#I should have someone to spend valentine's day with | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

flowersforbucky · 4 days ago

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either way, i'm going your way

logan howlett x reader (worst!logan x reader)

word count: 4k

summary: logan doesn't remember the last time he celebrated valentine's day, and he doesn't have any reason to believe that this year will be any different. then he runs into you, wade's neighbor, who happens to love the holiday despite not having anyone to celebrate it with.

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only mdni, sex in a public place kind of, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected p in v, logan's pov, neighbor!reader, reader is afab, reader is described as being shorter than logan, no use of y/n, hints of grumpy x sunshine

this is my entry for @yxtkiwiyxt & @lubdubology valentine's writing challenge! thank you both for hosting this, i can't wait to read the other submissions ❤️

logan howlett masterlist

Logan has been alive for two centuries worth of Valentine's Days. He can count on one hand how many he’s actually celebrated, and he can't recall the last time he had a reason to even acknowledge the day.

To him, Valentine’s Days have always been just another Tuesday, or Thursday, or whatever day it falls on that year.

He hates how commercialized the holiday is thanks to the multi-billion dollar corporations that fill department stores with trinkets the second that Christmas is over. He hates all of the pressure and unrealistic expectations that come with planning the perfect date. And as much as he hates to admit it to himself, he hates that it's a stark reminder that he's just as alone in this universe as he had been in the last one.

Technically he can't say that he's entirely alone. Romantically? Yes. Sexually? Yes.

Physically, however, he’s lodged between a blind eighty-year-old cocaine addict and a ten pound living tumor - the latter of whom keeps trying to French kiss him.

Wade might be out with Vanessa for Valentine’s Day, but for Logan, this is any other Friday night – watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire reruns with Al and Mary Puppins.

Something about his current predicament makes him feel even more alone than if he actually were alone. Maybe it’s how unfamiliar and foreign this universe still feels in so many ways – he’s been here for some months now, but there’s some things that remind him that he still has a ways to go in terms of adjustment.

He'd never admit it aloud, but just maybe the fact that he can’t keep his thoughts from straying to a specific next door neighbor certainly doesn’t help. He hates to use the word crush at his grown age, but he can’t really think of a better word for it. If it’s not a crush, why else would he be wondering what your plans are for this evening? Why else would he feel the unmistakable, undeniable twinge of jealousy when he thinks of the mere possibility of you spending your night in the arms of someone other than him?

He has no one to blame but himself, and he knows it. He had the perfect opportunity to ask you out just last week, and he didn’t take it. The two of you were both taking the elevator up to your neighboring apartments when it broke down for the third fucking time in the last month. It took nearly an hour for maintenance to get it back up and running, and he couldn’t find the nerve to simply ask if you have any plans at any point during the time you were trapped in the fifteen square feet of space together. Instead, he awkwardly rambled about he had walked in on Wade and Vanessa in a compromising position the day before.

He cringes at the memory, tossing back another swig of whiskey when he realizes the bottle is empty. He sighs, earning a side-eye from Mary Puppins.

If this is how he’s going to be spending his evening, he should at least be a little intoxicated.

“I’m going to the liquor store,” Logan announces as he transfers Mary Puppins from his lap to Al’s before standing up from his position on the couch for the first time in hours. “You need anything?”

“Pick me up a couple of scratchers and a pack of Newports.”

Just her usual requests, then.

Logan throws on his leather jacket, dreading the cold and dreary February night but willing to face it for a bottle of bourbon and some cigars. He’s been out of those since yesterday, so a trip to the nearest convenience store is much needed, anyway.

The door to the apartment complex’s singular outdated elevator is sliding to a close when Logan hears a familiar, feminine voice call out.

“Hold up!”

Logan immediately pushes the hold button, freezing the door in place. A second later, you appear in the doorframe. You’re slightly out of breath, with a relieved expression on your face.

“Thanks,” you greet him as you lean against the wall of the elevator, smoothing your hands over the fabric of your plaid skirt. “I’m running late to my dinner reservations and really didn’t wanna have to take the stairs in these.” You glance down at the heels of the uncomfortable looking thigh high boots that you’re wearing.

Uncomfortable looking and hot, he thinks, before your words sink in. Dinner reservations – of course you’d have plans tonight. He feels a slight pang of disappointment (and jealousy, if he’s being honest with himself) at the realization, but he isn’t surprised.

“Well, let’s cross our fingers that we don’t get stuck in here again and that you make it to your date on time,” Logan says with a forced laugh and smile as he pushes the button once again to close the door, followed by the button that says lobby.

“Oh, no. Not a date,” you correct him quickly with a bashful grin. “Well, maybe. Is it considered a date if I’m dining by myself?”

“You’re going to dinner by yourself?” Logan asks, unable to hide the surprise in his tone. “Looking like that?”

Your eyes widen in shock. “What’s wrong with how I look? And what’s wrong with going to dinner by myself?”

“Nothing!” Logan begins to backtrack when he realizes how his questions came across. “You - you look great. I'm just a little surprised. Would’ve assumed that you had a date tonight is all—”

He trails off when he realizes that you’re pursing your lips together in an obvious attempt to hide a smirk. The mischievous glimmer in your eyes gives you away.

“I’m just fucking with you, Logan,” you snort with a playful slap to his arm. “I know it’s a little unconventional to take yourself out on Valentine’s Day. But I’ve always loved the holiday despite being painfully single, so I thought why not? Better than sitting at home and sulking all night.”

The corners of his lips threaten to twitch upwards at the words painfully single as he contemplates the rest of your response. He can’t help but admire your way of thinking. He was content with staying holed up inside the apartment and drinking himself into a stupor, but he can’t deny that your outlook on the holiday is far less depressing and boring than his.

“What about you?” you ask as the elevator comes to a stop with a melodic ding. You exit, looking back at him over your shoulder. “Are you on your way to your Valentine’s plans?”

He chuckles at the question. For a second, he considers lying to you. He considers telling you that yes, he is on his way to pick up his date right now, just so he doesn’t have to tell you the truth – that he’s on his way to buy bourbon, cancer sticks, and lottery tickets for him and his elderly roommate. But with his luck, you’d run into Wade tomorrow and he’d open his big fucking mouth about how Logan actually spent his night, and the thought of that is even more mortifying than telling you the truth to your face.

“Not unless you count making a liquor run as Valentine’s plans,” he sighs, averting your gaze as he opens the door to the apartment building for you. “The only thing I plan on doing tonight is listen to Althea scream at her game shows.”

You come to a stop outside of the apartment building, wrapping your coat tightly around your chest to fight off the chilly night air. There’s a peculiar look on your face that Logan can’t quite read – something between amusement and hesitation.

“You could have worse dates, I suppose,” you laugh.

“That’s true,” Logan agrees. “At least I have Vanessa to thank for a Wade free evening. But I’ll let you go, don’t wanna make you late for your—”

“Do you like Korean barbecue?”

Logan freezes, taken aback by the question. He snaps his mouth shut, realizing he’s staring at you like a deer in the headlights.

“Korean barbecue?” He asks lamely. “Don’t think I’ve ever tried it.”

He’s had barbecue. He’s had Korean food.. maybe? He’s been alive a really long time, he’s sure he’s had Korean food at some point in the last two hundred years.

But he can’t say that he’s had Korean barbecue.

A nervous looking grin appears on your face, and you cross your arms over your chest before taking a small step towards him.

“Are you hungry?”

••••••

All it takes is one look at the table that the host takes the two of you to for Logan to realize that he has indeed never had Korean barbecue.

You don’t appear to be the slightest bit confused so he assumes that the circular grill built into the middle of the table is normal, though he’s never seen anything quite like it in a restaurant before.

You giggle when you notice the curious expression on his face.

“It’s kinda like hibachi,” you begin. “Except instead of someone cooking it in front of you, you cook it yourself.”

Logan takes in the array of various meats on the tray to the left of him. You pick up a piece of what appears to be some kind of beef with a pair of tongs, and place it on the grill. It sizzles, and he watches as you add a few more pieces of meat onto the hot surface.

“Isn’t that kinda the whole point of going to a restaurant? To have someone else cook the food for you?” He asks the question as gently as he can, not wanting to hurt your feelings. He’s just happy to be here with you – even if he doesn’t fully understand the appeal of going to a restaurant to pay to cook your own food.

“It’s about the experience,” you explain with a shrug. “To be fair, when most people come to a Korean barbecue restaurant, they usually come with a group of people – hence the large amount of meat.” You nod towards the arrangement of the meats that have yet to be cooked.

“It’s a social thing. But all of my friends had plans with their significant others tonight, so…”

You trail off as the server places another tray on the table – this one covered in various colorful side dishes that he’s definitely never had before. He wouldn’t exactly describe himself as adventurous when it comes to trying new foods – for the most part, he lives off of ham and cheese sandwiches and frozen TV dinners. But he tried shawarma when he’d first arrived in this universe and ended up loving it, so he’s determined to try a bite of everything on this table.

“Sounds like it’s a good thing that you ran into me, then,” Logan murmurs when the server walks off.

You take your eyes off of the pieces of meat that you’re paying careful attention not to overcook, looking up at him through your lashes with a soft smile.

“I'd say that you’re right about that.”

••••••

Despite the breeze and the chilly night air, Logan feels perfectly toasty on the walk back to the apartment thanks to your tight hold on his arm and the wine that you had insisted that he try.

He'd learned a lot tonight – a lot about you; your hobbies and your interests. He’d learned all about Korean barbecue, and that he likes bulgogi and buldak.

Most importantly, he'd learned that he was stupid for ever being nervous about asking you out.

He feels at ease with you. He already knew he enjoys your company from all of the times that you’ve joined Wade’s movie nights and get-togethers – but he’d never been alone with you (with the exception of getting stuck in the elevator with you last week). Wade, Vanessa, Al, Peter, Yukio, and countless others always seemed to be present, making it near impossible for him to get to know you in the way that he’s wanted to since he first met you.

But now, with your arm intertwined with his and the scent of your perfume hitting him each time there is a gust of air, he knows that he is going to do all that he can to keep having moments like this with you.

“I have a question,” you state as the two of you turn onto the street where your apartment building is. Logan glances down at you in curiosity, but you’re not looking at him – you’re looking ahead, your teeth biting into your lower lip.

“What’s that?” Logan murmurs.

You hesitate, your eyes flickering up to him before quickly looking away again. “Did you actually like the kimchi?”

Logan can’t help but cackle, taken off guard by the question.

“That’s your question?” he laughs, thinking back to the spicy and tangy flavor of the fermented vegetables.

You come to a stop next to a streetlight outside of your apartment building, pulling your arm away from his to stand just inches in front of him.

“No,” you admit with a smirk. “Though I am curious about that, too.” You take a step closer to him, your chest ever so slightly brushing against his. He feels his breath catch in his throat at the way that your eyes twinkle in the glow of the streetlight.

“Last week, when we got stuck in the elevator together,” you begin in a low voice. He swears that your eyes flicker to his lips for a split second before meeting his gaze once more. “Were you nervous?”

He thinks back to his nervous rambling in the elevator, to how you looked so pretty that he found it difficult to hold direct eye contact with you, and to how it felt like half of his brain was screaming at him to ask you out and the other half was screaming at him to not make himself look like an idiot.

Yeah, nervous is accurate.

“That obvious, huh?” he sighs.

“Just a little,” you shrug. “But don’t worry. I was too.”

“Is that right?” Logan asks, trying not to give away just how happy the confession makes him. “And what about now?”

He doesn’t have to ask – he's standing close enough to you that your increased heartrate is easy for him to detect.

“Something like that,” you whisper, and before he fully process what’s happening, you’re raising up on your tippy toes to capture his lips in yours.

The taste of the fruity wine from dinner still lingers on your lips. He places his hands on the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. Your hands cradle his face, pulling him down closer to you. The warmth of you is a balm against the brisk night air, making him feel like he can’t get close enough to you. You don’t pull away until you’re breathless, looking up at him with dilated pupils in the florescent street lighting.

“Do you wanna come up to my place?” you breathe, nodding your head in the direction of the apartment building.

“What? You don’t wanna come to mine and hang out with Al?” he teases, nudging you in the direction of the building’s entrance.

“As tempting as that sounds…” You trail off, following his lead.

The second that the elevator door comes to a close, his hands are back on you. He backs you up against the wall, his hands gripping your hips as you spread your legs enough to allow one of his thick thighs in between them. This time, he’s the one who kisses you, wasting no time in slipping his tongue between your lips. You whimper into the kiss, your tongue fighting his for dominance.

It isn’t until he pulls away for air and opens his eyes that he realizes the elevator has come to a stop. It couldn’t have been moving for more than ten seconds –

“Fuckin’ hell,” you groan. “Not this again.”

Logan looks at the panel of buttons to his left. Sure enough, the number reads that you’re still a floor beneath your apartments. He beats his fist against the elevator wall, as if that’s actually going to help the matter.

Still pinned between his body and the wall, you pull your cell phone out from an interior pocket of your coat. You quickly find the number for building maintenance in your call history, but it just rings, and rings, and rings.

“I could probably pry the doors open,” Logan muses as he begins to pull away from you. He thinks back to how it took maintenance nearly an hour to get the elevator back up and running last week, and knows that he wouldn’t have the patience for that now. The thought of having to wait even a fraction of that long to get back to your apartment…

“Let’s not do anything that could potentially put the elevator out of commission permanently, yeah?” You pull him back to you, grabbing his face in your hand and making him look at you. “I think that we'll be just fine right here for a while.”

There’s a mischievous look on your face. Before he can question you, you’re sliding down the wall until you reach the floor. You reach for his belt with your hands, making quick work of undoing the buckle and then the button to his jeans.

Oh.

All Logan can do is stare down at you in wonderment as you tug his zipper down.

“This okay with you?” you ask, but the look on your face says that you already know the answer.

He nods, his mouth suddenly feeling too dry to speak. He helps you shimmy his boxers and jeans down enough for his cock to spring free. He glances around the elevator, double checking that there aren’t any security cameras. Considering this elevator is ancient and doesn’t even function half the time, he isn’t surprised to see that there aren’t any.

You take the base of him in your hand, languidly massaging the length as you tease his slit with your tongue. You lap up the beads of pre-cum before easing him past your lips.

The sight of you on your knees for him is enough to have him twitching in your mouth. Add in how your soft lips and tongue feel working his length, and he knows he won’t last long like this.

You bob your head around him, gagging when his head juts against the back of your throat. You pull off of him, leaving a thick rope of saliva that trails from his cock to your mouth.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything prettier. He could spend hours looking at you like this.

But this isn’t how he wants to finish – in your mouth, before he’s even had a chance to make you feel good. So as much as it nearly kills him to do it, he pulls himself away from your sweet lips and yanks you back up by the tops of your arms. There’s the slightest hint of disappointment on your face, but it quickly disappears when he pushes your coat off of your shoulders and down your arms. It falls to floor, leaving you in still too many articles of clothing for Logan’s liking.

Later, he tells himself. He’ll get you naked later, in the privacy of your apartment, where there’s no risk of the elevator doors sliding open at any given moment.

For now, he settles for pushing the restrictive fabric of your skirt upwards, bunching it around your waist. He sinks to the ground in front of you, splaying his palms on your inner thighs and spreading your legs open for him. He rubs the pad of his thumb over the soft material of your panties, right over your clit. He feels shudder at the sensation, and notices the goosebumps that appear on the skin of your thighs.

He hooks his index finger through the cotton fabric, pulling it to the side. He looks up to see if there’s any kind of hesitation on your face, but you quickly pull him to your center by the back of his head, erasing any doubt. He chuckles lowly, and flattens his tongue over your slit.

Your cunt tastes as sweet as the fruity wine from the restaurant did on your tongue. He eats you like he wants to get drunk off of you, alternating between soft licks through your folds and fervent kisses to your swollen bud.

He feels your legs quiver around the sides of his head. He supports you from below, letting you go all but limp above him. He glances up at you, your head thrown back in pleasure and your chest heaving with ragged breaths.

His name slips through your lips, your voice strained with desperation. He loves the sound of it, and wants more than anything to hear you keep saying it. He snakes one of his hands between your thighs, and teases your hole with the tip 9t his finger. You involuntarily sink down, nudging the tip of it past your entrance.

He groans against your clit at how fucking tight you feel around his finger. God, he can’t wait to be inside you. He pumps the digit, your walls already clenching around him.

“Logan,” you moan from above him. “I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he hums against your clit. “Let go. I got you.”

Your climax washes over you with a sharp cry of his name and Logan mentally prays that the elevator walls aren’t as thin as the apartment walls.

When you go still above him, he reluctantly takes his mouth off of you and stands up. His jeans and boxers are still bunched just above his knees, his erection painfully hard and his balls full. He wipes the excess of your slick from his mouth with the back of his hand, and then begins to stroke his own length in his fist.

“Do you.. wanna wait until we get back to your..?”

“God, no,” you exhale, and pull him to you by grabbing his flannel in your fists.

His lips crash against yours as he nestles himself in between your legs, teasing your slit with the head of his cock. He coats it in your juices and eases into you slowly. You groan into his mouth and he has to try not to cum on the spot.

You’re tight, and warm, and your walls flutter around him just right. He hikes one of your thighs over his hip, deepening the angle before he pulls almost all the way out. He rocks back into you, working up to a steady pace.

The small, confined space is filled with the sound of your body meeting his and the sweet noises you make that are music to his ears. You grip around him like a velvet vice and he knows that he isn't going to last long.

“Gonna cum, honey,” he warns in a grunt next to your ear. “Ya feel too fuckin’ good.”

He feels your walls pulse around him at his words and he can tell that you're just as close as he is. A few more deep thrusts that hit your cervix just right and he’s spilling into you as you cum around him.

When he’s empty, his movements cease but he doesn’t pull out. He nuzzles his face against your throat, pressing kisses to the soft but sweat-slicked skin.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to us,” you murmur in a borderline delirious voice. He laughs, pulling back just enough to press his lips to yours.

“Mind if I still come back to your place? I know we just…” He trails off, glancing down at where he’s still tucked inside you. “But I just realized I forgot to pick up cigarettes for Al and she isn’t gonna be too happy with me.”

You roll your eyes, and playfully push him away from you so that you can tug your skirt back into place.

“I think I can find a way to be okay with that,” you smirk. “If we ever get out of this fuckin’ elevator.”

not my favorite thing i've ever written by any means, i've been feeling really unmotivated to write and have felt kinda burnt out, but i still wanted to get this out before valentine's day bc if i didn't then i never would have finished it at all, lol. so i'm sorry it's short 😭 hope you still enjoyed

reblogs/comments are always appreciated, thanks for reading!

#klloveuary2025 #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x you #logan #logan x you #logan howlett oneshot #logan howlett one shot #worst!logan #worst!logan x reader #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3

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sugarwarachan · 3 days ago

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roll the dice - ft. sero hanta

pairing: sero hanta x roommate!reader

summary: It's Valentine's Day and Sero does his best to keep his horny thoughts to himself. He doesn't succeed.

cws: smut mdni, face sitting, sero hanta is a pussy-eating KING, dirty talk

based on this prompt list

"Wow," Sero whistles, while you teeter on one heel and hop into the other. That dress hugs every inch of you. "Someone’s lookin’ good. Hot date?"

You laugh, and fuck, he’s such an idiot, because the sound travels straight to his dick. He adjusts himself as subtly as he can and goes back to cooking dinner.

"Something like that.” You swipe on lip gloss in the hallway mirror. "He’s a coworker. I might have mentioned him?"

You’ve mentioned him 17 times. Not like Sero’s counting.

"Make sure he treats you right," is all he says instead, doing his best to ignore the cute little blush tearing across your face as you duck out the door.

Alone on Valentine’s Day, he thinks ruefully, settling his long frame on the couch. Alone on Valentine’s Day with a raging hot case of let-me-fuck-you-right-now for his roommate.

He should have turned down being your roommate the minute he saw you on Denki’s phone. If he had, he wouldn’t be this jealous of some random shithead taking you out for Valentine’s Day.

He considers texting Denki just to have someone to commiserate with, but the guy is probably doing his best to woo Jiro and doesn’t need the distraction.

He sparks up a joint and turns on 13 Going on 30 (so he’s a rom-com guy, sue him), trying not to think about how much better this night would be if you were here.

The door clicks a half hour later, followed by the rap of your heels on the ground. You trudge into the room and slump on the couch right next to him.

“He didn’t even show up,” you whisper into the side of his neck, wrapping your arms around him. He feels a few tears hit his collarbone.

Sero Hanta considers himself a pretty even-keeled type of guy, but wanting to punch this dick’s lights' outs shoots to the top of his to-do list.

“Oh honey, what a fuckin’ dickhole.” His hands tighten on your waist. “Doesn’t deserve someone like you, anyway.”

He probably shouldn’t say that, not when he’s rubbing circles on your hip through the material of your dress, the scorching heat of your body against his impossible to ignore. But he's been thinking it for months now, all of his own attempts at dating tossed to the wayside when he realized he just preferred coming home to you.

“No?” You pull away and delicately wipe away unshed tears. He doesn't know why he finds it so cute, this innate desire to preserve what's left of your mascara. “Who does deserve me, Hanta?”

You grab the joint and drag and his mind goes fuzzy. You’ve never outright called him on it like this before.

“Maybe I do angel, ya ever think of that?”

“Yeah?” There’s that megawatt smile of yours, kicking him in the teeth. “You think of me like that, too?”

It’s new territory for the both of you, admitting to the attraction that Sero realizes has been simmering for weeks.

“Yeah. I think of you all the time.” He cups your face and cocks his head. "We doin' this? You gonna let me show you how I'd treat ya on Valentine's Day?"

You roll your eyes at him affectionately. "Cheesy bastard."

He cuts off your laugh with the press of his mouth.

Sero's not normally one to wax poetic, but something about the way your body instantly sinks into his makes his heart lurch. You kiss him like you've been spending your whole life studying how to do it, and it drives him absolutely insane.

"Knew we'd be good together," he says, grinding the curve of his cock into the cleft between your thighs. "Feel how hard I already am, baby? Just from one little kiss."

You groan into his mouth and start pawing at his clothes.

"I know, I know, want you naked too. Don't fuckin' pout, I think you'll like the idea." He repositions the two of you with him lying down on the couch, you straddling his hips. "Remember when you said you've never sat on a guy's face?"

Your eyes darken with excitement. "I remember."

"What if we change that?" He strokes his thumb under the band of your dress, shimmying it over your hips. The pretty red lace covering your pussy makes his breath catch. "Because you know what's gonna happen if we don't?"

He traces the folds of your pussy through your underwear with the pads of his fingers.

"I'm gonna get inside this perfect fuckin' pussy and embarrass myself. Probably come after two pumps like an idiot because she's just so fucking sweet." He pulls your panties down and drags you up to his face. He catches the little whine of insecurity in your throat at the position.

Your pussy is swollen and begging for attention, arousal clinging to your lips like dew.

"Take a fuckin’ seat, baby, ya think I’ve never done this before?"

He molds his hands around the meat of your hips and thighs, and then Sero feasts, sucking and grinding his chin and nose and tongue up into your cunt. You wail and fall forward, holding yourself steady on the arm of the couch. He doesn't care if he has to hold you up himself; he's in heaven between your thighs, the taste and scent of you all he can fucking think about.

You cum quickly, gasping and shuddering above him as he drinks down your orgasm like fucking water.

"Felt good, didn't it?" he prods, biting your inner thigh and soothing it with a kiss. Your shaky nod makes him grin.

Sero sits backs up with you in his lap, wiping the back of his mouth with a forearm and licking at his lips like a dog. He hopes he smells like you for hours.

Black streaks of mascara run under your lashes. He swipes them away with the back of his thumb. "Sorry honey. You worked hard on this makeup, huh? And I'm just making you cry it off."

It's your turn to cut him off with a kiss.

ahhhhh i've written for him ONCE i hope i did him justice

#sugarwarachanwrites #sero hanta #sero x reader #sero hanta x reader #sero hanta smut #hanta sero #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #boku no hero academia #bnha #sero x you

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uolarieclosed · 9 months ago

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nishimura riki ☆ ! glue song

━━━ in which the soccer captain can’t contain his overflowing desire for you …

NISHIMURA RIKI who leaves a drink he got at the cafeteria on your desk every morning before you come in.

“they didn’t have the one you liked, so i got you chocolate instead.” riki stands beside your desk with his hands in his pockets as he watches you grab the drink. “you really didn’t have to riki.” “i wanted to.”

NISHIMURA RIKI who likes to tease you by hiding your pencil case or work book so he can have an excuse to talk to you.

NISHIMURA RIKI who does anything he can to get you both in trouble so you can be in detention together and he has more time to spend with you.

NISHIMURA RIKI who shares his earbuds with you in class and has a specifically curated playlist for you with songs you said you like.

NISHIMURA RIKI who stares at you shamelessly just to watch you blush under his gaze.

NISHIMURA RIKI who flirts with you because he knows about the tiny crush you have on him.

“so, what’s your type?” he asks one day while he plays with your hair. “is it me?” he raises his eyebrows, teasing you but in reality he hopes you say yes.

NISHIMURA RIKI who invites you to his soccer game with plans on asking you out after + he makes you wear his jersey so everyone knows you’re his.

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who asks you out with an entire poster board held up by his teammates and a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who leaves his team zip up at your place so you can wear it to school (also because he loves when it smells like you).

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who walks you home everyday without fail even though he’s always late to his practice.

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who won’t shut up about you in the locker room and everyone knows who you are despite not meeting you properly.

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who tries hard every game and practice to impress you knowing you’re in the stands watching him.

“put your shirt down!” heeseung yells as riki wipes his sweat off—showing his abs and smirking at you.

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who introduces himself as your boyfriend to all your friends.

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who thinks your kisses are his lucky charm and cannot go to the field without one of your pecks.

“why aren’t you playing?” you run your hands through his hair as he pouts. “you didn’t give me my kiss.” his arms are crossed and he huffs until you give in.

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who has a shrine of you in his locker and occasionally has conversations with you before his practice (he’s insane).

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who goes all out for valentine’s day and sends a flower to you every class period until you have a full bouquet.

“did you like my surprise?” his arm is around your shoulder as he walks through the halls. “it was nice riki, thank you.” “there’s still more.”

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who gets jealous easily and doesn’t like it when you give someone else his undivided attention, so he gives you the cold shoulder.

however, he doesn’t last long until he’s spamming your phone and showing up at your house for late night cuddles.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to ignore you.” he mutters while he hides in the crook of your neck feeling nervous but also accomplished.

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who buys you matching jewelry and clothes because he feels connected even when you both are away from one another.

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who teaches you how to play soccer so he can brag to all his teammates.

“so, i’ve been thinking that jake should be replaced by my girlfriend.” “stop it!”

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who claims that the reason he exists is to be your boyfriend.

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who isn’t shy to say he loves you with all his heart.

“i think you’re the coolest person ever, i love you.” he randomly says one night as you both go for a walk, but ultimately you feel the same.

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atlabeth · 1 year ago

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a rose and her thorns | luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!daughter of aphrodite reader

summary: luke vies for a valentine. you're just trying to get through cabin inspections.

a/n: take this as my formal apology for the angst i’ve been throwing at you all with demeter girl lol and take this tooth rotting fluff. this was supposed to be shorter but i got carried away, after writing that 11k angst riddled monster this was a much needed palate cleanser lmao

wc: 3.3k

warning(s): no warnings this is all fluff <3

You huffed as you knocked on the door again, chewing on the inside of your lip as you waited for a response. The Hermes cabin usually always had kids in it—either they were ignoring you, or they were just causing too much ruckus to even hear it in the first place.

Honestly, you should have known this was how cabin inspections with Luke would go. He was probably in there right now, ushering all of them through rapid last-minute tidying in the hopes of something higher than a one. You had half a mind to knock a point off right now by virtue of tardiness.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up all of a sudden, and you whirled around.

“Speak of the devil,” you said wryly.

You were greeted with Luke Castellan himself, his hands up with a slight smile on his lips. “Easy. I didn’t think I looked that bad.”

Your brows creased ever so slightly, and he gestured with head. You looked down and realized you were holding your pen like a sword. You cleared your throat and let your arm drop, adjusting your shirt on the way down.

“Sorry. People tend not to sneak up on me.”

“I can’t imagine why.” Luke put his hands down and started towards his cabin, craning his head back at you. “What brings you here on this fine day, Rose?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” you pouted, holding up your clipboard and pen as you followed him. “We’re on inspection duty together. Where were you?”

He snapped and pointed at you. “That’s what we were doing together today! I knew we were spending time together—not like I could forget that—but,” his hand paused on the doorknob, “I kind of forgot about the cabin inspection part. Had to spend a little extra time with one of your siblings at the end of sword-fighting lessons.”

“Sounds like Liz is getting better, then.” A smug smile pulled at your lips as you stopped next to him. “And it sounds like someone’s gonna be cleaning the dishes tonight,” you said in a sing-song voice.

You placed your hand over his and opened the door, and Luke groaned. “Take mercy, Rose. Please.”

It was certainly a sight—more akin to a tornado than the inside of a cabin. Various kids—Hermes, unclaimed, and minor gods alike—ran around, shoving dirty clothes beneath beds, cramming duffles and suitcases into overflowing closets, with a few noble exceptions attempting the Sisyphean task of actually cleaning.

“Wow,” you said, glancing down at the papyrus scroll. “Can I give you a zero?”

“Listen,” Luke said from behind you, “our thing isn’t tidiness. It’s thievery—swiftness, cunning, panache.”

“I thought you were supposed to be jacks of all trades,” you mused as you checked off boxes. “Cleaning is a trade.”

“Not here.” You could feel him peering over your shoulder and he groaned yet again. “Come on! You’re grading us way too low. I get input too, remember?”

“Sure,” you remarked. You held out the clipboard and gestured with your head at the natural disaster in front of you. “But you can’t tell me this is anything better than a two.”

“A two’s better than a one.” Luke plucked the pen out of your hand and scrawled out a number two on the final line.

“Luke—” you started in protest, but he just snatched the clipboard as well with a wink as he started walking backwards towards the door.

“We’ve got a chance, guys!” he called out. “Hephaestus has gotta be worse than this!”

You huffed as you chased after him, shutting the door on your way, and you crossed your arms as you came to a stop in front of him. “This isn’t very cooperative of you.”

“Gotta give myself a chance,” Luke said, smiling as he took the Hermes sheet off the clipboard and stuffed it into his pocket.

“That’s just cheating,” you said, and he let you take the clipboard back from him. You started walking, and he fell into pace with you. “Hephaestus is next—we’ll see how much of a chance you have.”

“We should get some slack because we’ve got double the campers,” Luke said. “Nine’s got no excuse—they’re just a bunch of messy engineers.”

You tapped your pen against the board. “I’m not changing my mind, Castellan.”

“Ouch,” he winced. “I got last name’d.”

You merely smiled and shook your head. You could see his own smile in your peripherals, then he huffed.

“You’re distracting me from my whole plan with these ridiculous grades,” Luke sighed. “I haven’t ruined everything, have I?”

“You’ve got a plan?” you asked in amusement.

“Of course I do.” Luke took a few long strides to get in front of you then turned around so he was walking backwards, that stupid smirk still on his lips as he kept eye contact with you. “Valentine’s Day is coming up.”

“You’re very observant,” you said. “Watch your six.”

Luke moved a step towards you to avoid a younger camper with their head buried in a book, and you chuckled as he shrugged.

“It’s a work in progress,” he admitted.

You hummed, biting back your smile as you came up to the Hephaestus cabin. You were about to knock on the door, but once again, Luke caught your wrist.

“You’re not even gonna let me say my piece?” he asked.

“I’ll give you a little time to polish it up,” you said.

“You assume I don’t have it prepared already?”

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” You winked. “But I know the effect I have on you.”

Luke’s fingers loosened on your wrist and you allowed a small, self-satisfied smile as you pulled free and knocked on the door. It took a couple seconds, but eventually the door opened and their counselor—Alya, if you remembered correctly—greeted you with a smile.

“Just in time,” she said, smudging the bit of grease on her face as she wiped at her cheek. “We’re actually not horrible today.”

Luke grumbled beneath his breath as you walked in together—usually, the place was a mess of loose parts and hastily sketched out plans and smoke-scented clothes. Today, it was still a mess, but slightly less so.

“Damn it,” Luke muttered. “Still not as bad as us.”

“Stop comparing your place to everyone else,” you said. “This is supposed to be fun.”

“Cabin inspections are fun?” he asked wryly.

“Hanging out with me is fun,” you clarified. “I—”

You were cut off with a gasp of your own as you slipped, and before you could even fully process it you were falling. It wasn’t until everything steadied that you realized someone had caught you, strong arms cradled you around your waist. You looked up to see Luke’s wide eyes.

“You good?” he asked, his voice slightly higher than usual.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding far too many times, “yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

“...Good,” he said, ever eloquent.

A small smile creeped in. “You can let me go now.”

It almost took him a moment to come back to Earth, because he blinked before he nodded, smiling on his own as he helped you back up. You could feel the heat in your face and tried your best to ignore it as you looked down. A small pool of oil was the culprit—you grimaced at the thought of having to clean that out of your jeans. Thank the gods for Luke.

“That’s gotta be points off,” Luke whispered in your ear, still close by, and you stifled a laugh. “Oil on the floor, making pretty counselors slip. Right?”

You ignored him too, looking over at Alya, though you couldn’t stop your smile. She looked mortified.

“I am so sorry,” she rushed. “I guess Michael didn’t clean as well as he said.”

“No problem,” you said. “I’ve got a little guardian angel. But this place isn’t too great.”

“Damn,” she mumbled. “I even got one of your sisters to come in and help clean things up. Do you not smell the perfume?”

“The smoke kinda overpowers it,” you said sympathetically, and she sighed. “Three out of five, Alya. But you’re right on the edge of a four.”

Alya glanced at Luke. “Better than Hermes?”

Luke grimaced. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

She smiled and went off to talk to one of her siblings. Luke shook his head and tutted once she was gone. “The double standards here are ridiculous, Rose. I might have to report you to Chiron.”

“Oh, quiet.” You hit him in the side lightly with the clipboard and continued scanning the room for a final check. “If you wanted help with cleaning up from an Aphrodite kid, all you had to do was ask.”

“And would you have accepted?” he asked.

“Of course,” you said as you scribbled down your last couple of notes. “I’ll always help you, Luke.”

He went silent as you continued to write, and when you finished you saw he was only looking at you.

You frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” Luke said, still smiling. “Let’s keep going.”

You stared at him for a moment, but he didn’t say anything else. So you just laughed a bit and shrugged. Luke followed behind you as you walked out, and despite his claims of ‘nothing’ just a moment ago, soon enough he was talking again.

“So,” he said, “Valentine’s Day.”

“Valentine’s Day,” you said sagely. “What’s your plan?”

“Be my Valentine.”

“That’s your plan?” You glanced over at him. “Just asking me out straight-up?”

“Oh, sorry. I also have this.” Luke pulled something out of his back pocket and held it out. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“A rose?” you asked with a lopsided smile.

“Not just any rose,” he said as you took it. “A chocolate rose.”

“You are so cute.” You pulled the wrapper off, and though the stem and leaves were plastic, the flower was, indeed, very much chocolate, and in the shape of a rather pretty rose.

Luke shrugged. “Figured you needed something as sweet as you.”

“I’ve got a toothache just from being with you,” you remarked. You broke it in half with a bit of effort and offered it to Luke.

“You can’t just split the gifts I get for you with me.”

“They’re my gifts,” you said. “I can do whatever I want with them.”

“Really?” he asked.

“What’s a rose without her thorns?” you responded. Luke grinned as he took the other half from you. You popped yours into your mouth and your eyebrows rose.

“This is actually good chocolate,” you said as Luke ate his part. “Not like that crap we get at the camp store.”

“I might’ve snuck out to the city to get the good stuff,” Luke said offhandedly.

You looked at him incredulously. “What?”

“Did I stutter?”

“You risked all that trouble just to get some chocolate for me?” you marveled. “Hell from Chiron, extra chores for a month, literal monster attacks—”

Luke held up a hand, stopping your ranting. “Nothing happened. And even if it did,” he shrugged, “you’re worth it. So it doesn’t matter.”

You shook your head and Luke continued. “Besides, I got some other stuff too for the rest of my plan.”

“Right,” you nodded, “you never finished telling me.”

“How’s your schedule?”

“Busy,” you said. “I’m an Aphrodite kid during Valentine’s season.”

Luke tipped his shoulder. “Fair. Think you can block something out for me?”

“That depends what it is,” you said.

“It’s a secret,” he said.

You stared at him. “A secret?”

He nodded. “It might be a foreign concept to you Aphrodite kids, but—”

You cut him off with a light shove and he only chuckled in response. “So you talk yourself up and it ends up being a secret.”

“I think I’ve earned some secret surprises,” Luke said. “I’m already sweeping you off your feet.”

You shook your head, smiling inwardly as you tapped your pen against the clipboard. “Is that how you see it?”

“Well, I did keep you from an untimely death back there,” he said. “And the more unfortunate plight of having to get oil stains out.”

“You read my mind,” you mused.

“And isn’t that worth a date?” Luke asked. “Saving you from a fashion faux pas?”

“You’re worth a date all on your own,” you said as you came up to the next cabin—Apollo was bright as ever, gleaming golden in the sunlight—and you looked at him with a smile. “No rescuing required.”

Your journey to the rest of the cabins went by relatively quickly, especially the Apollo and Ares cabins—you think Luke had been temporarily stunned into silence by you actually flirting back.

You’d had a subdued smile on your face nearly the entire time, even as you felt warmth bloom over your face again. Luke really brought out the inner Aphrodite in you—you were sure your mother was proud, wherever she was watching. What seemed to get Luke out of his addled state was the 5/5 you gave to your own cabin—he complained that the scent of perfume gave him a headache, and when you said you’d been wearing perfume the entire day, he claimed that it was different.

(Cabin Ten kept their full score. It was amazing what a pretty smile could do, especially when Luke was the victim.)

Finally, you were at the Demeter cabin. Luke insisted on going there last, so that all the expectations would be tapered—he was still trying to get a better score for his cabin, but the odds were looking pretty slim. The door was already open, and you smiled at the newly grown flowers outside the cabin.

“Nice touch.”

Luke sighed. “Great. Going out with a bang.”

“It’ll be fine, Luke,” you said. “I’ll help you clean your cabin tonight.”

He frowned. “You were actually serious?”

“Of course I was.” You tipped your head. “It’ll just have to be pretty late. Y’know, because you’ll be cleaning all the dishes.”

“Low blow,” he said, shaking his head. You chuckled as you stopped in the doorway and poked your head in.

“Hey, Katie,” you called to the counselor. “How’re things?”

“Good,” she said, nodding. A smile of her own bloomed on her lips as her gaze moved over to Luke. “I see Rose and her thorns are on duty today.”

“Flattery won’t help you with your score,” Luke mused as he walked into the cabin. You smiled as he held out his hand for the clipboard, and you finally acquiesced. You could feel Katie’s eyes on you as he walked further in.

“He takes that as a compliment?”

“Thorns protect a rose,” you said, still watching Luke. He played the part of a foreman well, investigating their shelves and walls with vigor and even opening drawers. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit, and Luke looked back and smiled at you. You nodded, giving him the go-ahead, and he winked as he gave you a thumbs-up.

“And he protects you?” she asked.

You shrugged. “We protect each other.”

“…You would be cute together,” Katie admitted.

You managed to tear your eyes away from Luke, leaning back against the wall. “You think so?”

“He’s only been vying for your attention and flirting with you since the moment you got to camp,” she said wryly. “But you’re the expert on love—you tell me.”

You bit your lip as your gaze darted back to Luke, who was squatting on the floor having what looked to be a very serious conversation with a younger Demeter boy.

“I think I’m his valentine,” you said, almost absentmindedly. “And I think I’m really looking forward to whatever this date is.”

Katie came back into focus as you came back to Earth, and even she was smiling. “Then I think you’ve got your answer.”

Luke had picked the most opportune moment to come back, when you weren’t staring at him like an infatuated idiot—you were only one of those things—and he held out the clipboard and pen to you. “After having a very in-depth conversation with Damian about how things are going here, I scored them properly.”

You chuckled as you took it from him, but your eyebrows rose the more you read. “You’re kidding me.”

He shook his head. “There’s unpaid labor going on here—unpaid child labor. Damian said he’s responsible for half the cleaning and plants here.”

“We’re all children. All the labor we do is child labor,” you deadpanned. “And we’re sure as hell not getting paid.”

Luke held his hands up. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just delivering what he’s said.”

“Don’t tell me he gave us all ones,” Katie said dryly.

“You know him so well,” you mused. You scribbled out half of what Luke wrote as you stood up from the wall, shielding it with your body so he couldn’t see while you walked out together. “See you, Katie!”

Her protests fell on Luke’s deaf ears as he held up the rear, shutting the door behind you two, and when you looked back at him he was grinning.

“Straight ones,” he tutted, shaking his head. “What a shame. Looks like they’re gonna be cleaning the dishes tonight.”

“You know they got a five, Luke,” you said, finally allowing him to see your revised marks. “If you’re gonna fudge the numbers, at least try and make them believable.”

“Oh, come on!” he exclaimed. “A five is way too nice—it’s not fair that they can just grow plants all over and make everything look presentable. Using powers should count as cheating.”

“Their floors are clean, their beds are made, and it smells like floral heaven,” you said. You tapped his chest with your pen. “You could learn something from them, Castellan.”

He caught your wrist before you could move it away. “The Aphrodite cabin always gets perfect scores. Think you could teach me a few things?”

You grinned as you pulled your hand out of his grip and continued walking, this time en route to the Big House to drop off the final inspections. “That depends.”

“On what?” Luke came back into your peripherals as he caught up to you.

“On how good this secret plan of yours is,” you mused.

His eyes lit up, past worries of low inspection scores seemingly fading away in an instant. “So it’s a go? You’re in?”

“Of course I am,” you said, tucking the clipboard under your arm. “You got me the good chocolate, Luke. How could I not see where this goes?”

Previously unnoticed pressure dissolved in his shoulders as he took your hands in his. You could only focus on his eyes, on the warmth of his skin, on the callouses borne from years of sword-fighting.

He was surely blessed by your mother.

“You’re not gonna regret it,” Luke vowed. “All those promises I’ve made about blowing you off your feet, about making your mother proud—they’re all gonna be true.”

“You know what wise men say,” you said wryly.

“That they’re so glad you’re finally giving me a chance?”

“Only fools rush in,” you provided. “Going all in on our first date seems a little hasty.”

“Isn’t your whole thing supposed to be rushing in?” he asked cloyingly. “Y’know, daughter of love and all.”

You shrugged. “Maybe I like taking the idea of taking it slow with you.”

“Then call me a fool,” Luke mused, letting go of one hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His own curls hung over his eyes and you had the strongest urge to take his face in your hands. “Because you should know I can’t help it.”

You felt your cheeks heat as warmth spread all over, and you couldn’t even try to hide your smile. “You think you can take me out on one of those city trips of yours? Show me how to steal a camp van without getting in the most trouble?”

“I’m trying to steal your heart here,” Luke said with a goofy grin, “but I think a van’ll do.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” You took his hand back, intertwining your fingers together as you pulled him closer to you. “We can multitask.”

#luke when he’s so smooth and then she actually flirts back and he system reboots #posting this and running before i go to sleep bc i can only write in the middle of the night #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan fluff #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #sadie writes

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slasherscream · 1 year ago

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Crazy Ass Girls Gang ft. what type of yandere are they

warnings: yandere behavior - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Tiffany Valentine / clingy, obsessive, manipulative

You'd better be damn sure you want to be with Tiffany before you ever bring up dating her because there is no escape once you've embarked on the exciting journey of being her romantic partner.

But if we're being honest you never really had a choice. You think you met organically? Became close by fate? No, Tiffany saw you and wanted you and decided to have you.

It was love at first sight on her part.

You'll be friends for a few months as she weaves the inescapable web around you. Best friends, actually. You'll tell her absolutely everything about yourself. Learn everything about her in turn. It's pure bliss to have a friend like Tiffany. Supportive, charming, affectionate.

You can tell she loves you more than anything. Loves you more than anyone else has ever loved you before, and she isn't afraid to show it.

You probably already had a partner when you met Tiffany. She was heartbroken when you first told her. The heartbreak didn't last long. Why cry over spilled milk? She wants to take it slow with you anyways, make sure that this time every aspect of the life you build together will be perfect.

She's come in too heavy before. You can't rush perfection, her mother always told her. For you, the lesson is finally worth learning.

Everything can be a tool. In the right hands. And Tiffany's hands? Why, they're incredibly skilled. She uses your soon-to-be-ex as a diving board for your upcoming relationship with her. Even if you'd been perfectly content with the relationship until you met Tiffany, suddenly everything is awful.

Tiffany points out every mistreatment. Every cancelled date. Every strange tone they used when talking to you. Every shitty, unoriginal gift. Every moment they weren't enthusiastic enough about good news you had to share.

It gets to the point where you can't even look at them half the time. You'll end dates with your partner early just to go spend more time with Tiffany: "What do you think they meant when they said that, Tiff?" / "I think they forgot who they were talking to, sweetheart! They're lucky I wasn't around or I would've cut out their tongue."

Tiffany has you so wrapped around her finger she's not even the one who suggests the break up. She was still going to wait a month or two before she began to truly push.

But when you show up at her doorstep in the middle of the night, holding flowers and her favorite takeout, rambling about how you've been so blind and it's always been Her...

Well, she has to smile as she pulls you in, savoring the last first kiss your lips will ever gift another soul.

She almost forgot how good she is at getting what she wants.

Jordan Li / protective, obsessive, lucid

You're so sweet. It was the first thought Jordan remembers having about you. The beginning of the end. They haven't been able to stop thinking about you since that one fatal moment.

Jordan has plenty of other things to think about. Things that should outclass you in importance easily. Their ranking, Brink's careful mentoring, their grades. They tell themselves that it all still matters more than you but they know they're lying to themselves.

It scares them a little, how much they actually think about you. Not a minute can go by without their thoughts drifting to you.

Did you eat today? / Your next class is in ten minutes, let me walk you, I've got the time. / You were running out of your favorite perfume. Got you a new bottle. / You look upset. Did someone fucking say something to you?

They can't help the way they hover around you during every spare moment they can find.

Jordan knows your schedule by heart to maximize the amount of time you can spend together. It's a balancing act they have to play with their brain for the simplest of tasks: you can spend the rest of the day with Y/N but you have to finish grading these essays first.

They can't function properly when they go too long without you. They swing on their sparring partners too hard. Stare at the clock during lectures instead of listening. They rip textbooks and snap pens by holding them too tight.

Sometimes they have to give up and call you. If they can't go and see you for whatever reason the sound of your voice makes it better. Hearing you talk, the sound of you breathing, laughing. It helps. Calms the buzz beneath Jordan's skin. They dial your contact, glaring into space as they wait for you to pick up. As soon as you do their body relaxes.

They recognize that their behavior isn't normal. Always needing to know where you are, who you're with. Feeling sick when they don't know.

You're like a drug for Jordan. They know you're an addiction, the way you've crawled under their skin. No high on earth compares, and Jordan has fucking compared them all. They pull you into their lap, as close as they can get you and it's never enough. Nothing is ever enough.

"Please don't fucking go anywhere, yeah?" Jordan will mumble into the skin of your neck. Their grip on you is too tight, face twisted at the desperation they feel. It's not pillow talk. They're begging. Genuinely. They'd do anything to keep you this close, always.

"Of course not, Jordie." You coo back. They close their eyes and pretend the words are enough. Nothing ever is.

Nancy Downs / delusional, possessive, obsessive

As soon as Nancy wants you there's no other option for you besides her. You can either choose to go along with it or you can fight it.

Fighting against her is like fighting against the tide, though. You can tread water for awhile. Keep your head afloat, sure. But eventually you'll get tired. Nature wins. Besides, fighting against Nancy becomes unpleasant fast. Being hers is so much nicer. She's gentler that way, kinder.

You're allowed to have friends, she doesn't isolate you completely.

It's just your old friends sucked. They didn't appreciate you. Didn't look out for you. Selfish users just like everyone else. Moths are always drawn to the light, and she'll kill every moth that strays a little too close to you, before it ever gets a chance to singe itself on your warmth. It's a mercy, really. Living a life in the darkness and having one brief moment in the sun is miserable. Nancy should know. It almost drives her crazy when you're not around. If you ever left she'd want to be put out of her misery too.

Her coven, though? They're perfect. Her coven is a family. And you were the last missing piece of it.

Anything about your old life, the life before her, can be viewed as a threat at a moment's notice. Family. Friends. Memories you speak of a little too fondly. Even a hobby could do it. She wants your focus to be her. It's only fair, her only focus is you.

Even when she's not around. Even when you're completely alone you swear you can feel her eyes on you. Her magic drifting against your skin as if she was sitting right beside you.

Nancy's intensity can be scary but she makes anyone else's love seem dull in comparison.

Who else could love you like she does? Who else would die for you? Nancy wouldn't even have to think about it first. All she asks in return is for you to do the same. Live for her. Dedicate every breathe in your lungs to her.

It's not so hard, she'll lead by example.

Jennifer Check / manipulative, possessive, clingy

She couldn't give a shit about anyone else but you. Somehow you managed to sneak your way into her heart and she can't let go of you. Won't let go of you. You're the only thing that's keeping that small, soft, human part of her alive. You dragged that bit of her back from the grave she put it in, actually. So it wouldn't be fair for you to try and leave, after you made her weak again. Human again.

Her world revolves around you. Her priorities are her next meal and you. Of course she gets pissed off if you don't reciprocate her energy. Look at her, how could you ever put anything above her?

Jennifer wants you to be everything to each other, though she won't say it out loud. It shows in her actions.

You belong to her. Every version of yourself that exists in the world should belong to her. The version of you that you are when you're someone's best friend. When you're someone's partner. It's all hers. She won't let anyone else take root in your life in a role that she can fill. She'll do a better job anyways.

The enormity of her ego and the way she clings might seem at odds. She thinks she's a God walking amongst fucking cattle. But she sticks to you like a second skin. A hand always at your waist. Her lips always chasing yours, whining when you don't give in fast enough, when you don't melt like she does. Her grip iron clad when you hold hands. If you pull away too soon from a hug, from a kiss, she bites, she holds on with claws.

She coos at the marks she leaves on your skin and kisses all the scratches and bruises she leaves better. / "I'm sorry baby, you know I hate letting you go."

Carrie White / idolizer, protective, selfless

Not in her wildest dreams did Carrie think anyone could be as kind as you. People are cruel. Their first instinct is to cause hurt before they'll ever reach out a hand to help, to shield, to love.

But you're not like that at all. You're something ripped straight from a fairy-tale. The rare ones that her Mother let her read, that weren't hiding devil worship between their poetic words.

You're so patient with her. So gentle. You treat her like glass. You hold her close, and kiss her soft, and cup her face in your hands that are always so warm.

You say you love her in a breathless way, every time. Like even expressing how much you care makes you dizzy. As if she overwhelms you. She feels dizzy herself as she hangs on your every honeyed word. Clings to you every time you reach out your hands to hold her.

Carrie doesn't know if she believes in God nowadays, but if she did you'd be an angel sent straight from heaven. A gift, maybe, to make up for all the years of torment she endured from everyone she'd ever known.

She'd think you were some kind of God yourself, if you had any sort of abilities like her. But you don't. You walk around doing what's right, being good down to the marrow of your very bones just because it's who you are. You greet the world with your fists raised and you're only human, and it scares Carrie so much.

You're the last decent person alive and you'll throw yourself onto any pyre you see if it means doing what's right. Carrie loves that about you. It terrifies her.

So Carrie throws herself into the ring with you. Your sweet, gentle Carrie who you're always trying to protect. But Carrie doesn't need your protection. She's not the helpless little girl she used to be. She won't let anything hurt either of you, from now on. For the rest of your lives you'll be safe, happy. Together. Carrie would burn the world to ash if it meant not a scratch would befall you.

"You're an angel, Y/N. The most wonderful angel God ever made."

Ginger Fitzgerald / possessive, impulsive, protective,

Sometimes Ginger wishes everyone else in the world would disappear, besides the two of you. They're a hindrance.

She feels insane when she watches you. She feels her claws come out and makes herself bleed as she fights against the instinct to rip out every tongue that speaks to you, and every pair of eyes that's ever looked into yours.

She shivers when you claim her. The only time she enjoys being around other people now is when you're introducing her: "This is Ginger, my girlfriend." "This is Ginger, my partner." "This is Ginger, my best friend." "This is Ginger, my everything."

She loves being yours. Relishes in the way you say the word mine. She wants to lick the words from your mouth, the weight of your total ownership over her sweet and poisonous.

She wonders if you get the same pleasure from belonging to her. She wants you to. She wants to carve her name into your skin with her claws and have you moan at the first sharp sting of the letter G.

It's primal, the way she wants you. Beyond anything humans have words for. She leaves her scent on your skin and wants to growl when you wash it away with artificial soaps and perfumes. She sucks bruises into every inch of you that anyone else could see.

She wants you to do the same. Wants to roll onto her back and expose her neck, and have you bite so hard you draw blood.

Ginger's wanting comes with teeth. What she is demands she sinks her teeth into things, that she draws blood. Even when she loves you. Because she loves you, maybe. She needs to leave a mark on you. She needs to always be there. She needs the same from you.

Needs you to leave scars on her that she can touch when you're not around. Proof that you were there. Proof that you're coming back. You don't carve your name into things and then abandon them. When you own things you keep them.

When you're gone the world goes dim and cold. She couldn't survive in a world without you. She wouldn't even attempt it. What would be the fucking point?

"We're a pair. We belong to each other. Always, yeah?"

#crazy ass girls gang #tiffany valentine x reader #jordan li x reader #jordan li imagine #tiffany valentine imagine #jennifer check x reader #jennifer check imagine #ginger fitzgerald x reader #carrie white x reader #nancy downs x reader #thank you ty and oak for helping me place these guys i was in the trenches #im still in the trenches right now because im down BAD i want them all in a way that #MUST be studied by scientists this shit ain't normal #sorry if this makes me look gay it's because i am #got a little lost in the sauce with ginger HELLO???

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ghouljams · 4 days ago

Note

I work at a florist. I hate Valentine’s Day. 40 guys all calling the night before and 80 more day of, all panicking because they forgot. I’m admin- I don’t make the arrangements, but I write the cards. Eugh… having men, grown men, joke with me about the sexy (gross) nicknames they give their girlfriends. They want *me* to write their cards because my hand writing is better or whatever (your girlfriend knows your hand writing is shit, write it yourself!)

One guy went on and on about why he calls his girlfriend his pink energizer bunny- cuz she goes all night long! Yuk, yuk…. Yuck. Let me go hurl in the trash can. Another was quoting Romeo and Juliet cuz nothing’s more romantic than the love story of two 11 year old kids.

My mom owns the shop so, I don’t get to leave until *everything is done*

…would they understand if I came home with chocolates (I work next to a candy shop, it’s quite dangerous) then passed out? Happy v-day bubs… let’s take a nap together. I brought leftovers from the celebration we threw for a successful Valentine’s Day for the staff! (Brazilian bbq!) Is that romantic enough? I’m not asking for a story. Just, would they mind if I did this?

…I’m tired… I’m not directing my crankiness towards you. Ily…. You’re one of the only things making me smile during this hell week. ILY Ghoulie-goo

That sounds awful but also so funny. Maybe I'm an asshole too though because I just walk into the shop and grab a couple dozen flowers to make my own bouquet on the busiest day of the year...

Anyway I kinda love the idea of texting Ghost periodic updates from flower shop hell, sending him the worst cards you've had to write, the guys that come in looking for your cheapest option, reminding him you're bringing home chocolate so he absolutely should not buy any, and you don't even want to smell a flower when you get home.

Which is good for Ghost because he's always operated with a quiet kind of affection that's hard to buy gifts with, or even celebrate holidays like this with, because he's never been one for grand displays. It's nice that he doesn't have to remember valentines day since you spend the week leading up to it complaining about it. It's nice that he can wander to the butcher and pick up a few good steaks to cook, and he doesn't have to mess around pretending he knows anything about flowers. It's nice that you both can sit in front of the telly afterwards and dig your fingers into a box of chocolates that neither of you paid for and pass the ones you don't like back and forth.

"Coconut," Simon grunts.

"Ooh gimme." You open your mouth for him to deposit the halved chocolate square on your tongue. Some action movie you'd wanted to watch plays a rainbow of colors over your face as you chew happily, and Simon doesn't think he's ever felt more comfortable, more happy with someone in his life.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost cod

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fatecantstopme · 1 year ago

Text

Unattached Drifter Christmas

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus size!reader

Summary: Dean decides he’d rather spend Valentine’s Day curled up on the couch with you.

Warnings: Cursing, use of pet names. SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), oral (M & F receiving)

A/N: in honor of Valentine’s Day, I gift you an adorable Dean Winchester fluffy smutty delight. 💜

"What are your plans, Sammy?" you asked from your perch on the kitchen counter.

"I happen to have a date," he replied with a smirk.

"Oooo with whom?"

"Just a nice local girl I met at the library last week."

"Sam Winchester and the nice local girl...sounds like a book I'd read," you teased.

He rolled his eyes and threw a dish towel at you. "What about you?"

"I have an excellent night planned," you confirmed. "Since Dean will be out cruising for ladies to go home with, I figured I could steal the Dean Cave for the night. I'm ordering a pizza, watching scary movies, eating a shit ton of junk food, and washing it all down with a bottle of wine."

Sam laughed. "Now that sounds like a party."

"Someone say 'party'?" Dean asked as he entered the kitchen.

"We were just discussing our Valentine's Day plans," Sam responded.

"You celebrating Unattached Drifter Christmas?" you asked in a teasing tone.

Dean shrugged and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. "Nahh, I think I'm gonna sit this year out. I'd rather stay home."

"Awww man," you grumbled.

Dean looked at you with an arched brow. "Is that a problem?"

"No," you answered quickly. "It just puts a bit of a wrench in my plans."

"And what are your plans?" he asked.

"I was gonna take over the Dean Cave for the night--scary movie marathon, pizza, snacks, alcohol."

"Pizza, snacks, and alcohol is my holy trinity," Dean said with a wide smirk. "Would you be opposed to me crashing your party?"

"You hate scary movies," you said.

"Yeah, but you love them," he countered. "I'm the crasher, so I'm not gonna demand a change in movie genre."

You smiled at him. "Alright, then you can come. I'll even supply beer."

Dean winked at you. "The way to my heart," he teased.

You rolled your eyes and hopped off the counter. "Oh, did Sam mention he has a date tonight?"

Sam shot you a look and you hurried out of the kitchen, laughing quietly as Dean started to tease his brother.

"A date, baby bro? Look at you!"

**********

You'd sent Dean to pick up the pizza while you set up the Dean Cave for the evening's festivities. You'd made a run to the grocery store earlier in the day to pick up yours and Dean's favorite snacks, as well as a decent supply of wine and beer.

You were more than satisfied with your selections, but for some reason you felt anxious. Well...to be honest, you knew the reason. You hadn't expected Dean to be staying home and you certainly didn't count on him joining you for the evening.

You'd known Dean for a little over five years and in that time you'd grown to care about him deeply, more than you should. He was a genuinely good person underneath his gruff exterior, a facade he had dropped with you long ago.

If you were completely honest with yourself, you knew you loved him, but you would never say anything to him. You knew him too well. Dean had lost virtually everyone he'd ever loved and he blamed himself for their deaths. He avoided romantic relationships like the plague because he didn't want to add another name to the body count. It was hard enough for him to bring you into his life as a friend, and there was no way he would risk anything more than that.

So of course, you kept your mouth shut, hiding your feelings from both Winchesters. The only person that knew how you felt was Jody and she would take that secret to the grave if you wanted her to. You would rather have Dean as a friend than lose him completely.

You tossed your favorite oversized blanket onto the couch with a sigh. You were trying not to think about curling up next to Dean for a movie marathon on freaking Valentine's Day of all days. You knew it was the romantic nature of the day itself that had your stomach in knots. You'd watched movies and binge ate with Dean countless times before without issue, but there was an added intensity to this instance simply because it happened to be February 14th.

You also couldn't help but wonder why Dean wasn't planning on going out. You couldn't remember the last time he neglected to celebrate 'Unattached Drifter Christmas' as he'd always called it. In fact, Dean hadn't been out to pick up a girl in weeks...you were struggling to recall the last time Dean didn't decline a girl's invitation to come home with her.

"I've brought sustenance!" The man in question spoke from behind you, startling you out of your thoughts.

"Jesus!" you yelped.

Dean chuckled lightly. "Sorry, sweetheart. Didn't mean to scare you."

You shot him a look that clearly said 'I wasn't scared', which only caused him to laugh harder.

You tossed a piece of popcorn at him and headed towards the door. "I'm gonna change into comfy clothes before we get started."

"Good idea," he agreed, placing the pizza down on the table before following you out the door.

Five minutes later, you came back into the Dean Cave wearing your most comfortable leggings and an oversized worn out band tee you'd had for at least a decade. You'd opted to forgo a bra for comfort's sake and you hoped Dean wouldn't notice.

Dean was already sitting on the couch, wearing his gray sweatpants and a plain black tee. It was almost offensive how hot he looked in that outfit--no man had any right to look that good in sweatpants.

When you walked in, Dean's gaze traveled from the TV to you. You noticed his pupils dilate slightly as he looked at you, but you figured that was due to the change in light.

You plopped down on the couch beside him, leaving plenty of space between the two of you to avoid any awkwardness. "Ready to be terrified?" you teased.

Dean groaned softly. "You know I'm only watching these because you love them."

You grinned and snagged the remote from him. "They're so good!"

"Our life is a scary movie," he grumbled. "I don't know why you like these."

"I think that's actually why I like them. Our real lives are full of the kind of shit that would make people lose their minds, but for us, it's just another Tuesday. These movies are either cheesy as hell or have an exaggerated version of a monster we have hunted and killed--so it becomes entertaining instead of scary."

Dean raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Or you're crazy."

You smiled at him and shot him a wink. "That's just an added bonus."

He rolled his eyes and grabbed a slice of pizza. As he shoveled food into his mouth, you opened up a streaming service and typed in the name of the first movie you wanted to watch.

"You remember The Conjuring right? And Annabelle?"

"Yeah," he answered. "That Annabelle one was creepy as hell."

You grinned. "Well this one is in the same universe and I've been dying to watch it."

You pressed play on the remote and the opening credits of The Nun began to play. You snuggled up under the blanket and sighed contentedly, a piece of pizza in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

Dean glanced at you and couldn't help the soft smile that graced his lips. It was rare he got to see you truly happy and content, so this was a moment he intended to fully savor. He studied your face, desperate to commit it to memory, unwilling to forget how beautiful you looked in this moment.

He sighed softly and closed his eyes, still picturing your face clearly in his mind. It brought another smile to his lips and he breathed in deeply, smelling a mixture of your shampoo and your perfume. He wanted you to be closer to him, but he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

He made a split second decision and voiced his request aloud, "It's a little chilly in here. Do you mind sharing the blanket with me?" He wasn't cold at all, but he thought it might get you to move closer to him to share.

"Oh! Sure." You smiled and scooted in his direction, holding the edge of the blanket out to him.

He took it and started to cover himself. "You're gonna need to come a little closer, sweetheart," he said with a chuckle. "I need a bit more coverage."

You laughed and moved even closer to him so your arms were now touching. "Better?" you teased.

"Much," he affirmed.

You tried to keep your body relaxed and focused on the movie, but Dean's proximity was overwhelming your senses. You could smell his aftershave, feel his body heat, and see the rise and fall of his chest much more clearly than before. The simple act of a man breathing should not be a turn on...yet here you were.

You shifted slightly as you felt a familiar wave of heat pool in your belly. Not now, you thought to yourself.

"You okay, doll?" Dean asked softly.

His voice sounded lower than before, huskier even, and you had to bite your lip to keep from audibly moaning. As it was, you could feel the slick gathering between your legs, which was mortifying enough.

"I'm fine," you lied, shifting again.

Dean wrapped his arm around your shoulders and tugged you into his side. "Come 'ere," he muttered. "Get comfortable."

You gasped softly at the sudden movement, but you allowed him to pull you closer. You laid your head against his chest and sighed quietly. You had to admit, it was a much more comfortable position to be in, even if it increased your longing.

"Better?" he whispered, echoing your earlier question.

"Yeah," you mumbled.

Dean smiled down at you even though you couldn't see it. He liked this new position--he liked holding you. He knew he was crossing boundaries he'd never intended to cross, but his feelings had become unbearable as of late.

He couldn't remember a moment when he didn't want you and it was getting harder to remember a time when he didn't love you. The last couple months had been hell on his heart and he was starting to break. He hid it from everyone, especially you, but he knew he couldn't do that for much longer.

His random hookups had stopped alleviating his desire to be with you, instead increasing that need tenfold after every encounter. So he stopped hooking up with women altogether. He'd considered moving out of the bunker for a while to get away, but he couldn't do that to Sam or to you.

He found himself in a predicament he'd been trying to avoid for years and the walls he'd built around his heart had started to crumble. There was nothing he wouldn't do to keep you safe--he'd rip out his own still-beating heart if he had to--but he couldn't find the strength to stop loving you. No matter what he did, his love only grew.

It wasn't fair to you and he knew he shouldn't love you, shouldn't tell you, shouldn't pull you into something with him that would almost certainly get you killed, but his own pain was becoming too much. The physical ache in his chest when you were apart was beginning to impact every part of his life, including hunting. He'd be lying if he said it didn't terrify him, but he couldn't fight his feelings any longer.

"(Y/N)?" Dean asked softly.

"Hmm?" you hummed, eyes still trained on the TV.

"Can you look at me, sweetheart?" he murmured.

You shifted your head to look up at him. You were struck by how brilliantly green his irises looked in the dimly lit room, your lips parting slightly in surprise.

Dean's heart was hammering in his chest so quickly he was certain you could hear it. When your pretty (y/e/c) eyes met his, he was immediately lost in them--adrift in an ocean of (y/e/c).

He knew this was it--it was now or never...he could either take the leap or let his pain drown him in loneliness. He chose the former. He lowered his head the short distance to place a soft, warm kiss against your lips.

The moment you felt his lips on yours, it was like the world stopped spinning. Suddenly there was nothing but you and Dean--nothing else existed, nothing else mattered. Just you and Dean.

When your lips began to move against his, returning his kiss, he groaned happily. His hands grabbed at your torso, seeking comfort in your soft flesh. He tugged you towards him, and you shifted your body to straddle his lap, lips never leaving his.

In your new position, you could feel his hardening member pressing against your clothed core. You ground against him, earning a moan from deep in his throat. His hands tightened their grip on your hips and your nails dug into his shoulders as the sensation sent a bolt of electricity through you.

Dean's hands snaked under your shirt and he began tugging it upwards in an attempt to remove it. The logical part of your brain suddenly kicked back on and you grabbed his hand to stop him.

"Dean--wait," you gasped, pulling away from him slightly.

His eyes widened and his body tensed. He quickly removed his hands from your body and held them up in surrender. "I'm sorry, we can stop. I--"

You shook your head. "I just need...I need to say something." You bit your lip. "I don't wanna be a one night stand or a friends with benefits thing. I-I can't, Dean. I can't."

The pain in your voice nearly broke his heart. He wanted to reassure you, but he wasn't sure you would believe him. He had a reputation and it was Valentine's Day...what were the odds you'd believe him?

"(Y/N), listen to me," he said gently, taking your hands in his. "I would never ever make you to do something you didn't want to do...and I would never purposefully hurt you. I need you to know that. Do you know that, (Y/N/N)?"

"Yes," you whispered, nodding slowly.

"Good...because I mean it. I can't do any more one night stands or casual hookups or friends with benefits situations. I can't handle any of those things anymore than I can pretend I don't need you. And I do need you, (Y/N/N). I need you in every way a person can possibly need another...mentally, emotionally, physically--all of it. You're the best part of my fucked up life and I don't want to lose you."

It was rare to see Dean so open and vulnerable. This was one of the very few times you'd been witness to it, but this was, by far, the most emotional moment you'd ever shared with him. You wanted to respond, to say all the things you'd carried in your heart for years, but you couldn't think of a single word to say.

Your silence dragged on long enough that Dean began to worry he'd crossed a line he shouldn't have...a line he couldn't uncross. "Please, (Y/N)," he begged. "Say something."

"I'm sorry," you said quickly, realizing you'd been silent too long. Dean's face fell and you knew he believed you were about to reject him. You placed your hands against his chest in a calming manner, desperate to infuse your love in the touch.

"You're not going to lose me, Dean," you assured him. "I'm not going anywhere...my place is here, with you. This is where I belong--where I want to be. Wherever you are is home to me."

He didn't need grand gestures or romantic poetry. He didn't need some eloquent speech about how much you loved him. All he needed was to hear your sweet voice saying he was your 'home' and he was a goner.

When his lips met yours for the second time, everything felt different. It was as if all the moments of his life before this were in black and white and he was seeing in color for the first time. He felt alive in a way he'd forgotten--whole, in a way he'd never experienced.

He'd had very few positive relationships in his past and most of them ended bloody. He'd thought he'd been in love before, but those feelings paled in comparison to the way he felt about you. This was love, a love so real--so lasting--it was branded into his very soul.

His fingers gripped the edge of your shirt again and this time, you allowed him to remove it. "Fuck," he groaned, hungry eyes trained on your naked chest. "No bra?"

"I wanted to be comfortable."

His large, calloused hands gripped your heavy breasts and he gently kneaded the supple flesh. "I want my girl to be comfortable all the time," he murmured. "So I think we should burn all your bras."

Your soft chuckle morphed into a moan as his lips found one of your nipples. You rolled your hips against him, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

Dean wanted to take his time with you and he was thoroughly enjoying his current activities, but it seemed you had other plans in mind.

"Dean," you whined. "Need you."

He gave your nipple one last gentle lick before lifting his head. "I'm right here, baby."

You rolled your hips against his throbbing cock and he groaned. Clearly you wanted more and he was in no position to deny you anything.

He gripped you tightly and stood up. You yelped in surprise and wrapped your legs around his waist. He turned around so your back was to the couch and he slowly lowered you down, placing you on the couch in front of him. He kneeled down and looked up at you, eyes dark with desire.

His hands slid slowly up your thighs, coming to a stop at the hem of your pants. "Can I take these off?"

You nodded rapidly.

He smirked and began to peel your leggings down at a painfully slow pace. You whined in annoyance, but Dean simply smiled. "Patience, sweetheart."

Finally, your pants, and subsequently your underwear, were tossed onto the floor, leaving you completely bare before him. There was a small part of you that felt self-conscious being naked in front of Dean. It was always uncomfortable for you the first time you found yourself in this position with a new man, but Dean was different. You weren't sure if it was the hunger in his gaze, the affection he clearly had for you, or the love you felt for him...you felt safe, you felt comfortable, and you felt loved. That was all that mattered.

Dean licked his lips in anticipation as he slowly spread your legs, revealing your soaking wet pussy to him. He groaned softly, spreading your legs wider to get an even better view.

"Now that's the prettiest pussy I've ever seen," he murmured. He slid a finger between your folds to collect some of your juices before bringing the finger to his mouth. He sucked it clean with a moan of enjoyment. "Delicious."

Before you had time to react, Dean had grabbed your hips and dragged you forward so you were closer to the edge of the couch. His mouth was on you in an instant, feasting on you like he might never eat again.

Your head fell back against the cushion and soft moans began to stream from your lips. Your legs rested on his shoulders and your hand gripped his hair tightly. Salacious sounds filled the room and you were glad Sam was gone for the night. You had a feeling it was only going to get louder.

Dean's experience in the bedroom was very evident as he ate you out. He was extremely skilled, but more importantly he paid attention to you. He was desperate to learn exactly what drove you wild and he wouldn't stop until he'd mapped out all of your pleasure points.

"Dean," you gasped softly, grip on his hair tightening.

He knew you were close, the way your legs began to tremble and your grip on his hair indicating your impending orgasm like a flashing neon sign.

His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place so you couldn't squirm away. With expert precision, Dean spelled his own full name against your clit with his tongue, sending you into a spiral of moaning, shaking bliss.

Dean continued to lap up your juices as you came down, and to your surprise, he didn't stop, even as you began to tug on his hair in earnest. "Please, Dean! Too much," you pleaded.

Dean sucked your little bundle of nerves into his mouth and slipped two fingers inside of you. He quickly found your sweet spot and began to drag his fingers along it repeatedly. The shock waves of pleasure had you changing your pleas to moans in seconds.

Your pussy gripped his fingers like iron and he couldn't wait to feel you grip his cock in the same fashion. He hadn't even been inside you yet and he already knew he would never want another woman's body the way he wanted yours.

"Dean!" you cried out, thick thighs squeezing his head, hips gyrating against his mouth as you came once again.

He lapped up everything you had to give him hungrily--wishing he could stay between your legs forever. This time, however, he allowed you to pull him up by his hair.

You were completely breathless, chest rising and falling rapidly. Dean licked his lips and wondered how sexy you'd look riding him, breasts bouncing as he slammed up into you.

"I think," you mumbled, "you have...too much...clothing on."

He laughed at your breathless remark. He had to agree with your sentiment, so he stood up and removed his shirt quickly. When he stood, you were rewarded with a nice view of his erection pressing against the confines of his sweats.

He smiled at you and slowly lowered his pants, revealing his very large member. The tip was red and throbbing, precum leaking from the slit. You licked your lips and eyed him hungrily, wanting to wrap your lips around it with a desperation that surprised you.

"Sit," you begged.

Dean smirked and obliged, sitting down beside you. You slid off the couch and crawled the short distance to settle between his legs.

Your soft hands wrapped around his cock and he groaned softly. "You're so big," you whispered.

"Your hands are small," he teased.

"But my mouth isn't."

Dean didn't have the time to process your sassy comment before your mouth wrapped around him and you began to suck his cock in earnest.

"Holy fuck-" he groaned, head falling back against the cushion.

He tangled his hand in your hair and gently guided your head as you began to take his cock deeper into your throat. You flexed the back of your tongue as you did so and he groaned loudly.

Having gotten the reaction you'd desired, you did the same move a couple more times, allowing his cock to almost leave your mouth before sucking him deep into your throat.

His grip on your hair tightened and his hips thrust forward, causing you to gag slightly. Instead of trying to lift off him, you breathed deeply through your nose and held steady, relaxing your throat as best as you could.

"Baby, you're doing so good for me," Dean murmured. "Making me feel amazing."

You moaned around his cock and reached between his legs to cup his balls and give them a gentle squeeze. His hips bucked slightly at the action, causing you to smirk.

You continued to suck his cock until he tugged your hair a little more harshly. "You gotta stop, doll, or I'm gonna cum."

You hummed in disappointment, but allowed him to pull you off his cock with a soft popping sound. He looked down at you with lust filled eyes and beckoned you towards him.

"Come up here, baby. I wanna touch you," he begged.

You climbed onto the couch with him, straddling his legs once again. You lowered yourself slowly, rubbing his cock against your wet core. You leaned forward to kiss him and repeated the action. He moaned against your lips before pressing his tongue against them, demanding entry.

You parted your lips and kissed him deeply, allowing his tongue to assert dominance. The kiss was passionate and loving, but the fire that burned inside of both of you in that moment only cared about pleasure.

"I need to be inside you," Dean whispered against your lips.

"Please," you begged him, rutting against him once more.

He gripped his cock tightly and lined himself up with your entrance. Once the tip pressed against your tight opening, he released his grip, hands settling on your hips to help guide you down.

You moaned softly as you continued to lower yourself onto his cock--the stretch both painful and enjoyable all at once. He was larger than you were accustomed to, both in girth and in length, and it almost felt as if you were a virgin all over again.

You had to lean forward, pressing your body against his for support as you lowered yourself down completely. You'd never felt so full, your toes curled at the mere feeling.

"You okay, baby?" Dean murmured, hands gently rubbing soothing circles into your back as he allowed you time to adjust.

"Never better," you whispered in reply.

You pulled yourself up into a proper sitting position and gasped as he somehow sank even deeper into you.

Dean worried he'd hurt you until he saw the look in your eye. His concern quickly turned to a smirk of pride. He pressed his hand against your lower abdomen and growled, "You feel that, baby? I'm so deep inside you, you'll be feeling me for days."

You moaned softly, his words having the desired effect on you. You rolled your hips a little and he hissed softly.

"Fuck, doll."

He gripped your hips as you started to move, bouncing up and down on his cock slowly.

His lips attached themselves to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone--anywhere he could reach. He was reveling in the feeling of your soft body against his muscular one, your curves providing him with plenty of flesh to hold on to.

"You feel so good, baby," he moaned in your ear. "Pussy squeezing me so tight--can hardly breathe."

"Feels good, Dean," you whimper.

"Yeah, baby? You like the way my cock feels in your pretty little pussy? Stretching you just right--you were made for me."

You preened at the praise, which only made him want to praise you more.

"This perfect body of yours makes me feel so good, sweetheart. You take my cock so well. Wanna stay here forever just making you feel good--listening to those sweet sounds you make. Fuck, never wanna stop."

You loved his praise, but your thighs were starting to get tired from the exertion. Dean could feel you slowing down, so he pulled you forward, pressing your chest flush against his.

"I've got you, baby. Let me take over," he whispered.

You gripped his shoulders and nodded, more than willing to allow him to take control.

As soon as he felt your body relax against him, he planted his feet firmly on the floor and began to piston up into you. He held you tightly against him to prevent you from moving too much.

"Dean!" you cried, nails digging into his shoulders.

His cock pressed into your g-spot with each thrust and in a matter of moments, you were teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

"Can feel you squeezing me, baby. You gonna cum for me? Huh?" Dean asked huskily. "You gonna coat my cock with your sweet cum, baby? Cum for me, sweet girl. Wanna feel it."

You loved the way he begged and it had you coming undone in an instant. You screamed his name as your walls fluttered around his cock. It took all of his focus not to cum along with you.

"That's my good girl," he whispered. "I'm gonna cum soon, doll. Where you want it?"

"Inside me," you begged. "Please, Dean--fill me up."

"Oh, fuck-" Dean moaned loudly as he came, coating your walls with his seed.

After a few more thrusts, Dean stilled. He continued to hold you tightly against him, needing to feel you close to him as he came down from his high.

He rubbed your back soothingly and placed a soft kiss to your damp hairline. "You were so good for me, (Y/N/N)."

You kissed his shoulder. "Felt so good, Dean."

He smiled and squeezed you tighter. He sighed contentedly, enjoying the feeling of the woman he loved pressed against his chest.

His cock had begun to soften and his cum was leaking out of you and onto his thighs, but he couldn't be bothered. Taking care of you was his one and only priority.

"Do you need some water, sweetheart?" he asked softly.

You shook your head.

"Food?"

You shook your head again.

"Tell me what you need, baby," he begged.

You finally lifted your head to look him in his eyes. "I know it's cliché to say I love you after sex, but I don't care. I love you, Dean...I love you wholly and completely."

Dean nearly breathed a sigh of relief at your admission. "I can't even begin to express how happy it makes me to hear you say those words. I've been pushing the feeling down for years, but I can't do it anymore, (Y/N). I love you with everything I have--it might not be much, but it's yours. You have me forever--mind, body, and soul."

You smiled and gently caressed his cheek. He leaned into your touch and closed his eyes. You kissed him softly, which he immediately returned in kind.

When you separated, you noticed a mischievous glint in his bright green eyes. "Dean?"

"What are your thoughts about round two in my bedroom?"

You laughed lightly. "Are you gonna kick me out of your bed at 2am?"

"Not if you don't snore," he teased.

You smacked his shoulder affectionately and he laughed. "You're lucky you're so damn cute."

He grinned. "Actually, I'm adorable."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "You know, I think I like the idea of round two."

Dean smiled and pulled you even closer. "Hold onto me, sweetheart."

You gripped him tightly and he stood up, holding you to his chest. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he headed towards his bedroom.

When he entered his room, he gently tossed you onto the bed, earning a soft giggle from your lips. He climbed on top of you, pressing sweet kisses to your skin for several moments before finally kissing your soft lips.

"I'm glad you skipped 'Unattached Drifter Christmas' this year," you murmured.

He smiled. "Me too, baby. I think it's more 'Attached Drifter Christmas' now."

You laughed. "I love you, you dork."

He kissed you again. "Not as much as I love you."

The two of you spent the next couple hours continuing to explore each other's bodies, experiencing blinding pleasure over and over again.

Nothing could ever compare to the love you felt for each other, and in spite of everything, you both fell asleep in the comfort of each other's arms, dreaming of the beautiful future ahead.

#supernatural #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x plus size!reader smut #dean winchester x plus size reader #supernatural smut

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authorsofghosts · 9 days ago

Text

Liquid Sunshine | Wolverine x Reader

Summery: Logan takes you out on a quiet Valentine's Day date to a bar in town. Of course, him being Logan, he has to make it extra some how.

Themes: Already Established Relationship, Angst, mostly Fluff, Open Ending, Pet names (Darling, Sunshine, etc), Ambiguous Logan Height, Blood mention, Drinking (duh), Drug/Tobacco Mention/Use, Kissing, Logan is Logan, Suggestive undertones mentions of Violence, actual Violence, Reader is suggested to be a mutant/X-Man (no powers written).

Word Count: 1.4k

"Logan-"

"Can it. I'm not parking next to the bar, that's asking for trouble." He grumbles, getting out of his jeep. "Come on, Sunshine."

You step out, your shoes bury into the few centimeters of snow, slipping a little. Before you know it, you're in Logan's arms. He smirks slightly, looking at your with a raised eyebrow. "Really?"

You laugh softly, embarrassed, "Shut up."

"Fallin fo' me already, dear?" He murmurs, pulling your closer and ruffling your hair. "No need, I already know ya love me."

"Don't test your luck. It's 33 degrees out and you're making me walk 15 minutes to a bar for what?"

"In case someone wants to do a Valentine's Day Massacre on lil ol' me, alright? Now shut up and get to walking." Logan growls, wrapping a possessive hand around your waist before pushing you forwards.

Despite how much you love the man, he can be a little bit of a hard ass. Even though you're lost in thoughts of wanting to slap him, his hand grabs at your hip, kneading the flesh softly. It pulls you out of your fantasy of putting him in his place for once, a soft blush on your cheeks.

He leans into you, whispering in your ear, "You look like a damn tomato, bub."

"Don't you fucking 'bub' me tonight." You mumble, snapping your attention to his smirk. The corners of his lips are flipped ever so slightly that if you hadn't been extremely close to him, you'd think he was scowling.

"I'll do whatever the fuck I feel like tonight. Especially if it has to do with ya." Logan says, his voice lowering into a soft, possessive tone. He presses his hooked nose into your neck, chuckling softly as you squirm at the sudden affectionate act.

He continues to push you forward, ignoring your protests of how close his is, enjoying how red your face and neck are getting, the heat at the tips of your ears. "So shy tonight, are we?"

"Quiet. I will call someone to pick me up." You say, the threat empty and he knows it. You would give anything to be spending time with the usually lonesome, gruff man that has a certain soft spot for you.

"Oh? Who's gonna getcha? Not Scott or Jean... not that Cajun either... I think yer stuck, little one." He pulls you closer, looking into your eyes as you both stop walking. "And I think you like that sound of that, don't ya?"

Your heart is racing, face warmer than ever. "Well-" You start, but before you can continue, he presses his lips to your mouth, the small hint of his smirk as he pours all his attention into trying to get you to open your mouth and let him in.

"Shut up and kiss me, sweetheart." Logan's gruff voice murmurs, pushing you back against a building ad he smirking, staring directly into your eyes before going back in for a more demanding, confident kiss.

If you weren't already dating this man, then you would have fallen head over heels for him. You allow him into your mouth, your tongue warring against his even though it was a losing battle.

"That's it. Gimme what I want, darlin'."

"Lo- stop, we're in public-"

"It's 11pm on Valentine's Day. If anyone's out at this time, they should expect to seeing two lovers like us kissing, baby."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Bar's not gonna let us in if we get messy, baby." You say make, in a teasing matter. This makes him stop, look at you, and mutter something under his breathe before pulling away.

"Alright, you got me there." He chuckles, grabbing your hand and pulling you along with him. "Whatcha say you promise me something later tonight for cutting me off so soon?"

"Oh, you know I'm already planning something, Logan."

"'Att's my Sunshine."

You get to the bar, and almost as if he's forgotten his manners, his hands are wrapping around your waist and placing you on his lap as he sips from his glass. You're back is pressed against his chest and his chin is nestled comfortably between your neck and shoulder.

You can smell his last cigar, a faint tightness in your chest as you realize you haven't seen him smoke one since you got in the car. It's actually become a pattern lately. "Lo?"

"Yeah, sweetie?" He asks in a whisper, pulling you closer.

"You stopped smoking around me, huh?"

"Uh huh..." He grumbles, brows knitting together as he realizes you noticed. His Adam's apple bobs against your back as he swallows.

"Why?"

"Well, uh... I don't know. Maybe it's cause I uh..." He chokes on his words for a moment, something that usually happens when he's about to get emotional, or he's thinking too much. You turn slightly, tilting your head to meet his eyes. "Hmm?" You prompt.

"It's cause I can't smell you when I do, alright?" He mumbles into your shoulder blade, hiding his face slightly. "Now quiet b'fore I push you off and go outside ta smoke.'

"You wouldn't dare."

"Ya think?"

You don't say anything else, the tone in his voice teasing but with an underlining seriousness that makes the playful threat seem genuine. You laugh softly, shaking you head as you lean forward for your drink

As you do, however, you feel his arm around your waist tighten, holding you in place. "What's wrong?"

"Might have trouble, dearie." He grumbles, glaring at a spot you can't see.

"What kind of trouble?"

"The kind that makes me grit my teeth." He growls out slightly, clearly sensing something.

You stand up and look in the direction he was, a group of men staring at you two. You quickly turn your attention back to Logan and shake your head. "They're just jealous, hun."

"From the way they're talking about you, it seems so." He holds your hand tightly, watching you closely as you sit down in the bar stool next to him. He leans forward, placing a kiss to your temple before standing up.

"Logan, don't-"

"Someone's gotta teach those creeps a lesson, Sunshine. Ain't gonna be you." He runs a hand across your cheek before turning to the group.

You watch, sipping your drink slowly as you watch your man, your man, go to do something seemingly for you, but everyone who knows him knows it's for himself. You can't hear what they're saying to each other, but you can get the jist as you see Logan's back muscles tease, the muscles in his forearms tightening as he tries to hold back his claws from extending from between his knuckles.

One of the men look past him to you, smirking as he licks his lips. "Come on, you can do better than some old man like this." He yells out at you, your eyes widening. Before you know it, that guy is knocked out on the floor, blood pooling under his head from his mouth.

"Logan, no!" You say, quickly standing up, but something stops you from walking forward. He looks back at you, a smirk on his lips. He's having fun, and honestly? He couldn't be more hot sticking up for you and the both of your relationship.

"Don't worry, Sunshine, he's not too hurt." He chuckles, wiping his fist off with a napkin before turning to the rest of the men. "Anyone else got a problem with me and my darlin' date over there? Cause I think my fist want's another round."

And then all hell broke loose. Of course it would, you're dating The Wolverine, after all. Hot headed, overly confident, and a living weapon. If his emotions weren't gonna blow over at the bar, then they would have in bed tonight. And, I mean, what's more romantic than a bar fight?

Logan walks you back to the jeep before the police arrive, opening the passenger side door for you. His jacket is wrapped over your shoulders, and he makes sure you can get into without slipping. He presses a gentle, caring kiss to your temple, lingering in the spot just long enough for your scent to get stuck in his nostrils.

He gets in the car, smiling softly as he looks over at you.

"So... about what you said earlier about having a plan for tonight?"

"Oh, you have no idea what that little stunt made me think."

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wqlfstqr · 6 days ago

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◟𖥻 love notes : percy jackson

▰▰ pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

Valentine's day is coming close and y/n starts to receive love notes from a secret admirer. Meanwhile, Percy's panicking because someone got ahead of him.

warnings: mentions of cabin 10 reader, couple mentions of some random camper I added just for the plot, miscommunication but like it gets resolved at the end.

It's only a week before valentine's day and the entire aphrodite cabin is buzzing with excitement. Every night, they gather around one bed and share their gossip of the day: who was asked out by whom, who was spotted crying after training, who do they want to be their valentines.

She was sure of who she wanted to be her valentine. Percy and her had been spending a lot of time together lately, and she was crushing hard. But she wasn't sure he felt the same, at least not until the notes started to show up.

At first, when the first few notes started appearing on her bed, she wasn't sure who it could be. But then they became more obvious and she couldn't help but connect the dots: the one saying her hair was beautiful that day just after Percy had helped her brush it, the one complimenting the sweater Percy had let her borrow, then talking about her favorite flowers after she had told Percy she loved tulips.

And then: 'You looked pretty today, i love how blue looks on you.' that had to be Percy, right? it was his favorite color, and he had told her earlier that her shirt was nice.

She doesn’t share this with anyone, but she's so sure it's Percy leaving the notes that she starts making comments about it, hoping he confesses soon.

When he compliments her blue shirt again, she smirks at him. "Do you think it looks good on me?" she asks, expecting him to tell her about the letters.

"Yes! it's very pretty." He replies, unaware of the underlying meaning under her question, before he turns to follow Grover.

Maybe she didn’t get a straight up confession from him, but that only feds into her suspicions.

"Percy, would you say you have a recognizable handwriting?" She asks out of nowhere when they're training, she's supposed to be helping him with archery while he helps her with swording.

He's immediately distracted because that's who he is— he looks at her and the arrow he releases is far from hitting the target but he doesn’t even realize it.

"Maybe it's recognizable because of how ugly it is." He shrugs, finally looking at where the arrow fell and dropping the bow. "You should see my math notes, they look like ancient Greek threw up in my paper."

She's sure that he's downplaying it because he knows that she's onto him. In the notes, he has a very pretty handwritting, he only wants her to think that it's not him.

By the weekend, as the days keep getting closer and the notes keep coming, she's completely sure it has to be him. But he hasn't admitted it even after her efforts to drop hints at it. She thinks that maybe he's just shy, so in another desperate attempt, she mentions the notes.

"You know, i've been getting the sweetest notes lately. You wouldn't happen to know who's sending them, would you?" She finally asks, trying to act nonchalant as she looks up from her book.

Percy's head turns so fast that he gives himself whiplash, and then he blinks at her, trying to process what she just said. "you what?"

"Love notes, almost every night. I think whoever's behind those will ask me to be their valentine." she grins at him.

Percy's internally panicking— What. The. Hell. Is somebody getting ahead of him and sending her letters? who is trying to steal his valentine?

He stands up from her bed so fast that it takes her off guard. "I have to go, Grover needs my help with— uh— yes." He mutters, and then he's almost running out of her cabin.

Now more than ever, she's sure that he's simply nervous because he got caught. He'll probably confess to it soon enough.

Instead, Percy's panicking on his cabin while Grover sits on the edge on one of the beds, his eyes following his best friend as he paces around the place like a maniac. "Somebody got ahead of me, Grover! they'll ask her out before I can"

Grover gives him a deadpan look. "Then why haven't you?"

Percy stops, looking utterly confused until he understands that Grover is asking why he hasn't ask her to be his valentine yet.

He sighs. "I don't know, man. She's just so sweet and pretty and funny— I guess I just get nervous every time I try." frustrated, he runs a hand through his already messy hair. "Who even is sending her those stupid notes, anyways? I can totally do better than that."

"In the name of Pan, Percy! If you're scared of someone asking her first, then do something." Grover tells him, he already feels dizzy just by following Percy as he's pacing around.

Percy frowns. "Like what? should I drown the mystery letter guy?"

"Of course not!" Grover sighs, must he explain everything to these demigods? "you said it yourself, you can do better than those notes. So do it. Romance is literally her thing. You just have to start sending her your own gifts and letters to show her that you really like her, and then she might get the hint."

He stops pacing again, considers this and then nods, determination settling in. "Yes! I can totally do that. That's perfect! G-man, you're the best."

That's how the next morning, y/n wakes up to not just a note, but a tiny box sitting on her bed. When she opens it, she finds a tiny silver sea-shell charm attached to a delicate chain.

She quietly gasps. The notes before were sweet, but this is beautiful. And now there's no denying Percy's the one behind it, he must be fully confessing through gifts now.

The next days, she hopes for Percy to say something. Anything. She even wears the bracelet everyday just so he can point it out, but she only gets a smile out of him. But the gifts keep on coming.

After dinner one day, she comes back to a blue hoodie placed neatly on her bed. It smells suspiciously like Percy. And there’s two notes now, one complimenting her hairstyle today and the other one says 'You should keep this one, since blue looks much nicer on you.'

What confuses her is that the handwriting on those two notes is too different to even belong to the same person. But she doesn't think about it too much, because the hoodie takes her whole attention— she sleeps with it that night.

Then, the next day it's a small jar with sand, seashells and some sea glass pieces. There's still two notes, and she doesn’t understand this at all, but she still focuses only on the one placed on top of the jar, 'Something from my favorite place for my favorite girl'

She's so over the moon that she spends the whole day smiling and giggling. His favorite girl. Valentine's day is coming soon, and there's no way he's not going to ask soon.

After sword training, there’s a chocolate bar placed on her pillow and she can't help but giggle at the sight of it. Because she mentioned she was craving something sweet to Percy earlier. And now there it is, her favorite chocolate with a note: 'Thought you deserved a treat after all that sword fighting.'

It's only a day before valentine's when she finds a small glass bottle on her nightstand with a message inside, she immediately pulls the note out of the bottle and smiles when she reads it.

'I've been meaning to tell you how much I like you. But everytime I try, I just forget how words work. Which is ironic, because I could fill pages talking about how pretty you are, how much I love hearing you talk about the things you're passionate about, how my brain turns to mush— or seaweed more like, when you smile to me.

— P.'

Her breath catches in her throat once her eyes reach the final line. It is Percy. She was right!

A delighted squeal escapes her lips before she can stop it, the excitement bubbles out of her, an uncontrollable rush of happiness as she clutches the note to her chest, jumping up and down.

Suddenly, the door swings open and her sister comes to a halt in the doorway, eyebrows raised. "What's with all that noise? Did you get another note from Peter?"

She's so happy, that she just giggles, thinking that her sister got the name wrong. "Percy, silly."

"No, Peter from cabin nine? he's been asking me to help him put those notes in your nightstand everyday."

The giggles and jumping stop immediately. "Wait— Peter?" she repeats, voice suddenly unsteady. "Not... Percy?"

Her sister tilts her head, confusion all over her face. "Percy? No, I don't— He hasn't said anything to me. Why? did something happen?"

y/n's stomach drops. She doesn't answer. It's not possible. It has to be Percy. The shell bracelet. The hoodie in his favorite color. The sand and shells from the beach. The seaweed joke on the note. It has to be him.

Unless she was misinterpreting everything. Of course that's something she would do, her lovesickness got the best of her and she started seeing things as she wanted them to be.

The heartbreak is instant. She feels ridiculous. She drops the letter on her bed as if it was burning and, ignoring her sisters talking about how Peter will probably ask her out soon, she runs out of the cabin.

The disappointment feels suffocating and heavy on her chest as she walks with her head low. She keeps walking, and walking. Until she's at the pier, which feels even worse because it reminds her of Percy and yet again she feels stupid.

Her heart aches as she lets herself sink into the ground in front of the water. She wants to cry but also laugh at herself. What a joke.

She's there for what a feels like a long time. Maybe hours. Just staring at the ocean in front of her while going through the past few days in her mind, trying to conceal the fact that some Peter from cabin nine was the one behind those letters. She doesn't even know a Peter to begin with.

She's halfway through her third time scolding herself when she hears footsteps behind her, closer and closer until someone is suddenly sitting beside her. Quickly, she wipes the few tears.

But when she finally looks at the person beside her, she nearly forgets how to breathe.

Because there, sitting beside her, is Percy Jackson. And he's holding a bouquet of tulips.

His eyes soften when he sees her, his gaze following the trail of tears in her cheeks as his expression shifts to concern. "Are you okay?"

She blinks at him, unable to process anything as she looks between him and the flowers. Her favorite flowers.

But she didn’t want to get her hopes up again, so she looked away quickly. "Percy if you need my help asking someone for valentine's, maybe I can help you later."

Percy blinks at her before he's able to process her words, then he looks downright offended. "What? No! these are for you."

She whips her head towards him, her eyebrows raised as if she doesn’t believe him. "What?"

"Yes! for who else? I was—" he takes a deep breath, suddenly feeling nervous. "I went to your cabin to ask you if you wanted to be my valentine, but your sister told me you were gone because you were freaking out about some Peter sending you notes."

She stares at him, mouth slightly open. "You wanted to ask me to be your valentine?"

He nods softly, nervously scratching his eyebrow. "Yes but I totally understand if i'm too late and if you want to go with that guy."

"No! I mean— I just—" She trips over her own words, her heart hammering so hard she thinks it'll jump out of her chest. "I thought you were the one writing those love notes. But apparently it was Peter from cabin nine. I just— I started freaking out because I wanted it to be you."

Percy's face scrunches in confusion. "Peter from cabin nine?"

She feels the embarrasment again, her cheeks turning pink. "I thought it was you because those gifts, they were so much like you and—"

He finally understands where she's coming from, and he lets out a breathless chuckle, interrupting her before she keeps talking.

"No, no! I was the one leaving those gifts. You were right about that." He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I wanted to ask you to be my valentine but I always got too nervous, and then you mentioned those notes and I freaked out because someone would ask you before I had the chance. So I started leaving those gifts hoping you would know it was me, but when you didn’t mention anything about them—"

It takes another shaky breath for him to continue. "I thought maybe you weren't interested in me like that, but then I thought maybe the gifts weren't obvious enough so I was going to give it another shot." he gestures to the tulips in his hands. "And ask you myself."

She blinks at him, her mind struggling to keep up, specially when he keeps on rambling. "So you left those gifts? the bracelet? and the jar with the seashells? and the hoodie?" When he nods, the relief washes over her as she lets out a laugh. "Oh my gods, Percy! I thought I was ridiculous for thinking it was you!"

"You're not ridiculous." He nudges her shoulder with his. "Maybe I should've approached it in a least... confusing way."

"No way, I loved those gifts." She returns the nudge, unable to contain her big smile. "I was just confused over, Well— Peter from cabin nine with those notes."

"Oh yeah, no, that's totally your fault for having so many secret admirers." He teases her, grinning widely.

She rolls her eyes, but another laugh burst out of her lips before she can reply. "And you're one of them."

"I don't know, I don't want to be so secretive about it anymore." He tells her, offering the bouquet in his hands. "So, there's something I've been meaning to ask."

Percy doesn’t feel nervous anymore, but the way she beams at him as she takes the bouquet makes his heart skip a beat. "Go on."

He doesn’t know why he was ever nervous, because the question rolls easily out of his lips. "Will you be my valentine?"

She holds the flowers to her chest like it's the best thing she has ever received. "Of course." she then caughts him by surprise when she leans to press a kiss against his cheek.

He exhales in relief, leaning back on his hand. He knows his face must be red, but at least she doesn't comment on it as she goes back to admire the tulips. After a second, he smirks. "Soo... about this Peter, you know I can be intimidating, right?"

She laughs, slightly pushing his shoulder. "Percy, don't be rude! I'll turn him down tomorrow."

"That's a shame." he replies, even though he doesn’t look shameful at all with the grin plastered on his face.

She shakes her head, smiling softly. "He never stood a chance anyways."

Percy chuckles, reaching for her hand to give it a small squeeze. "Good."

#percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #pjo #percy jackson fluff #pjo series #fluff #imagine #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson oneshot #one shot #pjo oneshot #pjo fluff #valentines day #𐙚 mari's fics

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xxgoldie · 2 months ago

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OMGG hiii!!! can i get for the alphabet event lighter with J, K, L and V(๑•́ω•̀๑) if it's too many u can pick whichever you like ofc!! and congrats on 100 followers٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

main event page - event masterlist

J: Jealousy - do they get jealous easily? what are they like when they're jealous? Already done this one, see it here x

K: Kisses - what are their kisses like? Lighter's kisses are always intense even if they're innocent, always pressing even closer to you, and he lingers a bit longer than he probably should, like its a battle of wills for him to actually pull away. And you can always feel him smiling against you, a victorious little smirk, all proud of himself as if he just won a competition and getting to kiss you is his prize. He tastes sweeter than you'd expect because of the lollipops he always has on him, and sometimes he'll ask you what flavour you think he had after finally pulling a way from a makeout session (and its borderline impossible to answer, if his everyday kisses are intense his makeouts are mindmelting, but it gives you an excuse to kiss him again 'to double check'). Other than your lips, he likes kissing you on the temple, often pulling you up against his side and pressing one there at the slightest excuse.

L: Language - what are their love languages (could be of the five official love languages, or other stuff) Of the five love languages, he's definitely mainly an acts of service guy. Anything you need, he's yours, whether you're dating yet or not (and his definition of 'what you need' is a lot closer to 'what you want'). Picking up a prescription for you? Of course. Helping you put together IKEA furniture? He'll be there in five. Need to last-minute bake 200 cupcakes for your cousin's school's bake sale? He's picking up some energy drinks on his way over and will help you until they're done, even if it takes all night. The type of guy to go to your house while you're out and spend a day doing that annoying massive chore that you keep putting off as a surprise. And he HATES if someone jokes that you "have him trained well" - he just wants to see you happy, and if its in his power to help with that, why wouldn't he? Does their partner's happiness mean nothing to them? He doesn't even laugh it off, it genuinely makes him angry.

V: Valentine - how serious are they about valentine's day? how would they ask you to be their valentine? Lighter may be a sap and romance enthusiast, but I don't think he places tons of importance on Valentine's Day - if anything, it's just an excuse to spend a nice day together, and he's adept at finding excuses for that year-round. He'll insist on some sort of date night, but he'll mainly match your energy - if you're not bothered about the holiday, he's more than happy to spend an evening watching movies with takeout and lots of blankets, but if you want to do something more special, by god he will give you special. He's not big on fancy restaurant dinners n stuff like that, but he'll find a great stargazing spot in the Outer Ring and set it up with a cute picnic with all your favourite foods, cushions and blankets and fairy lights; he'd get you flowers and drive you out there at sunset so you get to watch the sky change colours on the way, n he definitely recruited the girls to help him find the spot and guard it while he gets you there. When it comes to asking you to be his valentine, he'll make it sweet but not super flashy. He knows he's meant to ask even if you're dating - the girls remind him in a panic because they saw online that a bunch of guys didn't know they were meant to ask their partner to be their valentine, but he's just like "yeah obviously, I've already got plans for it". Will most likely get you a small gift or a little gift basket of things you like with a note asking you to be his valentine. And he'll lowkey be nervous when he gives it to you lmao, like why is he scared that you'll say no, he's literally your boyfriend.

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janeyseymour · 4 months ago

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Spoiled

Summary: melissa’s never had a partner who plans things like valentine’s day, her birthday, christmas, special anniversaries. it takes years of getting used to it.

WC: ~5.2k

If Melissa Schemmenti was anything, it wasn’t spoiled. No. She grew up in a house where you didn’t give much, you didn’t get much, and you were as close to happy enough as you could get. The small redhead learned quickly that she had to earn everything in life- love, affection, praise, a tangible object… and on the other end of it all, she could also earn punishment, hatred, hurt. Every single action and choice that she made, there was some sort of consequence. Sometimes it was natural, and other times it was not. The times when it wasn’t a natural consequence were always worse.

And as she grew older, she only continued to learn that a spoiled life would never be her life- not as a teacher with a deadbeat for a husband. Everything that she had and was was earned. Nothing could ever come just by luck, or because someone thought she should receive something just because.

That is… until you came along. And it took Melissa a long time to adjust to a life where she was treated as though she was less of a body and more of a treasure- a treatment that she should’ve been getting from the beginning.

The first time that you take her by surprise is her birthday. The two of you had begun dating in May, so when her birthday rolls around in August, the two of you are in a rather secure place to begin celebrating birthdays.

You spend the night before with her, and as nights often end when the two of you go out on dates or have a night in, you stay the night. She begins her birthday in a bliss, to say the least. You are more than happy to indulge her in those feelings, and it is a wonderful start to a birthday for the redhead.

And when dawn breaks, while the second grade teacher is usually the first one up and preparing breakfast for the both of you, you’re so eager to begin spoiling your girlfriend that you wake up before even she does. You silently disentangle your limbs from hers, press a warm kiss to her temple, and slip out of the room without her waking.

Breakfast is going on the stove, a lovely spread of all of her favorite morning foods, when you as though someone is watching you. And there is someone. Melissa is leaning against the archway into her kitchen with a half-awake smile as she holds her robe close to her body. Your smile brightens, if that’s even possible, at the sight of her. Your girlfriend is a stunningly beautiful woman when she’s all done up in makeup and there isn’t a hair out of place, but… nothing could compare to the sight of her just waking up in the morning, if you’re being honest. She wears a tired smile with a look of what you tell yourself is love.

“I coulda made breakfast,” Melissa tells you softly.

Your smile turns into a pout as you realize that your idea of breakfast in bed for the redhead is tarnished.

“Why the long face?” your girlfriend teases you as she makes her way over and wraps her arms around your waist.

“You ruined your first birthday surprise,” you grumble playfully before kissing her sweetly. “Happy birthday, babe.”

The woman rolls her eyes. “You said it last night before we went to bed, hun. It’s just another day, same old shitshow.”

Your brows furrow as you shake your head. “It’s your special day, Lis.”

“Ain’t been special in the past, why start now?”

You sputter out a few incoherent sounds before you can finally get out, “Not special?! Oh, honey… you are in for it today.”

“What do you mean? Why?”

“Why?” you parrot her before looking back to the eggs and bacon on the stove. “Because! It’s your special day! You were born today, and that is something to celebrate!”

Your girlfriend chuckles as she allows you to turn in her arms to tend to breakfast. A warm kiss is pressed to your cheek before she settles her chin on your shoulder. “You, my dear, are something special.”

You crane your neck to kiss her. “That would be you, Lis.”

Breakfast is wonderful- complete with coffee to her liking and a stunning bouquet of flowers set in the middle of the table for her.

“You sure know how to spoil a girl,” Melissa laughs as you dance around the kitchen while cleaning, absolutely refusing her request to help.

“This is just the beginning of it.”

You spend the rest of that day doing everything that she loves. From lounging at the pool, to pulling her aside for a quick… break, to satiate her desire for you, to relaxing on the couch to take a quick nap. And while she’s napping, you see your opportunity to get the things together to take her for a picnic at Belmont Plateau. You gently slip a pillow under her head in place of your lap as you look around for the basket that you’re going to bring with you. You’re somehow able to prepare all of the food and get it into the car without her knowing, she’s still exhausted from sitting out in the sun for hours and then participating in… well, that stays in the bedroom.

You know that if you’re going to catch the sunset like you want to, you have to wake her.

With the gentlest hand on her shoulder and your lips to her temple, you shake her as softly as you can to wake her. “Baby, it’s time to get up.”

Her eyes peel open slowly, and the golden flicks in them sparkle. “Hmm?”

“I have something planned for your birthday dinner today, but I need you to wake up if we’re going to make it on time.”

“On time?” her brow lifts just slightly. “Hun, I told you… today has been great already. We don’t need to do anything else.”

“This is the last thing,” you tell her with a voice as smooth as honey. “And then we can spend the rest of the night in bed watching your reality television that you love so much.”

The look on your girlfriend’s face tells you that she doesn’t believe you, but she gets up. “Is what I’m in okay, or do I need to change for dinner?”

You pretend to look her over- okay, you actually do, because she looks so effortlessly beautiful. Even with her hair in the messiest of buns on the top of her head, eyes still crusted with sleep, and a tank top and athletic shorts on, she is the most stunningly gorgeous person you’ve ever seen.

“You look beautiful, Lis,” you promise her with a kiss as you pull her to a more seated position. “C’mon though, babe. We gotta go if we wanna make it.”

You glance outside, and if you leave now, you still should have time to set everything up in order to be able to watch the sunset while you eat dessert.

As you pull up to the parking lot, your girlfriend looks at you with a confused look. “What are we doing here? I thought we were going out to dinner.”

“We are,” you chuckle. “I thought it might be nice to have a picnic and watch the sun set in one of your favorite places in Philly.”

The both of you get out of your car and head for the trunk. You have the stereotypical picnic basket filled to the brim with food, and she manages to grab the blanket before you can stop her.

“Mel,” you whine. “It’s your birthday. Let me get it.”

��I want to help you,” your girlfriend rolls her eyes. “It’s just the blanket.”

With a sigh, you give in to her request, and you grab the guitar you also packed and sling it over your back.

Dinner is perfect, absolutely everything is divine. Melissa, not one to compliment food often, knows how much effort you put into this and praises the meal with such kindness. Dessert is the same, as the two of you watch the sun begin to sit.

As you’re finishing up the last of your meals, the sky is painted gold, streaks of pink and blue and purple dancing through the sky. It’s a spectacle to behold.

“This is beautiful,” your girlfriend smiles as she watches the landscaping in front of her.

Your heart swells as you attempt to capture this moment in your head. “Not as beautiful as what I’m looking at.”

The redhead turns to look at you, and your eyes are focused on her completely. “You’re the cheesiest person I know,” she tells you with a playful roll of the eyes. She leans in to kiss you though. “Thank you.”

You don’t say anything else. The guitar that has been sitting next to you is picked up, and you begin strumming the instrument before laying your voice over the chords.

The two of you watch the sunset as your soft and melodic voice hums out some of Melissa’s favorite tunes. Once the sun is down, you go to stop playing, but a soft voice stops you.

“Keep playing?” your girlfriend requests softly. You would normally oblige a soft, sweet request like this anyway, but on her birthday, you make sure that you play her absolute favorites.

Her eyes sparkle with adoration for you, your sweet chords and fingerpicking, and your honey-laced voice. Eventually though, your voice begins to grow tired, Melissa’s eyes are starting to droop as she lays on the blanket that you have out, and without the warmth of the sun to bask in, it’s starting to get a bit chilly. So, you call it a night, much to her disappointment.

“But it’s my birthday,” Melissa protests quietly, a small pout evident on her face.

“It is,” you chuckle as you begin to put your instrument in its case. “And I can always continue to sing at your house, but my voice needs a bit of a break for right now.”

Begrudgingly, your girlfriend sits up, smooths down her hair, and starts picking things up to make your trek back down to the car.

When you make it back to her place, you don’t end up pulling out the guitar again. Instead, you spend time in the shower… longer than you would usually take to bathe, and then you’re laying down in bed. Both of you are absolutely beat from today’s activities.

Her head lays on your chest as she closes her eyes.

“Today was a great day,” she sighs. “Most years I hate my birthday, but… I think I could get used to celebrating it with you by my side.”

If the second grade teacher thought you went all out for her birthday four months into dating, Christmas is a whole other deal. The two of you have been dating for seven months,, she’s (by some force above you) allowed you to move in with her, and the holiday season is your favorite time of year. You’re determined to show her that Christmas is not just about presents and the commercialized side of the winter holidays, but there is something about being able to spend time with the people you love and be just the slightest bit kinder (who are you kidding, you’re always sweet as can be).

So while she’s out shopping on Black Friday with Barbara, you’re busy as a bee decorating her house with lights, window clings, little trinkets, you move the couches in the living room to make space for where a tree might go… you’re determined to show her that while past holidays have sucked for her (Joe had presented divorce papers to her on Christmas Day in the past), the most wonderful time of the year with you truly is magical.

By the time she’s pulling back up to the house, you are in full decorating mode. The kitchen has been decorated, the banister to the upstairs has been wrapped in garland and tinsel, there’s space for where you’re hoping the tree will go, the television stand has little trinkets lining it, and you’re just hanging the mistletoe as you see her face appear in the window to the front door.

“Hun?” She shouts through the glass.

“Just a sec!” You call back as you climb down from the step stool that you needed to set it up. Once everything is out of the way, you pull open the front door with a grin.

She begins to walk in, but you stop her quickly, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder, shaking your head. You point up with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Babe, you’re joking,” she huffs as she continues to hold a multitude of bags in her arms.

“Jeez, you act like kissing me at the front door when you come home is a chore,” you tease her. “If you hate me, just say it.”

“Well, you know that just isn’t true, but my arms are getting tired.”

“So kiss me, and I’ll let you in!”

Your girlfriend pecks your lips quickly, and you step aside. You follow her further into the house, bouncing on your toes with excitement.

“Are you an elf or something?” Melissa asks as she takes in everything you’ve done, dropping most of the bags in the kitchen and living room as she goes. “Barb and I were only gone for three hours.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful, mi amore,” the redhead tells you softly, pulling you into her arms now that she has them free. She kisses you a bit more deeply than she had. “I never decorate, so this is… this is nice.”

“This is just the beginning,” you smile as you lay your head on her shoulder. “Just wait until I rope you into helping me decorate outside and get the tree with me.”

“Why are you so insistent on all of this?”

“Because I know you don’t have great memories with the holidays, and I want to create new ones… happier ones.”

Melissa, for as much as she used to hate the holidays because they were always filled with memories of fighting and anger, finds that she loves the holidays with you. Everyday that you get closer to the holidays is filled with warmth, and love, and smiles that are so bright she swears you could light up all of Philly.

You set the Christmas lights up outside, making sure that they look perfect. You take her out of the city and to a Christmas tree farm to pick out the best tree you can find. When you decorate it, the house smells of pine and hot chocolate as music fills the air. Copious amounts of cookies are made, the scent always lingering. Shopping for presents is usually a task filled with dread for the redhead, but being with you makes it bearable. Melissa loves the way you light up in the stores when you see items that may just be the perfect gifts or a small trinket that you insist is necessary for the house.

The actual event of Christmas is… so far from what Melissa thought it would be. Most years, she drags herself to these family events. She found that she hates them- her family seeing her alone for years now and wondering when she would finally get back into the game. And when she was with Joe, she was forced to interact with his family… not something she enjoyed doing. But with you? You immediately capture the hearts of her family members, even those who don’t necessarily want to like you. And your family welcomes Melissa in as one of their own. This is so different from what she used to know. It’s a nice different though, a good different, a magical different.

And when the two of you finally get to relax after spending Christmas Eve with her family and Christmas Day with yours, you pull a small wrapped box out of your pocket for her. You see the way her eyes go wide as she wonders what could possibly be in it.

“Relax, Lis,” you chuckle softly as you drape your legs over hers. “I know what you think it is, and it isn’t. I promise.”

Her shoulders relax ever so slightly before taking the present into her hands. When she opens it, it’s a stunning bracelet- one with an engraving on the inside of it.

Here’s to many more magical days with you is all it reads- there’s no tying yourself to her, no promises of an engagement or marriage, just… a promise that you will always make your days together happy ones.

Melissa whispers as she looks at it with wide eyes, “Mi amore, this is… I can’t accept this.”

“Why not?” you cock your head to the side. “You deserve a Christmas present.”

“I- It’s too much,” she says. “It’s worth too much, and I- I’m not worth the money to spend.”

Your heart breaks inside your chest at your girlfriend’s words, and you see in her eyes that she truly believes what she just uttered. “Melissa Schemmenti.” She just shrugs and averts her eyes from your gaze. “Mel. Look at me.” You only continue when sad green eyes look into yours. “You are worth everything in this world, and I am so sorry it’s taken this long for me to find you to show you that.”

She shrugs again. “It just looks so expensive.”

It was expensive. But, your girlfriend deserves to be spoiled. She has this day, her birthday, Valentine’s Day, and your anniversary to be spoiled on- only four days out of the year when you wish you could shower her with presents and love everyday.

“So?” you ask. “It’s Christmas. Let me spoil you.”

“You spoiled me for my birthday.”

“And? That was your birthday, and this is Christmas! Two completely different days for me to show my wonderful girlfriend how much I love her,” you argue with a teasing smile. “C’mon, I thought you were a teacher- you should know that those are two completely separate occasions.”

With Christmas over, Melissa thought she was done being spoiled until her birthday again, if the two of you last that long, and she’s starting to believe that the two of you might really have a future together.

But when Valentine’s Day rolls around, you’re up bright and early with a smile on your face as you make her coffee and breakfast. The stunning bouquet of flowers that you had picked up the previous night and somehow managed to keep hidden from her get placed on the table in her favorite vase.

After her birthday, you should’ve known that she wouldn’t stay asleep for much longer, but you had to try. So when you feel warm, robe clad arms snake around you, you aren’t necessarily surprised. Instead, you turn in her arms and kiss her softly.

“My love, what is all of this?” she asks you.

“It’s our first Valentine’s Day together,” you tell your girlfriend. “I wanted to spoil you with breakfast in bed, but I should’ve known you’d be up.”

“I don’t think I can sleep without you by my side anymore,” Melissa murmurs into your shoulder.

“You’re such a dork,” you tease.

“Your dork,” the redhead can’t help but retort sleepily. Her eyes wander to the flower arrangement on the table. “Those are beautiful, but please tell me you didn’t wake up at the ass crack of dawn to go pick them up.”

“Last night,” you promise her before turning your attention back to the meal at hand.

It’s on the table a few minutes later, and you spend breakfast in a blissful haze with your hands intertwined before you have to start getting ready for work.

You kiss her softly as she gets into her car. “Come home right after work? I have something planned.”

“Of course you do,” Melissa rolls those beautiful green eyes playfully. “Hun, I don’t need a fancy dinner or nothin’.”

“Well…” you hum and look away. “Just… come straight home after work?”

“You know I always do.”

When the teacher returns home, your car is already in the driveway, which isn’t necessarily a shock. You’ve really lucked out with the hours that you work. It’s also not uncommon for you to work through your lunch so you’re able to leave a half hour earlier than intended.

Where she expects you to be sitting on the couch in a fancy dress ready to take her to a ridiculously expensive dinner, you’re actually sitting on the couch in the living room in a pair of sweatpants.

“Amore?” she raises a brow, and her lips turn downward. “Are you alright?”

You look to her with the warmest and sweetest of smiles. “I’m alright. C’mon, set your stuff down.”

“Aren’t we going out for dinner tonight?” the redhead asks as she sets her bags down on the bench by the door.

You shake your head. “I know you’re tired after days like this where you have parties at the school. I figured we could spend our first Valentine’s Day where we’re both the happiest.”

“On our couch?”

“Well, maybe after… but I actually meant the kitchen.” You stand from your place and reach out a hand that she takes. When she thinks you’re going to lead her into the kitchen, you actually take her to the bedroom.

“I thought you just said we were going to the-”

You cut her off with a kiss before pushing the door open. “I figured you would want to get out of your teaching clothes and into something a little more comfortable.” On the bed are a sweatshirt (her favorite sweatshirt of yours) and a pair of sweatpants.

“You weren’t bringing me up here to-”

“No, Melissa,” you chuckle. “I swear, you think I’m a sex fiend. Change, and then meet me in the kitchen.”

You and your girlfriend prepare dinner together effortlessly- one of your favorite activities to do together. Now that she knows you are quite the cook, she always accepts your help in the kitchen- invites it, actually.

The two of you eat dinner the same way you ate breakfast this morning. And then you lead her to the couch. Her favorite movie is already cued up, and the two of you spend that time curled up together, just enjoying each other’s company.

By some miracle, she’s still awake by the end of the movie, albeit she is yawning.

“I think maybe it’s time we head to bed,” you chuckle as you press a lazy kiss to her temple.

Once you’re cozy in bed, she rests her head on your shoulder, and you sigh softly.

“I hope you’re okay with what happened today.”

“Hun, what are you talking about?” Melissa pulls away and sits up to stare at you.

“I just mean��” you fiddle with your fingers. “We didn’t really do much today, but I knew you were going to be exhausted from having all of those parents in your room today for the party. I just wish I could’ve spoiled you more today.”

“Mi amore, today was the perfect day after school. I don’t need the fancy dinners or the sparkly dresses to show people that we love each other. And honestly, you did spoil me. I know you like going all out and doing the ‘fancy’ things, but… you put my comfort ahead of it all, and that is the best way you could’ve spoiled me today.”

You look at her through your lashes with a shy smile. “Well, just know that even though I couldn’t spoil you today, that doesn’t mean I’m not spoiling you on Saturday for a late Valentine’s Day dinner.”

Your girlfriend laughs that incredibly deep laugh, the one that you find to be one of the sexiest things in the world. “I should’ve known.”

“Yeah,” you smile as you pull her back down to lay with you. “You should’ve.”

When your first anniversary of dating rolls around, Melissa has been around you long enough to know that you’re going to go all out. And she’s right. But you don’t go all out in the way that she predicted. You’ve done beautiful picnics, the fancy restaurants, the in between, lazy days… so she really isn’t quite sure what to expect. All she knows that you are going to be so unapologetically you.

She does try to guess, but you tell her with a smirk each time that you aren’t going to reveal anything.

You had spoken to Barbara Howard recently, and the veteran teacher stated that Melissa wanted to be able to give you everything she could for your first anniversary together. She wanted to be the one who got to spoil you, unlike how every other big event went over the past year. So, that’s how you were going to spoil Melissa. You were going to let her feel that she was spoiling you. Of course, the next day, you would give her the paperwork to show her you had contacted a contractor to put in an in ground hot tub that she had been wanting for ages, but for today… she could feel like she was spoiling you. And you would do it with a smile.

To her surprise, when she opens her eyes that morning, you’re still holding onto her- not downstairs trying to finally execute the breakfast in bed that you’ve been wanting to give her since the relationship began. Instead, you’re laying there peacefully, eyes closed. She thinks you’re still asleep, but the truth of it is, you aren’t. You’re so consumed in your own thoughts of how much you love her and could spend the rest of your living days with her.

So, she makes her way downstairs and is able to make breakfast for you. She brings it up and into the bedroom before sitting down on the edge of your side of the bed.

“Mi amore?”

You peel your eyes open, pretending as if you had slept in. You knew she was making breakfast, you could smell it the second she had started working her magic in the kitchen. “Good morning, Lis. Happy anniversary, babe.” You kiss her gently.

“Happy anniversary,” she echos. “I made breakfast.”

You allow her to set the tray on the bed, and the tow of you have a wonderful meal together. Every meal you have together is wonderful.

You spend the day doing everything she thinks you would want to do on your perfect ideal day. And she has you down to a science- the things she planned are everything that you would love to do with her. But in all honesty, anything that you do with her is exactly where you would love to be. She’s home, and any time that you get to spend with her is perfect.

As the day progresses, you see how light she is on her feet- how happy she is to feel that she is giving you the treatment you always give her. And you couldn’t be happier. After so many years of her not feeling as though she had a purpose or a place in this world, you were more than happy to take a step back and let her be in charge and heal a bit of her inner child.

The two of you head to bed that night with lovesick grins on your faces, and your heart is filled with so much love and happiness that you’re not sure you could top a day like today.

And of course, the day after, where you can’t quite walk properly because of activities that you participated in the night before, is a day of rest and relaxation. You make sure that you take the best care of your girlfriend’s aches and pains and soreness. And that’s before you take her outside to show her where the contractor is planning on putting the hot tub.

“Did you really think I wasn’t going to get you anything?” you chuckle as she wraps her arms around your waist. “Like, c’mon, Lis.”

“Hun, this is…”

You roll your eyes as you kiss her. “It’s not too much. You’ve been wanting this. You deserve it.”

“I absolute do-”

“Just let me spoil you,” you mumble against her cheek before kissing it.

With the first year down, when these big days and holidays come around again, the redhead thinks that you’ll tone it down- that you had only gone all out because it was your first year together. She’s wrong.

Melissa tells herself it’s just the honeymoon phase. That once you’ve really settled into life together, it won’t always be this magical. She’s wrong. You never let a big day go by without spoiling her. And while she never comes to expect it, she accepts the fact that this is who you are. That you spoil her because you love her more than she thinks she’s ever seen anyone love another human before. As time goes on she will just lovingly kiss you, having adjusted to this life that she lives now. A life where love is unconditional, and she doesn’t have to earn it.

Your girlfriend becomes your wife, and a few years later, the family expands. You welcome two little girls into your world right after Melissa’s birthday, and they grow before your eyes.

When Christmas rolls around, this is the first year that your wife thinks that maybe you won’t spoil her the way you have been for years now. With two small children to care for now, you’re not necessarily in a place to be spending the money and living the lavish lifestyle that you had both grown accustomed to. And Melissa is entirely okay with this- your little ones deserve the absolute world.

But still, you manage to spoil her. She’s not quite sure how you had managed it with the budget, but she’s presented with a sparkling necklace on Christmas morning, adorned with all four of your birthstones on it.

“Honey,” she whispers as she looks at it, tears in her eyes. “This is… beautiful. But I- I didn’t get you anything like this. I figured with the twins now-”

“I don’t need anything other than what I have right here,” you promise her quietly. “Everything I need is here, and it is more than enough.”

“But I-”

“Let me spoil you,” you tell her, much like you’ve done for years.

She chuckles a watery chuckle before sighing and kissing you sweetly. “Will you ever stop?”

“Spoiling you?” you ask her with a playful roll of the eyes. “Absolutely not. I’ve been doing it for years. Why would I stop now?”

“Because we have the girls to worry about and spoil now.”

“And they will be,” you tell her as you glance over at the two sleeping quietly in the bassinets you have set up in the living room. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop spoiling you.”

Tags: (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #lisa ann walter

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year ago

Text

when you know, you know. (e.m.)

summary: air hockey has never been so romantic.

warnings: it's alluded to that reader is wearing red lipstick. not edited.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

wc: 1.8k+

a/n: a very late valentine's day gift for you all (and eddie). also, the fact i've never written proper mechanic eddie... what a shame.

“Yes!”

If any of the nearby children flinched, you didn’t notice. You were too wrapped up in your victory, going as far as to partake in a terribly embarrassing dance on your end of the air hockey table as Eddie shakes his head slowly.

“You definitely cheated,” he deadpans, a twitch of a smile nearly giving him away as he leans down to pick the puck out of the slot below on his end, “There’s no way you’re about to beat me in under five minutes, again.”

You smile, lips painted red under the lowlights of the arcade as you lean over the table and taunt him, “Or maybe it’s just a skill issue. I wouldn’t keep beating you if you were actually a professional in air hockey like you’d claimed, Munson.”

Three dates – tonight makes four – and you still hadn’t quite worked out how you’d managed to capture the attention of the boy before you. When he’d originally asked you out to coffee, you’d swallowed down all your excessive excitement just to answer him. The local mechanic that you’d been making heart eyes at every few months when you’d go in for an oil check, the one who hadn’t allowed the others at the shop to oversell you on a damn thing when you’d get your tires rotated. Who always smiled shyly as he’d bring you back your keys.

You’d figured the coffee date would last an hour if you were lucky. The two of you would spend more than five minutes in the same room together, he’d realize how overbearing you were, and that would be the end of it. Ridiculous crush effectively squashed.

But it hadn’t.

It had lasted hours, plural. Coffees finished and second lattes nursed until they’d gone cold, the outcome had been the exact opposite of your expectations. Your conversation had flowed effortlessly, common ground and common interests found with ease, and suddenly, Eddie was more than just some cute mechanic for your friends to tease you over.

The first date had only ended due to his shift at the shop that afternoon.

The subsequent sushi dinner date, and then the movie night the next week, had also lasted hours.

“For someone who works on cars, you should be a lot better with your hands,” you poke gentle fun at him as he makes the first hit against the puck this time, far more careful than you had been when serving.

“Or maybe I’m just determined to keep letting my pretty date win.”

“And why would you ever do that?”

Another hit from your mallet, the sharp tapping of your aggressive push ringing out over the sound of nearby machines. You don’t dare to glance in the direction of the ruckus, but you’re pretty sure someone has just won an exciting amount of tickets based on the squeals of glee.

“I dunno,” Eddie pauses to shrug after he hits the puck once more, his guard dropping. You’re ruthless as you take the opportunity to shoot the puck straight into ‘goal’ on his side of the table. A straight shot, far too easy for your liking, but you still celebrate the victory with another embarrassing dance, “Maybe it’s because I’m into that ridiculous dance they keep doing whenever they score.”

You immediately stop your little jumps, eyes widening, a rush of embarrassment heating you up from the inside out as Eddie’s eyes stay glued on you. The table powers down as he makes his way around it, feet bringing him right to you.

You’d always thought Eddie would find you weird, or odd, or unappealing after that coffee date, but the outcome had been better than you could have possibly conceived.

He was an absolute weirdo as well.

Fondness overtakes his features just like it had on that coffee date when you’d accidentally snorted at one of his jokes, and your heart flutters eagerly. You can’t believe there had been a time you’d only watch him from behind glass, trying to not get caught as you would blatantly stare at him as he’d work on your car. A time when you’d only see his curls up in loose buns rather than framing his face as they were now, a time when you couldn’t even shake his hand due to it being covered in oil.

That had all only been a month ago, but you already couldn’t imagine your life without Eddie Munson in it.

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he chuckles as he stops in front of you, smirk deepening the dimples you’d only noticed on your second date with him. He’d been too bashful the first date, ducking whenever his grin would grow too wide on you, biting his tongue on half the flirtatious remarks you wished he would have said. “You won, fair and square, so what’s your prize gonna be, valentine?”

He also waited until the second date to kiss you. That had nearly killed you.

“It’s not very fair if you let me win,” you whisper, unable to look away from his eyes. They’re a soft brown, a smooth honey, a nice sight for sore eyes. You kind of like the crinkles beside them, too. Kind of wonder what it would be like to wake up beside him, roll over, and kiss them – all before the sun ever rose.

He reaches out and gingerly grabs your hand, calloused fingertips brushing your knuckles before he entangles your fingers with his. “Psh, who said I let you win? Maybe I just really suck at air hockey.”

“You just-”

You never get to finish your argument. He’s quick to swoop down, capturing your lips in his. The rudest of interruptions, and it still manages to weaken your knees.

Each kiss only grows sweeter. And more confident, more sure. The first one had been timid, exchanged on your doorstep with boyish hesitation and meek desperation. But now, several kisses experienced since that night, all apprehension has melted. He lets his lips meld to yours, captures your bottom lip just tightly enough to give it a brief tug when he pulls away. Still soft, ever so sweet, and leaving you wanting for more.

Four dates. All it took was four dates for him to make you a goner.

“Now, that wasn’t fair,” you breathe out, betrayed by the smile that you wear. Your chest feels shaken up, impending explosion of mushiness and flowers and hearts and every single cliche the love songs on the radio could squeeze out.

“It was your prize.”

“I never said I wanted a kiss for my prize.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he puts a dramatic hand up to his chest, leaning back so dramatically that your hand instinctively reaches out to loop a finger in his jean pocket to keep him upright, “Would you like me to take it back, my fair maiden?”

Four dates, and he makes it impossible to not imagine a future of this. Of silly banter, of gentle mornings spent kissing away crows feet, of cutting one another off with the most infuriating of methods. You’re starting to believe you’re just a hopeless romantic, and he’d spotted that from a mile away – he knew every single button to press to have you putty in his hands, and he was taking full advantage of it.

You giggle, an honest to God giggle, as you say, “Hm, I’m not sure. I heard the return policies on those are a bit wonky.”

If your friends thought you were insufferable when he was some stranger you just had a crush on, they would be vomiting at the sight of this.

He leans into your space, close enough to smell his faint cologne and mint on his breath, “Are they? Well, lucky for you, I’m friends with the shop owner. Can definitely accept the return without a receipt. It won’t be a problem, ma’am. I swear it.”

He’s weird. He’s goofier than you could have imagined, snarkier than you could have dreamed, and more romantic than you had yet to uncover. He’s kind of perfect, but you wouldn’t dare say that to his face. Not yet, at least.

You’re glad you had said yes when he’d asked days prior for you to be his Valentine. And you’re glad he hadn’t gone the boring route, showing up with just chocolates and flowers and calling it a day, but had instead dragged you out to this arcade for a night of adventures as he claimed.

“And how would one go about returning a kiss, kind sir?”

He answers wordlessly, bringing up a finger to tap on his lips. He goes as far as pouting them dramatically.

He wants you to kiss him.

Lucky for him, you want to kiss him, too.

Your kiss is more chaste. Teasing as you lift up onto your tippy toes and only press your lips to his for a brief second before falling back. You leave him wanting more – it’s written all over his face, along with a blush that races right over the bridge of his nose.

He’s cute. He’s cute, and he’s weird, and you really fucking like him.

“Now that that’s over with,” you have to change the topic, move right along before your heart truly bursts from your chest, “I know what I want my prize to be.”

He takes a moment to recover, pupils almost resembling hearts as he stares down at you. Eventually he pulls himself from your trance, shaking his head as he asks, “And what would that be?”

You’re the one taking his hand this time. If he gave you the time, you’d like to learn each callous and scar by heart. Trace over them in the middle of night, when it’s just you and him in the darkness beneath your sheets. Memorize the way they feel as he explores every curvature of your body and figure out which of the roughest patches would brush against your most sensitive bits in a way that would make you arch your back right into him.

The two of you haven’t even discussed if that’s where the night might lead, but you’re sort of hoping the luck in the air doesn’t run out.

“There’s an awfully pretty ring in the case up at the ticket counter,” you muse, knowing damn well the ring was the ugliest thing either of you had ever seen in your lives, “Think you’ve got the tickets to spare?”

His hand gives you a squeeze. Something not too tight, something perfectly comfortable. It’s only the fourth date, it’s only the first month – it’s only the beginning.

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he says, more earnestly than you’d expected, as he steals another kiss.

You let him. You have this aching feeling in your chest that you’ll probably let him steal an endless amount from you for the rest of your life.

When you know, you know. Or whatever the poets say.

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