My name is Luvy (she/her)- random girl blog, avid reblogger, occasional writer <3
I am almost 20! I’m Latina and very proud of my roots!
Fun facts: I'm very much a spoiled princess brat who loves shopping, flirting , reading, movies and music. I love Lana Del Rey, Sabrina Carpenter, Taylor swift and many more! My favorite movies is To All the Boys I've Loved Before and my favorite show is Money Heist. I also love talking, traveling, and taking pictures. ʚ♡ɞ
Who I may write for:
Outerbanks: Pope Heyward, John B, JJ Maybank, Rafe Cameron
Harry Potter/Marauders/slytherin boys: Harry Potter, Fred Weasely, Sirius Black, James Potter, Remus Lupin, Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini
On My Block: Oscar Diaz (spooky), Caesar Diaz (lil spooky)
Percy Jackson and the heroes of olympus: Luke Castellan
soft!reader who blushes over absolutely everything. rafe compliments your outfit? pink. he calls you pretty? pinker. he so much as looks at you for a second too long? suddenly you're hiding your face in his shoulder because you don't know what to do with yourself.
rafe thinks it's the cutest thing he's ever seen. "look at me."
"no."
"why?"
"you're smiling."
"that's usually how conversations work, sweetheart."
rafe who absolutely abuses the fact that you're shy. not in a cruel way. in a "i think watching you get flustered is the funniest thing on earth" way. he'll lean against the kitchen counter while you're making breakfast and just stare, not saying anything, just looking at you, until eventually you look over.
"...what?"
"nothin'."
"then why are you looking at me like that?"
"because you're pretty."
soft!reader who is ridiculously affectionate without even realizing it. you'll walk past him and automatically fix the collar of his shirt, brush invisible lint off his shoulder, absentmindedly tuck messy strands of hair behind his ear or straighten his necklace & smooth your thumb over his jaw.
they're all such tiny, unconscious acts of love. rafe notices every single one and every single one makes his chest feel strangely full.
rafe who starts finding excuses to be close to you because physical affection becomes his favorite language. one hand resting on your knee while he's driving, pulling your chair closer to his instead of moving himself. standing behind you while you're cooking just so he can wrap his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. "what're you making?"
"you've asked me four times."
"forgot."
liar. he just likes hearing your voice.
soft!reader who gets overwhelmed in loud places like crowded parties, big family gatherings and especialyl too many conversations happening at once. eventually your smile starts fading, your hands fidget and you get quieter.
rafe notices before you even realize it yourself. "c'mon."
"where?"
"outside."
no questions. no attention drawn to you. he just quietly takes your hand and lets you breathe for a while.
rafe who secretly loves how excited you get over tiny things. ducks at the park, fresh flowers at the grocery store, dogs hanging their heads out car windows. even finding heart-shaped rocks on the beach.
you'll stop everything just to point them out. "look!"
and every single time... rafe looks. not at whatever you're pointing at. at you.
soft!reader who always falls asleep first during movie nights. it doesn't matter how invested you are. twenty minutes in and you're gone, curled up against his side, your breathing slow with the movie still playing quietly in the background.
rafe never wakes you. just turns the volume down, pulls a blanket over you and spends the rest of the movie absentmindedly running his fingers through your hair, not paying attention to the screen at all.
rafe who cannot handle it when you cry. genuinely. anger? he knows how to deal with anger. tears? absolutely not. he panics every single time.
"hey."
"hey, sweetheart."
"look at me."
"talk to me."
seeing you cry makes something deep inside him twist painfully. he'd rather take a punch than watch your heart break.
soft!reader who always reaches for his hand without thinking. crossing the street? hand. walking through a store? hand. standing in line? hand. watching fireworks? hand. it becomes so automatic that one day you reach beside you while distracted... and accidentally grab someone else's hand. you look up, horrified, and immediately let go. "i'm so sorry!"
the stranger laughs. rafe is bent over laughing so hard he can barely breathe. "baby..."
"don't."
rafe who absolutely melts when you're sleepy. sleepy you is somehow even softer. your words start slurring together, you get clingier. your eyes keep drifting shut while you're trying to stay awake.
"m'not tired."
"sweetheart."
"hm?"
"you're literally asleep."
"no'm not."
"...you answered three seconds late."
"did i?"
soft!reader who always believes the best in people. sometimes to a fault and rafe pretends it drives him insane. "he was probably just having a bad day."
"or he's just an idiot."
"rafe."
"what?"
"be nice."
"for you?" he sighs dramatically. "fine." only because if kindness matters to you he'll try. even if it doesn't come naturally to him.
rafe who starts becoming gentler without even noticing. his voice softens when he talks to you. he knocks before walking into rooms you're in. he catches himself lowering his volume when you're startled. he becomes more patient, more careful. loving someone as gentle as you makes him want to deserve your softness instead of overwhelming it.
soft!reader who has absolutely no idea how beautiful you are. you'll walk past mirrors without looking, shrug when people compliment you, genuinely believe they're just being polite. it drives rafe insane.
he looks at you and sees sunlight, sees kindness, sees every good thing he's convinced he doesn't deserve. somehow you still don't see what he sees. so he tells you. every single day. until one day, years later, you smile when he calls you beautiful instead of looking away and rafe quietly decides that might be his greatest accomplishment.
he’s such a nickname abuser. ‘pretty girl’ and ‘sweetheart’ are his go-to, but sometimes he switches to more cheesier terms of endearment to call you in front of other people just to embarrass you—pookie, munchkin, shnookums? yes! and hes loud about it too! this is my official statement that in another universe dean would pair extremely well with a shy, quiet reader. he’d love pulling her out of her comfort zone with his silly antics.
as his girlfriend, you’re entitled to receive random pecks and kisses all the time. i’m talking all the time. if you’re watching a movie together and he’s feeling a little neglected, he’ll grab your arm and kiss the entire length of it, not missing an inch, until you cuddle him. if you’re standing in line for something, he’ll be reading instructions while leaving kisses on your temple and in your hair. if you’re hanging out with friends and you’re on the couch while he’s sitting between your legs, he’ll be kissing your thighs the whole time until you gently kick him to stop.
he finds a random mic and sings you cheesy love songs when you’re having bad days, and him being so bad at it makes you laugh. dean makes it his mission not to stop until you’re laughing your ribs off and feeling better. sometimes it ends with him pulling you in to dance, or just holding you in his arms. those cuddles are your favorite because there’s so much love and safety in them. he’s genuinely the only person who can lighten your mood immediately with his stupid jokes, stupid kisses, and stupid big arms.
he’s a sniffer, and he would die and come back for the scent of your body. he perks up immediately, gorgeous green eyes finding yours the second he smells that coconut and vanilla scent in a packed room. he has a dramatic habit of randomly sniffing all over you and pretending like he’s high off it. it doesn’t matter if you’re alone or with other people. if you’re laying down together or hugging, his nose is immediately buried in your hair.
he cherishes your routines together. morning routines where he lets you shower first while he stays in bed for a couple extra minutes, then he goes after, and you brush your teeth together while he gets dressed and fixes his hair, and you do the same in front of the counter you’ve definitely used for more than just getting ready. eating breakfast together. post-dinner walks where he tangles your hands together. cooking dinner on friday nights—well, you do most of the cooking while he cleans and does basic prep, because if he’s in charge, you’re definitely eating burnt food. and the nightly gossip sessions, both of you with face masks on, leaning on your elbows facing each other. he makes you smile so much with all the locker room gossip your cheeks hurt, and you tell him campus rumors while he lets out theatric gasps.
besides physical touch and quality time, his love language is definitely gift giving. mention one thing one time, and boom—you have it next day or for a special occasion. he never runs out of gift ideas. it ranges from material things to more meaningful ones, like love letters he gets embarrassed about giving you.
to conclude, dean would be an amazing boyfriend. he’d be loyal and fully devoted to you. in his eyes, you would be the girl for him.
older!brother's bsf!rafe who's always been weirdly protective over you. ever since you met him when you were seven, mouth full of braces and fingernails grimy, and him at ten, already composed with the notorious Cameron look already developing on him, who gave you of all people a kind smile.
older!brother's bsf!rafe who always tells you you can do better. everytime you come home with a boy, topper giving you a long look, whenever rafe comes over, he'll roll his eyes, "you can do better than that, baby," he'll chortle, sitting dangerously close to you. and if the boy you took home is with him in the same room, rafe will make sure that he knows damn well he's not welcome.
older!brother's bsf!rafe who offers rides home from parties that you're not even supposed to be at, giving you anxious looks while he drives closer home while you're quiet but places water on your lap without another word. when the pair of you come back home, rafe is always quick to tell your parents that the two of you were hanging out together.
older!brother's bsf!rafe who pops by your house almost everyday and with different excuses. "hey, is topper here?" "forgot my keys" "needed to ask your mom somethin'", etc.
older!brother's bsf!rafe who, if you look close at every single family photo you've had together, from seven to now eighteen, he's constantly near you, by a one person distance max, and in the short occassion he's not, you can bet his eyes are on you.
older!brother's bsf!rafe who makes sure that there's food for you whenever you're around him. cookout? he's slipping half of his food onto your plate. dinner? you'll find that you have the most servings.
older!brother's bsf!rafe who's only had one girlfriend in the entire nine years you've known him. you remember when you were fourteen, sobbing your eyes out in your bed as top told you the news, only to find that they'd mysteriously broken up a week later.
older!brother's bsf!rafe who tells topper to go easy on you without you knowing. the pair will be hanging out, topper's feet up on the table while rafe scratches his arms.
"dude, she's been pissing me off so much."
"i'm sure you piss her off too."
"nah, not to the -"
"go easy on her."
older!brother's bsf!rafe who's given you flowers every valentine's, a tradition that started when you didn't get one that made you bawl your eyes out when you were much younger but just stuck. you who doesn't know that he gives them because he wants to, not because you think that topper's forcing him too.
older!brother's bsf!rafe who's always been the only option for you, he's just waiting patiently for you to see it.
mr. handyman. literally every single thing that falls apart in your life, logan’s there to fix it. kitchen cabinets coming loose? great, he’s fixing them. doors squeaky? he’s already on it. something wrong with your car? perfect—he’s taking his shirt off (for your eye candy) and getting to work. and he’s not one of those sexist assholes who thinks men have to fix things while women just stand there and yelp when things fall apart. he actually makes a habit of fixing things with you there, showing you how to do it so next time you can handle it yourself in case he’s not around.
this sweet, sweet man with those pretty doe eyes cannot stay mad at you for more than a day. if he has to go to sleep without fixing things with you, he feels like he might actually die. he just can’t do it. so when you two argue, like normal couples do, he always gives you both time to cool down before coming back to you to offer your favorite takeout, lots of kisses and cuddles, a movie night, and his heart practically in his hands just so you could forgive him. anything. he’ll do anything. just don’t stay mad at him.
as much as he’s a homebody, he actually loves going out—especially with you. restaurants, new cafés, movie theaters, hiking spots, even loud busy bars he’s not usually a fan off. and he’s always patient, giving you all the time you need to get ready without rushing you. and when you’re finally done and looking pretty, he’ll have you leave a bright lipstick kiss on his jaw, visible for everyone to see he’s taken, before you head out together. his favorite part about this whole thing is walking with your hands intertwined and sharing food.
again, he’s big on acts of service. waking up a little earlier to make you breakfast because you’re too lazy to make something yourself and usually skip it. taking the time to draw you a bath after a long day. making your drinks exactly how you like them—no ice, because you hate the watery taste when it melts, buying you things you’ve run out of, whether it’s your favorite snacks or products. taking your makeup off for you when you’re too tired. giving you massages, filling your gas tank—he’s all about it.
he’s so starved for you, so don’t expect him to leave you alone when you’re both home with nothing to do. he constantly has you laying on top of him, just lazing the day away. cooking simple meals together, which he’s surprisingly good at. he believes staying practically glued to you the entire time is good for his mental health and it’d be cruel to deny him.
this man figured out your weakness long before you even started dating that you can never keep your hands to yourself when he’s sweaty, fresh out of the gym. so when you move in together, he starts timing it, leaving the gym just a little after you get home. the second he walks through the door, your eyes snap to him, the sight of him making your knees weak, heat pooling in all the right places. and you don’t even try to fight it. you just walk up to him, grab him, and kiss him deep, fully intending to have those sweaty, ripped biceps wrapped around you in a tight headlock.
— “ you’re burning down the house we’re living in. ”
this is soo shit because it’s really self indulgent… sorry! i figured i might as well post them though, not sure if anyone would even like them. it’s heavily inspired by my ex situationship…lol…i find them to be a lot alike siiiiigh
• he’d refuse to read your tarot cards. he’s too afraid they’ll tell him things he doesn’t want to know. that you guys don’t work out.
• there’s pictures of you in his cameras you’ll never see. when things are over between you two, he still looks at them.
• they’re all candid of course. you smiling as you hug his pillow. watching the sunset together. you cheering at a concert for an artist you both love. he’ll never delete them.
• this man writes love letters to you. like, a ton. he tells you about his day, the thoughts he didn’t get to say, guilt bubbling over because his love hurts.
• he loves taking care of you. sharing food because he knows you’re hungry, giving you his jacket because your outfit isn’t suitable for the rain, letting you rest on his lap because you’ve had a long day. it’s the little things.
• this man LOVES to spend money on you. will literally give you his card when you walk into stores so you can get what you want. or he just slides his card into the card reader before you can even pull out your card.
• when going out for a smoke, he wraps his jacket around you while he smokes so your clothes underneath don’t smell like cigarettes.
• he rambles a lot, especially at night. stuff about childhood, shows he likes, photographers he admires, even car related stuff that you know nothing about. it’s so cute. you miss it when he’s gone, wishing he’d ramble on one last time. wishing the conversations would never end.
• he loves to listen to you too. especially about your own life. he always has great commentary.
• he loooves to watch tv shows or movies with you. but you guys hardly ever really watch them… he’s too busy watching you. or tickling you. or kissing you.
• he knows a lot about the stars. after watching the sunset together, he’ll point out constellations just to spend more time with you before you both head home.
• besides the lack of commitment, he’s quite the gentleman. he’ll pull up your tops if they’re ever too low or too revealing.
• paper cranes!!! if you ever let this man around pieces of paper he will fold a paper crane and you always somehow end up with it. sometimes he even hides them with your belongings. you cry when you find one hidden in your glove compartment.
• this man will literally do anything with you. like going to ikea… or chilling in empty parking lots while you watch stuff on his phone because you rather be doing that than be at home.
• he will always comfort you when you’re crying…even if you’re crying because of him. it’s what makes leaving so hard.
• he remembers EVERYTHING. that man will happy birthday his way into your life. (evil…)
• that’s also why no contact is so hard. he will literally text if you even just glance across the room to him. he can’t let you go, you’re the best he’s ever had. can’t seem to keep you close either though.
• he also replies asap. says his sixth sense tells him you’re gonna text. you wonder if his sixth sense can tell him how much you miss him when he’s not around.
• when things are said and done he makes a playlist of songs that are so obviously about you. you don’t text. you never can again.
“ oh, if i could change you / i would make you love me forever. ” - call me when you know better. (no, really)
₊ ֹ ˖ JOHN LOGAN MAKES YOU WANNA CRY . . IN A GOOD WAY ᱺㅤㅤ ୨౿
he’s got like ten tabs full of assignments waiting for him at home. a comfy bed that’s screaming his name. a hungry stomach he’s forgotten to feed after having a granola bar in the morning. in deep need of a shower post a really long and hard practice.
but there he is in his brother’s garage at eleven at night, shirtless, so goddamn patient, bent over the hood of your car, dealing with a fizzy, angry battery that could explode and kill him, while you stand in the corner biting your lip, so fucking guilty for calling him to help because your car was producing a really weird smell after you came back from driving a friend home from one of those frat parties.
you had to stop by the curb and wait for thirty minutes, the soonest he could come get you after you called, and he picked up after one ring, worried.
without a single complaint. oh god, your boyfriend was too selfless for his own good when it came to you.
your week had already been really emotional for no reason, and seeing logan just being his sweet self doesn’t help but let fat drops of tears run down your face silently as you stare at him.
ten minutes have passed, and logan has to move to clean something quickly with a rag he has over his shoulder, and while discarding it to grab another one, he can’t help but see his pretty girl crying.
“woah, woah, woah, what’s wrong, gorgeous?” he frowns, leaving his work behind, quickly striding over to you, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug, hands curling around your neck.
his sweaty chest be damned.
“i’m sorry i ruined your night,” you sniffle as you pull away, looking up at him, your hands by your side, not knowing what to do with them.
“oh baby, you didn’t ruin anything. that thought didn’t even occur to me when i rushed to come get you,” he gently moves his hands to cradle your face, kissing your tears away. “i was actually kinda giddy that you called me for help.” he flashes you that pretty smile that makes you melt, trying to make you feel better.
“but you’re—you’re all tired from practice and you need a shower.” he chuckles, and even despite that, you lay your face into his chest as he holds onto your waist, gently rocking both of you side by side. “and you need to eat.”
logan thinks he could genuinely marry you right now.
“how about this,” he says gently, brushing his thumb across your cheek, wiping the last of your tears. “give me ten more minutes to finish this—it’s basically done anyway.”
his tone is light, reassuring, like he’s easing you back down piece by piece.
“and then we go home,” he continues, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a second longer than necessary. “and you help me do all that, yeah?”
his nose nudges yours slightly when he pulls back, his smile small but warm.
“does that sound good?” he knows he’s satisfied when you nod and wipe your eyes with the back of your hands.
“there she is,” he murmurs, softer now, leaning in to press one last gentle kiss to your lips—slow, reassuring, meant to settle you more than anything else.
he shakes his head with a small smile as he turns back to the car, grabbing his rag again, finishing up the last few things.
like you didn’t just cry over something so stupid.
john logan really bagged a girl way too sweet for his own good.
warnings: mentions of blood and cuts, fights, teeny argument, cormac mclaggen, short ahh blurb, & tooth-rotting fluff!!
summary: mattheo gets into a fight. again. you rightfully aren’t having it😒 and end up walking him like a dog
a/n: hi babes!! sorry this is so short, i lowkey didn’t know where to go with it so yeah! i hope you all enjoy bc the mattheo obsession has returned 😛
word count: 872
you didn’t say you were upset with mattheo, but he knew. he knew by the small frown that had a made a home where your smile usually lay, and by the way your eyebrows were scrunched together as you worked. by the way your lip had become raw from biting on it— the way it always did when you held back words, and the way you dabbed the disinfectant onto his cuts without acknowledging the involuntary tic of his hand.
you could feel his stare boring into the side of your face as you tossed out a cotton swab that had been stained pink. you told yourself not to look, not to meet his gaze, but you did anyways. you always did. you thought he’d look away upon being caught. he didn’t. a flush rose to your cheeks which only made you frown harder.
“stop looking at me like that.” the words sounded like they were supposed to have some sort of bite behind them, but they didn’t. they never quite could with him. “okay.” his agreement was soft, even as his lip twitched. he kept looking. you looked up from his hand, now disinfected, with exasperation.
“mattheo.” an edge of annoyance coated the word, and the vibrations of his gentle chuckle made your heart rattle wildly against your ribcage.
“what, baby?”
“don’t call me baby, i’m mad at you.”
“okay.” there was no argument behind it, just gentle understanding. he looked away then, not because you’d told him to— he knew you hadn’t meant it— but because the effort it took not to reach out and tuck that piece of hair behind your ear, the same one that you always blew out of your face in frustration when you were walking quickly, was mounting unbearably high.
you should’ve dropped his hand, gotten up, and left. you didn’t. you reached over, grabbed the roll of gauze, and began to make a wrapping of it around the knuckles that had been split open.
“why’d you do it?” the question slipped out, hesitant, like you might not want to know the answer, and he froze. you never asked. just looked at him, shook your head, and dragged him to your dorm.
“you know why.” came after a moment, his adam’s apple bobbing as if his throat was constricting. “do i?” sure, you had an idea. the whispers of mclaggen’s name had quickly traveled through the halls, muttered with distaste by all the girls. you could only assume he’d let a comment or two slip after your rejection— boys like him always had a fragile ego— but you wanted to hear what mattheo would say.
“yeah, you do.” it was whispered like a promise, quiet and heavy, and you swallowed. bit down on the inside of your cheek. cut off the remaining gauze and tied it into a tight knot, then tucked it securely into the wrap.
you stood up, cleaning the supplies off the counter, not facing him. “you can’t just fight someone every time you don’t like what they say.” there was agitation woven into the syllables, worry laden in the undetectable pauses between words. worry that one day he’d pick a fight he couldn’t win, and you’d be watching madam pomfrey heal him instead. he heard it.
strong arms wrapped themselves around your torso, pulling you against him until your back was flush against his chest, his chin laying on the top of your head. you let out a sigh, and despite yourself, your muscles loosened back into him, going pliant at the warmth radiating off of him.
“hey, i’m okay, yeah? i’m right here.” he laid a kiss at the junction between your shoulder and neck. a shiver ran through you. you turned in his hold, facing him. “you don’t get it. what about next time? or the time after that? this isn’t- it isn’t sustainable.”
he let out a scoff, hands tightening where they sat on your waist. “what, so i’m just supposed to let him go around saying that shit about you?”
“yes.”
he shook his head and let out a disbelieving laugh.
“mattheo. you have to learn how to solve problems without using your fists.”
“he was asking for it.”
“i don’t care!”
that stopped him short. you never raised your voice. “can’t you see that i don’t want this? this wasn’t ‘defending my honor’ or whatever you thought it was doing. this was taking one insignificant issue and turning it into five more.” he looked down at you, at the way your fists were curled desperately into his t-shirt, at the way your eyes were pleading up at him, and the fight immediately drained out of him.
“i worry about you, mattheo. please.” you didnt realize your eyes were welling up until mattheo was softening all over, his hands cupping your cheeks and wiping away the salty tears as they dropped.
“okay. okay. i’m sorry, puff. please stop crying. no more fights, okay? i promise.” you nodded, sniffling, and he pulled your head into his chest, stroking your hair and leaving kisses on any skin he could reach, all while wondering how on earth he got lucky enough to get a girlfriend that loves him so much she cries.
