slapped his face gently and said his name once more, a little louder and firmer.

“Logan.”

Finally, he groaned. “What?”

His voice was muffled by his pillow but you could hear him just well enough. Or maybe you were just used to his grunts that they were starting to become their own language you could understand.

“Move over. I’m sleeping here tonight.”

“What’s wrong with your bed?”

“Nothing.”

“Then go and sleep there.” Logan turned his head away from you and scrunched up his pillow beneath his head.

“I can’t. My neighbours have decided tonight is Valentine’s Day 2.0.”

You pushed half of his body with your hands until he finally got the cue to turn over.

“Too much information.”

You shook your head, “Too much information is what I’ve been hearing for the last hour.”

Finally, Logan rolled onto his back, his covers covering his bottom half, and groaned. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

Logan straightened himself in his bed, giving you room to get in beside him. And the minute you touched his covers, you were glad you had changed into shorts.

Logan was like a furnace. Just constant heat radiating from his body and for as much as it, at times, got too hot to stand near him, he was also, in your opinion, the best person to fall asleep beside.

“Just shut up and go to sleep.”

Laying on your side, it wasn’t long until you closed your eyes, thankful that you could hear nothing other than Logan’s steady breathing and the distant clock down the hall that was forever ticking.

However, just before you fully drifted off, you felt Logan’s hand take hold of yours and you smiled.

He could be gruff all he liked, but when it came to you, he could be a softie.

By the time morning rolled around, Storm was in search of both yourself and Logan. So, when she found your bed empty and cold, she figured Logan would know where you were.

But he was asleep.

Right beside you.

Storm leaned against the door frame for a while, taking in the picture in front of her.

Logan was fast asleep, something that was a miracle in itself, with you right beside him, your head turned towards the windows in his room, his own looking towards you, all the while, his arm slung over your midsection and one of your own hands, holding his.

“Storm- what are you- Oh.”

Jean looked inside.

“Looks like someone had a good night.” She smiled before looking back at Storm. “Do you think we can finally ask if they’re together?”

“I’d say this is confirmation enough.”

You shifted in your sleep as did Logan, and the two girls hid behind the corner for a moment.

You turned your head and the rest of your body towards Logan, all the while his arm held you in a stronger grip and pulled you towards him.

It took you a moment but you finally opened your eyes, adjusting to the light before your vision finally cleared on a sleeping Logan.

For a moment, you allowed the hand between you both to reach up and brush the stray hairs from his eyes. It was rare you ever got to see Logan this…calm.

Serene.

Rested.

Unknowingly, you started to run your left thumb over Logan’s arm that still held onto you.

Then his fingers twitched, running over the exposed skin at the bottom of your back.

“Are you watching me sleep?” His voice was rough, the first words in the morning.

“Not anymore,” you smiled, brushing the final parts of his hair out of his face.

“Thanks for letting me stay.”

Then a cough came from the door.

Logan groaned. “Is this a new hobby; watching people sleep?”

Jean and Storm laughed from the door. “You two look cosy.”

You lifted your head and glared at Jean. “There is one reason I’m here. Maybe I think it’s time you make an investment in soundproof walls.”

Jean turned a little red and Storm laughed.

“Look, we’ve got a busy day. You can kiss your boyfriend later.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you called out just as Logan called; “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Storm and Jean nodded and just as Jean snapped a picture, she sent it to both yourself and Logan as they walked away.

“Sure.”

Leaning up, Logan reached for his phone to see the notification pop up before he placed it back down and you climbed out of bed.

“They’re got a point.”

“About us being a couple?”

You threw a t-shirt at Logan. “Having a busy day.”

Logan laughed a little, scrubbing his face as he watched you leave his room before he reached behind him and took hold of his phone once more.

Jean and Storm were right.

From the picture…they did look like a couple.

A couple of days passed and you were sitting in the quiet living room, the fires on both sides roaring.

All classes had been finished for two days and some kids had returned home for the holidays, which meant you had some free time on your hands.

And for you, that meant finally reading.

Until you sensed someone stood behind you.

“If you want to know what happens, you could just ask me.”

Logan plucked the book from your hands and circled around the sofa before coming to sit down beside you.

“Logan! Give it back.”

“I want to see what it’s about.”

You sighed and sat up, “It’s a romance, Logan.”

“A romance?” Logan had a hint of a smirk on his face. “Like the…trashy kind?”

“Like the romantic kind.”

Logan looked at you and smiled. “The trashy kind.”

You rolled your eyes and took the book back from him, leaving him to fix the blanket so it rested over both of you. He placed his arm over the back of the sofa, allowing you to lean into him, whether you noticed you were doing so or not.

“Just because you might not believe in romance, doesn’t mean the rest of us are the same.”

“I believe in romance.”

“Yeah, right.”

Logan couldn’t help but smile. “What?”

“The Wolverine,” you said with a deep voice. “Believes in romance?”

Logan nodded. “Occasionally.”

“Occasionally?”

“Do you just like repeating everything I say?”

You nodded and smiled. “Occasionally.”

Logan rolled his eyes and took the book back from you and read a line out loud.

“People really talk like this?”

You leaned into Logan. “No, but in a book it’s not so bad. Go on, read some more.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You nodded. “You’re like my own personal audiobook.”

Logan gave a short smile before getting a little cosier and continued reading out loud.

It wasn’t long before Logan found you asleep against him and he shifted in order to avoid you getting a crick in your neck.

“Keep reading.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Now I’m awake.”

“Fine, just be quiet.”

You gave a fake salute. “Yes, sir.”

Holding his arm around your body that was pressed between himself and the sofa, Logan quickly kissed the top of your head and went back to reading.

And ten minutes later, you were asleep.

And so was he.

An hour passed before someone found either of you, but this time, it was Scott and Bobby.

“They might be in- oh. What do we have here?”

“Oh my god, Rouge has to see this. I told her they were together.”

Bobby rushed off and soon returned, pulling Rouge with him.

“What is it?” Then she gasped.

“Believe me now?”

And what Rouge saw made her smile.

On the slightly too small sofa for Logan, you lay both between him and the sofa, as well as partly on him with your hand a little over his heart. His head was turned towards you. The blanket had fallen a little, so she reached over and pulled it up both of you before turning around and throwing a log onto the fire.

“Come on, let's leave them.”

“But-”

“No, you are not going to disturb them. Come on.”

Rouge dragged the pair out and closed the door behind her.

The third time people suspected you and Logan were an item was one late evening in October.

Half of the kids were playing outside with all the freshly fallen leaves, whilst some of the older kids helped them find different critters and point them out, and build them habitats. The rest of the kids were either in their rooms or studying.

Save for two.

Bobby and Rouge were hiding outside of the kitchen watching yourself and Logan cook.

“I didn’t even know he knew how to…chop. Let alone cook.”

“You should have more faith in him.”

“Come on, Rouge. You can’t tell me you weren't thinking it, too.”

And she couldn’t. Because she was.

Meanwhile inside the kitchen, Logan was watching you from the kitchen island as he continued chopping the veg.

There was something different about you. From the way you practically danced around the kitchen finding the different items for the recipe, to just…you. Whilst he was (semi) shirtless, just having his zipper hoodie on, along with his jeans and socks. He would have been fully dressed, except you had come and ambushed him in his room – even though you denied the word “ambushed” – to get him to help.

And you were just simply in your pyjamas (of sorts) along with one of his zipper hoodies.

“Bub,”

Logan laid down his knife and walked over to you as you stood by the stove, standing a little higher to see how much water was left in the pot at the back.

You hummed a questioned response, but was met with a question…you didn’t expect.

“Dance with me?”

“What?”

Logan smiled lightly as he pulled the wooden spoon from your hand and pulled you closer to him, despite him walking backwards.

“Come on,” his voice in a light whisper. “Dance with me.”

“Didn’t take you for a dancer.”

Outside the door, Bobby and Rouge mouthed to each other; “They’re dancing.”

And you both were.

Gently swaying to the music for a while, you allowed Logan to lead you around a small space in the centre of the kitchen.

“We’re gonna burn the sauce.”

Logan gave a slight smile at you as he spun you out and back in, “We’re not gonna burn the sauce.”

“Logan.”

“Can’t you ever just enjoy a moment?”

“When that moment doesn’t include burning the house down, yes.”

“Bit of a jump, don’t you think, from burning the sauce.”

“Ha, so you agree. We’re gonna burn the sauce.”

Moving over, Logan turned down the heat on one of the pans before taking your hand back into his. “Now we won’t.”

Bobby and Rouge watched, in shock, the rest.

For one, Logan knew how to dance? Since when? And since when did he…cook and dance in the kitchen? Unless…

Then Logan did something even you didn’t expect.

He dipped you.

You hand tightened its grip on Logan’s arm as you let out a small, if a little nervous, laugh.

Logan had been full of surprises recently. From the impromptu audiobook session in which you woke up in his arms, to him not only dropping off a cup of coffee during your break from teaching but also a freshly baked muffin.

And now he was dancing with you in the kitchen.

And dipping you.

When you had rushed him out of his room to help you cook, you hadn’t expected him to know the recipe for the sauce from the top of his head. Something he just happened to rattle off whilst you were looking for the cooking notebook that should have been in the cupboard beside the oven. Let alone be the one to ask to dance in the kitchen, and dip you.

Bring you back up, both of you gave a slight chuckle as you turned around, the music slowly fading away in the background.

“Logan…”

Looking at him, you forgot what you were going to say.

Had his eyes always had so much green in them?

Logan’s palm became warm against your back as it pressed further into you. Or maybe you pressed further into him and he just held you tighter.

Slowly, your hand left his bicep and trailed towards his chest all the while your eyes studied his face. You’d known him for years and seen him a thousand times or more.

So why did now feel like you were seeing him for the first time? Noticing him? Noticing each particle he was made up of that allowed him to sway with you in the kitchen to the music that had changed on the radio?

Only, before the space between yourself and Logan became any more closer, a noise came from outside the door.

A sneeze.

A sneeze that shocked you and Logan back into reality.

Still holding you, Logan looked towards the door and gave a hint of a smile when he saw the flash of white disappear behind the beam.

Realising what was happening, you lowered yourself back to the ground and slowly stepped out of Logan’s arms. “We should finish up.”

Logan nodded in agreement, however did look back at you when you got back to the stove, not noticing you do the same a few moments later, watching him pick up the rest of the veg and toss it into the collider to be washed.

Time passed and after more music, more conversation - including a burnt tongue from when you had shoved a wooden spoon with fresh sauce on, into Logan’s mouth for him to try - and a lot of scrubbing later, you found Logan sitting inside the library and collapsed next to him.

“Good news, the kids loved the food,” you told Logan. “Double good news; Jean and Scott are on cooking duty tomorrow.”

“Thank fuck.”

“Thank you for helping me.” Turning to look at Logan, you found him already looking.

“You did ambush me.”

“I didn’t ambush you.”

“I wasn’t dressed.” Logan examined himself. “Technically, I’m still not.”

You rolled your eyes with a slight smile. “Fine. Maybe it was a mini, tiny, miniscule ambush.”

You made a small space between your fingers. “Like this big of an ambush.”

Logan looked at you, at your fingers and then back to you in slight disgust before moving your fingers wider with his own.

“That big of an ambush.”

You rolled your eyes and dropped your hand. “And they say us women are dramatic.”

It was Logan’s turn to roll his eyes. However, as he did so, his arm wrapped around you, and pulled you back into him and the sofa.

“Just shut the fuck up for a minute and listen.”

You did so.

“I don’t hear anything.”

“That’s the point.” Logan’s eyes were shut as his head rested on the back of the sofa.

Eventually you gave a shrug and joined him.

An hour later, Storm found you both fast asleep beside one another so with a knowing smile, she found a blanket, covered you both up and closed the door behind her. But not before reminding herself she needed to get verbal confirmation from you both.

She wasn’t handing over any money to Jean and Xavier until she had verbal confirmation of what exactly was going on between you two.

And she didn’t have to wait long…at least in the long run, she didn’t have to wait long.

Until then, there were plenty more incidents of falling asleep next to each other, bringing each other coffee, dancing to music in the kitchen, smiling and laughing – all before she finally got verbal confirmation that the inevitable had finally happened.

Finally, it was acceptable to decorate for Christmas.

Two days prior, Rogue, Logan and Storm had been helping you find all the old decorations in the attic and bring them down. Storm did try then to bribe something out of Rogue, but she apparently was just in the dark as the rest of them.

But the smile she gave when she looked over at Logan, who was placing down another box from the back of the pile for you to take a look at, told Storm something different.

“I can’t believe you leave it this late to decorate.”

Logan looked at you. “We’re still in November.”

“So?”

Taking hold of the garland, you started to climb the ladder. Logan held onto the bottom just to be safe.

“If you had it your way, the decorations would be up all year round.”

“Hey, no.”

“Hey, yes.”

“I’d take them down for…” you tried to think. “Halloween. You’d have a little break.”

Logan didn’t look entirely thrilled. “Halloween is one day.”

“Technically, it’s a month.”

“To you, it’s a month. To the rest of us, it’s a day.”

You looked back at him. “To you it’s a day, to the rest of us it’s a month.”

Then you looked back at the garland. “How does that look?”

“Great from where I’m standing.”

You looked a little confused for a second before quickly looking over your shoulder, realising where Logan was, in fact, looking.

Not at the garland, but at your ass.

You smiled and started to step down the ladder, hitting his shoulder on the way down.

“I meant the garland.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Logan looked up. “Looks great.”

You laughed. “You didn’t even look.”

With a smile as you finally stepped back into his arm, he looked to the side and up. “It looks great.”

“Good. Now,” Logan turned back to look at you and you kissed him quickly. “We have to put up five more.”

“I get to watch you put up five more.”

You smiled. “This is why you’re my favourite person.”

Logan smiled. He could help you with everything else, but when it came to the garland, you had full control on where it went. Which, he didn’t mind. So long as he got to watch you put it up.

You quickly kissed him once more, only to be pulled back when you tried to walk away.

Then Logan gave you a real kiss.

A little dizzy, you smiled and placed a hand on his chest and closed your eyes. “Wow.”

He gave you a quicker, lighter kiss. “You better get going before Rogue comes back with another box of lights.”

“Light?” Then it hit you. “Oh, yeah.”

Logan smirked a little as he watched you walk away and down the hallway.

It was a couple of hours before everyone was in the same room, making the final touches all the while most of the other kids were either playing outside in the snow, were taking naps or decorating their own rooms.

And the others had been watching you and Logan all day.

The stolen glances, the stolen touches, the slightly knowing smiles from both Rogue and Bobby. And then, as Logan was helping you down from the ladder, his hand on your thigh, Bobby went to make the final hammer to hang up the mistletoe.

“Wait, no. Not there.”

“Where then?”

Storm looked around. “I know. Y/n, hang this just above there. We don’t need a remake of Mistletoe Central 1997.”

Logan looked at Storm. “Do I wanna know?”

Storm shook her head. “Here.”

She handed you the mistletoe before Logan passed you the hammer back from his belt.

Three knocks and the nail was set in and the mistletoe was above you on a corner beam, just a little to the side of the christmas tree.

At least this way, those looking for it, would find it.

"Oh, no, wait.” Jean said, looking at you. “Have to kiss someone. It’s tradition. You’re under the mistletoe.”

There was no one else apart from Logan.

Logan looked around at the others. He wondered how long it would take.

Coming up behind you on the ladder, you moved over for him to stand beside you. His palm on your back held you steady and, leaning his other arm on the ledge of the ladder, his hand cupped your face and he kissed you.

Lasting a little longer than the others had expected, you soon heard Rogue giving a little cheer, as well as a couple of whistles from the others.

“Okay, I think they get it.” You whispered to Logan as he finally pulled away, a smile very noticeable on both of your faces.

“Happy now?” Logan asked, turning towards where Jean and Scott were standing.

“That was some kiss.”

You felt yourself blush at the comment. As did Logan.

He helped you back down the ladder before you both turned and really saw the other's expression. As well as the exchanging of money between people.

“Sooo…how long has this been going on?”

You were leaning into Logan, his hand around your back and on your hip.

You looked at Logan, “A couple of months. We’re…what? November now so that would…”

“That would…” Logan counted back in his head. “May…June, July…six months.”

You looked back to the others. “Six months.”

A chorus of shocked faces and loud voices sounded out; “SIX MONTHS?!”

All before a small call from Rogue was made, which made both yourself and Logan smile.

“I knew it!”

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stevebabey · 18 days ago

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you're the only one for me, baby

1.7k, steddie, one of them getting so drunk that they don't recognise the other and telling them back off i've already got a boyfriend, it's all sweetness <3 likely a modern!au and actually just goobers in love

Eddie doesn't really drink. He's not against partying but he's much more attuned to smoking a little weed to take the edge off, sometimes a spliff if he wants to mix a little business and pleasure.

Eddie doesn't really drink—so when he does, it goes about as well as expected.

From zero to a hundred.

Steve had lost track of him after directing his stumbling feet towards the bathroom to take a leak. But apparently, as he's now found out, this bathroom has two doors.

What the fuck kind of bathroom has two doors, like some weird thoroughfare?

Regardless, it took all of five minutes with no noises coming from the inside before Steve had loudly announced he was coming in, no matter what, getting quite worried for his boyfriend.

He trusted Eddie to not be too sloshed to handle a piss, even if he was on the wilder side tonight, but still leaned up against the door to chase off anyone else looking to knock—because Eddie hilariously gets pee-shy.

The door had opened easily, apparently unlocked, and Steve had stepped into the empty bathroom. The other door across the room, the one he hadn't noticed until now, was wide open to the party.

So, now he's on the hunt for Eddie.

Which is a task that feels a little bit like herding cats because drunk Eddie isn't something Steve has a lot of experience with. But what he does know, is this: it's the opposite of high Eddie.

Stoned, Eddie likes to find the comfiest place he can (usually Steve's lap, or so he proclaims) and sink into it, like melting wax. Then, given he has access to adequate snacks, he doesn't move for quite some time.

Drunken Eddie cannot even fathom the concept of sitting still.

Either way, looking where there's food is a good as a place to start as any.

Steve ambles out the strange two-doored bathroom and flips his head back and forth, trying to remember the direction of the kitchen. He hasn't been here before—one of Eddie's band connections—and Steve's still had a couple beers himself.

He shakes his head and takes a left, relieved when it leads to the stairs. Okay, he sort of knows where he's going now. They had only come upstairs to find the quieter bathroom for Eddie.

As Steve reaches the bottom of the stairs, a faint stir of irritation flashes through him. Eddie just left him behind? That wasn't that nice, even if he was incredibly drunk.

He can hear the din of people chattering just above the music and he follows it, leading him into the half-full kitchen, people dotted around. There's a few pizza boxes scattered around and Steve eyes each of them specifically, looking for the tell-tale wipe of Eddie's greasy fingers. No dice.

Steve wrinkles his nose, spinning around and double checking before he moves on.

If not by the food, then... where?

Steve takes a few steps forward into the living room, his heart beginning to sink and shrivel all at once. There was a miserable feeling attached to looking for his partners at a party, a wallowing and awful memory tied to the feeling.

Steve pushes a hand across his chest roughly, as if trying to shove the feeling away.

Eddie wasn't... her. Eddie wouldn't do that.

But the moment he's thought it, it's stuck in his head. Steve's feet begin to speed up, checking a little more carelessly as he starts to stick his head in different rooms, his hazel eyes jumping around. Not Eddie, not Eddie, not Eddie—so many people and none of them are Eddie.

Until—there. Steve spots a very familiar looking behind as it leans over the back of the couch, the owner of said-behind talking to someone sitting on the couch.

He blinks, just to be sure, but the details come into better focus. There's chains on his belt loops and when he shakes his head, Steve can see the curls he loves to bury his hands into.

Eddie.

Steve's relief pulls him forward, his feet almost stumbling, his mouth pulling into a relieved smile. He puts a hand out, fingers spread, across the leather-clad back.

"Eds," Steve says, relief colouring his voice.

Eddie swings up abruptly, pushing himself off the couch. When he turns, a bit of liquid sloshes out of the beer bottle he's holding.

"Heyyy," The words come out a bit slurred and when he finally stands straight, he doesn't look right at Steve. "Handsssss off the merchandise, buddy."

Steve chuckles, reaching out and plucking the bottle from his boyfriend's grasp. Eddie gawps, an adorable little hiccup interrupting his shocked expression.

"Hey," He says loudly, reaching forward for it fruitlessly as Steve pulls it out reach. "That's mine." Eddie whines.

"You've had more than enough, I think." Steve says. He steals just one gulp of it before he turns at puts it on a nearby table. When he turns back, Eddie is frowning at him, brows pulled together tightly and bottom lip jutting out.

"Listen—" Eddie leans forward, jabbing a finger into Steve's chest. "I dunnowhoyouthinkyouare," The words come out in a one big jumble and Steve frowns.

What? Something sour claws into Steve's chest at the frosty greeting.

"Eddie," Steve says, his hazel eyes wide and worried as his gaze darts between Eddie's squinted face and swaying form.

Steve reaches out to put a hand on his waist, aiming to steady him, but Eddie sees it coming and widens his eyes comically. He swerves back to avoid it, his boots tilting dangerously on the wooden floors. If he was still holding his beer, Steve bets half of it would be on the floor by now.

"Wo-oah," Eddie exaggerates, waving a hand out and batting Steve's outstretched arm away. The rottenness in Steve's chest blooms, rancid and freezing. He sucks in a sharp breath.

"Ed—"

"I—" Eddie says, holding up his hand and waggling one finger at Steve, like he's a naughty schoolboy. His words still have that drunken slur to them.

"—already have a boyfriend, thank you very much. He's much too pretty to be throwing it away for the likes of you, you weasel of a man..." His ludicrous and nonsensical insult trails off under his breath as Eddie's attention is drawn away by a shout across the room.

As he watches Eddie drape himself back over the couch, the sourness between Steve's ribs shifts, transforming into something infinitely sweeter. He lets out a dazed laugh, a wild smile spreading on his face before he can smother it beneath his hand.

I'm dating a lunatic, Steve thinks happily.

He reaches out and steals Eddie's beer once more, taking another large swig before giving it another go.

This time, he sidles up beside Eddie who's engaged back in conversation with one of the guys on the couch, and just waits. It only takes a minute before the dude on the couch seems to realise who Steve's waiting for and he nudges Eddie, gesturing behind him.

Eddie, still bent over the back of the couch, twists only his head to look. This time, the recognition is immediate.

He springs up, pushing the couch forward an inch in his excitement and leaps forward, his hands clawing into Steve's shoulder with a fierce delight.

"Steeeeve," Eddie croons, crowding in close. His hands start moving, fingers searching like curious spiders, fingertips dancing along the sensitive skin of Steve's neck til he's squirming back, laughter betraying him.

"Stop it." He laughs. Steve arrests Eddie's wrists in his hand and Eddie cackles, using the pause to surge forward, kissing him square on the mouth.

Eddie tastes like the beer he's been drinking and Steve barely gets a moment to enjoy it before Eddie's pulling back, leaning forward so they're forehead to forehead.

"I was looking for you." Eddie says, his doe eyes wide. His pupils grow larger the longer he stares at Steve.

Steve grins. "Uh huh. Looking for me between the couch cushions, were you?"

Eddie rears back, his head flipping as he stares back at the couch and then back at Steve. "Nuh uh. I came out the bathroom and you were goooone."

That explains it. Eddie must have left out the other door — and then thought Steve had left him behind and gone hunting for him. Something else settles in Steve's chest, relieved.

"And—" Eddie hiccups. "—and some guy tried to- to freakin' flirt with me. Can you believeee?"

Steve's grin widens by a mile. "Is that so? What you'd tell him?"

"No, of course!" Eddie says, head pulled back as if he's appalled Steve would think otherwise. He shakes his hands out of Steve's grip and drops them, fumbling for a moment to get his fingers into Steve's belt loops.

When he does, he yanks Steve forward a tad too forcefully, their bodies colliding in a way that's more sore than sexy. Eddie continues on as if he doesn't notice. "Even if he was particularly tasty," He murmurs, his lips tracing the column of Steve's throat.

"I let him know, baby." Eddie all but purrs.

And perhaps if the competition Eddie was beating off was literally anyone other than himself, Steve would be right there with him.

Instead, he can't contain his snort of laughter. Eddie was perfect; he was a possessive and drunken dog, barking up the wrong damn tree. Steve loves him.

"You're laughing," Eddie states plainly, even as his doe eyes manage to grow even more round. Steve can't help it, it just makes him laugh more.

"Treason." Eddie declares. Then using the belt loops to keep Steve captive, he leans in and blows a raspberry on his neck.

Steve lets out an unattractive squawk, his laughter melting into Eddie's as he pushes his boyfriend's face away — to which Eddie simply lets himself go limp, his face cradled and held up solely by Steve's hands.

"Christ," Steve says between his laughs, shifting his hand to hold him more tenderly. Eddie smiles dopely, then puckers his lips and closes his eyes.

Steve rolls his eyes, entirely too endeared. "Alright, c'mere," He gives in, leaning and kissing Eddie, short and sweet. When he pulls back, Eddie's eyes are open, starry and gazing up at him. He gives a dreamy sounding sigh. Steve's heart fizzles, like it's full of pop-rocks.

"Ready to go?"

"As long as it's with you, baby." Eddie says, sounding every bit like he means it.

#steve asks him if he can remember the other dude in the morning #eddie: i do recall him being distinctly super hot..... [his ass still has no clue]#steve never tells him for the fact that eddie is so chuffed to 1) get hit on and 2) get to defend his relationship #its steve lil secret :-) he does tell robin tho and she laughs so hard soda comes out her nose #i love this silly trope !#even better if they’ve only been together a short -ish time #does eddie ever find out you may ask? why yes he does. at their wedding 😇#if you take anything from this its my headcanon that eddie is pee-shy #it's gooberish but after months and months of 'you're not from around here' i'm okayyyy with that #its nice to have simply written and finished something sillay #steddie #ruby writes steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfiction #steddie fluff #established relationship #steve harrington #eddie munson #if u have more of this trope SENDDDD PLEEEK #eddie rlly is the most in love in this

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queenie-ofthe-void · 4 months ago

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No one's really surprised to see famous rockstar Eddie Munson show up to the 2024 Paris Olympics. His close friendship with three-time medalist gymnast Chrissy Cunningham had the press working over time when the pair were first spotted six years ago leaving a fundraising event.

However, no one can seem to figure out why- in Chrissy's down time- the metal head is frequently spotted at the men's swimming events. Everyone knows Munson's queer, but he's not the type to show up just to oggle some poor, unsuspecting athletes (he is, but the press don't need to know he's a bit of a freak).

Prime time news coverage chock it up to Eddie supporting the best of the USA's Olympians, including Steve Harrington, who just broke the world record for men's fastest 100m freestyle. They'd pointed out it wasn't odd he was there, since he also made appearances at other events with up and coming stars, such as Lucas Sinclair for men's basketball and Nancy Wheeler for women's skeet shooting. When asked about it, he'd laughed it off, saying swimming was Chrissy's favorite sport to watch and he promised he'd fill her in on what she missed.

That didn't stop fans online from obsessing over small details, including Eddie's repeat appearances at the swimming events, where he only showed once for anything else that wasn't Chrissy's competitions. There was no way he could keep Chrissy filled in on what she missed when he only showed up to meets Harrington competed in, not all men's swimming events.

Fan edits of Eddie Munson clapping a little too hard, screaming a little too loud, and overall just a little bit more excited for Harrington's podium than Chrissy's gold medal spread across the internet like wildfire. One blurry shot caught Harrington briefly look in his direction when he won his silver, but it was hard to be certain.

Tucked into bed after another long day of interviews, Eddie pulls up a few of the best fan edits Jeff and Gareth sent him earlier. It's become a bit of a habit over the past few weeks to watch his favorite ones before he goes to sleep. He feels the bed dip next to him, a warm hand slide over his chest and a leg push between his own.

"Aww babe," Steve coos, "did we get new ones today?"

Eddie leans down, dropping little kisses on his husband's forehead. "Apparently Jeff says these ones are even more convincing than last week's."

Steve hums a content little sigh before nuzzling into the crook of Eddie's neck. They've been riskier about public appearances this time around compared to Tokyo, but they've agreed to publicly come out after this year's games are over. So, why not have a little fun with it?

They release a fan edit of their own later that year posted on the official Corroded Coffin profile. It's a reaction video of them watching all of their favorite tiktoks and fanart and Tumblr posts. They laugh, point out inaccuracies, answer fan questions, and post a few pictures of their own, including the two of them standing under an arch of flowers exchanging rings.

#dont know where this came from #i know the olympics are over but *shrugs*#i literally typed this on Tumblr on mobile so sorry for the spelling errors #steddie #steddie olympics au #steddie fic #swimmer steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #secret relationship #modern au #olympics au #established relationship #queeniewritesstories

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latenightreadingpdf · 1 month ago

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Quiet Love - Spencer Reid

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: A quiet moment between you and Spencer.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The sound of the door unlocking catches your attention. You glance over just in time to see Spencer step inside, his shoulders slightly slumped, dark circles under his eyes. He sets his bag down gently, his tie already loosened, and lets out a quiet sigh.

You rise from the couch, padding over to meet him at the door. Without a word, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a warm hug. He leans into you, his face brushing against your hair, and you press a soft kiss to his cheek.

"How was work?" you ask, your voice soft as you rub small circles on his back.

"Tiring," he admits, his voice low and gravelly from hours of talking. "But... we caught him."

"That's good," you say, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes, your hands still resting on his arms. “I was just watching this new sci-fi show that came out. Want to join me?”

His tired expression softens, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, I'd like that."

You lead him to the couch, the soft glow of the TV filling the room. The moment you sit, Spencer gravitates toward you, and you end up squished together, your legs tangled as though neither of you can bear to have even an inch of space between you.

The show plays in the background, its plot weaving through your mind, but you’re far more focused on the way Spencer's weight presses against you. His body is warm, and you can feel him trying to resist the sleep that’s been eluding him for days.

It doesn’t take long before you feel his head gently fall against yours. His breathing slows, deep and even. You glance up and see his face, peaceful in a way that makes your heart swell. You can’t help but smile to yourself, overwhelmed with the quiet gratitude of this moment, of him being in your life.

Slowly, the warmth and rhythm of his breaths lull you into sleep, your head nestled against his shoulder, content in the quiet love you share.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

A/N ~ just a cute little blurb cause I'm rewatching criminal minds.

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reignpage · 3 months ago

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Would You Let Me Die?

Smau: in which you ask the jjk men if they would kiss another woman to save your life Warning: cursing, typos (had to make this in a rush lol), angst if you squint, established relationship Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Toji, Choso, Nanami, Sukuna

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witchywithwhiskey · 14 days ago

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just want you for my own

pairing: husband!bucky barnes x curvy!female reader

summary: you convince your husband to stay home from work and pretend you've been snowed in so that you can spend the day decorating for christmas.

warnings: fluff, kissing, a married couple making out a lot, some under the shirt groping, some dry humping if you squint, talk of bucky's prosthetic arm/bucky doesn't wear his prosthetic arm to bed. that's pretty much it!

word count: 2.2k

a/n: here's my third fic for @the-slumberparty's december daze challenge, using the prompt: "It's too cold, stay in bed." one of these days, i'll get back on track of my original posting schedule for this challenge, but today is not that day 😅 anyway, have some festive fluff, i'm off to bake cookies!! ♡

december daze challenge masterlist

You weren’t sure what woke you, the world around you beginning to creep in as you started to rouse. But then, despite the fact that you were buried under a veritable mound of blankets, a shiver raced down your spine. Your body felt a little chillier than it had before you’d woken—you were certain of it.

Opening your eyes, you were met with the sight of snowflakes falling from the sky, gently swirling and dancing down the Brooklyn street you called home. They were pretty to look at, but you were glad they were outside, while you were tucked in bed, as snug as a bug. Or, almost, at least.

The mattress dipped on the other side of the bed, so gently, you might not have felt it if you hadn’t already been awake, and you realized what had woken you. Your husband, Bucky Barnes, was trying to sneak out of bed without disturbing you.

Rolling over with a disgruntled harrumph, you reached out and managed to curl your fingers around his side, making him pause and catch your eye. You were still buried in blankets, but Bucky never had a problem finding your eyes, or any other part of you.

“It’s too cold, stay in bed.”

Your voice was soft around the edges, sleep still clinging on, and despite your best efforts to hold your husband’s gaze, you could feel your eyelids beginning to droop.

Bucky rolled back to you with a smile, his hand burrowing beneath the blankets until it found your plush curves. With one arm—since he never slept with his prosthetic anymore, and it was probably in the dishwasher—he dragged you to him.

Your legs tangled in the blankets, but the rest of your body went willingly into his embrace. Your arms pulled him even closer, until you were snuggling into his chest.

Bucky was so warm, you made a soft, contented little sound as you buried your face into the soft hair covering his broad chest, nuzzling into him while his arm tightened around you.

For a few moments, Bucky held you in silence. But before long, you couldn’t ignore the tension in his body. He wasn’t relaxing the same way you were and you pulled back so you could look at your handsome husband, a quizzical frown pulling the corners of your mouth down.

“Val wants me to come in,” he explained, answering your unasked question while his mouth flattened into a grim line.

Val was Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, the closest thing Bucky had to a boss. She had a sharp tongue and a quick wit, and you might’ve liked her, if she wasn’t always dragging your husband away on some mission or another.

You also didn’t like Val because your gut told you not to trust her, which was something you’d confided in Bucky not long after you’d met her at gala in Manhattan. Bucky shared your sentiment, but he still had to report to her, at least until he knew what she really wanted.

“Screw Val,” you huffed, leaning in to your husband and brushing a kiss to his deliciously stubbly jaw. It was getting long again, just the way you liked it, and you nuzzled deeper into Bucky’s cheek, nibbling playfully at the skin beneath the coarse scruff. “Besides, you said we’d decorate today—I cleared my schedule and everything.”

A rumbling contented sound came from Bucky’s chest and you could feel him softening, even as he said, “I don’t think Val cares about our plans.”

You snorted and bit a little harder at Bucky’s skin, drawing a growl from him. Muffling a laugh against his skin, you pressed a palm to Bucky’s stomach. Your fingertips dug lightly into the beefy layer of softness that cushioned the hard-packed muscle beneath, before you smoothed your hand up your husband’s bare chest in a soothing caress.

Your touch turned even more gentle as you neared the socket where his prosthetic arm attached to his body. It had taken a long time for Bucky to allow you to touch him there, and you knew how important it was that he trusted you enough to let you. Your fingertips grazed tenderly over the skin at the edge of the socket, before trailing down to his ribs.

You’d never take it for granted that your husband trusted you to touch him anywhere on his body, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t use his body to get what you wanted. He was a trained, super-soldier assassin, after all, and he’d been the one to teach you to use any advantage you might have in a game of persuasion.

Curving your fingers around Bucky’s ribs, you pushed him onto his back, draping your much softer body over his as you hovered above him. A bulge in his boxer briefs pressed into your thigh, and you felt it twitch eagerly against your softness, making you smirk.

“It’s snowing,” you pointed out, shifting again so that Bucky could look out the window.

The movement pressed your tits to his chest, only the thin barrier of your sleep shirt in the way from him feeling your hardened nipples against his bare skin. You heard your husband swallow and watched the Adam’s apple bob in his throat.

Hiding your deepening smirk against Bucky’s stubbled jaw, you licked him shamelessly before you murmured in his ear, “Tell Val you’re snowed in.”

Bucky cut his eyes to the window, taking in the flurries that were dancing on the December wind.

It wasn’t a snowstorm by any means, and the weather reports had said New York City might get a light dusting, if anything stuck at all. You knew all this, but you still held your breath as Bucky seemed to consider what you’d said.

“I don’t think Val will buy that I’ve been snowed in in Brooklyn, baby,” he rumbled, regret in his voice.

You were so distracted by the way your heart was sinking with disappointment that you didn’t notice the way your husband’s body tensed. A split second later, Bucky flipped you over onto your back, pinning you to the bed with his considerable weight.

His hand pushed beneath the hem of your sleep shirt, groping your chubby waist and plush hips. Then his mouth found your jaw and he gave you taste of your own medicine, nipping at your skin playfully while you laughed and squirmed beneath him.

“I’ll make it work,” he murmured into your soft cheek, his mouth working closer to your lips while you panted beneath him, your heart racing in your chest. “Val owes me a day off—and I’d much rather spend today with my girl.”

“You better,” you muttered moments before Bucky’s mouth captured yours in a kiss.

No matter how many times your husband kissed you, you’d never be get over the sheer perfection of it. His mouth molded to yours, kissing you hard even as there was still an edge of playfulness to it. And when Bucky licked at the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, you parted for him as you always did, accepting him into your body like you were welcoming him home.

For a long time, you and Bucky kissed in your bed, taking enjoyment in each other’s bodies while the snow continued to fall outside the Brooklyn townhouse you called home. It was cozy and warm and perfect beneath the blankets, especially since the two of you were together.

Eventually, though, your stomach rumbled and Bucky had to call Val to let her know he wasn’t coming in. Together, you and Bucky dragged yourselves from bed and put on some more clothes before you made your way to the kitchen. Bucky pulled his metal arm from the dishwasher and attached it while you made coffee, then he put together some breakfast for the two of you.

You sat together at the island in your kitchen, your legs tangling with Bucky’s while you ate your breakfast and drank your coffee and caught up on each other’s weeks. The whole time, Bucky couldn’t stop touching you, his hand resting on your thigh or his arm wrapped around the back of your chair, holding you close.

After breakfast, both of you pulled on some snow boots and winter coats, and headed out into the snowy day to pick up a Christmas tree from the bodega around the corner. You argued over what made the perfect Christmas tree—whether it was height and robustness or character—before picking one out. Bucky hauled it back to your apartment easily, and you ran ahead, opening the doors for him.

You sat on the couch and sipped a second cup of coffee while he got the tree situated in the stand and hung the lights. At one point, you offered to help, but Bucky waved you off, telling you he liked seeing you relaxing in the home you shared. When it was time to put up ornaments, though, you insisted on helping, since that was your favorite part.

All day, you and Bucky worked together, decorating your Brooklyn townhouse with as much Christmas cheer as you could manage while festive music played in the background. When you were finally done, you collapsed on the couch together and admired your work.

The apartment looked great, but, in your opinion, there was still something missing—presents.

“Now comes the hard part,” you said solemnly, turning to Bucky, the corners of your mouth flickering as you struggled to keep the smile off your face. “What do you want for Christmas, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky’s eyes were molten blue when they met yours. A slow, predatory smile curving his mouth as his gaze raked down your body. You could feel his look scorching through your clothes, and your body responded, warming and coming alive as your husband ogled you shamelessly.

“All I want is you, Mrs. Barnes,” he said, laying an arm along the back of the couch behind your head and leaning into your personal space. You swatted at his chest, but it didn’t stop him from moving even closer.

“Bucky, I’m serious!” you scolded him, but you couldn’t help the laughter from bubbling up behind your lips, taking all the frustration from your tone. “I need to wrap something and put it under the tree.”

Bucky’s eyes dipped to your full tits, which were heaving gently in your sweater as your breathing picked up. He licked his lips, and you just knew he was picturing something filthy. Unfortunately for the conversation, your body warmed further, your nipples hardening in your bra.

“You won’t see me complainin’ if ya wanna wrap yourself up in pretty ribbons and wait for me under the tree,” your husband rumbled, pushing in close enough that he could brush a kiss to your cheek before murmuring in your ear. “I’d love to see your gorgeous body decorated all pretty for me, for your husband.”

“Bucky,” you chided softly, but the rest of your protests died on your tongue when your husband took your mouth in a searing kiss. He lay you down beneath him on the couch, covering you with his body as he kissed you breathless.

You couldn’t have stopped yourself from opening for him even if you’d wanted to, but you certainly wanted to—you wanted Bucky to take you and have his way with you under the light of the Christmas tree you’d decorated together. So you kissed him harder, your fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck, until your lungs protested.

“OK,” you said, breaking away to gasp for air while Bucky kissed down your neck. “We can certainly circle back to trying that on Christmas day,” you said, moaning softly as Bucky’s hands groped your squeezable hips, his hips pushing between your soft thighs and rocking into you. “But I want to get you some actual presents, Bucky.”

The whine that had seeped into your tone finally dragged Bucky’s attention away from kissing your neck and he pushed himself up so he could look at you. Your lower lip was pushed out in a pout and your eyes were wide and pleading, and you knew you had him when he squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced.

“Alright, baby,” Bucky conceded on a long sigh before opening his eyes. His expression softened as he took in the glee on your face, then ducked down to drop a sweet kiss to your lips. “I’ll give you a list.”

“Thank you, husband,” you murmured against Bucky’s mouth, pulling him back down until his weight was half-crushing your body into the couch, which was exactly how you liked it. “For always giving me what I want, even when I just want you for my own.”

“You’re very welcome, wife,” Bucky rumbled, capturing your lips for a too-brief kiss. “I’m glad you talked me into getting snowed in today.”

Laughter bubbled up in your chest and you had to break away from Bucky’s mouth as you cackled loudly. Bucky dropped his head, his chuckle muffled in your heaving chest as he laughed right along with you.

For the rest of the evening, you snuggled on the couch with your husband, kissing him and talking about your wishlists and making plans for how you’d spend Christmas together. Because more than anything else, what mattered was that you would be together for Christmas—that year and for the rest of your lives.

december daze challenge masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan fluff #december daze #established relationship #witchywithwhiskeywork

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luvergirl-866 · 14 days ago

Note

what about a one shot where azzi gets hurt (nothing too serious) and paige just worried about her and takes care of her tons of fluff and maybe some smut at the end? just paint bring the ultimate gentle gf

not a lot, just forever

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 3.6

content - illness/menstruation, language, implied sex, azzi having everyone wrapped around her finger

a/n - a little smth to tide yall over for sll chap 8!! this took me like all day, idk why lol. obviously i went off prompt, that’s my bad 😭 azzi doesn’t get injured but like close enough, and no smut sorry 😔. very much inspired by the fact that azzi has been sick lately and the injury scare last night, just thought we all needed a little fluff after that bc whew! anyway, i hope yall enjoy!!

Azzi is smack in the middle of a perfect dream—in which she and Paige disagree about something and Paige is completely silent while Azzi explains all the reasons she’s right—when her alarm brutally awakens her.

“Nooo,” she groans into her pillow. Her voice comes out all croaky and the word scratches painfully at her throat on the way out. Two warning signs of what she knew was coming—she’s sick.

To be sure, she tries to take a deep breath in through her nose, and fails. She must’ve been breathing through her mouth all night with how congested she is.

Suddenly overtaken by an aggressive coughing fit, Azzi fishes under the pillows for her phone, alarm still buzzing annoyingly.

Somehow, her phone must’ve found itself under Paige’s pillow because after a quick search, Azzi realizes it’s certainly not under her’s.

Sighing, Azzi shoves at Paige’s shoulder, trying to move her but the girl is dead weight when she’s asleep.

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, shaking her now. “Move your big-ass head.”

Paige groans similarly to how Azzi did a few minutes ago, then rolls onto her stomach, unhelpfully clutching her pillow closer. “Turn it offff,” she whines quite babyishly, for a girl who claims to be the ‘masc’ in the relationship.

Azzi rolls her eyes. “I’m trying, it’s under your pillow.”

“No it’s not,” Paige whines.

“Yes it is,” Azzi says, shoving Paige over. “Seriously, it’s getting annoying, you have to move so I can turn it off.”

“Ughhh,” Paige says dramatically, but then she turns onto her side, giving Azzi access to the pillow, and promptly falls back asleep.

“Why, thank you, your highness,” Azzi grumbles, finally finding her phone and turning off that god-awful alarm.

It’s in the silence of the room that she realizes a headache has started to form at the base of her head. Perfect.

She’s already been in bed for too long—if she wants to get dressed, do her hair, and have enough time to drag Paige out of bed and get her ready so they’re both on time to practice, she needs to get up now.

Doing her best to ignore the searing pain in her throat, head, and lungs, Azzi climbs over Paige—who doesn’t move, nothing more than a lump under the covers—and crawls out of bed, turning on the bedside lamp. The warm light illuminates the room and Azzi goes to the closet, trying to find comfort in the monotony of her morning routine. But as she bends down to reach inside the drawer which is dedicated to her underwear, she feels an aching soreness in her legs and pelvis—partly to do with the suicides Coach made them run yesterday, but mostly to do with the fact that Paige was insatiable last night, not stopping until Azzi tapped out after their fourth round.

At the time, it was hot and felt so, so good. Now it makes her groan when she straightens up, and she glares at the lump sleeping peacefully under the covers.

“All your fault,” Azzi grumbles to no one as she gets dressed, because if she can blame her sore legs on Paige, then why not blame her sickness on her, too? “So damn horny all the time. ‘Azzi, it’ll be fun. Azzi, I’ll be gentle. Azzi, just one more, we haven’t even used the strap yet.’” Azzi laments her girlfriend’s convincing tone from last night, that sly smile looking up at her from in between her legs, those hands that bent her over the bed after making her legs shake so much she could barely stand, and pummeled into her so feverishly Azzi was pretty sure she could feel it in her guts. “Damn,” Paige had sighed after they were finally done, “good thing we’re both girls. Because you’d prolly be pregnant with, like, triplets after that.”

Last night, in her fucked-out haze, it had made Azzi laugh. Now, the memory just makes her roll her eyes, kneeling down to check that both she and Paige’s gym bags have everything they need in them. “Not even how that works,” Azzi mutters bitterly. “Dumbass.”

Once that’s done, Azzi leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind her because she may be sore and annoyed but she’s always going to make sure Paige gets her sleep.

When she gets to the bathroom, the door is closed, and Azzi knocks lightly. “‘S me.”

“Azzi?” comes Jana’s equally exhausted voice on the other side of the door.

“Yeah.”

The door opens, and the glare Jana directs toward her once they’re face to face startles her. “What—“

“Sounds like you lost your voice,” Jana remarks, quite sassily if you ask Azzi.

“Yeah, I—“

“Probably from all that screaming last night.”

Azzi freezes, then bites her lip sheepishly. “We tried to be quiet.”

“Paige was quiet,” Jana says, stepping to the side to let Azzi into the room. “You, on the other hand…”

“Uh, oops?” Azzi responds, flashing an apologetic smile.

As usual, it works, and Jana shoves her affectionately as Azzi steps into the bathroom.

“Wait till y’all are alone if you’re gonna be trying to make babies,” Jana teases. Then she studies her face and says, “You don’t look too good, Azaray.”

Azzi nods, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she wets her toothbrush, seeing herself for the first time this morning. Her cheeks are flushed, bags heavy under her eyes, lips pale. “Think I finally got sick.”

About two weeks ago, a couple of the girls got sick with some kind of flu. Of course, with the team spending all their time together, the rest of the girls followed soon after. Paige was one of the last to get sick, last week, and as soon as she did Azzi knew any hopes of staying away from this virus were out the window. Considering the fact Paige and Azzi would live inside each other’s skin if they could, if one of them gets sick, both of them do.

Paige got better over the weekend. Now it’s Tuesday and Azzi becomes even more annoyed at the thought that Paige gave her this illness.

“You’re still going to practice?” Jana asks, watching as Azzi brushes her teeth.

Azzi nods.

“Why?”

Azzi shrugs her shoulders, then says around the brush in her mouth, “Can’t mish it.”

“We all skipped when we got sick,” Jana says.

Shrugging again, Azzi spits into the sink, rinses off her toothbrush. “Season’s starting soon. And I’m already not cleared to play right away, I don’t wanna get pushed back even further.”

Jana raises an eyebrow at her. “And you think Paige is gonna let her precious princess go to practice with the flu?”

Azzi looks at herself in the mirror, and is reminded that she is, in fact, a grown woman. A grown woman who is independent and knows her own limits and can make decisions for herself.

“Paige can’t let me do anything,” Azzi replies, sure of herself.

Ten minutes later, she walks back into Paige’s bedroom to test that theory.

The room is still dark, as expected, and also as expected, Paige is still snuggled up in her purple fluffy comforter.

The sight of her girlfriend, wrapped like a burrito in bed with only her face uncovered, blonde hair splayed over her pillow, makes Azzi soften a bit. She’s honestly like a baby when she sleeps, and it gives Azzi cuteness aggression.

Finding it a little harder to be annoyed at her horny, sickness-spreading girlfriend, Azzi flicks on the light, smiling when Paige grumbles faintly.

Azzi sits on the edge of the bed, brushes her hand through Paige’s hair like she does every morning. “Hey,” she whispers.

Paige snuggles further into the comforter. Now she’s only visible from the nose up.

“Time to get up,” Azzi continues.

Paige doesn’t respond. Not a good sign.

“You only have twenty minutes to get ready, babe,” Azzi insists, brushing her fingers gently over the face she has touched and kissed too many times to count. “You really gotta get up.”

Again, there’s no response, but when Azzi leans down and presses a kiss to her cheek, Paige finally cracks her eyes open, sleepy smile gracing her features.

“Oh, good, you’re not dead,” Azzi says sarcastically.

Paige wriggles out of the blankets just enough to free her arms, wrapping them around Azzi’s neck and pulling her down for a kiss.

She only manages a peck before Azzi wrestles out of Paige’s grip, pulling away. “We can’t.”

Paige closes her eyes against the overhead light and pouts. “Why?”

“Because I’m sick,” Azzi replies, brushing her thumb over Paige’s bottom lip, “you big baby.”

Paige’s eyes miraculously fly open at this, and though she’s still squinting, she looks incredibly more alive than she did two seconds ago. “For real?”

“Yeah,” Azzi sighs. “Could only avoid it for so long, I guess.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Paige pushes up onto her elbows as if to get a better look at her. “Why’re you up right now? You gotta rest.”

Here they go. Azzi preps herself for an argument, and desperately wishes for her dream from last night to come true. “I can rest after practice.”

Paige scoffs as if she’s just told a joke. “You’re kidding, right?”

“It’s not a big deal, I feel fine,” Azzi tries, but then her body betrays her and she coughs so hard she nearly doubles over.

Paige is wide awake in an instant, shooting up to rub her back, not even complaining about how she doesn’t wanna get up or it’s so cold in here. “Az, you’re definitely sick.”

“Thanks,” Azzi coughs into her elbow, “I didn’t know.”

“Sassy, too,” Paige remarks. Azzi tries to glare at her but it must not pack a punch because Paige just gets this sympathetic look on her face. “Aw, baby. Just lay back down, lemme call Coach and tell him what’s goin’ on.”

“No, Paige,” Azzi croaks, grabbing her wrist to stop her from reaching for her phone. “Don’t tell him I’m sick. He won’t let me come in.”

“Yeah,” Paige says, using her free hand to grab her phone despite Azzi��s protests, “that’s kinda the point.”

“You don’t get it,” Azzi replies, trying to reach for Paige’s phone but Paige stands up, holding it over her head and out of Azzi’s reach.

“Oh, yeah?” she asks, looking down at her. “Try me.”

“I wanna play,” Azzi says emphatically, the bright light of the room and the stress of talking making her head full-on pound now. “And if I miss practice I might be…”

“Pushed back further,” Paige finishes, lowering her arm when Azzi nods. Azzi doesn’t make a reach for the phone, though, and Paige kneels down in front of her, resting her arms on Azzi’s knees. “Your head hurt?”

“No,” Azzi lies.

Paige licks her lips, reaches a hand up to cup Azzi’s cheek. “I’ll grab some Ibuprofen, okay?”

Paige is up before she can respond, throwing some clothes on and leaving the room while Azzi sits helplessly on the edge of the bed. She glances at her phone—they only have fifteen minutes to get ready now.

When Paige comes back, she has two pills in one hand and the thermometer in the other, a worried frown playing on her lips.

Azzi stands up, trying her best not to let show how dizzy it makes her. “You don’t have to take my temperature, it’s okay.”

Paige only hands over the medicine, watches Azzi swallow the pills down.

“Okay, we’re good,” Azzi says, gently pushing Paige away by her chest. “No need for the thermometer. I’ll get through practice fine.” Even though she’s pretty sure she needs something a lot stronger than Ibuprofen to cure the aches and pains all over her body.

“If you have a fever, you can’t go to practice,” Paige says, stepping toward Azzi with the thermometer clutched almost menacingly in her hand. “It’s not allowed. Those are the rules.”

“Well, I don’t,” Azzi says, though she’s sure she does. And that’s exactly why she shies away when Paige lifts the thermometer to her forehead.

“Az, stop it,” Paige says when Azzi grabs her wrist, ducking away from the object. “You gotta let me.”

“Did you not hear me, earlier?” Azzi asks, and then there’s a cramp in her abdomen, sudden and painful and all-too familiar. “Oh, my god. No way.”

“Wha…? Azzi,” Paige says as Azzi rushes past her, following her on the way to the bathroom.

She tries to go in with her but Azzi shuts the door and locks it, rushing to the toilet and pulling her pants down to find exactly what she feared.

She started her period. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Az?” Paige calls through the door. “Yo, you good?”

Azzi nearly cries. This is it. She gives up. She’s going to sit here and melt forever and Coach will never let her play basketball again and Paige will leave her for some other girl who isn’t sick and gross and bloody.

“Did you die?” Paige asks. “Baby, you gotta respond so I know you didn’t die.”

“Didn’t die,” Azzi responds weakly. Though she might as well have.

“Okay…” Paige says slowly. “So, can you let me in?”

Azzi gets the strangest sensation then—in which she both wants to yell at Paige to go away and simultaneously feels as if she needs to be curled up in Paige’s arms within the next five minutes or else she might…well, die.

This is basically how she feels every time she starts her period. She’s sure it’s very fun for Paige.

Situating herself, Azzi stands up, clutching at her stomach, head pounding—it’s like the Ibuprofen doesn’t exactly know where to help. She washes her hands and then hesitates near the door, unsure whether she wants to emerge, but that need for her girlfriend wins over her annoyance at the world and she opens the door.

Paige doesn’t have time to react before Azzi is walking directly into her chest, arms limp at her sides while she resists the urge to scream into Paige’s sweater.

“Uh…” Paige says, wrapping her arms tentatively around Azzi’s shoulders, “you okay?”

“Started my period,” Azzi says, voice muffled in Paige’s shoulders

“Oh. That’s early,” Paige notes. Azzi can nearly hear the smile in her voice when she says, “Least you’re not pregnant.”

There’s another thing about Azzi on her period: her patience for Paige, which is usually plentiful, dwindles into nothing. And suddenly her stupid jokes and tendency to poke fun don’t seem endearing anymore.

The fact that every major organ in her body seems to be fighting for their life right now doesn’t help, either.

“It’s not funny,” Azzi says, pushing away from Paige’s grasp.

Paige reaches for her. “Hey, sorry, I—“

“Call Coach,” Azzi grumbles, sentence interrupted by a painful cough as if to taunt her, “don’t even care if I can’t play anymore.”

It’s the farthest thing from the truth, of course. The thought of this little flu being another thing getting in the way of her playing makes her stomach turn. But she doesn’t say that, just marches right past Paige and into the bedroom, shutting off the light before jumping into bed, where she plans on pouting for the remainder of the day.

Paige doesn’t follow her in, and Azzi can hear the soft noise of her talking out in the hallway. Probably calling in, telling them Azzi won’t be at practice. The faint sounds of her voice turn that switch once again, and she wants Paige by her side more than anything else.

A few minutes pass before Paige is coming into the room. She comes to the edge of the bed and leans over it, placing her hands on either side of Azzi’s head as she hovers over her. “Baby, I gotta go to practice. I asked Coach if I could stay here but that was a hard no.”

Azzi would be shocked if otherwise. Even so, she dreads spending the next couple hours without Paige by her side, because Paige is the only person who can ever really make her feel better.

Still, she nods, doing her best to manage a smile up at her girlfriend. “Okay. I’ll just go back to sleep, it’s okay.”

Paige nods, leans down to brush their noses together. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Paige.”

Paige presses a kiss to her lips. Azzi doesn’t have it in her to protest about germs. “You’re not mad at me?”

That gets Azzi to really smile, a little. “No. Just cranky.”

“Mm.” Paige gives her another kiss, then one on her forehead, before straightening up. “I’ll be back soon, mama. I’ll bring some stuff back for you, okay? Just lemme know what you want.”

Azzi nods. She almost watches Paige leave in slow-motion, like a sad scene from a movie. She can almost hear the background music.

Rolling over, she tries to relax, hoping for some more sleep. But her eyes stay wide open.

——————————————

Two and a half hours later, Paige comes home to find Azzi unloading the dishwasher.

As soon as Paige steps through the front door, Azzi freezes, a guilty look on her face. Paige’s mouth drops open as if affronted.

“Yo, what’re you doing?” Paige asks, kicking her shoes off.

Azzi steps away from the dishwasher. “Uh, just thought I’d do some cleaning up…”

“Bro,” Paige says. It’s perhaps the most disappointed bro Azzi has ever heard.

“I’m sorry!” she says, leaving the kitchen fully to meet Paige at the door. “I couldn’t get back to sleep and I needed a distraction.”

Paige walks past her to set the two bags of groceries she brought home on the counter. “You need to rest,” she corrects. She rounds back on Azzi, taking her by the hips and walking them toward the couch. “You won’t get better if you don’t rest.”

“I took DayQuil,” Azzi pipes up, as if it’ll earn her brownie points.

Paige gives her a look and then sits her on the couch. “Lay down.”

Dutifully, Azzi does, allowing her body to relax as much as possible even while everything hurts.

“Can’t believe you did chores,” Paige goes on as she walks back to the kitchen. “‘S not even your dorm.” She sounds almost as if she’s muttering to herself now as she goes through the grocery bags. “Walk in and my sick girlfriend’s doing the dishes. The fuck.”

“I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it,” Azzi says, lifting her head up. Paige gives her another look and she lays back down.

Usually (that is, outside of the bedroom) Azzi is the one who tells Paige what to do. But today, she’s too weak to argue.

“It’s a big deal because I told you to relax while I was gone.” Pulling out a tray, Paige arranges all of the groceries on it. She carries it over to Azzi, and it’s a little haphazard with snacks and medicine and a glass of water but it’s also perfect because Paige did it.

“Thank you,” she says when Paige sets the tray on the coffee table.

“Uh-huh,” Paige replies nonchalantly, already leaving the room on the hunt for something else. When she comes back, she has a heating pad and the blanket that Azzi has dubbed as her favorite in hand. “Which one? Heating pad, blanket? Both?”

“Both,” Azzi says without hesitation.

Paige is already plugging the heating pad into the wall.

She places it on Azzi’s lower abdomen, exactly where the cramps hit her the worst, and then throws the blanket over her.

“And here’s the remote,” she says, passing it over once Azzi is situated. She pushes her hand into Azzi’s curls, scratching gently at her scalp as she kneels by her. “What else you need, baby? I can go make you somethin’, or if I forgot anything from the store I can run back.”

Azzi shakes her head, reaching her arms out for her girlfriend, who is quick to pull her into her arms and hold her there. “My girl,” Paige murmurs in her ear, rubbing her back soothingly. “I’m sorry you’re not feelin’ well, baby.”

Azzi hums into her shoulder. “Feel a little better now.”

“Yeah?” Paige kisses her temple, then pulls away. “You wanna turn on the TV?”

Azzi nods, and Paige sits down, laying Azzi’s head in her lap, one hand stroking her pulse point while the other flicks through Netflix.

Azzi stares up at her girlfriend, wonders how she got so lucky. (She has no idea Paige thinks the same thing every time she wakes up to Azzi’s gentle voice in the morning.)

“Paige,” she says, and Paige looks down at her immediately. “I love you.”

Paige smiles down at her, leaning over for a sideways kiss. “I love you, mama.”

“You should stop kissing me.”

Paige kisses her again. “I already got sick, you cant give it to me.”

“I don’t know if we should rely on that.”

“You could have the black plague or some shit,” Paige says, pulling Azzi’s head up now to kiss her a little more deeply, “and I would still kiss you.”

Shaking her head fondly, Azzi scoots up, Paige’s legs opening to make room for her as she sits sideways between them, resting her head in the crook of Paige’s neck. She smells good, freshly showered, hair still a little damp. Paige picks a movie before hooking her arm around Azzi’s back, using her free hand to hold the heating pad in place over her tummy.

“Getting sleepy?” Paige asks after a few minutes.

Azzi nods, hums into her neck. “Little bit.”

“Go to sleep, pretty girl,” Paige says, hand soothing up and down her back, and Azzi is finally right where she belongs, safe and secure and at home in Paige’s arms.

For the first time all day, her body stops aching. And finally, with Paige’s gentle voice whispering sweetly in her ear, she gets some much-needed sleep.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi #pazzi fics #wcbb #uconn wbb #wbb #fluff #pazzi fluff #wlw fluff #established relationship #no effort was put into this #no beta we die like men

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inevitably-johnlocked · 10 months ago

Note

This might seem silly but I get demotivated reading/watching non-Johnlock materials. (Sometimes it’s untagged and that’s fine, it’s me not them really!) Can I just immerse myself in a universe where they end up together please T.T

Hi Nonny!

Aww, I can kind of relate; I prefer Johnlock fics with happy endings with them together too <3 99% of my Sherlock recs are Johnlock endgame fics, so for the most part you're safe with the majority of my lists 💜🖤

BUT if we want some guaranteed "them together" these are the best lists:

Weddings / Proposals / Husbands and Established Relationship

Established Relationship Pt 2 (June 2019)

Established Relationships Pt 3 (Nov 2022)

Sherlock and John’s Wedding

Retirement and Older Johnlock (Jan 2020)

Proposals (May 2020)

Proposals Pt 2

And here are some others that guarantee happy endings, if you don't mind some angst getting there <3

Angst With a Happy Ending

Angst With a Happy Ending Pt. 2

Angst With a Happy Ending Pt. 3

Angst With a Happy Ending Pt. 4

I hope those please you, Lovely! <3

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #happy ending fics #established relationship fics

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lechrts · 1 day ago

Text

Sweet Tea. ✷ Lando Norris

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: When Lando tries to find forgiveness after an argument through acts of service.

Word Count: 1.3k

Disclaimer/s: established rel, fluff, kinda angst…. ish.

Vera’s Voice! Hi. this was fun to write :3 hope u enjoy mama ^_^ the lando oneshot grind doesn’t stop.

The hum of the heating system filled the stillness of the apartment. It wasn’t exactly peaceful—more like tense, suffocating, and heavy.

You sat curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders, your phone glowing faintly in your hands. You scrolled aimlessly, not really reading anything, but it was better than thinking about the argument that had left you and Lando in this standoff.

From the corner of your eye, you saw him pacing between the living room and the kitchen. He wasn’t saying anything—he hadn’t since you’d gone quiet—but his restless movements said enough.

He hated silence, especially when it was because of you.

The fight hadn’t started as anything serious, just a playful back-and-forth after a long day. But his teasing had crossed a line without him realizing it, and you’d snapped.

“You don’t need to be so dramatic about everything,” He said, half-laughing, when you’d voiced your frustrations about something that had been bothering you for days.

The words had stung, lodging themselves deep in your chest. You didn’t know if it was the dismissive tone, the laughter, or just the stress of the week catching up to you, but you’d shut down completely after that.

No sarcastic comeback, no explanation, just cold, steely silence.

And Lando?

He hadn’t done much to help himself. Instead of apologizing, he’d groaned, muttering, “Oh, come on, don’t do this,” as if your feelings were an inconvenience to him.

That was what had really sealed it.

So now you were here, refusing to meet his eyes, letting the silence stretch longer and longer.

From the kitchen came the faint clink of dishes. You glanced up briefly, noticing Lando hunched over the counter, his brows furrowed in concentration.

He was making something.

But what?

You couldn’t quite tell.

You wanted to stay mad—wanted him to feel the weight of how much his words had hurt—but curiosity gnawed at you.

Lando wasn’t exactly a chef, and him fumbling around in the kitchen was unusual.

A few minutes later, his footsteps padded softly toward you. He stopped just in front of the couch, hesitating before placing a small plate on the coffee table.

Beside it, a steaming mug of tea.

You looked down, your stomach tightening at the sight. It was your favorite treat, carefully prepared just the way you liked it.

The tea even seemed to have the right amount of honey—he must’ve measured it out because he always teased you for how sweet you liked it.

“Here,” Hr said quietly, his voice almost timid. “I, uh… I thought you might be hungry.”

You stared at the plate for a moment, then looked up at him. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“I’m sorry,” He added quickly, before you could say anything. “I was a complete ass earlier. I didn’t mean to brush you off like that—I wasn’t thinking.”

You didn’t say anything, though the sincerity in his voice made your chest ache. Instead, you reached for the mug, cradling it in your hands.

Lando shifted awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure whether to stay or give you space.

After a moment, he sighed, running a hand through his messy curls. “I don’t like seeing you upset. Especially when it’s my fault. I know I messed up, but I hate this—” He gestured vaguely between the two of you, “—this cold shoulder thing. Can we please talk?”

You finally set the mug back down, fixing him with a pointed look. “Talk? Like how we talked earlier and you laughed at me?”

He winced, guilt flashing across his face. “I didn’t mean it like that. I thought I was being funny, but I wasn’t. I didn’t realize how much it was bothering you. That’s on me.”

“You made me feel stupid for being upset,” You said quietly, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “Like I was overreacting.”

His expression softened, and he dropped onto the couch beside you, careful to keep some space between you. “You weren’t overreacting,” He said, his voice low. “I swear, I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I was just being an idiot. You know I’m terrible at serious conversations.”

“That’s not an excuse, Lando.”

“I know,” He said quickly. “I know. I’m not trying to make excuses. I just… I’m sorry. Really. I should’ve listened instead of brushing you off.”

You let out a soft sigh, your fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket. Part of you wanted to hold onto the anger, to make him sweat a little longer, but the vulnerability in his voice was breaking down your walls.

Lando reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing against your knee. “I’ll do better,” he sighed, his voice almost a whisper. “I don’t want to make you feel like that again.”

You glanced at him, taking in the way his brows were knit together, the way his lips were pressed into a thin line. He looked genuinely remorseful, and your heart softened despite yourself.

“I just want you to take me seriously,” You said quietly.

“I will,” he promised, his hand gently resting on your knee now. “I mean it.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, finally, you let out a small sigh. “Okay.”

His head shot up, hope sparking in his eyes. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeated, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “But don’t think this means you’re off the hook.”

He grinned, leaning in slightly. “Noted.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away when he shifted closer, his hand sliding up to your cheek. “I’m sorry again.” He muttered as he shifted even closer.

You didn’t answer, but the way you leaned into him was all the permission he needed. His lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative at first, then firmer as you kissed him back.

When you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Are you still mad at me?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “When am I never mad at you.” Rolling your eyes as you slightly joked. “But, seriously. I am still a little mad.”

He grinned, pressing another quick kiss to your temple before pulling you into a warm hug. “I’ll take what I can get,” he murmured, his arms wrapping tightly around you.

As you leaned into his embrace, the weight of the argument melted away, leaving only the warmth of his love—and the promise to do better.

likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated!!! ^_^ follow me for more & ask if you’d like to be apart of my tag list!!!!

tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress

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mediumgayitalian · 9 months ago

Text

“Oh, fuck.”

The clatter of her practice sword on the ground is almost louder than the crunch that rings out from his wrist. He inhales sharply, biting back a shout — no matter how many times it’s happened, he will never get used to breaking a bone. That shit hurts.

“Fuck, fuck fuck. Fuck, Seaweed Brain, is it broken?”

“Think so,” Percy grits out. He tries for a smile, and Annabeth matches it, small and worried. He leans into the hand she cups over his cheek. “Not too bad, though. If I just dump my water bottle on it —”

“Absolutely not. Water healing leaves you achey when it rains, you know that.” Shifting to wrap her arm around his waist, she helps him stand, shouldering some of his weight like it’s his ankle that’s broken. He lets her, reaching down to squeeze the hand resting on his hip — I’m fine. We’re good. She turns her hand to wrap clasp their hands together — Okay. If you’re sure.

They walk together to the infirmary, taking their time. Aside from the pain pulsing from his arm, it’s not too bad — camp is as balmy as usual, and the spring break energy is practically visible, it’s so potent. The Demeter cabin has plants growing everywhere, flowers and fruit trees blooming as bright as a box of new crayons, and the air is filled with shouts of laughter and teasing. Annabeth’s steps fall in time with his, and she’s a comfortable warmth at his side, pressed from shoulder to hip.

“You still okay?”

“Yep.” He catches her eye, smiling crookedly at her. “Doesn’t even make my top fifty.”

She rolls her eyes, hipchecking him. “Don’t I know it, ya klutz.”

“Not sure I would call being flung from the St. Louis Arch being a klutz. Or exploded in a volcano. Or crushed under the sky. Or slashed by giants. Or chased by —”

“You’re talking, but all I’m hearing is Annabeth, please, please pinch me, as hard as you can —”

“Hey! Get those claws off me, gods you’re worse than an empousai —”

“— and when you’re done pinching me please put me in the tightest headlock you can manage —”

“I am injured! You are beating up an injured person right now!”

“— and then please just bite a chunk out of my shoulder —”

“Cut it out or I’m telling Mom!”

“Wimp,” she taunts, finally releasing him. “I don’t go running to Sally every time I lose a fight.”

“Wha — you do so!”

She ducks through the infirmary door, smirking like she can’t hear him.

“You literally — you snitched on me last week! I got grounded for two days!”

“And you deserved it,” she says primly.

He gapes. “I did not!”

“Anytime you two are done,” Kayla drawls, shoving a clipboard at them. They accept it with matching sheepish grins, cowed at her perfectly arched eyebrow and slowly tapping foot. “I got patients to deal with and older brothers to harass. Let’s get this moving.”

She is shockingly good at humbling people for a thirteen year old. The two of them turn to their clipboard, chagrined, letting her stomp away with an exasperated He’ll be with you soon! Don’t set off the sprinklers again!

“That was one time,” Percy mumbles, ears reddening.

Annabeth pats him on the back. “There, there,” she says mockingly. “The fact that it was one time definitely negates the fact that you flooded the entire Big House because you got jumpscared by a child.”

“Harley can be sneaky, okay. Let me live.”

“Literally no.”

Annabeth does most of the paperwork for him, ‘cause she’s a nerd because his wrist is far too swollen for him to write properly, so it takes maybe half the time it normally would. The infirmary is crowded as Hell, though (he knows, he’s been), so they settle in for the wait, amusing themselves by tearing little pieces off of a blank form, balling them up, and tossing them in increasingly harder places. Percy is winning 7-4, although Annabeth might just pull through if she manages to toss her paper ball into Travis’ wide-open snoring mouth.

“Hey, guys. Sorry for the wait.”

Aw. She missed. Percy was looking forward to that.

“Hey, Will.”

He drags his attention away from the son of Hermes to greet his friend, but frowns before he can open his mouth.

“Woah, dude, you good? You look exhausted.”

Will snorts. “Welcome to spring break, man.” He holds his hand out for the clipboard, scanning it briefly. “Sparring injury? Oh, thank the gods. I could use a break. Here, face me.”

He climbs up onto the minimal left over space on the cot, tucking his legs under his thighs. Percy turns to mirror him, hesitantly sticking out his arm — A break? he mouths to Annabeth, meeting her eyes over Will’s head.

She shrugs.

“Just spent four hours putting Jake’s nose back on his face,” Will mumbles, placing a careful hand on his fingertips and his forearm. Percy flinches — his skin is blisteringly hot. Like someone just dropped a hot stone onto him. “I never want to sing a skin cell hymn again in my life.” He prods at Percy’s wrist for a moment, gentle enough not to hurt. “Okay, hold still, I’m gonna fix ya right up.”

Healing hymns are familiar, by now, but Percy will never get tired of them.

The cool thing about ambrosia and nectar is that as pleasure food for the gods, it’s pleasant. It’s whatever taste you want, whatever you need to have most, you get it. But healing hymns are intentional the way nectar and ambrosia aren’t. Ambrosia and nectar happen to be healing for demigods — healing hymns were constructed to knit you back together, like you mother smoothing a bandaid over a skinned knee. They’re warm and sweet and deeply, endlessly comforting in a way most things simply cannot claim to be. They don’t feel like a medical procedure or a hasty patch job, they feel like someone gripping you tightly and promising you’ll be okay. They feel like getting carried to bed when you fall asleep on the couch. They feel like sitting down after hours of standing, like a drink of water when your throat is drier than sand. Healing hymns draw the pain and sick and ache from your body, and they feel like relief.

But this time, Percy can’t focus on it.

With every word, Will seems to get a little duller. Nothing like the horrible ash-grey he went in the war, dragging the poison from Annabeth’s body, but like his usual sunny disposition was dialed down a few notches. Enough that Annabeth frowns in concern, drumming her hands on her thighs, watching him closely.

“There,” Will says, pulling away. Percy turns his now-healed wrist, noticing the slight pant to Will’s breath, the strain to his smile. The shake of his blistered fingertips.

“You look overworked,” Annabeth says quietly.

Will holds his hands up in a what can you do gesture. “Spring break.”

“You said.”

“It’s just busy, is all.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Guys,” he interrupts, smiling tiredly, “there are two hundred ADHD demigods at this camp right now who have been trapped in a classroom for six months. There are three of us. I’m going to be a little drained; we’re all a little drained. But I’m fine, okay?” He gives them a second to scrutinize his expression, eyebrows raised in amusement. “I have been running my infirmary for years. I know how to pace myself, and I certainly know how to make sure my siblings are pacing themselves. If something goes really wrong, Chiron is a whistle away. I can go longer than you guys without sleep, anyway. Apollo kid health.”

“If you say so,” Percy says reluctantly. “I just — I can wear a wrist brace, man. Not every injury needs to be handled when it happens. You can tell people no.”

“I appreciate that, Percy, and I’ll keep it in mind. Anyways, I’ve got more patients. Stay off that wrist for the rest of the day, okay? It might be tender for a bit.”

Percy turns to Annabeth as Will leaves, frowning. He’s has never noticed the so-called spring break stress before (his camp spring breaks are usually a blast, but now that he’s thinking about it, he can’t think of a single spring break where he spent any time at all with Will, which is odd), but it can’t be good for him. There’s gotta be something they can do to ease some of the bruising under their friend’s eyes.

“I could set off the fire alarms again,” Percy suggests. “That’ll certainly get this place cleared out.”

Annabeth snorts. “I think that’ll cause more harm than good, Seaweed Brain. It’ll just fall in him to clean it all up, after.”

“Shoot.”

Percy counts nine of the forty cots currently unused. Will, Kayla, and Austin are rushing from cot to cot, handing out nectar, wrapping bandages, rattling off hymns at light speed. All three of them look exhausted, squeezing shoulders when they pass each other, knocking hips, exchanging tired smiles. This is so clearly something they’re used to.

Annabeth’s head rests on his shoulder.

“It wasn’t always like this,” she whispers. “When it was fully staffed…”

Percy exhales heavily. Yeah. He remembers. There was a lot less complication, once upon a time. The most chaotic the infirmary would get was when Lee would challenge his siblings to Hymn Karaoke — trying to heal with pop songs. There was a lot more laughter, at one point. A lot more people.

Percy sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. It never does well to dwell, but he — gods, he wish they all had more time. To sit with it, to acknowledge…everything. Siblings. Friends. A camp that’s smaller than it’s supposed to be.

Annabeth squeezes his hand again, and he squeezes back, resting his head on top of hers.

“Hey,” she murmurs after a moment, pursing her lips at the front door. “Look.”

Slinking through the entrance like a criminal is Nico, in all his dork ass black camp shirt glory. He looks around shiftily, like he’s trying to make sure no one sees him, and when his gaze lands on Percy and Annabeth his eyes widen. Annabeth smiles at him, but it does nothing to ease the spooked look to his face, back arched like a startled cat. He turns to leave, but before he can slip back out the door —

“Nico!”

The son of Hades whips back around so quickly he brains himself on the doorframe. Percy ducks his head and bites his lip, hard, because he can feel Nico’s glare at the side of his head like the press of hot coal, and if he laughs as badly as he wants to then the infirmary is about to look like a Spirit Halloween.

Will turns back to his patient, squeezing his eyes shut and rattling a hymn off so quickly it makes a burst of light pop from his whole body, and rushes over to where Nico’s standing. He only trips over two things, which is remarkable for him. Percy would be proud if he wasn’t a little embarrassed on his behalf.

“Nico! Hi!”

“He-ey, Will,” Nico says, voice cracking badly on every vowel. Annabeth shoves her face into Percy’s shoulder, body shaking.

“I didn’t know you were coming! I thought you were in the arena all day.”

Nico shrugs, shoes scuffing the floor. “I am. I just — uh, I got hurt? So. Came to see you.”

Will’s beam is so bright it hurts to look at, a little. Percy squints and realises that’s not just the excitement, actually — he really is glowing, faintly. His hands flap slightly at his sides.

“Well, you’re in the right place, then.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them say anything for a minute, rocking back on their heels. Will watches Nico closely, biting his lip. Nico looks resolutely at the floor.

“We weren’t this bad,” Annabeth whispers, “were we?”

Percy shakes his head. “Nah, there’s no way.”

“Gods. It’s so — I don’t know whether to smile or take a dip in the Lethe. It’s embarrassing and endearing at the same time.”

“Painful to watch, but I can’t stop looking,” Percy agrees.

“What’d you hurt?” Will asks, finally. “Did you pull your shoulder again?”

A look of panic flits briefly across Nico’s face until he smooths it to something neutral, aloof.

“Yep. Totally. During — sword fighting, I swung — I did this really big thrust, actually. Just — hugely powerful, training dummy exploded on impact.” He clears his throat. “Some might say too powerful. If you can imagine.”

Percy cradles his head in his hands. “Oh my gods — ”

“Don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh,” Annabeth chants, “oh my gods, don’t laugh —”

A light flush dusts Will’s cheeks. He brushes a strand of hair behind his ear, fiddling with his earrings. “Woah, really? I’ve never heard of that before.”

Nico smirks, standing up a little straighter. “Well, it’s not the first time. I tend to go pretty hard.” Remembering his supposedly hurt shoulder, he exaggerates a wince. “Too hard sometimes, I guess. Could you do the — the energy thing?”

“Oh — gods, yeah, sorry. Hold on.” He stares at Nico’s shoulder, hesitating. “It, um, works better with skin-to-skin contact.”

“I have seen crystal vases less transparent,” Annabeth says, aghast. “In two years he’s going to remember this and try to drown himself.”

“I will be counting down the days,” Percy says gleefully.

On rare, rare occasions, the gods answer his prayers. Clearly, both Nemesis and Aphrodite are looking at him kindly today. Percy makes a note to scrape some of the good stuff off his plate for them both today. Hell, maybe he’ll skip the portioning and toss them an entire roast chicken each. Or something. They deserve it.

Will places both hands — interesting, Percy notes, his wrist was snapped cleanly in two and he only needed one hand, wonder why that was — on Nico’s shoulder and closes his eyes, screwing up his face in concentration.

“Huh. I’m not feeling much damage. You said it was your right shoulder?”

“I heal quick,” Nico says loudly. “I mean, some of the damage might have — um.” He clears his throat. His face glows a faint crimson. He clears his throat again. “Y’know?”

Will’s face is a similar shade.

“Right, right. Yeah. Um, brace yourself.”

Instead of starting to sing, Will closes his eyes, holding completely still. After a moment, the tips of his fingers begin to glow; soft, ambery yellow, flickering like lit candles. He opens his eyes again and focuses intently on Nico’s bare skin, tracing patterns around every defined muscle, leaving a trail of light behind. He lingers, for a moment, when he connects the last string of light, waiting until it has faded entirely from Nico’s skin to remove his hands and shove them in the pockets of his coat.

“That better?” he asks softly.

Nico swallows. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’m glad, Nico. It means a lot that you — came to me. When you needed it.”

“I trust you, I guess.” Nico looks away. “You know what you’re doing.”

“I think I just threw up in my mouth a little,” Percy says thoughtfully.

Annabeth laughs, shoving his shoulder. “Don’t be mean.” She pauses. “Me too.”

With a sigh that can only be described as besotted, Will steps reluctantly away.

“I have patients,” he says, in the same tone of voice Percy usually says I have midterms. “So I gotta…”

“Yeah, no, go. Do your —” Nico gestures vaguely. “Doctor thing.”

“Right. Yeah. I’m gonna — go.” He turns, walking back towards a group of Hephaestus kids who appear to be tightly entangled in some kind of net. After a few steps, though, he pauses, biting his lip, then darts back over to Nico, pressing a lightning-fast kiss to his cheek — “Um, bye. Thank you for visiting. Bye,” — and then runs back over to his siblings, shy smile on his face.

Nico’s jaw is brushing the floor of his father’s palace. He stands, still as a statue, for four entire minutes.

“I think he just died,” Annabeth observes, eyebrows climbing higher and higher up her forehead with every passing second “Damn. Survived so much only to literally die because a cute boy kissed his cheek. A true hero’s end.”

Percy, because he is a kind, concerned friend, clears his throat loudly.

“Yo, di Angelo, you alive?”

Nico startles so violently he falls right over. Percy shoves his fist in his mouth to keep from cackling.

“Shut the fuck up,” Nico hisses venomously, scrambling upright. “Both of you, shut the — not a word —”

Percy and Annabeth make the mistake of looking at each other and simply erupt. Percy can’t feel his stomach. His lungs have abandoned ship. He’s glad as hell he’s in the infirmary because he is heaving for breath, tears streaming down his face, entire body convulsing. Nico stands in front of them literally shaking with rage, entire body redder than one of Apollo’s sacred cows, trying and failing to string together a threat that will ease any and all of his suffering. Annabeth screeches, almost falling off the bed as she cackles. Percy cannot even find the strength to catch her, his muscles are so weak.

“I fucking — I hate you! Both of you! You’re dead to me!”

“Your face!” Percy shrieks.

“Percy Jackson, I am going to turn you to fucking dark matter! I despise your very essence! I —” He stomps his foot. “I’m leaving, and I’m going to leave a rotting corpse in your cabin! Screw you!”

“Oh my gods,” Annabeth wheezes, digging her nails into his arm. “Oh my gods, that was —”

Percy wipes a tear from his eye. “I love being alive. I love being alive so much.”

“It really is great.” Composing herself, and biting back the leftover giggles that keep bubbling out, Annabeth looks back towards Will. He stands much straighter, now, smile back to full brightness. His siblings, too, look rejuvenated, snickering to each other and making kissy faces behind Will’s back. “So many beautiful things to witness. I’ve never seen his face go that red.”

Percy sighs. “This is genuinely going to carry me through the semester. I think his soul died a little. And Will just — gods, that kid is bold.”

“Oh says you, Mr. Do I Get A Good Luck Kiss.”

“Hey, I earned that.”

Annabeth grins, punching him in the shoulder. He grabs her wrist and tugs her towards him, chasing the curve of her smile. She laughs into his mouth and it taste like strawberries and freedom, and he presses a kiss to her cheek, to her jaw, and the side of her neck, resting there, breathing against her skin. After a moment her hands come up and slide in his hair, gently untangling the knotted mess.

“He is one thousand percent going to put a zombie in your bed, you know,” she says after a moment.

Percy snorts. “Yeah, I know.” He smiles. “Worth it.”

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thejujvtsupost · 3 months ago

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You Caught A Cold

💗 Established relationships, sick!reader, fluffy cuteness 💗

Please ignore any typos I’m just a 24 year old girl 😭

smau masterlist

🏷️: @pixelcafe-network

Divider: @thecutestgrotto

#jjk texts #jjk smau #smau #no use of y/n #jjk fic #jjk fluff #established relationship #jujustsu kaisen x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader #choso x reader #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen #reader insert #jjk x reader

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celestie0 · 3 months ago

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does anyone wanna be on taglist for this gojo x reader series? 🧚‍♀️✨

title. if the world was ending

synopsis. gojo satoru is your long lost love, the one that got away, that heartbreak that time could never heal, and you haven’t spoken to him in years. but when an asteroid the size of the empire state building is set to crash into the earth in three days, and effectively wipe out all life as we know it, then surely some promises of no contact can be broken, right?

warnings/tags. heavy angst, smut, fluff, dystopian au, second chance romance, end of the world romance; mentions of pregnancy & abortion, violence, blood, alcohol, smoking, drugs, cannibalism, suicide, murder, starvation, corruption, basically all the crazy shit that goes down across the globe when eight billion people realize they’re all going to die.

parts. there will be a total of four parts! i anticipate 50k words

teaser. here’s a little teaser!! as always i can never choose which part to tease but i suppose this kinda gives a gist:

note. for my followers that read my other series, i promise that this one will be like four parts max lol it’s just it was actually supposed to be a oneshot but when i finished writing the first part was alr 10k+ so🧍🏻‍♀️i figured i’d make it like a sort of limited series?? mini series?? but fret not lol i will still continue to update kickoff & ihm in the midst :”)

comment below if you’d like to be on the taglist, and please make sure your settings allow you to be tagged or else i won’t be able to tag you

much loveee!! i’m so very excited for this one :”0

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manheeiim · 3 months ago

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sunbathing - rafe cameron

summary: sleepy!reader x rafecameron - when rafe finds you napping in the sun || warnings: rafe disapproves once again, rafe's a little mean || genre: established relationship, fluff || word count: approximately 465 || a/n: i wrote this like a month or two ago and completely forgot about it soooo

Rafe had come from work slightly irritated from the summer heat, just wanting to get in the pool with his girl. When he got home, he called for you but got no response. He checked everywhere in the house and couldn't find you anywhere.

He found your whereabouts just before he was about to call you as he walked by the French doors leading to the back. He noticed you lying on a sunchair outside by the pool.

He opened the doors and walked over to you, only to notice that you were fast asleep. He just sighed, he wasn't even surprised. He understood you liked napping by the pool but he didn't know how long you'd been out there and you seemed to be sweating from the heat. He just didn't want you getting burnt.

He said your name a few times before you opened your eyes, blinking a few times as your eyes adjusted to the sunlight and you looked at him.

"Rafe, you're back already?" You asked, thinking it hadn't been long since you'd fallen asleep.

"What d'you mean?" Rafe asked, furrowing his eyebrows a little. "I told you I'd be back at this time."

"It's already 5?" You asked, not thinking you'd sleep for that long.

"How long have you been asleep?" Rafe asked despairingly, ignoring your question.

You thought for a few moments, "Maybe an hour... hour and a half." You answered Rafe.

"In this heat?" Rafe asked, sighing. "I'm getting in my bathing suit and we're going in the pool."

"I already went in the pool.." You said, still half-asleep and not really in the mood to go in the pool despite your sweating.

"You're going in again." Rafe said, not budging. "I'll be right back, doll. I'm gonna get in my swim trunks." He then told you before heading back inside, not leaving room for any argument from you.

He came back shortly after and found you still sitting on the sunchair. Rafe then went over and picked you up bridal style, causing you to squeal, before walking to the pool and using the steps to get the both of you in the water.

He let go of you once you were both standing in the water but you didn't want to, so you straddled his waist, holding onto him like a monkey.

"You're so stupid, fallin' asleep so long like that in the sun." Rafe told you, yet he still held you close.

"Hey... I didn't mean to sleep for that long." You pouted.

"You sleep too damn much, doll." Rafe said.

"I can't help it." You said, lightly hitting his arm.

Rafe just shook his head, letting out a chuckle, before he leaned in and kissed you, wordlessly letting you know that he loved you anyway.

ᥫ᭡ link to my masterlist

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fishfooddude · 5 months ago

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No Phone Policy 2.0

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader

Still feelin' very angsty... Except, I'm not sorry this time around.

The Bear MasterList