#we can walk around and look at the valentine's day decorations too.

[malfoys-demigod]

The Valentine's Day Dance

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Logan Howlett x Reader

Summary: A banter between you and Logan on the topic of Valentine's Day leads to an unexpected connection, revealing hidden feelings and new beginnings. A/N: I truly do believe we need more Wolverine fluff! I just love reading fluffs on him because he can be such an adorable cat! Word Count: Around 2k

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The X Mansion had a cozy, community-like feel, especially around the holidays. The holiday that was coming up so soon was Valentine’s day. 

You were a literature teacher who secretly loved the idea of love, but found Valentine’s day too commercialized and corny. Why? Because you believed that love should be celebrated every day, not just on a specific date dictated by tradition. You kind of felt that the holiday puts unnecessary pressure on people to express their love in a particular way, rather than allowing for spontaneous genuine expressions of affection. 

You had seen the school decorations starting to overfill around the mansion as early as your first class of the day had started. There were pink and red hearts everywhere. You were secretly pleased that love was all around, but maybe the over-the-top decorations were a little too much. 

While during lunch break, you were carrying a few Valentine’s day cards from your students, reading them on the way to the kitchen. 

Logan, who had just finished his classes as well, came out of his classroom and passed you in the hallway. He smirks and says, “You actually celebrate this corny day?”

You looked up to see Logan taking a peek at one of your cards, assuming he was jealous since he wasn’t holding any cards at all. “Sounds like you’re lonely and have no one to spend it with,” you resorted. 

Logan had moved on a long time ago from the fact that Jean and Scott were meant to be, and he healed from that, knowing it was fine. While you walked into the kitchen, you left Logan slightly annoyed but also intrigued by your comment. 

You were now in the kitchen along with Jean and Storm, sitting around the dining table, enjoying a cup of tea and reading through Valentine’s Day cards they’ve received from students. 

“Dear Ms. Grey,” Jean read a card out loud, “You’re the best teacher ever. Happy Valentines’ Day!” “These kids are too sweet.”

Storm smiled, “I’ve got a few myself. It’s nice to feel appreciated, even if it’s just for one day.”

“I agree. I love today,” you grinned, “It’s like everyone’s a little more open with their feelings, you know?”

Logan walked into the kitchen, grabbing a cup of coffee, overhearing the conversation. “Feelings. Great. Just what we need more of around here.”

“Oh, come on, Logan, don’t tell me you didn’t get any Valentine’s day cards?” you asked, playfully, knowing quite well he didn’t. 

“I’m here to teach history, not to win a popularity contest, bub,” he said, smirking. 

“Maybe you’d get a few cards if you lightened up a bit,” Jean recommended. 

With mock seriousness, Logan replied, “I’ll leave the charm to you, Jean. After all, you’ve got Scott to shower you with affection.”

There was no hint of hurt when Logan said that, but you looked up at him with a small show of concern. Even if it was ages ago when Logan accepted things, this was a joke you wouldn’t sit well with if you were in his shoes. But maybe he was really okay with things and this was a way of showing it?

“Real funny, Logan,” Scott laughed, coming into the kitchen, “Speaking of which, we’ve got the Valentine’s Day dance coming up, and guess who’s chaperoning?”

“Oh, I love chaperoning! It’s always so much fun!” you said excitedly

Logan groaned, rolling his eyes. “Please tell me I’m not on that list.”

“Actually, you are,” Jean said, “We just got the assignments earlier and since Scott and I are a team, and Storm’s with the professor…”

“That leaves you two as partners for the night,” Storm finishes for her, pointing at you and Logan.

You were up for the challenge actually. It felt like it was Christmas and you were paired up with the grinch, whom you wanted to un-grinch for the night. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, Logan,” you smirked at him. 

Logan sighed, “Fantastic. My favorite holiday, and now I get to spend it surrounded by hormone-crazed teenagers… and you.” He looked at you with a deadbeat face.

You sat up from your chair, taking a step towards Logan. “Look, just say you’re jealous since you didn’t get any cards.” You teased him again with that fact. 

Logan raised his eyebrow, “Jealous? Please. I’m just looking forward to watching you try to keep up with those kids on the dance floor.” He said, taking a closer step towards you. 

“Oh, I can keep up just fine. The question is,” you said, making a bold move, “Can you?” The two of you were just inches away from each other, and possibly a verbal match. 

Jean started laughing lightly at Storm, “This is going to be an interesting night.”

“I’ll make sure to bring popcorn,” Storm smiled.

Logan, with his super-hearing senses, grumbled, “Great. Just what I needed. A front-row seat to the Valentine’s day circus.” He said, taking a step back from you, drinking from his cup. 

“Don’t worry, Logan. I’ll make sure you have fun, whether you like it or not.” You had a hint of challenge in your voice. 

A few days later, the dance commenced. 

As the students start to dance, along with Jean and Scott slowly swaying their way into the center of the dance floor while Storm and Charles are making conversation… 

You found yourself standing alone near the back. I mean, that was part of being a chaperone right? You were just having a punch, taking small sips from time to time. That was when Logan, who saw you from the other side of the room, alone as well, approached you. 

He tried to keep up with his usual snarky attitude. “I’m surprised you’re not out there dancing with the kids, spreading all that ‘love’ you believe in.”

You were secretly thankful that there was company now, even if it meant it was from Logan. You grew a smirk on your face, which Logan noticed. It was starting to become something he didn’t mind getting used to - and to his surprise, doesn’t mind getting used to.

“Maybe I’m just waiting for someone worth dancing with.”

Logan pauses, not expecting that response from you. It was as if his snark falters. He looks around, and seeing no one is watching, boldly offers you his hand. 

“Or maybe you’re just bad at dancing,” he joked. 

The sight of his hand out surprised you. There was a moment of hesitance from you, but you had to do something. You took his hand, and you both stepped into the dance floor. 

The swaying at first is awkward, as expected. There’s a tension between you, a mix of uncertainty and something unspoken. But gradually, after a few sways, you both fall into a comfortable rhythm, moving together more naturally.

“Hm, you’re not as bad at this as I thought, darl,” Logan softened, almost without realizing it. 

“Careful, Logan, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

Logan chuckles softly, shaking his head in mock exasperation. He then smirks, “Don’t get used to it, Y/N. I’m just trying not to step on your feet.”

Now, there was a brief pause as the banter between the two of you started fading as the music slowed down. The closeness between you and Logan… felt different, more real. His grip on your hand tightens slightly, and you notice the way he’s looking at you. It was not with the usual teasing glint you were used to, but it was with something gentler… something almost vulnerable. 

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” You said quietly, meeting his gaze. 

Logan was shaking his head. “No… it’s not,” he replied, barely above a whisper. 

As the song ends, the air between you and Logan had changed with something unspoken. It was as if the room suddenly felt too crowded, too loud. 

“Do you want to…” you spoke softly, almost hesitant, “step outside for a bit? The garden’s always so quiet this time of the night.”

Logan nods, not breaking eye contact. His hand was still loosely holding ours as you both made your way toward the exit. The sounds of the dance had faded behind the two of you as you stepped into the cool night air, for the garden was waiting for whatever comes next. 

You both find a quiet spot in the garden, away from the noise of the dance. You felt the cool air refreshing you, after the warmth of the mansion inside, and the two of you both stood in silence for a moment, taking it in. 

“You know, this whole Valentine’s Day thing... maybe it’s not as ridiculous as I thought.” Logan broke the silence. 

You laughed at his comment softly, “I’m shocked to hear that from you.”

“Don’t get too excited. It doesn’t mean I’m about to start throwing rose petals around, Y/N.” He said with a teasing smirk.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. But you have to admit, it has its charms.”

“Maybe... or maybe I’ve just never had a reason to see it differently... until now.”

You looked at Logan, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. For the first time, you saw a different side to The Wolverine, one that was not hidden behind sarcasm and snark. 

“Are you saying you’re not as cynical as you pretend to be?” you asked gently

Logan flashed you a smile, a real one this time. “Maybe I’m just tired of being lonely.”

Logan’s smile starts fading, turning into a more thoughtful expression with the silence between you two growed heavy with unspoken emotions. You both stand close, the cool night air wrapping around you. 

There’s a moment of hesitation from both of you, as if neither wants to be the first to break the silence or the tension. But then, almost instinctively, Logan’s hand reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. His touch is surprisingly gentle, considering the tough exterior he usually presents.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were waiting for this all night, sweetheart.” Logan softly said with a teasing edge. 

“And what if I was? Would that make you run the other way?” You replied playfully

He chuckles softly, the sound low and rumbling, before his hand moves to cup your cheek. The world seems to narrow down to just the two of you at that moment, the space between you growing smaller until there’s none left at all.

Then, slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative kiss. It’s hesitant at first, as if both of you are testing the waters, unsure of what this meant. But as the kiss deepens, there’s a shared realization of how much you’ve both been denying. The kiss turns into something more intense, filled with the unspoken feelings that have been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads rest against each other, both of you slightly breathless. Logan’s thumb gently caresses your cheek, and there’s a soft smile on his face that you’ve never seen before—one of pure, unguarded affection.

“You know, I think this might be the first Valentine’s Day I actually don’t mind.” He whispered

“Maybe there’s hope for you yet, Logan.” 

The next morning at school, the usual routine feels different. You’re both back in your respective classrooms, but the memory of the previous night lingers in your thoughts.

In the hallway between classes, you spot Logan. There’s an undeniable warmth in his eyes as he catches your gaze. The teasing smirk is still there, but it’s softer now, more playful than sarcastic.

“Try not to get too distracted by thoughts of me today, Y/N.” He passed by with a low murmur

“I’ll try, but no promises.” You smirked back and as you walked away, you felt a flutter of excitement in your chest, realizing that something big had changed between the two of you. The banter continues, but now it’s underscored by a mutual understanding and a shared affection.

Later that day, as you’re packing up your things in your classroom, Logan approaches you. There’s a slight awkwardness to his movements, as if he’s debating something internally.

He then handed you a small, slightly crumpled Valentine’s card. It’s nothing fancy, just a simple card, but the gesture makes your heart skip a beat. 

You open it, finding a short, handwritten note inside: “You were right. Maybe next year, I won’t be so lonely.”

You look up at him, a smile spreading across your face. Logan’s usual tough demeanor is nowhere to be seen; instead, he’s looking at you with an expression that’s almost vulnerable, like he’s just taken a leap of faith.

“I’ll hold you to that, Logan.”

“You’re on, doll.” He nods, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. As you both leave the classroom together, there’s a sense of a new beginning, a promise of something more. The banter may continue, but now it’s laced with a mutual respect and an undeniable attraction that neither of you can ignore.

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

Taglist: @notanotheroldman @imjustatiredpersonsposts @inumakisriceingredients @ravenslvt @miralunaela @shiawaseorii @hughverine @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @sunroxic @fandomsunited @thatonedepressedpansexual @letmeapologise @laila347 @studentmysterious @clean-and-claire @fromarabellawithlove @ittacookie @eljaynosine-triphosphate @fluffy-b33z

I hope I was able to tag you guys well!

[psblooms]

stupid in love | for valentine’s day

‧₊˚♡𓂃 enhypen hyung line x fem reader fluff works established relationship, non idol!au, just silly cheesy love.

heeseung ₊˚⊹♡ book a flight to paris only one way

having pancakes at 3am was something that was becoming a weekly tradition between heeseung and you. and while he was always the one who was craving them, he was awful when it came to flipping them around, so, just like every other week, he was sitting in the kitchen island watching how you flipped the pancakes and put them on a plate, he wanted to help you but the insane amount of times he almost broke something there had him in observing duty. and he didn´t mind it one bit (he did mind washing the dishes after but he wouldn´t tell you that), he got to see you (even if it was your back) in his sweatshirt, with your hair up and glasses in the warm light of the decorative lamps, and his thoughts always came back to how he was incredibly lucky to have you in his life, someone so perfect to him, someone who loved him as much as he loved you, he wanted you to give you everything you could wish for, he just didn´t know where to start. "should we go to france on our anniversary love?" he asked almost in a whisper "huh? its still months away?" you answered without looking at him too concentrated in the pan in front of you. "its always better to think ahead of time, we can ask for vacation days at work" he said simply "for how long?" you asked him turning off the stove and making your way in front of him "we´ll know that when we get there" he smiled mischievously while grabbing a pancake with his fork and blowing you a kiss.

jongseong ₊˚⊹♡ paper rings are good for now

neither you nor jay had a lot of experience when it came to taking care of little people, sure, he was the designated mom friend dealing with twenty-something year old men, not with kids whose safety relied solely on him. but as scared as he was he would not show you that, if he panics, you panic. so, here he was, "babysitting" his nephews as a favor, and it was low-key a lot easier than he thought. maybe it was because you were a perfectionist and had created a timetable with activities you could do to avoid boredom and tantrums. and now he is sitting in a chair that was clearly too small for him working in a table that was not created for someone his size on some origami pieces with his niece and nephew while you explained how to do a paper boat. and even if he wasn´t paying attention to his boat, he was paying attention to you, not you explaining, just you. looking at you was his favorite thing to do in the world, he could do it for hours and never get tired of it, so he didn't even realize the moment the kids were done with their boats. only seeing how they ran to the couch in front of the tv to do movie night and how you went to the kitchen to make some popcorn, but he was still sitting in that uncomfortable little chair folding a little strip of paper getting up after some minutes joining you at the kitchen "here you go" he said while putting his arm around your shoulders showing you a pink paper ring "what is this for?" you asked looking up at him smiling. "ill give you the real thing soon" he said while kissing your temple.

jaeyun ₊˚⊹♡ let’s get matching tattoos

in the years you´ve been dating jake there were some things you ended up learning of him: how his voice gets higher when he sees a dog, or how he becomes a social butterfly while drunk. how he was an early sleeper and he wouldn't stay up until midnight because "he needs his beauty sleep" and also how he never drinks caffeine after 7pm because he gets hyperactive. so you can imagine your shocked face when you walk home just to see jake pouring himself what you assume is his second cup of coffee and he explains to you how it was because he couldn't find hot chocolate and was craving a warm drink. and while you didn´t make a big deal out of it because it was still ´early´ and he wasn´t getting all excited, the clock reached 0:30 and instead of cuddling and listening to his light snores all warmed up wrapped in the blankets, you were listening to jake insane late night thoughts and questions. "ynie, what do you think happens when poison expires? does it become more poisonous? how would that work" he asked while looking at the ceiling "I don't know jake, just go to sleep" you said avoiding his questions "but how does sleeping work, if our body shuts down why do we dream and why do we remember it? would you like to see your dreams when you are awake?" he continued "sure" you answered him hoping for him to finally fall asleep. "should we get matching tattoos?" he asked "yes" you said without registering his words thanks to your sleepy mind "great!" he said hugging you and lulling you into sleep "go to sleep babe" you said quietly "good night darling" he said hugging you tighter and putting his head on top of yours.

sunghoon ₊˚⊹♡ what’d you think about sharing our last name?

with sunghoons extremely busy schedule, he learned to find happiness in moments of simple nothing, he found joy in the little things of life, in its monotony. he loves picking you up from work after he got out of his office, he loves holding your hand while walking on your way home after going grocery shopping, he loves seeing both of your toothbrushes on the bathroom counter, he loves your weekly going out for dinner dates, and most importantly, he loves you. he loves keeping a routine, and he loves that you were part of that routine, he absolutely adores knowing that every single plan in his life includes you. he could not fathom the thought of not having you in his life; he tried to not think of it because it would make him spiral, and because you would always erase his insecurities. he knows that he would do whatever was in his power to have you in his life for as long as possible because he was happy simply being yours. he blinked looking for you only to find you cuddling him in the living room. he didn´t remember why his thoughts went that way when he was supposed to watch a drama with you since both of you had the day off. he wasn´t sure if you saw him spacing out since you were leaning on his shoulder way too invested in the tv. and he loved that. doing nothing with you, even if he was not paying attention, just sharing his space with you made sunghoon feel overjoyed "angel, do you think yn park sounds nice? well I could also be sunghoon yln. or maybe we can also merge them you know park-yln or yln-park" he ranted still looking at nothing in front of him but holding you closer. making you raise your head off his shoulder, pause the tv and look at him surprised "what are you talking about?"

[samthestrangerthingsfan]

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: frienemies-to-lovers, kinda mean!Eddie? shy!reader, swearing, a lil smoochin', mentions of lack of confidence and poor self image, cute nicknames

a/n: hi bb, will you be my valentine? I don't love writing mean!eddie but its okay because we can always fix him :)

Valentine’s Day.

A day which the Hawkins High elite are positively buzzing over the plethora of cheap red and pink decorations.

Cheerleaders swoon over poorly constructed cards from their popular boyfriends, while dozens of obnoxious mylar balloons take up way too much space in the already crowded hallways.

Beyond the 14th of February, the reason for all the excitement was the annual Hawkins High Valentine’s Day dance—of which you were head of the committee.

Was it because you were the only Senior to volunteer their time to coordinating it instead of attending it? Maybe, but at least it gave you a reason to show up to the dance without a date.

...and avoid looking like the pitiful wallflower you are.

You also knew you’d have no time to rush home and get ready after your last class, so here you are. Standing outside of the AV Club door, decked out in your new crushed-velvet dress. It's ruby red and dangerously short.

This was definitely out of your comfort zone. You typically preferred to be invisible. It’s easier that way; no one can hurt what they can’t see. Right?

But when this dress caught your eye in the mall shop window, it was the first time you could ever remember wanting to be seen. Wanting to try to look like the pretty girls who walk the halls everyday vying for the attention of others.

The dance gave you the perfect excuse. Sure, it’s not like you had a date or anyone asking you to go, but you felt so beautiful. The way the dress hugged your body made all the staring and whispering as you walked down the hallway so, so worth it.

“Hey—whoa…” Dustin’s voice dropped when he walked around the corner, arms full of equipment. “Y-you look fantastic!” He said proudly.

Dustin was your favorite Freshmen, always kind and happy to see you.

“Aw, thanks Dusty! You don’t think it’s too much?” You lifted your boot, inspecting it falsely.

Dustin smiled, “It’s too much for 6th period Spanish, but not for Valentine’s Day that’s for sure.”

He unlocked the door, and held it for you.

Dusting grabbed a pen and paper to write down what you’d need the AV Club’s help with after school.

With hands on your hips, you looked around the room. “Okay, so I definitely need the projector, and if you could set it up before—“

An annoying, loud, cocky voice cut you off. “Henderson! What the hell is takin’ you so long?”

Eddie fucking Munson.

You watched as he sauntered into the room, DIO jacket and all. He clapped Dustin on the shoulders before turning his gaze to you.

“Holy shit. That you, Mouse?”

Mouse. A nickname you loathed.

You’d made the mistake of sitting at the Hellfire table your Freshman year, and he’s never let let you live it down. Once Eddie saw just how shy you were, he made it his mission to get under your skin.

He'd plopped down into the seat next to you, assuming you were there to cause him and the guys trouble. “New girl’s trying to get in good with the freaks, hm?”

You jumped and began to frantically pack your belongings, “I-I…I didn’t know. I’m sorry, I’ll just go—"

When he realized you were nervous, he changed his tone. No longer was he on edge, but rather trying to make you laugh. Show you it's okay to give him a taste of his own medicine. “No no, little mouse. You’re not scurrying away that easily.”

Four years later, you’re both still here and Eddie’s been a thorn in your side ever since. You thought you'd be rid of him once he graduated, but he flunked--twice. Condemning you to another year full of his nonsense.

His obnoxious, overly-confident, doe-eyed nonsense.

“Munson.” You couldn’t help the eye roll. “Dustin and I are working on something so,” you flicked your hand toward the door. “Skedaddle.”

“Oof,” he teased. “You kiss your mother with that potty mouth?”

Eddie walked past Dustin, hands on his hips as he took you in. “Why, may I ask, are you dressed so fancy, princess? Hot date with a frog?”

Okay, guess we’re playing this game.

“The only frog I know is you, Munson.”

His hand flew to his heart. “You hear this, Henderson? Who knew Mouse could be such a brat?”

“If you’ll excuse me,” you attempt to sidestep him, but he blocks your path. Big brown eyes watching your every move. “Don’t you have anything better to do than push my buttons?” It’s a pitiful gripe. You know he enjoys this far too much.

“C’mon, sweetheart. If I didn’t talk to you, who the hell would?”

Ouch.

Something no doubt said in jest, but it hurt to realize just how right he was. You had tons of acquaintances, and you got along great with the teachers. As for friends, the well's a bit dry in that department.

You cleared away the tightness in you throat. “Yeah, I don’t have time for this. I’m actually contributing to society. How about you?” Your face was twisted into a sarcastic smile, attempting to hide the hurt.

Eddie on the other hand thought the two of you were simply playing your favorite game. Seeing just how flustered he could make you before you gave him a taste of his own medicine.

“Yeah, you’re a real Nancy Reagan.” He laughed, gesturing to your dress.

Your eyes honed in on him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means,” he reached out, sweeping a piece of hair off of your cheek. “If you wanted a little attention, you didn’t have to do all this.”

This.

Said as if the word tasted rotten. Disgusted by what you’d considered to be you at your most beautiful.

I must look like a fucking fool.

The stinging in your eyes got stronger every second you stood in his presence. Your gaze locked onto the floor, following your feet as you left. “Bye, Dustin. I’ll see you later.”

Dustin protested, calling you back before turning his disappointed glare to Eddie.

“Dude…” he chided.

Eddie scoffed, “What? Henderson I was joking—she knows that, okay? That’s our whole thing.”

"Eddie, she was crying!"

Were you? No, no way. This is what the two of you do.

"No, she wasn't." He said unconvincingly. "You don't know her like I do, little buddy. She's a good girl, loves the cat-and-mouse of it all." Eddie wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or Dustin.

Eddie had a fuck of a time in O'Donnell's class, and now on top of all of that, he's late to set up Hellfire.

He moved a bit quicker down the hall, easy enough since most of the school left to get ready for the Desperate Dance. He intentionally always schedules DND on nights like this, that way he'd never have to be caught dead--

Eddie's stopped in his tracks at the sight of the trashcan at the end of the hall. He spots a familiar piece of red fabric hanging out of the bin.

He pulled it like a magician, revealing more and more of the velvet clothing until its fully removed,

A dress.

Your dress.

Why the fuck did you throw it in the trash? You we're the most confident Eddie had ever seen you while you wore this thing.

...and you looked drop dead gorgeous, but that's beside the point.

He heard your voice coming from the gym, and abandoned all thoughts of DND.

Eddie burst through the double doors, ignoring the frilly pink and red decorations for the dance. He weaved between the underclassmen carefully setting up the tables and backdrops to make his way over to you.

You, who now instead of being in your beautiful fucking dress, are in you school-supplied gym uniform. Your hair was pulled back, no longer falling in the perfectly natural way you had it earlier. Your makeup was gone--Eddie didn't mind that, he didn't think you needed it anyway.

But you'd never looked so small to him.

He called your name more gently than you've ever heard him speak. When you turned and saw your dress in his grip, you wanted to disappear.

Had he come to gloat?

"Why the hell was this in the trash?" he's not smirking, or sarcastic when he says it.

"Didn't like it." It's all the pain in your throat will let you get out.

You walk away from him, hurrying to find something else to do beside stand there and be made fun of by Eddie Munson.

"Bullshit," he calls after you, quick on your heels. "You don't wear a dress like this and look the way you look in it and just decide you don't like it."

You could feel the tears returning as soon as you stopped walking. "I don't know what you wanna hear," your back was to Eddie, but you felt his gaze regardless. "I just didn't like it...anymore, okay?"

The fake organization of the ribbons in front of you didn't deter him, he remained behind you in silence until he couldn't take it anymore.

"Did...did I say something? Earlier, in the AV Club." He spoke so softly, and with such sincerity, you'd never know it was Eddie talking to you.

You sniffled, angry at yourself for letting him hear how upset you were. "I don't know what you mean."

"Henderson," He's quick on your heels. "Henderson said you were crying when you left."

You don't--can't say anything. Trying desperately to will the tightness in your throat to go away and the tears to dry before they fall from your eyes. A small, shaking breath passes your lips.

"Please look at me, Mouse." His voice is hushed when he calls out to you.

You turn to him begrudgingly. Hoping if he saw the mess he made he'd leave well enough alone.

But when he sees your face, with red eyes and damp tear-stained cheeks, his heart falls into his stomach.

"Oh, oh sweetheart--"

You beat him to it. "I'm fine, Munson. Just...just give me the stupid thing, okay? I'm better off invisible, anyway."

"You've never been invisible to me." Eddie hands you the dress, and watches as you wring it between your hands. "I'm sorry, Mouse."

You scoff, "You didn't--"

"Yes I did," He says firmly. Eddie steps into you, closer than he's been before. "I made an asinine comment thinking we were playing our little game, but it's not a game if someone gets hurt, especially you."

Eddie swipes away the tear on your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You looked beautiful. You're always beautiful, but that dress? Honey, I couldn't think straight. I'm a dumbass half the time, but I turned into a god damned Neanderthal when I saw you in that."

Your brain couldn't process what was happening. It almost sounded like Eddie...liked you?

"I thought," You looked down, embarrassed to even say it out loud. "I finally felt pretty, pretty enough to be seen and not just in the background."

Eddie's brow softens at your words, "Mouse, I see you. You're one of the only things I look for throughout the day. Always lookin' out for the pretty shy girl with the smile that makes me go weak in the knees."

You laugh at that. "I guess I always look for the obnoxious metal head that's way too good at getting under my skin."

Eddie chest rumbles with a laugh, too. "You're too good at calling me on my crap, what do you expect me to do?"

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you, and it has Eddie clearing his throat. "Can--can I give you a hug? Hate that I made my favorite girl cry."

The smile on your face speaks volumes, but you nod anyway.

When you're wrapped in Eddie's arms, his warmth seeps through your bones, relieving any tension or nerves. His scent invades your senses, warming your belly and heart. You melt into him completely.

Eddie can't believe how well you fit in his arms, like a damn puzzle piece if you asked him. He smells you shampoo, and memorizes the fragrance, filing it away in his mind as his new favorite smell.

When you pull back, he leans his forehead on yours. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I really am."

You nod, moving his head a bit as it rests on yours. "I know."

Eddie steps away, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Ya know, uh, if you're not busy, I'm running a DND campaign tonight. I'd love it if you sat in and maybe after...I don't know, maybe I could take you to Benny's?"

You smirked, eyes narrowing at him. "You asking me out, Munson?"

His eyes widened in sheer panic, "Oh--oh my God, I read this all wrong, huh? Please just forget--"

You're quick to ease his worry. "I'd love too."

Putting the dress on the table, you offer Eddie your hand. "Show me the way, Dungeon Master."

He takes it eagerly, but doesn't walk anywhere yet.

"Eddie?" You giggle.

"One second, princess. Damn knees turned to jelly again."

[jjungkookislife]

New Year With You (M)

pairing: hfth!jungkook x f. reader

genre: established relationship, fluff, light smut [18+]

summary: Ringing in the new year means saying goodbye to Grandmother Jeon, lots of alcohol, and a devastatingly handsome Jungkook.

wc: 2.8k

warnings: alcohol use/mention (body shots), implied smut (unprotected sex, hickeys, sexual thoughts/conversations), food mention, Tae is a flirt and Seokjin is shy about it, oc scratched the hell out of JK's back (with consent), teasing

a/n: thank you @btsgotjams27 for helping me again 💜💜

read home for the holidays

date: January 19, 2024

Grandmother Jeon had left early this morning with the Jeons and Parks in tow. She had pulled you into a tight hug as Dae loaded her suitcases into the trunk.

“You two have a good new year, and if I don’t see you before Spring Break, make sure to call,” Grandmother Jeon instructs as she releases you to hug Jungkook just as tight.

“And you,” she smiles. “Make sure you check the house out before you return to school. I’ll make arrangements for renovations if you want to change anything up. Do what you want with it, okay?”

“Yes, Grandmother Jeon. Thank you,” he says as he hugs her tighter, and she kisses his cheek before releasing him.

“Don’t get into too much trouble tonight while your parents are away,” Grandmother Jeon raises a brow. “I’m gonna be overseas, and your parents are going to be out of town so we can’t bail you out of jail.”

“I’ll keep him in check, Grandmother Jeon,” you promise as you wrap your arm around Jungkook’s waist. His sweater is thicker than yours, and the wind rattles you to the core, but your goodbyes are more important than a few chilly minutes.

“That’s what I like to hear, honey!” Minji laughs. “We’ve got to be tough with these Jeon men!”

“Mom!” Dae calls from the car as he shuts the trunk. “We’re all set.”

Minji smiles again. “You watch out for that Park boy, too. Jimin and that mouth of his. I’m sure I’ll be hearing about tonight from his grandmother. We’re gonna play shuffleboard and find us some dance partners before midnight! Don’t worry about me.”

“Get ‘em, Minji,” you giggle as you hug her one last time, promising to call soon. She waves as she links her arm with Jungkook’s as he walks her out of the house and toward the driveway where his parents wait for them. Luna is buckled in her seat, barking her head off when she finally spots her mother.

Across the street, Jimin is helping his grandmother get into his parents’ car. He waves when he spots you in the doorway, and you grin.

The eight of you had plans to spend the New Year together. The weather was still rough. Snow still covered the streets and you weren’t in the mood to be stuffed in a club like a sardine.

Jungkook had invited everyone over. Jimin, Joon, and Tae would probably walk home, and Seokjin, Hoseok, and Yoongi would either sleep over or go across the street.

The plans for tonight involved games, alcohol, and plenty of food. The home was still decorated for Christmas, and Aera promised to put everything away once she returned. Before you could offer to help, Jungkook shook his head.

“Mom likes to keep them up a little longer. She decorates for Valentine’s Day and so on. We should come back for Halloween. You’d love it.” Jungkook smiled.

“I’m gonna miss her,” you tell Jungkook as he joins you on the front porch. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, kissing your cheek.

“Grandmother Jeon will be fine,” Jungkook assures you. “My parents will be back in a couple of days and then we can go look at the house.”

“It’ll be nice to party with Minji on Spring Break,” you giggle as you head back inside and shut the door after Jungkook. 

“If we can keep up,” he chuckles with a shake of his head. 

“I’m glad this all worked out, Koo,” you admit as you wrap your arms around his waist. He rubs your back as you rest your head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. It soothes you. 

“Me too, baby. Otherwise, I would have waited until we got back to school to say something,” He giggles, his nose scrunching the tiniest bit. 

You smile, kissing the mole beneath his lip. “Come on, babe. We have the house to ourselves and a few more hours before our friends come over.”

“Oh, and how do you suggest we pass the time, baby?” Jungkook smirks.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you say coyly as you walk two fingers up his broad chest. “I’m sure we can think of something.”

Your laughter fills the home as you take off running toward the stairs with Jungkook right behind you. His laughter and yours grow louder when he catches you and leads you to his bedroom, where you spend the next few hours wrapped up in each other. 

You shouldn’t stare.

You shouldn’t.

You’re not.

Honestly, you’re not.

But you so are!

“Are you part of some male dancer association?” you blurt, covering your mouth with your hands. You did not just say that!

Jimin cackles, shaking his head. “No.”

Seokjin smirks. “Hoseok picked our outfits.”

Your eyes look over at Hoseok, the menace. He smirks when you eye him up and down. He lowers his sunglasses to drown you in his dark look. Fuck, fuck, wow! 

“Don’t you look ravishing,” he comments as he sets his sunglasses on his head. “Gotta say, you look just as hot as I imagined.”

“Hoseok!” you giggle, shaking your head.

Hoseok shrugs. “It’s a nice dress. Still had the tags on when I found it in your closet.”

“Has Kook seen it yet?” Seokjin asks as he rakes his eyes over you. 

“Not yet,” you explain. “We decided to get ready separately.”

“Oh, he’s gonna die,” Jimin chuckles as he walks past you to the kitchen, where Yoongi finished cooking the food.

Alcohol fills the refrigerator and the counters. Jimin has a bottomless stomach when it comes to alcohol, and Tae always tries to keep up.

You’re excited to see Jungkook, but after the stunt Hoseok pulled, you’re not so sure you could handle it.

“Darling,” Jungkook calls from the stairs.

Hoseok chuckles as he watches you turn around slowly, gasping when you spot Jungkook. 

Jungkook’s dark hair is coiffed in a slicked-back manner. The blazer is too big for his frame, but the black mesh shirt hugs him in all the right places, showing off his taut chest and ripped abs. Silver jewelry adorns his ears, neck, and hand, but what you really love is the one pierced into his bottom lip. 

You swear your brain malfunctions as it does for SpongeBob when all he needs to remember is fine dining. You don’t think you could even remember your name right now if somebody asked because all you can think is how fucking hot your boyfriend looks. You don’t even think you’re breathing, your voice caught in your throat as your eyes take in every delicious inch of his body. 

Were you two alone, you’d have him beneath you already. His chest would get covered in your lipstick, and his cock would be inside you, making you cream around him as you bounced on him. 

Jungkook isn’t faring much better. The dress you’re wearing leaves little to the imagination. He’s breathless as he admires your radiance. The smile on your face is bashful but directed right at him. 

Jungkook should send Hoseok a personalized thank you note after this trip. Perhaps even a bouquet of peonies, freshly picked from a field they visited as children not too far from their home. He knows Hoseok wishes he had more time to make something for you. He’s very talented, and no doubt would create amazing clothing for each of you if given the chance. Jimin wore a suit made just for him, a gift for his birthday just a few months ago. 

Smirking, Jungkook takes the last step as he eyes the necklace sitting perfectly on your chest. It’s on a thin gold chain with his initial. There’s an accompanying one on your thigh that glimmers in the light when you move toward him, the slit on your dress dangerously high up, and your heels click on the floor as you meet him. 

“You look gorgeous,” Jungkook whispers when you grab his suit jacket. He notes how you bat your lashes, eyes sparkling when you look at him.

“And you look good enough to eat,” you respond, not noticing how your friends give you a moment alone. 

To be honest, Hoseok was a little worried you’d jump each other in front of everyone. You wouldn’t lie.  The thought had crossed your mind.

“Do I?” Jungkook smiles as he cups your face. His lips look very tempting as he toys with his lip ring. 

What you wouldn’t give to strip him naked where he stands. The thought alone sends a tingle down your spine as his fingers move downward to the necklace you’re wearing. 

“Perhaps there’s something I can do about that later on,” he whispers as he releases the initial and locks eyes with you. You blink, left breathless as his gaze locks you in place. 

Should you take him to his room? Forget all about the evening planned with your friends and welcome the new year tangled in sheets, his name on your lips, and his hands on your hips.

“If you guys are gonna fuck, can you do it somewhere else?” Namjoon asks with a brownie in one hand and a champagne flute in the other. 

Jungkook chuckles as he steps away from you. He takes your hand in his and leads you to your friends in the kitchen. 

It’s no surprise that Jimin’s already got the alcohol open. Yoongi turns the stove off and moves a pot off of the eye before calling everyone for dinner. 

The dining room is filled with laughter. Joy spreads from one person to the next as the alcohol and fond memories flow. 

Taehyung and Yoongi suggest moving the party to the living room. The table gets cleared by Seokjin and a tipsy Namjoon, who’s had too many brownies and flutes of champagne. 

Hoseok has cleared the living room coffee table and set the liquor and glasses on it. Each of you has a different glass straw to not get confused, but you know you’ll end up sharing with Jungkook and possibly Jimin by the end of the night. 

The TV is on in the background, a show on mute as they prepare for the new year. The countdown flashes on the screen, still two hours away. 

Fireworks blast off outside from the neighbors and their kids. Despite the cold weather, gatherings still take place. 

Jimin smirks when you take a seat on the couch beside Jungkook. Your hand rests on his thigh, and Jungkook toys with the small chain on your leg. 

“How about we start with body shots?” Jimin suggests, feigning innocence when his eyes connect with yours. 

Jungkook scoffs. “As if, Park.”

Jimin chuckles. He knows Jungkook well enough to know when he’s pissed him off. 

“Don’t worry,” Seokjin giggles. “We won’t do it off your girl.”

“Already making him mad?” Yoongi asks as he sets down a bowl of perfectly cut limes for the tequila. Yoongi normally sticks to whiskey and Tae and Jimin love tequila. Hoseok and you loved cocktails, and Jungkook and Seokjin will have what’s available. Namjoon keeps a flute of champagne in his hand most of the night, sipping in between sweets. 

“Can we just drink already?” Taehyung pouts as he eyes the bottle of tequila sitting untouched on the coffee table. “Please?”

Everyone laughs as they open bottles. Yoongi sits in a recliner with a glass of whiskey in his hand as the music plays from a speaker on the mantel. 

Hoseok sits on the loveseat, a sketchbook in his lap as he watches you. He’d have to get your measurements later, perhaps in a few days or once you return to campus before the semester gets too busy for everyone. He’d like to make something for you and Jungkook. Perhaps matching outfits if time allows, but if not, matching accessories are just as good. After all, nothing is better than a gift given from the heart. 

An hour l and a half later, everyone is giddy and tipsy. Seokjin, Jimin, Taehyung, and Namjoon play cards on the floor. They grow louder, and curses and groans of dissatisfaction escape them when Seokjin lays down his winning hand.

Yoongi hums along to the song playing, and Hoseok puts the finishing touches on his sketch. 

Jungkook has shed his suit jacket, as have most of your friends. The fireplace roars brightly after getting started by Jungkook and Yoongi. 

Hoseok insisted everyone pose for pictures for his Polaroid camera, which caused Taehyung to ask everyone to pose for him. 

“Memories,” he had said with a stern look. “Precious memories that you will thank me for twenty years down the line when your kids ask how you spent your first New Year's Eve.”

It was hard to say no after that.

The countdown seems to fly by once you’re done taking photos. Jimin and Taehyung demand one more shot before heading outside to watch the fireworks and ring in the new year. 

“Oh, come on,” Jimin chuckles. “One body shot.”

You laugh. “I’ll do it off Koo if he’ll let me.”

Jungkook nods, eager to get your hands on his body. He’s been pretty tame due to company but he’s been eyeing you all night, wanting to get you alone to kiss you as much as he wants. 

He hopes he can see you in that dress again when both of you are completely sober. He clears his throat as he lies on the couch after removing his mesh shirt. He’s done a good job of covering the hickeys left on his torso from your past few romps.

 You kneel in front of him while Jimin shoves a lime wedge in Jungkook’s mouth. 

“Lick around his belly button,” Yoongi instructs with a cheeky grin. 

“You guys are the worst,” you grumble. 

“You can back out whenever,” Seokjin assures you. “No judgment.”

Taehyung’s nods. “I’ll do a shot off Seokjin next if it’ll help.”

“No,” Seokjin huffs. “The last time you let it go down into my underwear.”

Taehyung shrugs. “I would have gotten it.”

Seokjin blushes. “Shut up.”

“Can we do this before we miss the clock striking twelve?” Hoseok frowns. 

“Okay, okay,” Jimin says as you lick around Jungkook’s navel. Yoongi puts some salt around the circle and moves out of the way. 

“Come on, Seokjin,” Jimin says as he moves to the older man to get his shirt off. 

“Wait, you were serious,” he laughs as he takes his shirt off, and the friends get distracted for a moment while they tease him. 

You do your shot seamlessly, kissing Jungkook’s hip before moving toward the lime wedge. You grimace when it touches your tongue, and you spit it out into a napkin.

“Ugh, that never goes down easy for me,” you complain as you get on your feet. 

Namjoon and Yoongi have left to fill flutes with champagne in the kitchen while Seokjin put his shirt back on. 

“Get your coats on,” Taehyung claps as he starts handing coats to your friends. Jungkook gets off the couch, turning around to grab his shirt when your friends freeze, and you cover your face with your hands. 

“Geez,” Jimin said your name in between bouts of laughter. “Did you have to maul him?”

“Oh, lord,” you murmur into your hands as your face grows hot. 

“What?” Jungkook asks as he puts his shirt back on and then his jacket. 

“Keep your shirt on around your parents,” Taehyung giggles.

“Unless you want them to see the claw marks on your back,” Seokjin cackles as he leads his friends toward the door. 

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize, mortified. “Does it hurt? Oh, fuck. I’m sorry.”

“Darling, it’s fine,” Jungkook assures you. “I asked for it, remember? I kept asking you to do it harder and harder?” 

You bite your lip, nodding. Jungkook grins, kissing your lips. 

“Maybe tomorrow we can do it again?” Jungkook kisses your cheek as he leads you to the door to get your coat. He helps you into it before you join your friends on the porch. 

Jimin hands you a flute, and Yoongi hands one to Jungkook. 

Hoseok nearly jumps in his spot as he counts down from thirty. 

Giddiness fills your body as you look at your friends. When all of this first started you never imagined feeling joy like this. True friendship that would last a lifetime surrounded you; and included you. 

Jungkook’s hand goes to your hip as he pulls you closer. The wind is brutal but the fireworks burst with color in the air, and their beauty makes being cold worth it. 

“3! 2! 1!”

“Happy New Year!”

You smile brightly as you raise your flute with your friends, taking a sip before Jungkook’s lips are on yours. 

A new year, a new chance to make wonderful memories with the man beside you. 

Nothing could be better than this. 

© jjungkookislife - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms, this includes Youtube.

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Summary: After you attend Harris's birthday party, Eddie's forced to confront some big feelings, and a Valentine's date has the two of you navigating a much different type of big feeling.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (f! receiving), fingering, protected p in v, slight breeding kink, very fluffy smut, brief mention of parental abandonment

WC: 8.6k

Chapter 12/20

Eddie's card credit to @girlwiththerubyslippers Mixtape credit to @lofaewrites Divider credit to @saradika

The mingled scents of wood polisher, stale cigarette smoke, and old frying oil invade your nostrils the second you step into Hawkins Lanes. Bowling balls thud as they make contact with the fiberglass lanes, subsequently crashing into the waiting pins. You offer a smile at the exasperated teenager clearly nursing a hangover, holding back a dry heave as he sprays a pair of red and blue shoes with a can of deodorizer that, given the undertones of pungent sweat permeating the air, is likely well past expired.

“I’m here for Harris Munson’s birthday party?” It comes out like a question rather than a definitive statement, and you hold up the gift bag in your hand like it’s some kind of evidence.

The teenager jerks a thumb towards the back left of the building, not bothering to look up. “Party room’s down there,” he mumbles, and you thank him as you walk along the pink and purple carpet.

You’ve arrived a little early, hoping to steal a few moments with Eddie before the chaos of the day begins. Wayne is the only one in the small room, stretching to hang up a sign proudly declaring ‘Happy Birthday,’ each letter a different color of the rainbow. He grins when he sees you approaching, and you hold one end of the sign in place as he adheres it to the door frame with Scotch tape.

“Good to see y’again, darlin’.” Wayne greets you with a grin, taping your side of the banner. 

You put your arm down and return his smile. “You, too!” you chirp, glancing around the room. “Where can I put Harris’s present?”

The older man points to an empty table off to the side. “Right over there should be good,” he figures aloud. “Ed just took Harris to the little boys’ room, but they’ll letcha know otherwise.”

You nod, gently placing the bright yellow bag atop a table covered with a Hot Wheels-themed cloth. Amusement dances on your lips at the realization that Eddie must have splurged on decorations; it’s far better quality than one from the local 99-cent store. 

“Ms. Sweetheart! You’re at my birthday party!” Harris’s enthusiastic voice captures your attention, and you spin around just as he’s launching himself into your arms. A tiny human rocketship. 

“I am!” You laugh, motioning towards the gift table, “and I left your present over there.” 

Harris’s face lights up and he starts towards it, arms outstretched and ready to tear through the tissue paper, but the sound of his dad clearing his throat stops him in his tracks. 

“Remember,” Eddie says, keeping his tone calm but firm, “we’re gonna open everything once all your friends are here, after we eat cake.”

Harris juts out his lower lip in a pout. “But Daddy,” he protests, “I wanna open it now!” He stomps his foot indignantly, and you have to suppress a laugh at how silly it looks with the clown-esque bowling shoe on. 

“Harris, can you wait until you open the ones from your friends?” You phrase it like a favor, hoping to appeal to him that way. “I’m really excited about what I got you and I want them to see you open it, too.” Of course, you couldn’t care less about what a bunch of random four- and five-year-olds think about your gift, but you had to think quickly before the whine escalated to a tantrum. 

He releases a sigh of exasperation but ultimately concedes. “Okay, I guess I can wait.”

Eddie mouths thank you and winks as the four of you walk out to the lanes to wait for Harris’s friends. You feel a hand slip into yours, too small to be Eddie’s, and beam when Harris looks up at you with pure joy.

“Daddy! Grampa Wayne! I’m holding Ms. Sweetheart’s hand!” he exclaims, baby teeth on full display

Eddie ruffles Harris's hair. “I’m jealous.” If prompted, he’ll claim that he’s envious that his son chose to hold your hand instead of his. But you and him–and Wayne, let’s be real–know the real meaning behind his statement.

As Harris’s friends arrive and the birthday boy greets each of them with a hug, you and Eddie spring into action and line them up to get fitted for shoes. There are five kids, three boys and two girls, and though you recognize them as Ms. Marion’s students, you don’t know any of them by name. The bowling shoe laces are flimsy, and a few of them struggle with the fine motor skills necessary to tie them.

“Can I help you with that?” you ask one boy, who nods and extends his leg towards you. You crouch down and rest his foot on your knee as you double-knot the laces. When you finish, you look up to see that the rest of the kids have formed a line for your shoe-tying expertise.

Eddie returns from dropping off the guests’ gifts in the party room, laughing when he stumbles upon the queue of children. “You don’t have to do all that, Sweetheart,” he tells you, using his hands to assess the weight of different bowling balls before distributing them to the kids.

You shrug as you finish tying the last shoes. “I don’t mind.”

Eddie has reserved two lanes for the party, and before anyone can figure out who will be bowling where, Harris is tugging on his Black Sabbath t-shirt.

“We wanna play in teams,” he reports matter-of-factly. You’re not sure who ‘we’ refers to, since you didn’t see him corroborating with any of his friends, but you don’t question it aloud. “Team Harris and Team Daddy.”

Eddie gasps with feigned offense, bringing his palm to his heart. “What? You don’t want me on your team?”

“Nope.” Harris shakes his head, curls swaying back and forth. “I want Ms. Sweetheart on my team.” He pauses as he glances around the group, eyes brightening when his gaze lands on the eldest Munson. “You can have Grampa Wayne.”

“Old man’s probably gonna break a hip.” Eddie grumbles teasingly, picking up a red marbled bowling ball and hoisting it up to his chest.

Wayne scratches the top of his head. “And yet I can still kick your ass.” He keeps his voice low so that little ears can’t hear, but you and Eddie can, and you tuck your lips into your mouth so none of the kids catch on.

Harris is up first, squatting down and using two hands to roll the ball down the lane. His method proves to be somewhat effective when he knocks down a few pins, and the scoreboard screen flashes a giant number 5. 

“That’s how many years I am!” Harris proudly announces, skipping back to where the rest of his team is standing. He cocks his head at the ball return’s open mouth for the neon green ball that Eddie had handed him earlier, eagerly scooping it up when he spots it. Assuming the same stance, he once again rolls the ball and successfully topples two more pins.

Eddie raises his brows incredulously. “Hmm, let me try that strategy.”

“I don’t think there’s enough pins for all of your years,” you quip, and Eddie sticks out his tongue in your direction before mimicking Harris’s approach, knees aligned with his toes. He draws the ball back between his legs and releases it a few inches ahead of him, smirking as it cascades down the lane.

His cockiness is apparently earned, since he gets a strike. He attempts a victory moonwalk, clumsily dragging one foot behind the other in a manner that would make Michael Jackson regret ever making the move popular. The heel of his shoe catches on the floor and he stumbles backwards, landing on his ass.

The kids burst out into peals of laughter, and you and Wayne join in once it is evident that Eddie’s not hurt, only embarrassed. You stoop down, clutching your ball between your palms as you grin. “That’s what you get for gloating,” you whisper in his ear, a joking lilt in your voice. “Try setting a good example for the kids next time.”

Unbeknownst to you, one of the kids, Kelly, strikes up a conversation with Harris while you’re up to bowl. “Is that your mommy?” she asks him, strawberry blonde pigtails softly swishing as she looks over at you.

“No, but she’s gonna be my mommy soon!” Harris replies happily. “She and my daddy are gonna fall in love and then she’ll be my mommy.” His voice lowers as concern mars his words. “But don’t tell anyone, okay? Because it’s my birthday cake wish and I need it to come true.”

Kelly nods, taking this obligation seriously, and she averts her gaze when she spots you walking back to the ball return. Since you’d only knocked down eight pins, you take another turn, slipping your thumb, middle, and ring fingers into the holes, frowning when you don’t get the spare you’d hoped for. 

Harris’s chipperness brings a smile back to your face. “Ms. Sweetheart, can you teach me how to bowl like a grown-up?” He blinks a few times, hammering in his naturally docile nature.

“Of course!”

When it’s Harris’s turn again, Eddie watches you go up with him. It’s noisy, but he zeros in on your sweet tone among the clattering of bowling pins and cacophonous conversations.

“See, you put your middle finger and ring finger here, and your thumb here,” you’re gently explaining. “And then you lift the ball back just a bit, bring it forward, and let it go.” You go through all of the motions without actually letting go of the ball, Harris’s eyes glued to your every move. “You try.”

Harris follows your instructions, pink tongue poking from his mouth in sheer concentration, and knocks down a single pin. Eddie braces himself for his disappointment, maybe even escalation to a tantrum, so he’s pleased when his son spins back with a wide, toothy smile.

“I did it! I knocked it down!”

“You’re amazing! I’m so proud of you, Harris.” Eddie’s posture softens as Harris runs into your arms and gives you a giant hug, tiny fingers digging into your biceps as he squishes the side of his face just below your collarbones. When he does this, Eddie notices that Harris’s cheeks have lost some of their chubbiness; his son’s baby-like features subtly disappearing to make way for attributes of the older child he’s growing into. It brings a slight pang to his heart, and he swallows the emotion and focuses instead on the bonding moment between you and the not-so-little boy.

There’s a shared love; more than that, there’s trust. Harris knows he can rely on you to teach him with kindness and patience, that you won’t berate him or yell at him for doing something incorrectly. You’re his Ms. Sweetheart.

Wayne takes note of the goofy smile adorning his nephew’s face, nudging him before he drops the bowling ball on his foot. “I know you’re in love with her, but she ain’t worth losing your toes over.”

Eddie’s face flushes pink, the tips of his ears burning now that he's been caught. “I’m not in love with her, Wayne.” At least, I didn’t think I was yet, but now I might be.

“Whatever you say,” Wayne mutters under his breath, taking careful steps towards the lane. “You, uh, might wanna wipe the drool from your chin before you take your turn, though.”

Team Harris ultimately wins, mostly because Wayne throws the game so the birthday boy can have a victorious moment. You, Eddie, and Wayne quickly corral the kids into the party room, seating them at a large rectangular table for cake and presents before anyone can take offense over the game results. The three of you breathe silent sighs of relief when you easily shift their focus to the next activity.

Eddie pulls his lighter from his back pocket, flicking it on and lighting the five thin blue and white striped candles unevenly jabbed through the chocolate frosted homemade cake. He picks up the plate, supporting it from the bottom as he leads the group in a hilariously off-key rendition of Happy Birthday.

Harris squeezes his eyes shut before blowing out the flames with gusto, a big grin on his face when he opens them again.

Feeling a hand clap on his shoulder, Eddie swivels his body to see his uncle armed with a disposable Kodak camera. “Let me get a picture of you and the birthday boy,” Wayne insists, peering through the little viewfinder and snapping a photo. Eddie’s crouched down, right arm slung over Harris’s shoulders. Both of them wear matching smiles; the only difference is that Harris is still sporting his baby teeth. 

“Now Ms. Sweetheart!” the little Munson declares. Eddie goes to leave, pressing his palms to his knees and standing up, but Harris grabs his wrist and pulls him back. “No, Daddy. You and me and Ms. Sweetheart together!”

You shuffle over to stand on Harris’s other side. When you place your hand on his upper back, Eddie’s slides over yours, the two of you and Harris chiming “cheese!” in enthusiastic unison. 

Blinking from the brightness of the flash, you extend your arm and make a ‘gimme’ motion with your hand. “Let me get one of the three of you,” you say to Wayne, who begrudgingly places the camera in your outstretched palm. 

Eddie pulls him in closer. “Alright, Munson men. Flex those muscles!” You giggle as the three of them bend their arms to show off whatever biceps they have. 

“Ms. Sweetheart, who’s got the biggest muscles?” Harris asks as you lower the camera. 

You scrunch up your nose as though seriously contemplating the question. “Um, me, obviously!” You smack your own bicep, sending Harris into hysterics.

“That’s so silly!” he cackles, glancing up at Eddie. “Daddy, isn’t Ms. Sweetheart so silly?”

You expect him to agree with his son, but he just puts his hands on his shoulders and gives a quick squeeze as he says, “Nah, she’s the strongest person I know.” Your stomach flip-flops when he peers at you through his impossibly long lashes. He picks up the plate and brings it over to the smaller, empty table. “Let’s cut this cake before the kids start revolting.”

The two of you use plastic knives and forks to divide the cake into slivers and toss them onto paper plates. Once all of the kids have their slices, Eddie licks the excess frosting from his fingers and hands you a plate. 

“Havin’ fun?” He carefully wraps the question in a joking tone, but you can tell that he’s genuinely curious about whether you’re enjoying yourself. 

You spear a piece of your slice with the plastic fork. “I am, actually.” The chocolate melts in your mouth, and your tongue glides over your lips to catch any crumbs. “I haven’t been bowling since I was a kid.”

“And it shows,” he teases, wincing when you flick his cheek. “Hey, now—violence is never the answer. What values are you instilling in these impressionable young minds?”

Harris pops up from his seat, waving an empty plate. Whatever cake bits were left on it have tumbled to the floor. “Daddy, I’m done! Can I open my presents now?”

“Jesus, did you inhale that thing?” Eddie wonders aloud, but ultimately agrees. He grabs a bunch of thin napkins and wipes Harris’s hands and face, laughing when the boy sputters as the paper presses against his lips. “Har Bear, you don’t wanna get your presents all messy.”

Once he’s all cleaned up, Harris grabs each of the gifts and brings them to his seat at the head of the table. He tears through brightly colored wrapping paper at lightning speed. Eddie tries to keep track of who gave what as his son unveils a Hot Wheels track from Charlie and his brother Brendan, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure from Kelly, a G.I. Joe from Emma, and—regrettably—a tub of Gak from Zachary. He makes a mental note to pick up a harmonica or a kazoo or something else noisy when that kid’s birthday rolls around. 

The last gift left is from you, and you twiddle your thumbs as you await Harris’s reaction. Should I have gotten him a toy?

“It’s a stencil kit,” you feel the need to explain, as though you wouldn’t be able to handle the embarrassment of him asking what it is. “So you can trace shapes for your art. It’s got all different ones: food, animals, holidays…” You clamp your mouth shut, willing yourself to stop talking. 

Your panic is short-lived; Harris’s brown eyes light up as he runs to you and wraps his arms around your legs in another giant hug. “I’m gonna draw you so much things!” he promises, gazing up at you excitedly. 

“I can’t wait to see what you make me.” A drawing from Harris holds a deeper meaning than you ever realized. It’s more than a simple display of creativity; it’s a symbol of love and acceptance into his life. 

He looks at his dad now with pleading eyes. “Can Ms. Sweetheart come to our house after the party so I can draw her a picture? Please?” He stretches out the last word so that it has at least five syllables. 

Eddie looks at you expectantly, a timid smile on his lips. “Well?”

“I think that’s a great idea.” Your response earns you another quick squeeze from Harris before he darts back to his seat to further inspect his gifts. 

Eddie’s warm voice is low in your ear, his fingertips ghosting the small of your back in a manner that lets you—and only you—know how starved he is for touch. “And you can help me get rid of that slime thing, too.”

Once the party has ended and you, Eddie, and Harris are back at their apartment, the cherubic boy takes the stenciling kit into his room. 

“I’m gonna do art in here so you can’t peek,” he declares, clutching the kit to his chest as though there’s already something to hide. 

Eddie chuckles, raking a hand through his curls. “Okay, bud. We’ll be out here, watching TV. You go be a little artíst.”

Once he hears the bedroom door click shut, Eddie puts the TV on a random channel and plops on the couch with a soft oof. You sit down next to him and he puts his arm around you, allowing you to snuggle in closer. The shirt fabric against his underarms is slightly damp with the day’s sweat, but you’re far too comfortable to even consider it an issue. 

Your unsuccessful attempt at stifling a yawn has Eddie grinning. “Can’t hang with the kids anymore?” he goads, lips flush against your scalp. 

“It’s exhausting being on the winning team,” you playfully retort, adding in an over-the -top fake yawn to drive home your point. “Not that you would know.”

“Oh, yeah?” He pulls you closer to pepper kisses across your neck and cheek until you’re a giggling mess. Satisfied with his handiwork, he allows himself to sink deeper into the cushions and lets out a yawn of his own. 

You rest your head on his shoulder, gently brushing his curls back so they’re not in your eyes. A hum of contentment escapes you as you fully relax for the first time today. 

You feel a slight nudge on your chin as Eddie tilts it upwards and kisses your lips. The gloss you’d applied before the party is long gone, a casualty of conversation and cake consumption, but he has no complaints. 

“Been wanting to do this all day,” he murmurs, shooting shivers down your spine. “And when I saw you helping Harris? Baby, I just…” he searches for accurate words. Nothing he can think of seems to fully convey the depth of his feelings, but he tries his best. “I’m so fucking lucky. We’re so fucking lucky.”

The feeling of your body against his relaxes him further; a marvelous white noise replaces the plethora of overanalyzed problems constantly buzzing through his brain. The heaviness of sleep falls over both of you, and you shift your body even closer to his in a primitive quest for the safety his presence brings. Whatever show is on the fuzzy TV set is now a dull hum until it’s muted by the dreams your subconscious brings.

Eddie only stirs fifteen minutes later when the bedroom door hinges give a soft squeak, ears trained to pick up on Harris’s innocuous noises that often precede chaos. Grogginess overpowers attentiveness, so he misses the smile on his son’s face and the way he whispers, “my birthday wish is coming true.”

Gray clouds cover Hawkins the next day, drenching the small town in cold rain. And while Eddie is certainly grateful that it’s not snowing, this means that he has to find indoor activities to keep his endlessly energetic son occupied. 

Luckily, Harris is still enamored with his birthday gifts, particularly the stenciling kit you’d given him. He sits at the kitchen table now, tracing an outline of a cow on a Valentine for his classmate. Eddie’s not quite sure of the correlation between the animal and the holiday, but he’s learned that some battles are best left unfought.

 “That looks great, Har Bear.”

“I know.” Harris agrees, not looking up from his drawing as he says, “Daddy, you should make a Valentime for Ms. Sweetheart.” Before Eddie can answer, Harris slides over a piece of red paper and a black marker.

“I should, huh?” Remembering a trick he learned back in elementary school, Eddie folds the paper and draws half of a heart against the crease. He has to use Harris’s blunted safety scissors, much too small for his fingers, to cut the paper. Pleased when he sees that it actually resembles a heart, Eddie taps the marker against his dimpled chin as he contemplates what to write. “You really like Ms. Sweetheart, don’t you?”

Harris nods, putting down the blue marker he’s using and reaching for an orange one. “Mhm. I love her, Daddy.”

Eddie’s heart soars at the confirmation of Harris’s adoration of you, but he tries not to make it obvious. “That’s, uh, that’s good.” He finally decides on a simple message: Be Mine, and he signs his name underneath with a dash. It feels a little less impersonal than “from,” but isn’t as strong as “love.” Do I love her? He wonders. No, it’s only been one date. He can’t fall in love this quickly. It’s not possible. “How’s this? Be mine,” he reads aloud, underlining each word with his finger.

“Oh, I like that.” Harris picks up a green marker and writes the same two words on a pink sheet of paper. The letters are a little too big for the paper’s limited space, and he ends up squishing the “e” in “mine” very close to the edge. “How do you spell ‘mommy’?”

Eddie’s throat goes bone-dry. “You wanna make a card for your mom?” Harris has never wanted to make anything for his mom before; never brought her up, really, but maybe that was changing now that he was in school and surrounded by children with present mothers.

But Harris shakes his head. “No, it’s for Ms. Sweetheart. I wanna write ‘Be Mine Mommy.’”

It takes Eddie a second to realize that Harris means “be my mommy,” and he massages the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Um, Har, you can’t just ask her to be your mom.”

“Why not?”

He doesn’t want to tell Harris that wants to make sure you’ll stick around, nor does he want to make a promise neither one of you can keep. “Because you…you just can’t, okay?” It comes out harshly, and he sputters to fix his tone when he sees Harris’s lower lip quiver.

“But it’s not fair! You didn’t have a daddy, so you got Grampa Wayne as your daddy. I don’t have a mommy, so I want Ms. Sweetheart as my mommy!”

Eddie flash backs to their zoo trip, when Harris had innocently asked him if Wayne had taken him out on father-son days. There’s no child-friendly way to articulate that Wayne had initially been legally obligated to act as his guardian. “I know, bud. I know you do–”

“Then why can’t I ask her?” His expression shifts from anger to confusion, brows pinching together.

Because she could say no, Eddie thinks. Because the responsibility of being a mommy was too much for your biological mother to handle; why would Ms. Sweetheart take it on? What if she doesn’t have a problem being your mommy, but she finds issue with the idea of being connected to me?

He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Look, Har. I know you want her to be your mommy. And between you and me, I’d love for her to be your mommy, too.”

“But–”

“But, grown up feelings are weird sometimes,” he presses on, borrowing your verbiage from Thanksgiving, “and feelings like love take time. But I’m gonna make you a promise right now.” He sticks out his pinky finger. “I promise that if me and Ms. Sweetheart fall in love, I’ll tell you, and I’ll let you ask her to be your mommy. Is that a deal?”

Harris looks dubious, but ultimately hooks his pinky around his dad’s. Eddie breathes a sigh of relief that the crisis has been averted for now.

“Before we can ask her to be your mommy,” Eddie continues, “I need to figure out the perfect Valentine’s Day date to impress her. Wanna help?”

Harris purses his lips in concentration, resting his chin in his hand. “How about McDonald’s? They have a ball pit!”

Eddie has to tuck his lips into his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. “A definite contender,” he finally manages. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Friday night. Valentine’s Day. 

You had been unsure whether Eddie wanted to do anything for the holiday; your relationship was still so fresh, and you didn’t want him to feel pressured. When he crept into your classroom Monday morning with a coffee and a heart-shaped note—far more conspicuous than he’d intended to be—you couldn’t hide the excitement on your face. 

The card reads Be Mine and currently resides under a magnet on your fridge, finding a home among the plethora of drawings from Harris. It’s got some creases in it that Eddie had explained were the result of Harris shoving it into his backpack that morning. You thought it was perfect as is. 

“Are you free on Friday? For Valentine’s Day?” he’d asked, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. When you answered in the affirmative, he visibly relaxed. “Great. I’m taking you out.” His smile lights up his face. “Wear something that you don’t mind getting messy, and I’ll pick you up at 6.”

You’d wanted to try and pry more information from him, but Carol Perkins and her son Frankie walked in just then, and you’d put away the heart as quickly as you could as Eddie scrambles from the classroom. 

You stand in your bedroom now in your Levis 501s and a fuzzy red sweater, taking one last look at your makeup in the mirror reflection. You scrape your fingernail along the bottom of your lip to wipe off any excess gloss. Underneath your outfit is a special surprise, wishful thinking if the night goes well.

At 5:55, you sling your pocketbook over your shoulder and make your way down to the lobby. You spot Eddie the moment you step out from the elevator. He’s pacing, hands shoved in his dark wash denim pockets and lower lip pinched between his teeth.

Your voice draws him from his thoughts. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” you say, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him so your stomachs touch. “You look really, really handsome.”

“You’re…you’re beautiful.” He’s almost breathless as he says it, eyes roaming down your body and taking in the view. The way your sweater drapes the slope of your breasts has his heart leaping into his throat. He kisses you slowly before proclaiming, “My beautiful Valentine.”

You reach into your purse and pull out a tiny red gift bag, letting it sway and dangle from your fingertips. “I got you a little something.”

The tissue paper crinkles as Eddie rifles through it to pull out a silver lighter, much heavier in his palm than the usual plastic Bic he uses. “Sweetheart, this is…” He takes a closer look and reads aloud the engraved words etched on the front. “Fill my heart with song…”

“It’s from Fly Me to the Moon. Because of Thanksgiving, when you played the record, and Grandma…” you trail off, not wanting to get choked up, “and because you’re a rockstar. My rockstar.” You kiss his lips again, feeling his palm softly cup your cheek.

“I have something for you, too. Um, I didn’t get to wrap it, but I hope you like it.” He unzips his jacket, exposing the gray t-shirt clinging to his pecs. He digs into the inner pocket and clutches a cassette tape, handwritten label stating,“Ms. Sweetheart’s Mix.”

“‘S nothin’ crazy, just some songs that remind me of you.” There’s an array of genres and artists on there. Guns ‘N Roses, of course, as well as Frank Sinatra. There’s Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me, Un-Break My Heart by Toni Braxton, and a plethora of songs with ‘sweetheart’ in the title: Bob Dylan’s Sweetheart Like You, Bing Crosby’s Let Me Call You Sweetheart, The Spaniels’ Goodnight Sweetheart Goodnight. 

Tears prickle along your lash line, and you blink them away before you smudge your mascara. “Thank you, Eddie. I love it.” You hold the gift in two hands, giving it a small shake to emphasize your excitement.

A small pang in his chest has Eddie realizing that he wishes you’d ended that statement with you instead of it, but he tries to shove the thought down by kissing you, tongue parting your lips, hand traveling up your side. His hands aren’t even touching skin, only your sweater, yet it’s so electrifying that you feel your thighs clench in wanting.

“C’mon,” you urge him gently, “let’s go on this date before we end up making out in the lobby all night.”

Eddie cocks his head. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Eddie…” Truthfully, you’re thinking the same thing, but your desire for a romantic Valentine’s Day date with him propels you towards the door. You take his hand so he dutifully follows.

“Fine,” he relents with an exaggerated sigh, smile showing off the soft dimples in his cheeks. “But only because you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger, y’know that?”

“Oh, I know.”

Twenty minutes later, Eddie’s car pulls up to The Novice Chef. You’ve never been–taking care of Grandma didn’t allot you much time for hobbies–but Jess has told you about their incredible cooking classes. She and Robin went to one right before Thanksgiving and insisted that they’d perfected the art of turkey basting.

“Figured we could learn how to make pizza since we’re basically funding the local Surfer Boy,” Eddie grins, turning the key in the ignition. The car stills and the two of you unbuckle your seatbelts, pushing open the car doors. “Just, uh, no olives on my half.”

You find an unoccupied cooking station with two aprons on it, the venue’s cursive logo displayed on the front in an eager advertisement. You slip one over your head and Eddie does the same, twirling his finger in a turn around motion. You feel the brush of his fingers on the small of your back as he ties the strings in a bow. After returning the favor for him, you squeeze his waist, giggling when he yelps in surprise.

“What was that for?”

“I dunno; you’re just really squeezable.”

Eddie just shakes his head, already missing your touch after that brief moment. He slides a rubber band down his wrist and ties his hair in a bun at the nape of his neck before slipping his rings off of his fingers. He flexes his hands, almost taken aback by their nakedness, and you suppress a heaving sigh when you catch sight of the protruding veins, dark purple snakes that disappear amongst soft arm hair.

“All right everyone, let’s get started.” The unfamiliar voice brings your attention to the front of the room, where the instructor is standing behind his own station. “My name’s Argyle, and I’ll be your tour guide on our journey through Flavortown.” He claps his hands and rubs them together. “First thing we’re gonna do is knead the dough.” He gives a demonstration and then invites the class to try on their own.

“Damn, that dude has some badass hair,” Eddie muses, noting the man’s long raven locks that are pulled back into a waist-length ponytail. He nods approvingly and flips the silver bowl of dough onto the table. A small puff of flour rises as it hits the surface with a thwack, and you’re very glad you’d heeded his warning not to wear something new.

Eddie presses the heel of his palm into the dough, kneading it with precision. Flatten, stretch, flatten, stretch, until he’s satisfied with the consistency. He shapes it into a thin circle, fingertips digging into the edges to form the crust. The movements are hypnotizing, and it’s not until he clears his throat that you bashfully realize you’ve been staring.

“Y’good, Sweetheart?” A sly, knowing grin stretches from one cheek to the other; now you’re certain that he’s caught you.

“Y-Yeah.”

The next step is to spread the sauce onto the dough, Argyle explains, and Eddie places the crust onto the pan and steps aside so you can take over. You dip the ladle into the pot, filling it to the brim. Bits of dried basil and oregano swim in a red tomato sea as you use the ladle’s base to evenly distribute it across the crust. 

“Y’got a little somethin’ on your face.” Eddie whispers in your ear, making you stop mid-swirl. 

“Huh? Where?” You use the back of your free hand to wipe at your cheeks and chin for any sauce that may have splattered, but a close inspection shows nothing. 

Eddie leans over you, his chest flush against your back. You fight the urge to press the curve of your ass to the seam of his jeans, wiping a sweat-slick palm on your apron. “Right…” he swipes his finger down the ladle’s curved side, catching some sauce and dotting it on the tip of your nose, “here.”

“Eddie!”

“Don’t worry; I’ve got it.” He leans over and licks the sauce off, a quick lap of his tongue on your skin. The unexpected sensation makes you giggle louder than you’d intended. You clap a hand over your mouth, surely smudging the gloss, but you’ve already drawn the instructor’s unwanted attention.

“Lovebirds, are we here to flirt or to make pizza?” Argyle punctuates his rhetorical question with an exasperated sigh. You duck your head in shame and Eddie just coughs to stifle his own mischievous laughter.

“All right, now for the cheese,” Argyle continues, dipping a hand into a glass bowl and retrieving the ingredient. “Some people think that ya just pile it on; the more cheese, the better, but there’s an art to–hey, not cool, man!” He’s looking right at Eddie, and you glance over to see your date drop a handful of shredded mozzarella into his open mouth.

“Sorry,” he mumbles through a mouthful of cheese, but you’re willing to bet that his apology is anything but sincere.

Argyle rolls his eyes, not even attempting to hide his irritation. “You got one more strike, and then you’re out.” He points one finger at Eddie and then jerks his thumb backwards to emphasize his point.

“Yes, sir,” Eddie salutes, and you elbow him in the ribs.

Once the cheese has been sprinkled across the sauce–whatever remains after Eddie’s impromptu snack, anyway–you reach for the mushrooms. Eddie’s sharp gasp makes you freeze up before you can grasp any.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demands, placing his flour-coated hands on his hips.

You flick your gaze from the bowl of mushrooms to his impatient face. “Um, putting toppings on the pizza?”

“Not that one, you’re not,” he argues with a disapproving shake of his head. “Vegetables don’t belong on pizza.” He picks up the bowl of pepperoni and starts layering the slices on top, either unaware or indifferent to the fact that some of them stick together in a double layer of cured meat. “This is more like it.”

You nudge him, triumphantly layering mushrooms around where he’s placed the pepperoni slices. “It’s called compromise, Eddie. It’s how relationships work.”

His jaw drops and he places his hand over his heart like a southern belle who’s just been presented with extraordinary gossip. “Oh, this is a relationship?” He snickers when you give him a small shove. “I had no idea. I just thought we were two friends who make out sometimes.”

“God, I hate you.”

“I hate you, too.”

An hour later, stomachs filled with pizza that might rival Surfer Boy’s, you and Eddie return to your apartment. A tense stillness fills the air when he walks you to your door, daring either of you to speak your mutual desire into existence.

You’re the one to break the silence. “I had an amazing time tonight, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” he asks almost incredulously, as though he doubts the truthfulness behind your words. He pushes the insecurity aside with a joke. “Even though I almost got us kicked out?”

The memory brings a smile to your face, though you would imagine that the annoyed instructor would not share the same sentiment. “I still need to get you back for that.” You lick his nose and giggle, knocking his hand away when he lifts it to his face. “Don’t wipe it off!”

“And what if I do?” Eddie takes a step closer, resting one hand on the small of your back and putting the other on your cheek. He kisses you and you lean into it, pressing your body against his. His tongue parts your lips, and you hook a finger into his belt loop as you melt into each other.

“Do you wanna come in? Or do you have to get back home to Harris?” You’ve pulled the trigger. There’s no turning back now, and though you’re certainly in a healthier place than the last time you’d made this suggestion, the fear of a similar reaction has your heart in your chest.

He shakes his head, nose rubbing against yours. “Wayne’s staying with him tonight.” He omits the fact that his uncle was the one who’d offered to babysit overnight, a not-so-subtle hint at his expectations of Eddie’s evening plans.

“All night?”

“All,” he kisses you again, “night.”

You fumble with your keys and unlock the door, Eddie wrapping his arms around your waist from the back as though he never wants to let go. As soon as you get it open, its grimacing creak mere background noise to the pounding in your ears, you’re kicking off your shoes and pulling Eddie into the bedroom.

Your hands on his shoulders pin him against the door, only moving them to the hem of his shirt to begin tugging it over his head. It proves to be a difficult task as you try keeping your lips on his neck, but he wraps his fingers around your wrists and stops you.

“Been dreamin’ about worshiping this body…you,” he clarifies, pupils blown so wide that they overtake his chocolate irises. “Please,” he adds, a slight break in his voice. His begging starkly contrasts the bravado that dominated his personality the night you’d met. There was no patience or tenderness, just teeth clashing and hands searching for the fastest and easiest way to bring pleasure.

You nod. “I have a surprise for you first.” You take off your sweater, drawing it slowly up your torso to build up the anticipation, and toss it to the side.

Eddie goes slack jawed at the sheer mesh bra that leaves nothing to the imagination, just as you’d expected him to. He quickly snaps his mouth shut and swallows, a last-ditch attempt to salvage his machismo before he fully loses his mind.

“It’s a matching set, if you wanna see.” 

“Uh-huh.” Eddie walks over, pressing kisses to your collarbones that leave your knees weak. His thumbs graze your breasts, slipping the bra straps down and unhooking the clasp. It falls to the ground and he stoops a bit, bringing his mouth to one hardening nipple and sucking it before moving onto the other. “Perfect.” He trails kisses down your stomach, dropping to his knees as he does. “Perfect.” He lifts one hand, kissing each individual finger right on the first knuckle. “So perfect.”

He remains on his knees as his nimble fingers, still cold from the brief walk to your building, unbutton your jeans, and you shimmy out of them eagerly. His eyes widen when he sees that your panties do, in fact, match your bra: a red-tinted mesh thong that has everything on display.

“Baby,” he moans, grabbing one ass cheek in each of his big hands and pressing soft kisses to your clothed pussy. “Baby…f’me?”

“All for you, Eddie.” Your breath hitches when you feel his lips graze your most sensitive spot. He’s not intentionally teasing you, but logic has no place in your current state.

He kisses down your thighs. “Lay down f’me, yeah?” You do as he asks, laying your head down on the pillow as your body sinks into the mattress. Eddie climbs on top of you, slotting one knee between your slightly open legs. He brings his lips to your ear, gently biting your earlobe and singing in a low murmur, “got it bad, got it bad, got it bad…”

You giggle, the breath from his whisper tickling the shell of your ear, and you tilt your head slightly so you can see his face. “Can I undress you now?” He nods, and you wrestle with his shirt to expose the pale expanse of skin. There’s a dusting of curls across his chest, thicker in the middle and thinner around his nipples. You plant a kiss on his left bicep and drag your palm down his tummy, practically concave during his teenage years but now has a slight softness to it, stopping when you reach the bulge in his pants. He groans at your touch, and you feel his cock twitch slightly. Eager to alleviate his pent-up energy, you undo the button and tug down his zipper, cupping his erection through his navy blue boxers.

“Not yet,” Eddie mumbles, “not done showing you how much I l–care about you. How much you mean to me.” With a burning in his cheeks from what he’d nearly admitted, he drags your thong, a wet patch formed on it, down your thighs and past your calves until it drops to the ground unceremoniously. He balances your legs on top of his shoulders and pulls himself in closer, nudging your clit with his nose as he licks a stripe up your folds. His lips wrap around your sensitive bud, brushing it with his tongue. Soft brown eyes peer up at you, desperately seeking your approval.

“F-Feels good,” you manage, words caught in your throat as pleasure seeps into your body. “Please keep going.”

Eddie needs no further convincing, reveling in your growing wetness against his face while slipping his middle finger into your pussy. You whimper at the feeling of him inside you, bracing yourself for a comment about how needy you are, but he just continues to draw you closer to your orgasm. His finger glides in and out, in and out, rhythmic but not too slow. The bed shifts ever-so-slightly, and you realize he’s rutting his hips against the mattress, desperate for relief.

Your hand finds purchase in the curls adorning his scalp, digging your fingers into them and giving a small tug. Eddie lets a second finger into your tight hole, curling them upwards and hitting your sweet spot over and over.

“Right there, th-that’s it, please, Eddie,” you beg, your moans barely audible over the sounds of him fervently fingering you and lapping at your cunt. “Fuck, Eddie, ‘m gonna cum!”

Eddie just lets out an “mmm,” in acknowledgment, the vibrations shooting through your core and bringing you right to the edge. Your release overtakes you and your thighs instinctively squeeze against either side of his head. He makes a mental note to ask you not to do that because he absolutely needs to hear every noise you make while you cum.

“Y’good?” he asks as you drift down from the high, still perched between your legs. He wipes his slick-glistened lips with the back of his hand before licking the taste of you from his fingers. “I can keep going, trust me.”

“Need you closer.” You try to sit up, but your legs fail you, and you flop back onto the bed. “I have condoms in the top drawer–”

“Brought my own,” he grins, reaching into his back pocket–now positioned just under his ass from the way he’d dry humped the bed–and pulls out three connected foil packages. “Ribbed, for her pleasure.”

“Such a gentleman,” you tease, but it’s the truth. The way he took care of you, made sure you were okay after, offered to continue eating you out despite the raging hard-on he’s sporting…his chivalry isn't lost on you. You watch as he strips down until his body is rid of any clothing, tearing one wrapper and rolling the rubber down his cock, and you bite your lip in anticipation of its delicious stretch. 

There’s an unspoken disappointment at the addition of the barrier, regardless of its practicality. You want to be as close as you possibly can without anything in the way, but neither of you are in any rush to give Harris a sibling.

Imagine it, though, Eddie can’t stop himself from thinking. Imagine the intimacy of filling her up every night until she’s carrying my baby. Taking any little bit that drips out and stuffing it back inside to make sure it takes. Imagine kissing her growing bump every morning to greet her and our unborn child.

He puts one thigh on either side of yours, looking into your eyes as he asks, “Yes?”

“Yes.”

Eddie lines up with your entrance, pushing in gently and keeping his gaze trained on the way you take him in. Inch by inch, he disappears into your wanting hole until he bottoms out. He holds your hips while he finds a steady pace, and as soon as you arch your back, he’s slipping his hands around your waist just above the curve of your ass. “I can’t believe you’re mine,” he whispers. “You make me so fucking happy.”

Your hands grasp at his shoulder blades and you kiss him, tongues intertwining while you moan into each other’s mouths. “I’m always yours, if that’s what you want,” you promise, wrapping your legs around his.

“Of course, that’s what I want. Most beautiful girl in the world, asking me if I want her to be mine.” He grins cheekily, burying his head in the crook of your neck and sucking on it lightly before asking, “do you want me to be yours?”

“Yeah,” you exhale as his cock presses against your walls. “Yeah, I want you to be mine.” You smile, moving your hands to the nape of his neck and deepening the kiss. You want to be the only one he touches like this, the one who goes to bed next to him every night and wakes up next to him every morning. The one who celebrates his wins with him and brings comfort during the losses. You want everything that comes with belonging to each other.

Eddie thrusts into you, pulling wanton moans from your lips. “Say my name,” he pleads. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Eddie,” you pant, not able to fathom a single thought beyond the pleasure you’re feeling and who’s bringing it to you. “Eddie, ‘m so close. You feel too…too good.” Good is an understatement; perhaps a more accurate adjective would be euphoric, but finding a more elaborate term is low on your priority list.

Eddie’s peak is not far behind, with the feeling of your warmth around him bringing him closer every second. “Always wanna make y’feel good, baby,” he says. His face hovers just above yours, a bead of sweat sliding down the bridge of his nose onto the tip of yours. “I gotta–”

“Cum for me, Eddie,” you tell him, and with your permission, he pistons his hips a final time and spills into the condom. Your walls contract around his length as you finish with him.

Eddie stays inside you as the two of you catch your breath, smiling and stealing kisses from each other. He’s never felt anything like this before; for him, the thrill of sex is typically fueled purely by the primal instinct to get laid, but he’s in no rush to let you go. His cock begins to soften and he slowly pulls out, chuckling when you whine at the loss of fullness.

“Gotta toss this,” he says, removing the condom with a soft hiss and tying a knot. “Then I’m gonna hold you, mmkay?” Part of him is waiting for the post-sex adrenaline to wear off and the inevitable crash down when he realizes he’s mistaken lust for passion, urgency for belonging, but that doesn’t happen. As much as he’d love to be inside you again, hearing and feeling your satisfaction as you unravel for him, what he wants more than anything is to lay next to you and keep you safe. Safe from what, exactly, he’s not sure, but something compels him to protect you.

He takes you in his arms, the two of you a tangled, sweaty mess of naked limbs. Perspiration mats his sparse chest hair to his skin, but you press your cheek to it anyway and breathe in his scent. Your body grows heavier as sleep overtakes you, but Eddie’s low voice pulls you back for just a second.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

I love you. The words want to flow freely but come to a screeching halt on the tip of his tongue. It’s only your second date, and his mind is clouded with the sappiness of Valentine’s Day and oxytocin; what if he just thinks he loves you? Or what if he truly does, but you don’t feel the same way? Would you tell him, or would you pretend to reciprocate to spare him the hurt? Which is worse?

I love you. But it’s too soon to feel that, to know it for certain. And if he rushes things, he’ll get Harris’s hopes up–get his own hopes up–only to be met with heartbreak and disappointment.

I love you. And what would that admission accomplish, anyway? Where would you go from there? What would it change?

“Get some rest,” is what he settles on, biting the inside of his lower lip in shame. He kisses your forehead and watches you drift off, grateful when the exhaustion of the evening hits him and he follows suit.

I love you, is his last thought before he falls asleep, but he convinces himself that he’s not ready to speak it into existence. 

--

taglist:

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @81rain @dylanmunson @oscarisaacwhore @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @daydreaminglisa @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights

@rockstarmunsons @metalhead-succubus @boinkybarness @oohworldofpisces @costellation-hunter @toobsessedsstuff @meadow20 @theweasleyskettle @lost-in-the-stars03 @elizabethmidnight2017 @aysheashea

@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @lolly-in-a-strange-land @bakugouswh0r3

@strangerthingsstories5255 @adaydreamaway08 @itsalltaken @harmfulb1tch @mimischaos @averagemisfit03 @steddiegarbage @vigilanteshit @ellendemeyer152 @sierrahhh @hiscrimsonangel @mrsjellymunson @idkatee

@quentinswife @eddiesguitarskills @momowhoo @jasminelafleur @mmunson86 @mcueveryday @augustsgetawaycar @let-love-bleeds-red @inesven @tanyaherondale @theintimatewriter

[letters2won]

౨ৎ VALENTINE’S DAY WITH ENHYPEN

pairing: ot7 x gn!reader ⋆ genre: fluff ⋆ warnings: none

⤷ happy late valentine’s day <33

¡ requests: open !

JUNGWON:

• nothing too big but also not too small

• would take you out on a nice walk before surprising you with a decorated picnic area with all of your favorites

• stares at you with a content smile as you gush over your new plushies

Walking hand in hand with your boyfriend, he would ask if you want to rest for a bit. Would ask you to close your eyes and guided you with his hand on your lower back. “Okay you can open them now..” he said shyly and when you did, you turned to him in awe.“Omg Wonnie you didn’t have too!” You gasped out as gaped at the picnic area. Jungwon rubbed his neck bashfully, “I wanted it to be special since normally we don’t have alone time like this you know..” and you couldn’t help but give him kisses all over his face. “Happy Valentine day love.”

HEESEUNG:

• princess treatment pt1!!

• would ask you to dress nicely for dinner nothing too fancy

• surprises you with a gift basket with all your favs

You gave Heeseung a suspicious glare as he giggles to himself. He had his hand on your lower back, guiding you to his car, “What got you all giddy seungie…?” He kisses your forehead and stop you in front of the passenger door. “Open it and find out” he winked and in response you playfully rolled your eyes. When you opened the door, you squeal and gave your boyfriend a squeeze, “Happy Valentine day sweetheart.”

JONGSEONG:

• princess treatment pt2!!

• he would normally take you out to dinner and spoil you but this year he wanted it to be just the two of you

• he would decorate your kitchen and cook your favorite, relaxing and doting on each other in private

You just got off work, taking your coat and shoes off as soon as soon as you got home. You had a rough day at work and the only thing you wanted to do was be in your boyfriend’s arm. The smell of your favorite danced around your apartment which caused you to walk towards the kitchen. “Jongie? are you in there?” you called out and he lets out a small yea telling you to come in. When you did, you stood shock as you looked around your kitchen. Jay walked closer to you with flowers in your hand giving you a small kiss on the cheek, “Happy Valentine day darling.”

JAKE:

• you two don’t really get the hype of valentine’s day, preferring to spoil each other daily

• Jake however was at the store when he got notification about a valentine lego set and his eyes widened

• he couldn’t help but drop everything he was doing and immediately went to go buy it

You were lazing around on your couch waiting for your boyfriend to come home. Jake all of a sudden busted through the door which scared you so bad, “ BABY! YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHAT I FOUND OMG” he would yell out. You eyed him suspiciously, “Yun.. where’s our food?” his face went pale when he realized he forgot them but his smile got bigger. “Unimportant! We should order food as we build.. THIS!” Jake excitedly said and you can’t even be mad at him when he has sparkles in his eyes.

SUNGHOON:

• our simple introverted prince

• he wouldn’t know what to get you for valentine day since he normally spoil you from time to time

• Would get up extra early to buy your favorite drink, cookies, and flowers before you got up

Sleeping soundly in bed, you turned around to hug your boyfriend. Confused, you opened your eyes just to see him gone. You sat up and stretched with a frown upset he didn’t say anything before leaving. You rubbed your eyes tiredly and made your way to the living him and that’s when you spot Sunghoon nervously hyping himself up. “Hoon? What are you doing over there?” His whole body went stiff at your sleepy voice before relaxing, prepping himself one more time before facing you. Your smile only grew more when you realized why he was nervous. “Happy Valentine day baby..” he said shyly as he held your favorites.

SUNOO:

• he would use this day as an excuse to be as close as possible with you

• would buy your favorite flowers with a teddy bear and a cute hand written sign to place on your bed

• skin care, snacks, and movies with just the two of you

Nothing but giggles and squeals could be heard from your bedroom. Sunoo was currently trying to convince you to do silly couple trends by tickling you. “Okay! okay! i’ll do it, you won!” you giggled out and your boyfriend cheered. You cuddled your new teddy bear as you watched your boyfriend bring out matching face masks and other skin care related items. You couldn’t help but give him a lovesick smile as he concentrates which allowed you to surprise him with a kiss on the lips. He looked up at you with a confused smile and you grinned at him, “You’re too cute for my weak heart… Happy Valentine day sunshine.”

NI-KI:

• our talented creative baby!!

• 24/7 he talks about how you’re the hello kitty to his spider-man and that’s how he came up with his gift

• gifted you a sketchbook with love letters and drawings of you, of course some being with you two

Ni-ki ran upstairs to your room after your parents let him (took a lot of begging for him to do). Slamming your door open, he leaped at you, “Ki! I love you but PLEASE get off of me!!” you groaned out. He giggled and rolled his eyes, “Oh but you can jump on my back whenever? Wow.. double standards.” You playfully punched his shoulder giving him a goofy smile, when you realized he was hiding something. “What’s that in your hand?” and he proudly smiled when he handed it to you. “Happy Valentine day from yours truly!” he replied winking. You looked up at him with a huge smile, “VICTOR YOU ACTUALLY DID THIS?!” and his face deadpanned, “i hate you..”

[awkward-walking-potato]

A Heart of Adamantium

Valentine’s Day spent with Logan

Like always my requests are open!

Valentine’s Day had always been just another day for Logan. He’d seen and lived through more than most people could imagine, and sentimentality wasn’t exactly his thing. But this year, something was different. You were different. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to make him reconsider.

The day started like any other. Logan was up at dawn, the weight of his usual routine grounding him in a world that often felt too chaotic to navigate. But as he walked through the halls of Xavier’s School, he noticed the little things—the heart-shaped decorations, the laughter of the students, the smell of chocolate and roses wafting through the air. It was all too sweet, too innocent for someone like him.

Then he saw you.

You were standing in the kitchen, humming softly to yourself as you prepared breakfast. The sight of you, so peaceful and content, did something to him that he couldn’t quite explain. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to do something for you—something that might bring a smile to your face.

“Morning,” you said with a smile as you noticed him leaning in the doorway. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah, you too,” Logan grumbled, a little awkward, unsure of how to respond. He wasn’t used to this—these feelings, this softness that crept up on him whenever you were around.

You tilted your head, sensing his unease. “You got any plans today?”

He shook his head. “Not really. Never been much for holidays.”

You smiled, something playful and warm in your expression. “Well, then maybe we can do something together?”

Logan hesitated, the idea of celebrating Valentine’s Day so foreign to him. But the thought of spending time with you—it was something he couldn’t pass up.

“Alright,” he finally said, a small, almost shy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What’d you have in mind?”

Later that day, you led him out of the mansion and into the nearby woods, where the two of you found a quiet spot to relax. It was simple, just a blanket spread out under the bare winter trees, a thermos of hot coffee, and the peaceful sounds of nature around you.

“Here,” you said, handing him a small, wrapped box.

“What’s this?” he asked, looking at you with genuine surprise.

“Just a little something,” you replied, your eyes twinkling with anticipation.

Logan carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a handcrafted leather bracelet. It was simple, yet rugged—something that perfectly suited him. You had added a small charm in the shape of a wolf, a subtle nod to his animalistic nature.

“I made it myself,” you said softly, watching his reaction.

For a moment, Logan was speechless. He wasn’t used to receiving gifts, especially something so personal. His thumb brushed over the leather, and he looked at you, his usually hardened expression softened by emotion.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice gruff but sincere. “It’s… it’s perfect.”

You smiled, reaching out to gently clasp the bracelet around his wrist. “I’m glad you like it.”

Logan stared at the bracelet for a long moment, feeling something he hadn’t felt in years—gratitude, warmth, and maybe even a hint of happiness. He wasn’t sure how to express it, but he knew he wanted to do something for you in return.

Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, weathered box. He handed it to you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What’s this?” you asked, surprised.

“Open it,” he said simply.

Inside was a small, silver locket. It was old, something he’d carried with him for longer than he could remember. But today, he wanted you to have it.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, touched by the gesture.

“Belonged to someone important a long time ago,” Logan said quietly. “But I figure it’s time it belonged to someone else.”

You looked at him, feeling the weight of his words, the significance of the gift. Tears welled up in your eyes as you fastened the locket around your neck, feeling its cool weight against your skin.

“Thank you, Logan,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

He nodded, leaning back on the blanket, his arm casually draping around your shoulders. For a while, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the connection between you deepening in the quiet moments of shared solitude.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the woods, Logan turned to you, his voice low and rough.

“I’ve seen a lot of things in my life,” he said, “but I never thought I’d be here, doing this… feeling like this.”

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Neither did I,” you whispered, “but I’m glad we are.”

Logan’s hand found yours, his grip strong but gentle. “Me too.”

And for the first time in a long time, Logan allowed himself to just be—no battles to fight, no demons to face. Just a man sitting in the woods with someone he cared about on a day that had always seemed meaningless until now.

[itadorey]

☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆[𝟒:𝟑𝟐 𝐩.𝐦.] 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈

notes: fluff, ~700 words, valentine's day, gn reader

megumi blinks slowly as he stares at the object being held out in front of him.

it's cute, he thinks as he studies the small bag quietly. it's decorated with pink and red hearts, containing what seems to be chocolates that vaguely resemble his shikigami.

"don't read into it too much," nobara snaps, placing a hand on her hip and tapping her foot impatiently when she notices that megumi makes no move to grab them. she sighs loudly as she shoves them towards him, forcing him to take them before she lets them drop to the ground. "they're gratitude chocolates."

"clearly," he responds, opening the bag and grabbing one of the treats. he hums his thanks as he savors the candy, pausing only to tilt his head as a curious look makes it's way onto his face. "what are they for?"

"seriously?" nobara hisses, her eye twitching slightly at his cluelessness. "they're for valentine's day, fushiguro! we made bags of chocolate for everyone."

"we?" megumi asks, his eyes widening briefly at nobara's words. he stealthily slips his phone out of his pocket to check the date, silently wondering when the hell it became february. he nods his head as he puts his phone away, silently thanking nobara for the chocolates and receiving a sigh in return.

"stay here, okay?" she says, tilting her head to the side as she walks away from him. "someone else has been looking for you all day."

a slight blush paints megumi's cheeks when he looks in the direction she motioned to, only for it to fade when he notices you and yuuji standing a few meters away. you're smiling softly as you hand the pink-haired boy a white box, causing him to smile widely before picking you up and spinning you around. megumi can't help the way his heart drops at the sight, and he finds himself wondering if nobara had mentioned anything about you giving out boxes of chocolate.

he forces a tiny smile onto his face when you suddenly look over to meet his gaze, waving excitedly before motioning for him to stay put. you turn back to say something to yuuji, looking down bashfully as he says something back and glances towards megumi.

it's only a matter of seconds before you're standing in front of him, your breath catching in your throat as you study him quietly. he's so unfairly pretty, and you force yourself to hold out the item in your hands before you can chicken out.

"happy valentine's day, megumi!" you say, a large smile on your face as you wait for him to react. he's silent as he observes you, your finger shaking slightly as you do your best to look anywhere but his eyes. his heart nearly skips a beat when he realizes that you're holding out a box similar to the one you had given yuuji, the difference being that the one in front of him is covered with doodles drawn in the sparkly, pink ink of the pen he knows you're fond of.

a smile spreads across his face as he studies the doodles, taking note of the fact that they seem to depict scenes from your adventures together. it's just you and him visible in the glittery drawings, no sign of yuuji or nobara present on the box currently being held up to his chest. you sigh shakily as his hands cover yours, and you stumble forward slightly as he pulls the box towards him. there's a slight shake of your head as you frown at your own nervousness, but you freeze when you notice the soft look in megumi's eyes as he looks at you.

"i hope you can accept my gift," you finally whisper, your heart pounding as you wait for his response. the real meaning of your words is left unsaid, but both of you know that you're not just simply talking about the chocolates.

megumi can't help the soft chuckle that leaves his lips at your sudden bashfulness, his mind racing a mile a minute as he begins to think abut what he can give you in return on white day. you feel your cheeks heat up when one of his hands takes the box from you, his other hand grabbing onto one of yours and intertwining your fingers together.

"of course i will."

rbs are appreciated <3 ty for reading!!

[startanewdream]

Halloween

Written for the @greenhouse-seven's No-Tricks-Only-Treats event, and my prompt was Trick or Treat. Harry and Ginny, angst with the promise of better days, around 900 words.

*****

There’s a radiant smile on Ginny’s face when she comes home holding two bags filled with candies and chocolate bars.

“Wow,” says Harry, watching her pour the candies into a giant cauldron. “Did you get swapped with Ron?”

In answer, Ginny winks at him before pulling him closer and proceeding to kiss him in a way that leaves no room for identity questions.

“Wow,” he repeats again, breathless.

She laughs. “I got excited on the store. We need to be ready for trick-or-treat! After lunch, I’m leaving again to get the decoration.”

“Decoration?”

“Yes! We cannot be the only house on the street that isn’t decorated for Halloween.” She frows suddenly. “You do remember it’s Halloween in a couple days?”

Harry nods. He isn’t indifferent to Halloween — he’s seen the houses decorated every time he walked down the street this past week, especially at night, when they are lit with candles or buzzing with electricity. He didn’t know that Godric’s Hollow made such an event of Halloween, but he guesses it was to be expected, with the village famous amongst wizarding folk.

Only he didn’t know how it would make him feel.

Harry had been glad to move to Godric’s Hollow; he and Ginny had found the perfect cottage, a place that promised home the moment they had visited the first time, and it had been so for the last six months. He’d never had second thoughts, but this week…

“I’ve never celebrated Halloween,” he says, aware that’s only half the problem. “I mean, there were feasts at Hogwarts, but at home… this is new.”

“But before—”

“The Dursleys wouldn’t even acknowledge Halloween.”

“I wasn’t thinking about them.” Ginny huffles, lips pursued as always happens when the Dursleys are mentioned. “I meant before.” Her expressions softs. “Your parents celebrated with you.”

“I guess.”

She caresses his arm. “I’m sure they did. I’m thinking about a small chubby baby dressed as a pumpkin.”

Harry smiles for a moment. Ginny’s expression doesn’t shift; she still looks concerned.

“What else is troubling you?”

If it were anyone else, Harry would just shrug off. But since it’s Ginny, he allows himself to sink in the nearest chair.

“It’s Halloween. My parents died on Halloween, and… I don’t know why it’s bothering me…”

She sighs. “Well, they were your parents.”

“I mean, Halloween was never a problem before, I didn’t even know the date of their deaths exactly until Hagrid told me when I was eleven, and yet—it’s weighing on me.”

Ginny bites her lip. There’s no pity in her eyes, for which Harry feels grateful. With her right hand, she twirls her wand; behind him, in the kitchen, the oven is lit, and Harry knows she’s preparing tea for them. With her free hand, she runs her hand through his hair, very smooth.

“I am no expert,” she mumbles, “but it seems to be as if what you are feeling is grief.”

“They died over twenty years ago.”

“And you were too young to understand. Then you were at Hogwarts without a break—your Halloweens were always eventful—and now you have no other trouble, and we are here, twenty years later, where everything happened. It’s okay to have feels.”

“Not when it’s troubling us. You looked so excited.”

Ginny twirls her wand again and a cup of tea materializes in front of Harry. “Your troubles are my troubles, remember? We are together.”

He sips the tea. “Exactly. I… I want to do this with you. Decorate the house—Halloween, Christmas, Valentine’s Day if you want—”

“Singing dwarfs and pink-shaped hearts? No, please.”

Harry chuckles for a moment. “Every holiday.” He holds her hands, places a soft kiss on her wrists. “That’s why I didn’t want to say anything.”

“And I wish you had told me sooner.” She offers him a smile. “We can lay low on Halloween. No parties or anything, just a quiet night. Visit their graves, leave some flowers.”

“This would be nice.” He closes his eyes for a moment, but instead of picturing the cemetery, he thinks about the happy family in the monument in the square; imagines them going out together every Halloween, sees that little boy growing up in a loving family with whom he would share Halloween costumes. The life that could have been. The life his parents wanted him to have. “But let’s open the house for any kid playing trick-or-treats.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Yes, but also… I think this is what my parents would want. And I want to celebrate my second first Halloween with you.”

She kisses him softly. “It will be also my first Halloween. There were no trick-or-treats on the Burrow.”

“That’s why you went over-the-top.”

“Guilty.”

He chuckles again. He enjoys the idea of sharing all firsts with Ginny, every little milestone in their relationship. There will be a moment for missing his parents this Halloween, and also a moment of hope for better days. Maybe even daydream about a small chubby baby with Ginny’s red hair and his green eyes, though this thought he will keep to himself for a while.

His smile is serene now.

“You know, Muggles dress up for Halloween. I could go with you and get a costume.”

“Oh.” Ginny giggles. “I already got mine. I’m going as a witch. Broomstick, wand and hat, the full set.”

“Well.” He touches her face, leans closer. “You’ve already bewitched me, Ginny.”

[sweetercalypso]

Something Right (Frankie Morales)

Summary: For your first Valentine’s Day together, Frankie goes all out. But can the evening be saved when his plans fall apart?

Word Count: 1.6k

Notes: minors dni; kissing, brief finger sucking, mutual mast., mentions of alcohol, eating/sharing food (chocolate), one tiny injury, afab reader wearing a dress, no use of y/n, Frankie is a sap and we love him for it

Frankie had been planning this date for weeks. Hours spent meticulously crafting a menu, tasting wines, arranging heart-shaped balloons in every corner of the house – anyone could tell that he was a man in love.

He’d ordered an abundance of long-stemmed roses, picked out the perfect card, and agreed to whatever other embellishments the young store clerk had recommended. The first Valentine’s Day as a new couple is meant to be a spectacle, and Frankie’s determined to show you how much you mean to him, no matter the cost.

The evening had started off without a hitch. The house was decorated, the table was set, and Frankie still had enough time to pull his old record player out from storage. Unfortunately, that’s where his luck ended.

He’d chosen an uncharacteristically formal ensemble of dark slacks and a pressed button-down shirt, opting to retire his beloved ball cap for this special occasion. He’d slung a dark red tie around his neck, then switched it out for blue, then abandoned the idea entirely as his nerves began to fray.

The longer he stood in front of the mirror, the more he picked apart his appearance. His pants were too tight, his collar wouldn’t stay in place, and he’d run his fingers through his hair too many times, leaving his beloved messy curls in a state of disarray. Maybe he’s just not the fancy type.

Nevertheless, he moved into the kitchen with the hope that a nice, home-cooked meal would excuse his disheveled look. He’d chosen something simple enough that his rudimentary cooking skills would suffice, yet eloquent enough to still be called a ‘dinner date’. He’d really put in the work to make this evening perfect.

With the table prepared and the sound of vintage crooning love songs playing softly in the living room, there wasn’t much left to do except tackle the intimidating mountain of ingredients waiting on the counter. He sucks in a deep breath and runs a hand down the side of his face, trying to decide where to begin.

A drink first, he settles, aiming to calm his restless energy with a taste of liquid courage.

Cradling the wine in the crook of his arm and skillfully balancing two glasses between his fingers, Frankie rummages through the kitchen drawers in search of a tool to open the seal on the bottle.

The delicate glasses clinking precariously in his hand require the better part of his attention as he adjusts his grip and hunts blindly for the corkscrew he knows is somewhere in here and-

“Shit,” he hisses under his breath, jerking his hand free from the drawer.

In his distraction, Frankie had skimmed his thumb across the sharp edge of a knife disguised in the clutter of endless utensils. His sudden movement had also jolted the wine glasses in his hand, knocking them together harshly and cracking their fragile sides.

He exhales through his nose and places the wine and the broken glasses on the counter before bitterly tending to the cut running across the tip of his thumb.

The noise of the record player turns to static as the last track ends, and Frankie huffs and shoves his hand under the kitchen faucet to ease the sting and assess the damage done by his impulsivity.

Maybe this would turn out to be a drink-from-the-bottle type of celebration, after all.

Just as he’s drying his hands and returning to the feat of preparing dinner, the resounding chirp of the doorbell rings through the air. He freezes in his tracks, wide-eyed and panicked as he checks his watch. 7 o’clock. You’re right on time.

The walk from the kitchen to the foyer is a painful reminder of how unprepared he is for your arrival. An entire day spent getting ready for your date with nothing good to show for it. This day was supposed to be a monument to love, and he feels like he’s let you down.

He’s embarrassed and red-faced as he opens the door to greet you. The mouth-watering neckline of your dress is a cruel poke at his own shabby appearance.

“Frankie,” you drawl, drinking in the sight of his mused curls and the swell of his cotton shirt pulled taut over the muscles in his shoulders. “Don’t you look handsome.”

“Hey sweetheart,” he dips his head in a bashful acknowledgement, opening the door wider to welcome you inside.

You press a chaste kiss to his cheek as you pass by, handing off a heart-shaped box of chocolates and a sappy Valentine’s Day card with big cursive letters on the front.

“Couldn’t show up empty handed,” you mention as the corners of his mouth curl into a grin.

He follows instinctively as you move through the house, guided by the trail of decorations leading into the living room. You stop to admire the bouquet displayed proudly on the coffee table, running your fingers lightly over soft, red petals.

“Oh Frankie,” you gasp. “It’s beautiful.”

He nervously scratches at the scruff on his cheeks as he plants himself beside you. “I had so much planned but everything went wrong,” he confesses. “I tried to look nice and I was gonna make dinner and-”

“It’s perfect, Frankie.”

You cut him off with a kiss before his self-deprecating rambling can continue. “This is all I need for Valentine’s Day – just you.”

He melts into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist, humming a pleased sound against your lips. “You’re worth more.”

You pull back just enough to speak, chiding him as he follows your lips with his. “Knowing that you went through the effort is enough.”

His chest is warm under your hands as you smooth your palms down the front of his shirt. “Besides, I think you need to be rewarded for all your hard work.”

His subdued energy is quickly replaced with a reinvigorated interest. He tightens his hold on your hips, raising a brow in question. “Yeah? What’d you have in mind?”

“Since you planned dinner,” you begin, fingers tracing over the row of pearly buttons lining his shirt. “Why don’t I take care of dessert?”

You motion towards the couch and Frankie scrambles to follow your direction. He settles back against the cushions with your gifts placed neatly beside him, thighs spread eagerly as his cock begins to swell against the confines of his boxers.

With slow, teasing movements, you climb into his lap, thighs fitting snugly around his waist as you balance above him.

Frankie’s hands slowly wander up to your hips, bunching the hem of your dress in his fist as he inches his attention higher. When you tug on the waistband of his pants, he stops you with a hand placed over yours.

“Not yet.”

You pause to watch as he reaches beside him and grab the novelty chocolates you’d brought. He brings the heart-shaped box to his mouth, tearing into the plastic with his teeth and unwrapping the sweet treats.

The lid to the box is discarded somewhere to the side as he settles the box in your lap and pulls out a rounded, cream-filled chocolate and places it against your lips. When you open your mouth to accept his offering, Frankie’s fingers linger on your tongue, the taste of his skin salty against the taste of sweetness.

“Good?” he asks, dragging his fingers over your tongue before selecting a piece for himself and tossing it into his mouth.

Half the box is finished in a haze of shared kisses and the rich, fruity flavor of storebought chocolate. When you’ve finally had your fill, Frankie leans forward to deposit the rest on the coffee table, arm slung around your waist to keep you close to his chest.

“You’re too good to me,” he grins, dropping back against the couch.

The movement jostles you in his lap, pressing your core against his hardened cock; a glimpse of exposed skin peaks from beneath the hem of his shirt, providing the perfect chance to remind him of your earlier promises.

“Need to feel you.” Your fingers curl around the button on his slacks and Frankie is quick to agree.

He expertly pulls himself free and runs a hand up the up the underside of his length, slowly dragging his thumb over the head. “You want my cock?” he asks, thighs tensing subtly underneath you as a warmth spreads through your chest.

“Raise your pretty dress up, touch yourself for me.”

You gather a handful of material at your waist while Frankie lazily strokes his cock, watching intently as you slide your underwear to the side and press a finger to your clit.

“S’that feel good?” He speeds up his pace to match the messy tempo of your pleasure, finding his own motivation in the way your thighs hug his hips.

“Frankie,” you cry, chest heaving with the effort of keeping yourself upright. “Please fuck me.”

He swears under his breath and fights the temptation to lay you down and give you what you’re asking for.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he pants. “Need you to come first.”

Your mouth twists into a disconcerted frown, but your fingers persist, spreading a sheen of glossy slick over the apex of your thighs. You’re both chasing that same feeling, both hurtling towards the same end. Frankie’s free hand closes over yours on your hip like he’s anchoring you in place, urging you closer to your climax.

“C’mon sweetheart. M’so close.”

The pressure building in your gut finally reaches its peak, sending you into Frankie’s chest as you sputter through your release. Frankie follows with a breathless noise as he tips over the edge, spilling pearly rivulets of spend over his tight fist.

Your heart beats wildly in your chest, or maybe that’s Frankie’s pulse thundering over yours. His grip on your hand loosens and he cups the back of your neck, bringing your mouth to his in a hungry, determined kiss.

“Give me five minutes,” he pants against your lips, tasting of chocolate and heady desire. “And I’ll give you anything you want.”

[greensagephase]

Valentine's Day (Nonviolent Communication One-Shot)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x SpiderFemaleReader (colleagues to friends to lovers; they're currently in their friendship era, so no romance but we still have soft Miguel!) Summary: Just a rainy Valentine's Day surprising your friends with baked sweets because Valentine's doesn't have to be only about romance. Word Count: 4,311 Short A/N: This is a one-shot for my Nonviolent Communication fanfic but can be read as a standalone. As I mentioned above, they're in their friendship era, so there's no romance, but Miguel lowkey got me blushing anyway soo! Warnings: None. Just reader and Miguel being their usual sweet and caring selves to each other. MasterlistSongs inspo: "Just the Two of Us" - Grover Washington, Jr., Bill Withers (I don't know why but this song just came to mind while writing this, so just look at it as a platonic song for now :) )

Spider webs shaped like hearts decorate corners. Holographic hearts are displayed at the cafeteria. Even some of the tables have little decorations, more than likely set up by a small group of Spider members that usually take time of their day to do things like holiday decorating within the Spider Society to make the workplace “fun.” As to the holographic hearts out and about, you imagine those have to do with Lyla, who has been all too excited about Valentine's because of her heart-shaped glasses.

You walk through the cafeteria, past occupied tables where fellow Spider members sit. A reusable bag hangs from your shoulder in which you carry baked treats. You've successfully handed out containers filled with them to the majority of your friends, with the exception of Peter B. and MJ, and Miguel. You continue to search for Peter B., certain that you’ll find him here. As you walk, your gaze turns to the windows. It’s a cold and rainy day in Nueva York, and it’s also Valentine’s Day, which prompts a memory to flash through your mind, one that you put away for now. You focus on your goal: find Peter B. and then Miguel.

You slow down as you hear Peter's voice from somewhere, so you look around until you spot him talking with another member, carrying Mayday like always.

“Alright, pal, I'll see you around,” he says with his signature smile, giving the other member a pat on the back before they part ways.

Mayday sees you first and immediately begins to wiggle around, making Peter notice you. He grins and the two of you meet halfway, Mayday already reaching for you. You smile and upon meeting them, you accept one of her hands and play with it.

“Good morning, Mayday,” you say, greeting her. She squeals in delight before repeating “morning” now that she’s speaking two-word sentences. It’s amazing how much time has passed, how much she has grown, which you don’t let yourself think too much about. Instead, you focus on her attire for the day. She's wearing pants and tiny boots, and best of all, a cute pink sweater with red hearts printed all over it, showcasing Peter's spider symbol in the center of them.

It's no longer surprising. Mayday's closet is filled with spider-theme clothes, which has made you wonder if Peter has his own merchandise creator. You feel like it would be a thing Peter B. would definitely have.

“Hey, you heard that? She said ‘morning’ - that’s another word!” Peter says happily. “Daddy is so proud of you, honey! Wait till MJ hears about this!”

You chuckle. “It’s amazing. Before we know it she’ll be speaking full sentences.”

“Okay, that just made me, like, really sad. She’s growing up too fast,” Peter says quietly, holding his daughter close to his chest. His gaze is gentle as he stares at her. “It’s part of life, I know, but…”

“I’m sorry to have brought it up,” you say gently as you give him a gentle pat on his arm. “Would some baked treats make it better?”

That seems to get Peter and Mayday’s attention. “Baked treats?”

“Brownies. For Valentine’s,” you say, pulling out a container and offering it to him. “I baked some brownies for everyone.”

“Totally feel better now,” Peter says with a grin, accepting the box.

”For you and MJ, and maybe Mayday if she can eat them,” you say. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

“Happy Valentine’s! Hey, they’re even heart-shaped! MJ is gonna be so happy. You know we all love your baking,” Peter says as he gets one out and eats it. Once he finishes eating, he says, “So amazing!”

“Glad you like them! Make sure to save some for MJ, though,” you reply with a smile. “Have you seen Miguel?”

Peter looks around, closing the box of treats. “I saw him earlier. He was going to the Go Home Machine room to check something but he might be back at his lab already,” he responds. His gaze flickers to your bag, taking notice of at least two boxes left in there, though he doesn’t ask anything.

“Alright, I’ll go check if he’s there. I’ll see you in a bit,” you say, saying goodbye to Peter and Mayday for now.

“See ya!”

You walk out of the cafeteria and head to Miguel’s lab, reaching it in no time. You stop at the entrance and as always, you call for Lyla to have her ask Miguel if you can enter. You never walk in unannounced out of respect, even though Lyla has told you that you should stop. Even Miguel has hinted at it, at the fact that you can just walk in, yet, you do it anyway out of respect.

“Y/N! Miguel isn’t here. He’s at the Go Home Machine room. Something’s up with the machine but he should be done in a few minutes. He said you can go in,” Lyla says, appearing suddenly and floating in midair.

“You asked him already?” you ask, amused.

“Yep. I think he’s even going to send you a message because he thinks you might not believe me when I tell you he says to go in.”

And of course, right after she says that you receive a notification from your gizmo, alerting you of a new message. A message from Miguel.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Please wait for me * inside *** the lab.”

You smile softly at his emphasis to wait inside. He knows you too well.

“See?” Lyla says with a soft smirk. “So, come on in! I see you have the goods.”

You laugh softly as you enter the lab, carrying your bag with the last two heart-shaped containers you bought a few days ago to package the baked treats. The containers were easy to hide in Gabriel’s old bedroom, the same one that’s your current temporary room since your building caught on fire a few weeks ago. Luckily, your floor was spared but lower floors did not have the same luck. Now, the building is under cleaning and reconstruction, a process that will take at least two months to finish. Or at least that’s what your landlord said. You’ve been staying in Nueva York with Miguel in his penthouse after he offered his place countless times. He assured you that you were welcomed to stay for however long you needed to, whether that was days, weeks, or months. There was even a moment you swear he almost said years, before he stopped himself.

So, you’ve been staying at Miguel’s penthouse in Gabriel’s, a man that you never met and unfortunately will never have the opportunity to due to his passing, old bedroom. You’ve made his room yours for the time being, even encouraged by Miguel to decorate it as you wish to make it feel like home because as he said, “my home is your home.”

And so, currently living with Miguel meant that you needed to find a way to hide your little Valentine’s surprise. You thought about baking treats for your group of friends, including Miguel, last week, but you knew that you’d need to come up with a way to have Miguel out of his own penthouse in order to truly surprise him as well. You quickly came up with a plan and even got a little help from a certain AI assistant, who was all too happy keeping Miguel busy here at HQ last night while you baked. You thought about your plan well, so much that you even baked a cake and cookies as an excuse, so that whenever Miguel got home, he wouldn’t wonder why it smelled like baked treats when there were none in sight, since you planned on hiding the Valentine’s treats in your room, packaged and ready to go for today. And, it has been a success. You’ve surprised all your friends with a little something, as a gesture of how much you care about them. The only one left now is Miguel. You briefly wonder why you didn’t just give them to him at the penthouse this morning when the two of you were having breakfast. For some reason it felt right to leave his delivery for last.

You walk through Miguel’s lab, heading straight to his platform, deciding that you’ll wait for him there until he comes back. You take a seat on it and gaze around. Even from here you can hear the sound of rain, which sounds very peaceful. The silence and the pockets of darkness brings you comfort. You can’t help but find it amusing that over time, you’ve spent more and more time in Miguel’s lab. You recall the days when you hardly came in here. Those were days when Jess and Miguel called you in, usually whenever Jess was delivering a report to Miguel about a mission you and others had been on with her, asking you to go since you were her pupil. Now, you’re here every day, and not just once but multiple times throughout. You can easily spend two or three hours here while Miguel and you work on your own thing.

You smile to yourself. Life can really change.

The rain continues to go strong outside. You let it distract your thoughts for a few seconds, which reminds you yet again of a memory. Of a Valentine’s Day with your Peter.

It was the second before last Valentine’s Day you spent with him. It was also a rainy day in your universe. As always, you baked something for Peter since he loved your baking and cooking. You knew you could never go wrong with baked treats since they were his weakness. He, on the other hand, had a few plans up his sleeve. He always did.

You smile at the memory. He had planned a whole evening that included a restaurant reservation, but the day was cold and a rainy one, being February. It started raining at some point in the night and the rain didn’t stop throughout the day. There was so much rain that the restaurant had to cancel dinners due to flooding two hours before your scheduled reservation. It didn’t matter to Peter though. He asked you to get ready regardless, to take your time.

An hour and a half later, there was a knock on your bedroom door from Peter. As if he didn’t live there, or as if you didn’t share that bedroom, but you opened the door regardless with a smile.

And there was Peter, dashing as always. His eyes lit up at the sight of you, as if he hadn’t seen you a million times before, as if he was falling in love with you for the first time all over again.

“So, we had a little change of plans,” he said with a sweet smile. “But rain or no rain, we’re having a romantic dinner.”

“Don’t we always have a romantic dinner?” you asked softly.

“An extra romantic dinner, darling,” he replied, taking your hand and kissing the back of it with one of his hands.

You smile softly now as you remember that evening.

He held your hand and instead of leading you to the dining area, he led you to the small living room section of your apartment. The overhead lights were off. The only light in the area came from lamps and lit candles spread around the space. The scent of food filled the air, a sign that Peter had cooked. Soft music played in the background from Peter’s record player and of course, his choice was a vinyl of romantic songs. You had a feeling that the night would end with a dance in the living room. Your suspicions only grew as you both stepped onto a picnic blanket and found couch pillows placed around so that the two of you could sit comfortably. There was a vase in the middle with flowers and around it were things like linen napkins and utensils, two glasses for drinks, and everything else needed for a dinner.

Then, there was Peter, serving you a drink and dinner with flickering candles all around, soft music in the back as you talked. You remember telling him that his idea was lovely and sweet, that it would be unforgettable. The night did end with a dance, with your arms wrapped around his neck and his around your waist. You even remember the pit pat of rain against your apartment’s windows and how you could see the flash of lightning even through the curtains. You recall what it was like to dance with Peter. It wasn’t the first nor last time. There were times before and times after that night, all in your small apartment, the one that was supposed to be temporary after graduating from college. The two of you talked about moving to a bigger apartment, one that would be comfortable for a family, for children. Neither of you minded your apartment in the moment though.

You still don’t. Even if you’re alone now. Even if Peter has been gone for so many years.

“Happy Valentine’s,” Peter whispered that night as he held you close to his chest. His arms were warm and protectively wrapped around you, your back to his chest.

“Happy Valentine’s,” you say now.

“Happy… Valentine’s.”

You look up as you hear the voice, finding Miguel standing a few feet away from you at last. His gaze meets yours and you notice his head is tilted to the side slightly, watching you curiously. You blink, pulling yourself out of your memory and offer Miguel a small grin, one he returns instantly.

“You keep asking for permission to come into the lab. You don’t have to ask,” Miguel says as he steps closer, breaking the short silence.

“It’s out of respect. Besides, I see the way you get annoyed when members just walk in,” you reply, amused.

Miguel looks down at you with a soft frown, his lips in a small pout as if silently asking, ‘Really?’

“Yes, but -” Miguel pauses and sighs. It’s different. You’re different. You’re not just any member. You’re his friend. His close friend. His… Miguel clears his throat. “You… Are different. You know why.”

Yes, you know why. You’re friends. Close friends. He’s your… “Right, but I still like to ask. Just to make sure.”

Miguel’s frown deepens, he raises an eyebrow almost in annoyance, yet he can never be annoyed with you. Ever. “Right, just to make sure,” he repeats, raising his hands in surrender, giving up and realizing there’s no changing your mind about this. At least not now, Miguel thinks to himself.

“Anyway, I brought you something,” you say, standing up at last from his platform. His crimson eyes immediately fall upon your bag. He’s been too busy thinking about how you always ask for permission to walk into the lab that he failed to see the reusable bag near you. You close the distance between the two of you, stopping just a few feet.

Miguel wonders what exactly you’ve brought him but he doesn’t have to wonder for long when you pull out two small containers, pink and heart-shaped. You hand them to him with a warm smile.

“I baked a few treats for everyone. Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Looking at the small containers, Miguel accepts them. He can’t help but feel a little awestruck for a few seconds. When was the last time someone gave him anything on this day? He hasn’t celebrated in years. It was so long ago.

“I hope you like them. I baked a little special thing for you. It was my first time baking them but I think they turned out well,” you say, bringing Miguel back to the present. “Go on,” you tell him gently, excited to see his reaction to the second box’s contents specifically.

He nods and opens the first one. Heart-shaped brownies in the size of your palm greet his eyes. He can’t help but admire how you arranged them with cute baking parchment paper, going the extra mile to make him and your other friends feel special today. His lips curl into a soft smile and he feels a wave of heat rush to his cheeks. You baked brownies for everyone and you included him. A warmth spreads through his chest at the thought, the realization.

You stare at Miguel, his smile and blush not going unnoticed. The sight makes you smile.

“Thank you,” Miguel says as he keeps looking at them, the amazing smell reaching his nose. He already knows everything you baked will be amazing. It always is. His mouth waters just at the sight.

“Check the other box!”

Miguel grins at you and nods, closing the first book even though he wishes he could go ahead and eat one of the brownies, but your excitement over the other box deters him. He wants to see what has you so happy and anxious for him to see, so he opens the next box. His lips part and eyebrows raise in surprise for a few seconds when he sees the contents before he happily smiles at you.

“You made conchas! Heart-shaped conchas! You… I’ve never seen conchas shaped like this before, not even at the panaderia. When did you even bake them?” Miguel asks, staring at you with amazement before he lifts the box to his face, inhaling the sweet scent of fresh conchas. His mouth waters even more, thinking about how good these will go with a mug of café de olla.

You chuckle softly, pleased with Miguel’s reaction. “Last night. Before you arrived from HQ. The cake and cookies were just a distraction so you wouldn’t see them and the brownies. I wanted to surprise everyone, including you. So, I recruited someone’s help,” you say with a soft shrug of your shoulders, prompting Lyla to appear.

“That would be me,” Lyla says with a soft grin, arms crossed over her chest. “I had to keep you busy, Miguel.”

Miguel scoffs playfully as he realizes and remembers the previous night. “That’s why you kept messing up the anomaly datasheet.”

“And why I kept moving your tabs around,” she replies, which makes Miguel frown for a few seconds.

“That, too. Not appreciated,” he mumbles.

“I had to do what I had to do, to ensure Y/N’s mission was a success, which it was,” Lyla says smiling.

Miguel shakes his head at her but he’s not even slightly upset. Instead, he’s highly amused that you recruited Lyla’s help to keep him occupied at HQ, all to surprise him with these lovely and delicious baked treats. His cheeks feel even more hot now.

“They smell amazing. I’m not even going to lie, my mouth is watering,” Miguel admits quietly as he nods to the conchas. “Thank you.”

“Always,” you reply softly. “I bet… They’d be really good with café de olla.”

Miguel grins. “Is this your subtle way of saying you’d like café de olla?”

You shrug. “I’m just saying, heart-shaped conchas and café de olla sound like a good combination to me. I think, it would be quite an experience. I mean, you’re saying you’ve never seen heart-shaped conchas before so… I was just thinking, you know?”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Miguel gives you a soft smirk before he grabs one of the conchas. You can’t help but notice how small it looks in his hand as he holds it up, as if showing it to you. “You were just thinking,” he says, still smirking, raising his eyebrow as he looks at you.

“It’s just a thought,” you reply, smiling softly. “Something to think about.”

“Definitely something to think about… which means you have more at home, yes?”

“There might be more conchas at the penthouse, yes.”

“I see,” he replies. “I guess cafeteria coffee will do for now.”

You tilt your head to the side in curiosity. “For now?”

“There might be café de olla in the evening.”

“I see,” you reply with a smile.

“I hear it might be quite an experience.”

“I have to agree with whoever said that,” you say.

“You know, I do, too,” Miguel responds, still smirking softly at you.

Lyla hovers between the two of you, glancing from you to Miguel. “Great, so there’s gonna be conchas and café de olla,” she says.

You both turn to look at her. Right, Lyla is there.

“I’ll go get some coffee,” Miguel says as he places the concha back in the box, making sure to close it correctly.

“Alright. I’m going to go ahead and start on the report. There’s still so much to do,” you reply heading to the desk you always work on, the one that Miguel set up for you many months ago once you started helping him with the weekly reports.

“Sounds good. I’ll be back,” Miguel responds, placing his baked treats on his platform.

“Don’t worry Miguel, I’ll look after them,” Lyla jokes seeing how careful he has been with the boxes, as if they are precious to him. The teasing tone makes Miguel frown but he doesn’t respond as he heads out of the lab to grab coffee for the two of you.

_♡_

You sit in Miguel’s living room many hours later. The time on your tablet reads 7:16pm. Lamps lit up his space and the fireplace is on, warming the entire penthouse. Soft music coming from Miguel’s record player, the one you gifted him for Christmas several weeks ago, plays in the background.

You sit on one of the couches, a blanket over your legs as you work on the report from your tablet, the same one that Miguel gifted you for Christmas. You sit alone now since Miguel excused himself about twenty-five minutes ago, saying he needed to get something done. You didn’t ask what he had to do, not wanting to intrude on his privacy. You told him that you’d be in the living room. You only realized he was in the kitchen because you heard the opening and closing of drawers, but other than that, you have no idea what Miguel has been up to. Besides, you’ve been caught up working on the report, trying to finish it so it’s ready for scheduled meetings later this week.

You move your pen around your tablet’s screen, fixing something with a frown. Your concentration comes to a halt as a shadow covers the lighting. You look up, only to find Miguel carrying a tray that he sets on the console table that’s placed between the two long couches. It doesn’t take long before the lovely scent reaches you. Café de olla.

You glance at Miguel as soon as you recognize the scent, his crimson eyes meet yours and there’s a soft smile on his face.

“How about a break from the report?” he asks, taking a seat on the floor, clad in his lounge clothes.

You smile softly and nod, quickly placing the tablet away and joining him on the floor. It’s then that you see everything that’s on the tray.

He sets out the mugs with the hot and rich liquid, careful not to burn himself or you. He places three dessert plates out. One with brownies, another with conchas, and finally one with bimbuñuelos, a sugary pastry similar to the buñuelos you’ve had before, his personal addition to the sweets. You realize he bought them earlier when he arrived with a pastry box an hour later after you. You smile softly as you look at the sweets, finding it cute that everything is heart-shaped.

“So, there was café de olla,” you say, looking at him, still smiling.

“And there were more conchas,” Miguel replies as he hands you a clean plate to eat, smiling.

You chuckle softly before the two of you dig in, savoring the freshly made coffee and baked sweets in his dimly lit living room. Outside, Nueva York continues to have rain. Flashes of white lit up the sky every now and then due to lightning.

The two of you engage in conversation as you eat, enjoying each other’s company. And while you reply to something he said, a brief thought crosses his mind. This has turned out to be “quite an experience” as you said, but it isn’t because of café de olla or even the delicious heart-shaped conchas you baked that make him want to sigh in delight with each bite he takes. No, this evening has been “quite an experience” because of you alone. His close friend. His best…

Miguel grins at you as he focuses on your response, always wishing to give you his full attention, before he replies, continuing the conversation.

You take a drink from your mug, noticing a gentle but sudden flush on Miguel’s cheeks. Your gaze flickers to the fireplace for a second, unbeknownst to you that a certain realization of Miguel’s is the true culprit for the rosiness that now cover his cheeks.

♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡

Next Part Translation for Spanish words: Conchas - Mexican pan dulce, pastry; word translates to "seashell" because the pastry is kind of shaped like one Panaderia - bakery Café de olla - coffee made in a pot Bimbuñuelos - fried dough sprinkled with sugar; similar to buñuelos Buñuelos - fried dough fritter: typically a Christmas dessert _____ A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! Miguel got me giggling and kicking my feet here! Why is he not real? Anyway, I had this little idea earlier in January and then @heyohalie asked me a while back how reader and Miguel from "Nonviolent Communication" would celebrate Valentine's (if they even did celebrate, since they're currently just friends), and I decided I needed to write it! So, here it is :) Thank you for reading this far and I hope you enjoyed it!!

[mizusnose]

Valentine’s Day with the Smith’s

An early valentine’s day post about my beloved Mrs. and Mrs. Smith HCs. Enjoy 💓

———

Under the guise of a romantic valentine’s day date, you and Mizu are guided onto the rooftop of a fancy italian restaurant to have a stake out of the table nearby. The sky is an open endless reflection of the city beneath, a sparkling bowl of ink, one that matches the spill of hair on the soft pale of Mizu’s shoulders.

Her shoulders are out, the dip of her back framed by the sparkly red dress that reaches the floor, a slit up the side of her thigh, revealing unending skin that stretches and moves with each step up towards the rooftop.

We should probably order appetizers, Mizu muses, once you’re both seated. She eyes you, closing the menu and gesturing for a waiter to come over.

You try not to focus on the line of muscle that works up to her shoulders when she turns to order. There’s a line of her ribs that are exposed too when she hands the menus over. Her eyes a frozen-over lake as she gazes at you and says: and my wife’ll have the sangria, thanks.

“Wife” You think, and accidentally cough on nothing at all. Mizu chuckles and the night commences.

Your targets are in the corner of the roof, a young couple that would look otherwise completely normal had it not been for the mission you’ve both been assigned.

“So, we just wait here? No drop-off, no hand-off?” You tinker with the wine glass, the stem of it firmly gripped by your fingertips: the same place Mizu has her own. Her palms encompass more of it though. Your gut kicks at the sight.

“Guess so. Not much info. Just wait” Mizu has ordered something lighter than your own sangria. It sparkles and fizzles in the moonlight and accompanying golden lights lining the rooftop. The color is golden, translucent, and it touches Mizu’s red lips softly and you wonder what her mouth will taste like after she’s finished her wine. A sweet ripened mandarin? A bitter splutter of raspberry? You wonder and wonder and—

“Your appetizers.” The waiter sets down something much too small for you both. A sparkle of oysters laid out on ice and decorated with some…leaves? Your life before now was far from glamorous, so you poke at it with your fork, confused.

“Like this.” Mizu interrupts, she’s chuckling and covering her mouth. The line of her eyes dark with the eyeliner she’s applied tonight. Her eyes bright and eager, “You’ve gotta like, well, slurp it.”

And Mizu, ever the perfect teacher, puts the clamshell to her lips, the same place her wine glass was and slurps.

You think your soul leaves your body.

“You can try. Though, if you’ve never had it before, might not enjoy it too much.”

You nod, dazed and amazed at Mizu across from you. You both have strayed away from your lives before now. Content with having lazy morning sex in the shower and fucking Mizu on the kitchen countertop when she walks around naked and pretty and tall.

You don’t know the first thing about her, and yet, she’s predictably smug when you cough around the oyster. She teases and brushes her heeled foot against yours under the table.

You smile, and she returns it, shy beneath the curtain of hair she’s let down for tonight. Usually it’s tied up into a tight bun, a single curl brushing her sharp cheekbones. You adore her in either way, but you think it’s rare to see her like this: laid down, spilling with beauty, and sparkling in the night.

The night passes quickly like this. Jokes and banter and easy flirting that turns into Mizu revealing bits of herself you probably wouldn’t have known otherwise.

“Yeah, and I can speak Japanese but kanji is too difficult now. Can’t quite..understand it.”

She’s shy when she smiles around her glass of wine. She eyes you across the table, a wide plane of tablecloth separating you both. You nod, and lean in closer,

“Do you know any bad words?” You grin, pleased when Mizu rolls her eyes and pushes you away, “Nothing awful! Just curious.”

“I don’t curse too often.”

“Sure you do.” You speak lower, get closer and keep eye contact, “Your dirty mouth in the mornings, in the shower, in the kitchen this morning when I ate you—“

“I don’t—!” Mizu is red. The wine had already allowed a blush to crawl of her neck and to smother her ears until now. Yet, her whole face blooms under your gaze, your words, your leg against her, “I don’t curse in Japanese. Not without sounding like a gangster, i mean.”

You hum and let Mizu change the topic, her face calming to the shade of ripened peaches, soft and fuzzy and warm.

The couple leaves and you both pay the bill before hurrying out behind them. Your hasty following turns into a stroll around central park, the night a hazy turn of lights and shadows. A tree blocks the sight of your couple and they don’t mind too much.

“Maybe this is just a set-up.” You wonder, aloud.

“What, like an ambush?” Mizu pulls her blood red dress aside and shows the gun strapped to her upper thigh.

Your mouth dries and your jaw goes numb, dropping open slowly.

“No. I meant—like, maybe this is supposed to be a date? We’re wives after all. Maybe they want us to, you know, act more like it?”

Mizu shrugs, clearly confused. You grab her hand, intertwine your hands together and push through the grass lining the path they’re on.

“Wait—where are we—!”

And then you’re both under the dark of a large tree. The leaves shudder at your arrival and dance in the wind. You put your finger to your mouth and motion to hush. Mizu listens, giggling softly.

“You know, you’re very pretty tonight.”

“Just tonight?” Mizu quirks a dark eyebrow up, challenging and teasing.

“Every night. Every morning. All the time.”

Mizu looks at you, through the darkness and the shadows. A streak of moonlight falls on her face and you say before you can truly think it through:

“You’re hot too. The last mission, your face was covered in blood and—“

“You’re such a perv.” Mizu jokes, but the way her smile lingers on her face makes you continue.

“And your legs tonight, your thighs.” Your palms fall on her hip, drag down to her thigh, the inner part of it, “I want to..do so many things to you.”

“Then do them.”

You kiss under the dark. The clouds cover the moonlight and you’re both drifting together in the sea of darkness. The trains have stopped running by the time you’re done making out. The ride home is tense and by the time you’re both home, you take Mizu apart: piece by piece, scream and yells alongside her incessant begging.

You think it’s funny when Mizu wakes you up with a small simple note:

Mission Completed!

———

Anyways, I love them a lot and i even sprinkled in some sub mizu so hope you enjoyed :)

[moonlightisdancing]

Love Me Tender/ j.m.k

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Female Reader

Word Count: 2589

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI romantic josh, marking, oral sex (m & f receiving), whole lotta kissing, fingering, light biting, super light foot stuff (bare with me), very intimate & unprotected sex (wrap before you tap pls), breeding (do we expect anything else from me…), smoking

•

•

•

•

•

“C’mon, mama. We’re gonna be late.” Josh’s voice echoes from your shared bedroom into the bathroom.

The statement is quite ironic, Josh is almost always the reason you guys are “fashionably late” as he calls it. He didn’t disclose what he had planned for tonight, but he bought you a gorgeous black dress paired with silver heels. You assume something special as he’s finally home from tour, perhaps a small celebration of being back. He’s adamant you wear this specific outfit for tonight, but there’s one issue.

“I’m trying, baby! Can you come help me zip it?” The zipper starts at the middle of your back, making it almost impossible for you to zip on your own. You hear his footsteps through the bedroom.

He knocks his knuckles on the door frame. “Can I come in?”

“Of course, my love.”

He creaks the door open, walking up behind you in the mirror. Josh places his hands on your waist and his chin on your shoulder. He plants a kiss on your exposed shoulder before looking at your reflection in the mirror.

“Mm, fits you just how I like it. How’d I do? Does it feel okay?” He can’t take his eyes off of the plunging neckline in the reflection.

“It’s so pretty, the zipper’s in a weird spot, though. I can’t reach it.”

“Here, let me get it, angel.” He pulls away from you, leaving your back exposed to the cool air. He glides his hands down your hips and across your ass. You watch his reflection as his eyes lock onto the back of your lacy red bra he bought you for Valentine's Day.

“Y’know, I always liked this little number.” He runs his fingers under the elastic of the bra, tracing down your spine until he reaches the zipper.

“It always ends up on the floor before you get to see it!” You tease him.

“To be fair, I do like it better on the floor.” Josh is trying to get the zipper, but his fingers can’t grasp it.

Destined to get the dress zipped, Josh gets on his knees behind you. He places his hands on your hips for support as you feel his nose brush against your back. He’s attempting to pull the zipper up with his teeth. The feeling of him behind you like this drives you crazy, but you try to contain yourself knowing he has something planned for tonight. Your wandering mind is suddenly brought back to reality.

“Fuck!” Josh’s grip on your hips gets tight in anger.

“What happened, baby?” You were so busy daydreaming you hadn’t been paying attention.

“The fucking zipper broke.” He seems really upset about the faulty zipper.

“My love, I think I have a little black dress in the closet.” Before Josh can stop you, you make your way to the bedroom, and see it’s decorated with rose petals on the bed and unlit candles across the dresser.

“Josh, what’s all this for?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise for when we got home…” He stands in the doorway, looking defeated as all hell.

You feel bad for ruining his surprise, but in the same breath it turns you on knowing what his plans were for the night. You walk up to him and wrap your arms around his neck, he places his hands on your waist in response.

“Joshy, this is so cute, I love you.” You pout your lip at him.

“Yeah? I love you, too, baby.” He pulls you into his chest and kisses your neck.

The kisses begin to grow deeper as he starts to leave hot marks across your skin, you let out a small moan in response to his touch.

“You know we could just stay here if you want.” Josh says between the heated kisses on your neck.

“I’m good with that, yeah.” Your hands run down the warm, soft skin of his neck before finding themselves resting on his pecs.

You slide your hands down, fidgeting with the end of his shirt before working your hands underneath the thin fabric. The dragging of your nails against his stomach causes Josh to let out a breathy sigh. He runs his fingers through your hair, gently tugging at the base of his grip. You slowly fall to your knees, running your hands down his torso and thighs, locking your fingers into the waistband of his pants. You maneuver your head under his shirt, your lips finding their way to the soft flesh of his navel. You begin peppering kisses across his tummy as your hands trace small circles on his barely exposed hip bones. His cock is growing hard against your throat, begging for attention under the rough denim. You inch his pants down his firm thighs, hands finding their way around his ass. You place soft kisses on his clothed cock as it twitches under your sweet touch. Running your wet lips over him through his boxes leaves a smudged stain of red lipstick around his length. You dip your fingers into the waistband, knuckles dragging over his prominent hip bones. You unveil him to yourself, taking in the great detail, each one telling a different story. With your hands on his hips, you run your tongue from the base of his cock up his shaft, lips finding their way around his leaking tip. The swirling of your tongue makes Josh moan as he places his hands on top of yours.

“Baby?” He gently whispers.

“Yes, my love?” His eyebrows furrow in almost sadness as you pull away from him to respond.

“Let me do my thing first.” Josh wasn’t asking, he was telling you.

His hands find their way cupped around your face as Josh pulls you to your feet. He lowers himself onto his knees, swapping the roles of which you each occupied moments before, bringing the dress down with him. The heavy, black fabric rests at your feet as Josh kneels eye level with your core. He hungrily kisses you through your bright red panties, eyes glistening with pure lust. He brushes two fingers against your middle and pushes the lacy number to the side, letting the cool air excite your pussy more. Josh begins placing heated kisses up your thigh before reaching your core, burying his face into your warmth. His nose is brushing against the light patch of hair you keep, per his request, as his lips position themselves around your aching clit. He begins eating you out like he’s been deprived of your taste, or perhaps had never been fed. Through breathy moans on both ends, Josh makes a point to periodically look up and check he’s pleasing you the way you deserve. Suddenly you feel two fingers rubbing through your folds before they press through your entrance. You let out a sharp moan, one that Josh knows to be a good sign. He starts curling his fingers inside of you slowly as he continues making love to your clit. Inching closer to the edge, you reach your hands down and rake your fingers through Josh’s hair, grabbing handfuls at the scalp. You writhe under his touch, rocking against his motions to gain more friction from his tongue.

“Feels good, hm?” He hums into your aroused flesh, you’re growing tighter around his fingers as you near your climax.

“Cum for me, mama.” Josh’s fingers start to pick up a faster pace as you reach your high.

He works you through your orgasm as he replaces his tongue with the pad of his thumb, moving his body in line with yours. The room spins around you as Josh slowly takes his fingers out from your throbbing cunt. Taking the hint from you toying with the bottom hem, Josh removes his shirt exposing the soft, blushed skin of his torso. You run a hand down his heated body moving down to stroke his length, placing kisses across the skin of his neck and chest. He burries his face in your neck and begins tracing the dip in your back with his fingertips, running his fingers up and down your sweat coated skin.

“Josh?” You sound needy, almost begging for the attention you already had.

“Yes?” He lifts his head from your shoulder and moves a hand to push back fallen strands of hair blocking the view of your face. His palm lingers beside your face, his thumb rubbing over the highest point of your cheek.

“Can we fuck?” You always felt silly asking, but you liked to make sure you were on the same page. There had been plenty times in the past where Josh wanted nothing more than to pleasure you, not worrying about his own release.

“Yeah, of course, mama.” The lust-filled look never left his eyes, but was now seemingly brighter at your request for more.

The two of you find your way over to the bed. Josh gently pushes you back into the pillows, sending the white rose petals flying around you. Josh slides the dress off of your ankles and tosses it onto the floor. He slowly takes your strappy, silver heels off of your feet, placing soft kisses along the bottom of each one followed by the circular motion of his thumbs. He positions himself between your legs and hovers over you, an arm on either side of your head as you trace the defined muscle of his biceps with your fingers. He leans his head down to touch his forehead to yours, making his cold pendant press against the heated skin of your sternum, cooling the triangular shape it rests upon your skin in. Foreheads touching, alongside the tips of your noses, Josh takes in all of you.

“Look at me, angel.” You open your eyes and see his brown doe eyes staring back at you.

His stare wasn’t anything fierce or scary. Usually prolonged eye contact made you uncomfortable, but his never did. From the moment you’d met Josh, you’d yearned for his eyes to be fixed on you any chance they got. Josh always loves to mention how the eyes are the windows to the soul, and each time he performs this act on you, you easily welcome him into your unlocked home. It’s always felt like he belonged there, inside of your soul. He has been the only one to see you so deeply and show you how it feels to love and be loved. He’s taken the time to make every sexual interaction with you feel connected no matter how heated the moment got. The soul bonding goes on for what feels like an eternity, but in reality only a few minutes have passed. During the time of getting lost in eachother’s minds, bodies and spirits, your legs found their way wrapped around his waist. Josh breaks the eye contact with a series of loving kisses to your plush lips. The sweet flavor of mint toothpaste, cigarettes and weed lingers on his tongue, a combination you longed for while he was gone.

“I missed you, and this…” You whisper between his taste.

“I missed you, too, mama. And I missed her.” He says as he dips his hips down pressing his solid length against your needy core.

You reach a hand down to grab onto his cock, rubbing him between your velvety folds before resting him at your entrance. You open your eyes to see if he’s watching, but his are screwed shut paired with furrowed brows and open lips. Placing your hands on either side of his face, you lift your hips into his, feeling every muscle in his body tighten and fall into the feeling of you.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He opens his eyes and presses his forehead to yours again, returning to the art of staring, this time more intimate than the last.

He moves his hands from beside your head to underneath your back, pulling you into his chest in a strong hug. Josh slowly moves his hips back and forth, making sure to dip down at the end of each stroke to rub against your clit. You run your fingertips over his bare back as his grip deepens into yours. Josh can make you cum almost instantly when he wants to, but he was taking his time, wanting to feel you for as long as he can. Sweat begins to form on each of your bodies, his wet curls resting against your forehead.

“I’m so close, baby.” He loosens his grip on your back and snakes his arms out from underneath you.

He places them against the headboard, pushing himself up from you but never leaving your shelter. Josh reaches back for your legs and throws them over his shoulders, lifting your lower back off of the bed by a few inches. His strokes become longer with more desire behind each one as he places a mix of kisses and soft bites on the inside of your calf. One of his hands finds its way resting on your lower stomach, his thumb hovering above your clit, applying heavy pressure as his hips crash into yours. You start wiggling and whining under his touch as you near your second orgasm, you can tell he’s getting closer to the edge too by the faltering in his movements.

“Keep fucking me right there. Just like that.” You let out a crying moan. “Fuuuck! Oh my- Josh! That feels so fucking- oh my god I’m-” Before you can finish your thought, Josh brings you to another climax as he follows shortly behind.

“Oh, mama. Fuck, you’re so tight. Want me to cum in my tight little pussy?” You’ve always been entirely his, but hearing Josh claim ownership makes you melt into his touch.

You nod yes and he wastes no time following instructions. His hips stutter and you feel his twitching cock fill you to the brim, his warm release coating the inside of your orgasm swollen pussy. The prolonged eye contact is broken as Josh’s head falls back, his lips parted and neck on full display. You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he attempts to catch his faltering breath. He brings his head back where it belongs. Looking entirely fucked out of this world, he slowly lowers himself ontop of you peppering kisses along your jawline. You wrap your hands around the back of his head, running your fingers through the sweat-soaked curls at the nape of his neck. Once Josh catches his breath he rolls off of you, laying on his back. He lazily reaches over into the top drawer of the dark oak side table that resides next to your shared bed. You turn to your side and lean up on your arm to watch the movement of his bare body. Josh returns with a pack of yellow American Spirits and a black lighter. He flips the top open and presses his lips to the pack, pulling one cigarette out in the sexiest way anyone could. He closes the top and lets the pack fall into the dip of his chest, bringing the lighter to the cigarette.

“You want one?” He puffs the cigarette and blows the smoke away from you.

“Can I?” You reach for the pack but Josh waves your hand away.

“Let me get it, mama.” He returns the pack to his hand, this time grabbing one out with his index and thumb.

He presses the cigarette between your swollen lips and lights it with the cherry of his own.

[amomentsescape]

hi doll, i would like to request an eric draven x reader AU where none of the bad stuff has happened to eric, they go out to a bar and get drunk, play some pool or darts, thank you so much!

Drunk with Love

AU! Eric Draven x Reader

Summary: A night out is the ideal way for both lovers to unwind.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol & getting drunk, some cussing

Word Count: 951

A/N: This is such a cute request! Thank you :) Also, a Happy Valentine's Day to everyone! I know this holiday can be difficult for some, so I hope you still treat yourselves and do what makes you all happy today <3

You loved nights like these.

Getting all dressed up and spending a night on the town was something you enjoyed doing to have fun after a boring week.

You sat at a table by yourself and just watched the world around you for a bit.

People chatting and laughing, the sensation of warm air touching your skin each time the door opened, and hearing the clinking of glasses all seemed to clear your mind somehow. It felt nice not having to worry about work in the morning or anything else for that matter.

"Is this seat taken?" a husky voice asked beside you.

You couldn't help the smile that broke out on your face at this.

"It is. I'm waiting for my sexy boyfriend to meet me."

You could hear him chuckle.

"I don't know, he sounds like a loser," he responded.

"He is," you jabbed back only to receive a tickle to your side.

"Hey!" you giggled.

"You deserved it," Eric responded, turning the tickles into a hug.

"You did great tonight," you said, changing the subject.

Eric was fortunate enough to have played a show with his band tonight, and of course, you were there front row cheering him on the whole time.

But it was nice to finally have him all to yourself too. The night was still young, and you had been looking forward to some quality time together all week.

"It only went well because of my good luck charm," he joked.

You rolled your eyes but smiled, still managing to feel bashful whenever he complimented you.

"I feel like I was more of a distraction tonight," you laughed. "I was screaming at you the whole show."

Eric's smile widened. "That's what brings me luck."

You giggled some more and grabbed his hand.

"Come on. Where are we headed first?"

Eric shrugged. "Wherever the night takes us!"

You two walked down the main strip of the city for a while, walking past multiple bars in hopes of finding one that struck your fancy.

Along the way, you both chatted and caught up about the week. Although you two lived together, work and normal life stuff seemed to preoccupy both of you more than you would have liked.

You were mid sentence when you suddenly stopped, Eric quickly following your gaze.

A new bar you two had never been to was right across the street. Bright purple and blue lights lit up the sidewalk and nearby cars, and there was even a small line outside the door.

Eric didn't even have to ask before pulling your hand with him as he jogged across the street.

And once inside, you knew you two had made a good choice.

The air was cool and the bar literally glimmered from the number of lights and crystals decorating the walls.

The dance floor was one of the biggest you'd seen, and the back even had some pool tables and darts set up.

Eric looked down to see your reaction and was met with you bouncing excitedly beside him.

"Let's go," he motioned to the bar.

You both didn't have to wait long to order your drinks thankfully. And once they were in hand, you already knew where Eric was headed.

He was quick to claim one of the pool tables as his. He dug around for some change and gave you a devilish smile when he found enough.

You already knew how this was going to go. Eric was crazy good at pool, and despite his numerous tries to help you, you never could manage to beat him at the game. But you honestly didn't mind much. You enjoyed doing just about anything with him, and seeing him have fun meant just as much to you as it did for him.

"Don't be shy," he said loudly, talking over the loud music and chatter.

"You're going down!"

You both laughed knowing that statement was far from the truth. But you were excited nonetheless.

He, of course, beat you each round. But you were happy with it since that meant Eric found excuses to come up behind you and help provide some "strategies" on how to aim the cue better.

You could already feel the effects of the alcohol on your system, and you were certain Eric was feeling the same based on his rosy cheeks and the longing stare he was giving you.

You eventually pulled Eric along towards the dart games, something you knew you had a chance at beating him at.

You couldn't help but giggle when Eric attempted to throw a couple of darts, only to miss them completely.

He gave you a cute pout as you tried to cover your smile, your eyes tearing up from how hard you were laughing.

Eric came over then and immediately tackled you in a hug, squeezing you so tight that you were unable to wiggle out of his grasp.

He began to laugh with you at this, and the mix of alcohol and slippery floors only seemed to work against you both.

With one wrong step, you two slipped and tumbled onto the floor, still holding each other and laughing hysterically.

No one else in the bar took any notice of you two from their own drunken haze. So you both continued to giggle on the dirty floor, not having a single care in the world.

Were you probably going to wake up tomorrow morning with bruised arms and a raging headache?

Oh, most definitely.

But something told you that cuddling up next to the man you loved with a sickening hangover was going to somehow be worth it.

This night will be one for the books, that's for sure.

[jujutsubaby]

🩷 sex drive 🩷

☆ pairing: toji fushiguro x afab!reader ☆ summary: you go to a valentine's day blood drive at work. maybe it's just that you've been single for too long, but isn't the volunteer drawing your blood kinda...? well, let's just say you wouldn't mind exchanging a few other bodily fluids with him, too. ☆ tags: modern au, workplace au ☆ warnings: 18+!! MINORS DNI!! dirty talk, oral sex (f!recieving), slight exhibitionism, daddy kink ☆ a/n: happy valentine's day (again)!! another quick little treat for u all hehe...inspired by my real life experience of going to a valentine's day blood drive (except for the fun parts ofc lmao).

you knew you should have made up an excuse and stayed home today. you hate to be a cliche bitter ass single woman who's not getting any younger on valentine's day, but it's hard not to play to type when the whole office is decorated in cutesy pinks and reds. it definitely doesn't help that your boss, suguru, keeps getting visits every 15 minutes from his boyfriend satoru.

"ugh, what's with the pda?" you grumble at what feels like satoru's 30th visit to suguru's open cubicle. "haven't you two been together for, like, a thousand years already?" your coworker utahime helpfully makes gagging noises to emphasize your point.

"hey now, y/n, you KNOW that i'm the head of marketing and suguru's the head of sales! i can't help it if he and i have lots of important things to discuss," satoru protests with puppy dog eyes.

"i didn't realize important marketing meetings involve sitting on coworkers' laps now," utahime mumbles, and the pair of you giggle conspiratorially.

however, as the day goes on and utahime keeps receiving increasingly elaborate flower arrangements delivered to her from her doctor girlfriend shoko, you find yourself feeling more glum than ever. you decide to go out for a stroll, hoping the cold february air will slap some sense into you.

unfortunately, not even five minutes after you set out, droplets of threatening rain turn into a torrential downpour. you curse; in your mopey mood this morning, you totally forgot to check the forecast!

you really don't want to go back into the lovefest of your office right now, so you start looking desperately around for a rescue — an underhang to stand under, anything.

that's when you see a bright red sign advertising a blood drive for valentine's day being held at your neighboring building. that could be an interesting idea. at least this way, you can tell yourself you did a good deed on valentine's day instead of just complaining the whole time. even more appealingly, you see that it'll take about an hour, which is one less hour you'll have to spend around satoru's soppy nicknames for suguru. after shooting a quick text to your team's group chat informing them of your last minute appointment, you decide to brave the rain and head over, hoping there's an opening for a walk-in.

you enter the room where the blood drive is taking place, praying you don't look too much like a drowned rat. your self-consciousness melts away and you smile brightly when you see a familiar face.

"shoko! you're volunteering here today?"

"oh, hey y/n," your quiet friend replies, giving you a small smile back. "yeah, utahime and i have a date nearby this evening, so i thought i might as well sign up. what time was your appointment for?"

"well, uh, i didn't exactly make an appointment..." you say awkwardly. "are walk-ins ok?"

"no problem, we got a lot of no-shows today anyway," shoko replies with a subtle roll of her eyes. she then hands you a clipboard and a pen. "just fill this out, and i'll get you screened and set up and everything."

you gratefully take the clipboard and head into the tiny compartment curtained off at the side of the room, presumably to give donors some privacy as they get screened. you fill out the form (trying not to think of your stupid ex boyfriend when you encounter the questions about your sex life), and once you're done, you poke your head back outside of the compartment.

"i'm ready now, shoko," you call. when your friend doesn't answer, you crane your neck around to the desk where she had been sitting. "shoko?"

"she just went on break," a husky, masculine voice replies from behind you. "i'll be taking over." you look back and are immediately floored by what just has to be the finest specimen of the male form you've ever seen, clad in obscenely tight scrubs that emphasize every bulging muscle. focus!!

"oh thanks doctor...um...fushiguro," you read from his nametag. he's so tall that it happens to be at your eye level, giving you quite a nice eyeful of his firm, muscular chest. what business did men have being this tall, anyway?!

"just call me toji," he says casually, grinning down at you. he takes the clipboard from your outstretched hands and jerks his head back towards the compartment you had been waiting in. "let's head back there so we have more...privacy." maybe it's just your imagination, but you could have sworn he smirked when he said that. you take deep breaths to suppress the unholy thoughts you're having, and you follow him back into the side room.

when you push the curtain aside and go in after him, you see he's already settled into one of the two chairs crammed into the tight space that he's clearly a little too large for. as you daintily resume your position in your own chair, he shifts and splays his long legs out, brushing your thigh with his knee. you inhale sharply.

he clears his throat and pulls out a pair of reading glasses from his breast pocket before reading your questionnaire. he nods at your answers (although you can't help but turn beet red as his eyes scan over the section about when you last had a new sex partner).

"looks fine to me. let's take your blood pressure now...y/n" he says, positively purring when he sounds out your name. "beautiful name for a beautiful girl," he says with a roguish wink, making you turn even redder than you ever knew was possible. was he making you uncomfortable on purpose?!

"mind taking your top off?" he asks, rummaging around in the drawer in front of him.

"i'm sorry?!" you choke out. that was a freebie! happy fucking valentine's day to you!

"oh, sorry, i meant so i can put the bp monitor around your arm. i don't know if you can roll your sleeves up in that blouse," he says, looking up from the drawer. you notice his eyes on your breasts, and you realize that you of course had worn your white button down over your lacy black camisole on the day mother nature decided to get you soaking wet. you must look like such a hussy!

you quickly unbutton your blouse and show him your arm to wrap the thick velcro band around, trying hard to avoid eye contact. it doesn't matter, though; you can feel his eyes boring into you like lasers. why does he have to be so hot?! you hope being in his presence won't throw off your blood pressure reading...you can feel your pulse going a little haywire.

As he tightens the band and starts the measurement, toji starts making small talk.

"so, you doing anything for valentine's day?"

ugh. anything but this topic.

"no," you reply simply, hoping not to broker further discussion.

he presses on, not taking your cue (or if he did, he ignored it.)

"no? what, your partner doesn't celebrate?"

toji reads out your bp measurement to you, but you don't even pay attention to it as you notice his hand brushing the side of your breast as he unwraps the bp monitor's band from your exposed arm. you gulp as you realize only the thin satiny layer of your cami is keeping his hands from touching your tits.

"uh..ah.." you say, hoping he doesn't notice the effect his one brief physical touch had on you, "n-no...my ex-boyfriend and i broke up a few months ago already." you don't mention how you saw him in your bed on your birthday in the arms of another person.

toji looks up at you from darkly hooded eyes.

"his loss...i know i'd treasure valentine's day with a pretty little thing like you."

just like that, toji snaps back into professional mode again, leaving you reeling once more from his flirtatious behavior. he was way too handsome to be acting like this on a dime! a girl like you could get ideas...

"i'm going to do a thumbprick now to get a quick reading on your blood. is that ok with you?"

you nod, and he grins at you.

"that's my girl," he hums in a low voice.

then, before you're even able to process what's happening, he takes your hand and engulfs it in his own. he then begins rubbing your hand back and forth, and you feel a small frisson of pleasure at the sensation of his callouses against your small, soft fingers.

"noticed your skin was a little cold, so i thought i'd warm your hand up before taking the sample," he explained, but you're hardly able to even listen to him as you enjoy the blissful sensation of his hands rubbing yours. his fingers were so long and thick, and so dextrous... how would those fingers feel somewhere else...no! stop! what are you thinking?! you've definitely been single for too long.

"all right, y/n," toji murmurs gently. "you're just going to feel a small prick...sorry about that..." he takes the sample and puts it into a machine for processing. he then reaches back into the drawer and withdraws a digital thermometer.

"while we're waiting for that to finish, let's take your temperature." you nod and extend your hands to take the thermometer from him, but he ignores you and instead roughly takes your chin in one of his huge, warm hands, tilting your head up towards his chest.

"open up for me now, y/n" he purrs, your name sounding like the sweetest and most beautiful sound you've ever heard when it's coming from his mouth; you can't help but comply. he gently inserts the thermometer under your tongue, and you note his eyes lingering on your lips for much longer than they have to. embarrassingly, you notice heat pooling between your legs, and tension twisting by your belly button. you could get used to this...all too soon, though, the thermometer beeps, and he takes it out. toji clicks his tongue as he reads the small display.

"99 degrees even," he reads out. "now that's a surprise."

"what? why's that?" you ask, confused. how could a body temperature be surprising?

"well, our cutoff is 99.5, and i was sure you'd be way too hot," he says with a laugh and another wink. you giggle back demurely; you can't help but act all girlish and coquettish with someone like him. you've never seen a man in real life wink so much, but you find you don't mind. it suits him.

"all right, y/n, let's go get some blood drawn!" he says enthusiastically, rising from his chair. you follow suit. he reaches around you (did his arm just brush your breasts again?) and opens the curtain for you. "after you, princess."

you used to hate when your ex called you "princess"...but when toji called you that, it sounded like the doors to the heavens opened and angels were singing. you'll definitely be thinking about that for awhile. probably before bedtime, and probably while touching yourself. you sigh and exit the small room before hopping up onto one of the cots that were brought to the building for the blood drive.

toji pops a small stress ball into your hand. "now, make a fist for me," he says, using his fingers to close yours, "and start squeezing that." he squeezes his fist around yours. it wasn't so confusing of an instruction that you needed a demonstration, and you're beginning to suspect that toji's making excuses to keep touching you. not that you mind, exactly.

you keep squeezing, and he examines the tender inside of your elbow. "that's a gorgeous vein you've got there, princess. this'll be easy for me," he murmurs seductively, and you blush. you've never been complimented on a vein, of all things, before.

soon, toji pierces your arm (pursing his lips sympathetically as you emit a sharp gasp, which of course makes you stare at his lips), and your blood is pumping merrily into a bag. you decide to make conversation with him, this time.

"how about you, toji? i'm sure someone like you has big plans for valentine's day, right?" you ask, raising your eyebrows suggestively.

"oh, yeah," he chuckles. "if you count getting high and watching magnolia for the millionth time big plans. i don't really go for that stuff," he says.

"i love paul thomas anderson," you say huskily, trying to flutter your eyelashes at him. it's been a long time since you've flirted, and you're probably embarrassing yourself. "you know what the perfect film of his for today would be, though?"

"what's that, princess?"

you smirk. "there will be blood."

toji lets out a huge laugh in spite of himself, and you smile proudly. flirtation successful!

soon, your blood has filled the small bag, and toji removes the needle, pressing gauze to the wound. the feel of his hands pressing into your arm is one of the most blissful things you've felt all week. he asks you to continue maintaining the pressure, and you feel like whining that it won't feel as nice as when he does it before remembering where you are and complying. you watch as he picks up your sample and sorts it in with the others; you feel a bit shy, seeing him manhandle your little blood bag like that. it feels so intimate.... you gulp as you imagine him manhandling you like that.

"all right, y/n, now you just need to rest for twenty minutes, and you'll be good to go." you start climbing out from the cot, feeling a little disappointed that your short, exciting interaction with toji is coming to an end. oh well. some excitement is better than none.

"we have some cookies for the donors in the seating area," he continues. "lucky you...i'd love a little taste of something sweet right about now..."

ok, it definitely wasn't your imagination — he positively growled that last sentence, and he was eyeing you. as you get up, you notice you're a little shaky on your feet; you realize that you actually hadn't eaten lunch before coming, since you'd been in such a rush to get away. you list and sway dangerously to one side, but a pair of strong arms braces you. you let your head fall back onto a perfectly firm, taut chest.

"careful, there, sweetheart" toji whispers in your ear, his breath tickling your sensitive skin as he lifts you up. you try not to think too much about how your back is pressed into him right now. "i think i'd better keep an eye on you." he walks you over to the front of the room, bracing your back against himself the whole way over. he leads you to the front of the room, where there are folding chairs and a card table with a small platter of supermarket cookies as promised. as shoko had alluded earlier, the blood drive was not busy at all. in fact, it was completely empty currently; just you and toji, alone in this room... you feel yourself getting faint again, but not for the same reason.

"y'know, princess..." toji says, sitting again with his legs splayed out over the chair across from you as you nibble a chocolate chip cookie. "my shift's ending right about...when your observation period ends."

you tilt your head inquisitively at him, hoping you knew why he was saying this. he leans forward, the flimsy plastic chair creaking under the weight of his solid muscle. what you'd let that muscle do to you...

"i don't think that i, as a medical professional, can let you go back to work today..." he continues. "i think you'd better go home after this." then, he smiles deviously. "and i think i'd better take you back, just to give you a...full examination."

it takes all of your restraint not to fling the rest of the cookie down and jump his bones right then and there. instead, you reply,

"i think i'd appreciate the house call." you do your best to make your voice ooze with suggestion so he knows you're picking up what he's putting down.

after what feels like the slowest fifteen minutes of your life, it's finally time to leave. just as toji's shift is about to end, shoko returns from her break, and you take the opportunity to ask her to have utahime bring your things back home from the office for you. since they're your neighbors, you can pick them up later tonight. or perhaps, tomorrow morning...just in case tonight gets a little too busy.

"something came up," you explain to her breathlessly, but you know shoko notices toji's hand creeping up the small of your back.

"have fun," shoko says to the both of you, only slightly judgmental but mostly encouraging.

since you took the bus to work that morning and toji refuses to wait a moment longer than he has to to commence your "examination," he insists on driving you back in his car. you both practically sprint through the parking lot, and he breaks at least three traffic laws zooming back to your apartment in the rain as you yell directions. for a doctor, he sure is awfully reckless.

finally, finally, after an agonizingly long wait, you're at your building. you're about to climb out of the car, but toji is way ahead of you, opening the door for you. you are about to climb out and jokingly thank him for his chivalry when he unceremoniously scoops you out of your seat and swings you over his shoulder. you shriek with laughter.

"toji! put me down!"

you're also all too aware that you're wearing a pretty short skirt that day.

"sorry, princess," he says smoothly. "it's protocol. i can't have you walking back in just in case you pass out, or something."

you're about to ask if he's even been to medical school when he shoves your key into your apartment door, slams it open, and, equally roughly, slams your back against the wall. the breath is shoved out of your lungs as he immediately captures your mouth with his, swallowing any potential protest you might have had (which you didn't, you absolutely didn't. not even close.). he carries your entire weight easily as he shuts the door behind him with his foot; you're hardly paying attention, though, as you're too busy widening your mouth and entangling your tongue with his. you greedily bite down on his lip, and he growls in response.

"let's get you to the examination table," he groans. you wrap your legs around his narrow waist, and he carries you haphazardly to your dining table, crashing into and knocking over furniture along the way. carrying you with one arm, he carelessly clears the table with his other before plopping you onto the tabletop. he kneels before your legs and tears off your tights in one swift motion.

"i hope you're planning to help clean up—" you start, but your breath hitches in your throat as he begins kissing up your ankle, then your calf...then your thigh...he gets slower and slower as he gets closer to where you most want him to go. you try to shift forward on the table to bring your throbbing center closer to him, but he holds you firmly in place with two powerful hands clamped on your hips.

"patience, princess..."

you close your eyes and start taking deep breaths, but the moment is disrupted by an annoying loud vibration against the wooden tabletop.

"who the fuck is 'ryomen sukuna?'" toji scoffs, "and why do you have a heart next to his name? you been lyin' to me, princess? have you been naughty?"

"no," you breathe, and it comes out as a whine. "no, daddy, i've been a good girl, promise. please..."

"'please' what, princess? help daddy out here," he purrs with a wicked grin. just then, your stupid phone vibrates again, and you're about to pick it up and throw it out the window when toji wrests it from your grip.

"your idiot ex, i'm guessing?" he asks. all you can do is nod, the words robbed from you.

"well, my professional recommendation is...for you to tell him to fuck off."

"i will, toji, i promise," you pant. "please, just ignore him, i promise, he's nothing to me."

"you're not listening to me, princess..." toji says in a low, dangerous voice. "i want you to tell him to fuck off. right. now." he slides the answer button on your phone and hands it to you before you can protest.

"h-hello?" you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "sukuna?"

"heyyyy, y/n....missed hearing your voice, boo," sukuna coos, clearly inebriated. you scoff in disgust; it's only four in the afternoon. sukuna was such a mess.

"what do you want, sukuna? i thought i w-was..." you start out assertively, but your resolve is breaking as a practiced tongue once again starts swirling its way up your legs, alternating between your left and right thighs. you clench your toes and grit your teeth before continuing.

"i was ... clear...that ... that we're o-over," you say, the last word coming out as a moan as you feel a set of teeth pulling off your panties ever so gently.

"baby, i told you!" sukuna whines. "uraume's nothin' to me, babe! they're just a friend! you're my one and only, baby!"

even in the midst of the sensory overload occurring in your bottom half, you still roll your eyes. yeah, "just friends" made out in bed naked all the time, right?

"i want you to...to...s-stop.." you pant, as sukuna finally picks up on your strange manner of speech.

"hold on, y/n, is someone there with you?" he snarls, his famous temper rising to the forefront. "you whoring it up with another guy already?"

at that, toji grabs the phone from you and growls into it, "seems like she finally decided she needs a real man, not some cheatin' asshole who can't appreciate her properly!"

the moment he finishes talking, toji leans back into your thighs and finally plunders you with his tongue, raising the phone to your mouth in time for you to moan sinfully into it as sukuna is arguing back. toji doesn't even bother hanging up as he throws the phone across the room.

toji grips your thighs tightly enough to leave bruises as he feasts on you, and you wrap your legs around him, tangle your hands in his short hair, and squirm in delight. it doesn't take you very long to come undone under his practiced mouth.

he rises back to his feet, licking his lips.

"finally got to satisfy my sweet tooth today," he says mischievously. you grab the v-neck of his shirt and tug him closer to you aggressively.

"take me to bed. it's your turn next," you declare authoritatively. then, you kiss him fiercely, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue.

"your wish is my command, princess," he replies with a dark chuckle, before lifting you, bridal style, to your bedroom.

this was shaping up to be a great valentine's day after all.

[h0ney-mochi]

Oh, dear Valentine of mine.

Scaramouche x reader ;; readers pronouns not mentioned

SMUT/NSFW CONTENT (sort of soft? scaramouche, top!scaramouche, bottom!reader, too long intro, it's just seggs bro)

Summary: Scara doesn't understand Valentines, but his mind is occupied with you. Coming home earlier than usual, he makes a little something for you, not knowing said dish won't be even touched for the night.

A/n: joining my favorite writer's and mutual's (@sumeruin ) collab event <3 Glad to be participating heheh, hope this is good enough to be in the event ٩(◕‿◕)۶ Go check out other ppls entries btw !!!! Happy late Valentines Day everyone <3

Minor writer, dni if uncomfortable!

Scaramouche didn't care for Valentines Day. Why would couples need a day about themselves, for themselves? To show off? Get a pass to makeout wherever they wanted to for a day? That's stupid reasoning. It's annoying.

He still thinks the same after being around you. Just a little, little less.

Yet when he wakes up and heads to the kitchen, he didn't expect you to be wrapping up a medium-sized gift. You didn't notice him, making sure all looked good, taping a small note on top. You jumped in surprise when you raised your head and saw him standing there.

"Oh-! Good morning!" You speak, smile on your lips as you walk to him. He raises his eyebrows at you and you give him a kiss. You whisper a simple Valentines greeting, quickly taking the gift and handing it to him.

"You don't need to open it now," you glance away, "You can do it after work. I heard your annoyed whispers when we went in that shop that already had decorations." Looking away from you and at the box, he slowly takes it, nodding.

"Will be better after work, so I get a distraction from my stupid colleagues," Scara speaks and you smile again. You ask about breakfast, but he says he needs to leave earlier. Of course you let him go, this was normal.

You knew he'll probably late home again. Maybe later just to not experience Valentines. Part of you did hope he'd come sooner. Oh well, another day, you should head out. Running out of few ingredients.

...

All day Scaramouche was uneasy. He did catch couples here and there, making him groan at the sight. Why in public? Seriously? Are they trying to prove something?

Yet his mind wandered to you. You're doing all these efforts for him, for the two of you. Not once were you unhappy about each occasion, event, or his attitude, whatever it was. His eyes glued onto the gift you gave him.

He should be with you, not here. And so he leaves, muttering something about an 'urgency.'

When he gets home, it's quiet. Making sure the place is all to himself, he decides to recheck his cooking skills! Thinking for first few moments of what did you like, what could he make for you?

Scara was really focused on doing the finishing touches to a dish for the two of you that he didn't even hear the door opening up. Only when you walk into the kitchen with a bag in hand, your voice breaking the silence.

He immediately turns to you, wide eyes. You stare at each other for a few seconds before you start giggling. His brows furrowed in confusement. What's so funny now? Are you making fun of him?

"Share the joke, idiot," Scara groans, "I've got shit to do." "You- you have icing on your face, darling," you say and laugh, covering your mouth. He blinks, hand reaching up to find it somehow. Then he sighs in frustration, muttering a 'shut up'.

He turns back to finish up with said icing.

"I'm right! There is something!" You say, walking past him, putting your bag down on the counter. A smile stayed your lips while the man said some more curses under his breath.

"You're back early, what's up?" You break the silence again. "What, I can't come home and see my darling?" Scara immediately responds, straightening his back, done with his work. You just shook your head, emptying the bag, putting the contents where they're supposed to be.

It was silent, which had you worried a little. You walk next to him and your eyes immediately catch onto the two dishes. You can't help but let out an 'awe.'

"Made this for us- you," He corrects himself, glancing at you before going to put other stuff away. You stare for a while before finally turning towards him to respond. Before you could start your sentence with a thanks, you're met with his lips against yours.

His hands immediately pulled you closer, holding you in place. You were caught off guard, but kissed him back. After a moment Scara pulled away, staring at you.

"I don't give a fuck about the dish, or about this day, not even the fact that half of the people made out in our stupid hallways," He groans, remembering his day, "It's weird."

You blinked then smiled, "Will there be a follow up?" He slowly nods, "The only thing I give a fuck about is you and how you're always here. I'm- that's weird to say, isn't it?"

"Scara, did you even open the gift I gave you?" You ask and he shakes his head. You nod your head to the side and he takes the hint. Leaving you he goes to get said gift you gave him in the morning.

Inside there were some chocolates, a letter type note you wrote for him, and a smaller different note. He looks at you, "You know I'm not the one for sweets." "That's why I got a new tea taste for you."

It went silent.

Scara was back in front you, taking your hand and pulling you away from the kitchen. "What- did you not like the gift? Was my handwriting hard to read-?" You ask, wondering. He shakes his head, pulling you inside the bedroom.

Once the door is closed, you're pushed against it, Scaramouche breathing in your neck. It sure as hell made you shiver. "No," he speaks, "Nothing's wrong." He lifts his head to look at your confused face, "Everything is how it should be."

...

His nails left marks in your skin from how hard he was holding you. Scara's breathing in your neck, harshly thrusting inside of you while you clawed at his back. Your eyes keep squeezing shut, yet you try to keep them open, to see your lover.

When Scaramouche straightens his back a little to watch you, noises slip past his lips. You're just too gorgeous like this — fucked out expression, warm cheeks, struggling to keep eye contact, your eyes rolling back.

He continues to stare, angling his hips in a different way just to see you turn your head to the side, feel your nails dig in his skin harder. Right then and there he knows he doesn't need anything else in this life other than you.

"[Name], fuck- Look at me," his hand leaves your thigh, going to hold your chin. You focus your gaze on his, a small smile tugging on your lips. His thumb rubs your cheek and Scara leans in for a kiss. Your hands go up to his neck, one hand tangling into his hair.

When you were down on the bed and having a messy makeout, you didn't think so much would happen in a day. A Valentines Day.

There was a stutter in his thrusts, Scaramouche pulling away from your lips. You took one of your hands away and intertwined your fingers with his. He squeezed your hand, nails digging at the back of your hand. You could tell he was trying to not break on top of you. Eyes getting more hazy, voice getting higher, moans mixing with yours.

You were his gift and he was yours.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer again. There's a sharp inhale and his other hand goes to hold onto your waist, pace a little rougher. The way you clench down on his cock is bringing him more and more to the edge.

His name sounds pretty on your tongue. He needs to hear more of it.

Scara leans down to suck another dark mark on your skin. Your head is thrown back, other hand is tugging on his dark hair. You've messed it up with all your desperate tugging. The air feels thick, the sheets feel troublesome and hot.

Your moans of his name get louder and he leaves your neck to look at you. He wants to see the expression on your face when you cum on his dick. He needs to know he has made you feel so, so good. It doesn't take long, his hand is squeezing yours again.

Your body shudders, eyes almost closing, but you keep that eye contact. Scaramouche thrusts inside you few more times until his fast pace drops. Heavy, warm sighs fill the silence. You blinked up at your lover. He swallows, focusing on your eyes once more.

"Scara?" You weakly smiled, "Does.. this mean you're my Valentine for the day?" He raises an eyebrow and you couldn't help, but let out a small laugh. "Does this mean you're mine?" He answers you with a question, leaning down to your face.

You nod, putting your hands around his neck again, "Of course." Scaramouche gives you a quick peck on your lips before responding.

"Let's get you cleaned up, dear Valentine of mine."

Thank you for reading <3 Enjoy your day with a cup of tea, reader. ♡

© h0ney-mochi 2023 / Please don't copy or repost my work and writings! <3