#logan deserves round glasses too

[nadja-antipaxos]

CAN’T MAKE YOU HAPPIER NOW - ONE

Masterlist || Next - Two

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: sex (fingering, oral, PIV), swearing, Logan being casually racist

Note: I wanted to explore what it's like to be married to Kendall and have her be a Lady Macbeth type, savvy businesswoman. I didn't want to change wonderful Rava or take away her well-deserved peace, so Nisha fills that place. It also explains why Sophie is Indian!! Follows canon except for the obvious addition of this character and her family. Whenever something super Indian happens, I'll have a note to explain it.  Thank you for reading and please leave comments if you'd like. Graphic by me. Title from "Heat Waves" by Glass Animals.Chapter covers episodes 1x01-1x03

Word Count: 3,493

There’s a weight on her stomach as she squirms in bed. It feels too heavy to be Sophie or Iverson. No, she wants to go back to sleep. C’mon. It’s not even light out. She lets out a sigh. 

“Nish…” The deep rumble of her husband reaches her ears.

“No.” She rotates her hips.

“I didn’t even—”

“I don’t care.”

“I can’t sleep, Nish.”

“But I can.” She’s ready to hit him with that large diamond he put on her finger almost two decades ago. She huffs and looks down at him kneeling on the side of her bed as her eyes adjust to the darkness. He buries his face in the soft cotton of her sleep shirt and she rolls her eyes. 

“‘M sorry.”

“Then fuck off to your room and let me sleep.”

“I miss you.”

“Ken…”

Nisha reaches down to lift his head off her stomach, but her fingertips graze his cheek. The gesture is second nature by now. He leans into her touch all too eagerly. 

“See? You miss me.” He presses a kiss on her palm. 

She huffs again and snaps her fingers.  “Please, get up.”

He moves slowly and flips the switch for the lamp. Even though he claims he can’t sleep, he looks somewhat rested. The bags under his eyes are less prominent.  She’d feel bad making him sleep in one of their guest rooms if she didn’t own the property outright. Not that she should be thinking about that. He just kneels patiently as she looks back at him. He takes her small brown hands in his large white ones. Maybe it was a mistake letting him sleep here instead of the apartment.

“Please, forgive me.”

Nisha inhales a sharp breath. He makes it really difficult sometimes. She lets go of his hands and buries hers in her black hair.

“Get some rest before the ball, Cinderella.” She pulls her knees into her chest so they’re out of his reach. He gives her a look and she twists her mouth to the side trying not to smile. “Fine. Simba. That work better?”

“At least he’s a guy.” He gets to his feet and lets his eyes rake over her. “So, I can’t sleep here?”

“No, cause I don’t wanna wake up to a dick poking me in back, kay?” She arches a dark eyebrow.  “Try to sleep then listen to your ‘Oh My God! I’m So White!’ Playlist.”

“What playlist is that?” He doesn’t hide the smirk on his lips.

“Kenny from the block.” She shakes her shoulders. “The ascension hype man playlist.”

“Uh-huh. Right.” He nods. “You coming to Dad’s? For lunch?”

“Mhmm. I got the kids a half-day at school. I’ll pick them up and bring them over.” She stretches her short legs back out.

“You’re the most amazing woman in the world, you know that?” Kendall hangs by the doorway.

“M’kay, Roy Toy. Go to bed.” Nisha waves him off.

By the time Kendall arrives at his father’s apartment, Nisha is already there in a black and white color block sheath dress with her hair swept up in a bun and minimal light makeup lining her stunning dark eyes. He gives her a nod before his phone starts vibrating and he has to disappear. Logan makes the rounds of forced hellos. 

“Nisha, Sophie, Iverson.” Logan pays attention to his grandchildren first before looking at their mother. They give him their hugs before stepping back. It’s not the welcome they’re used to at their Nani’s. She never thought of her mother as warm until she met Logan Roy.

“Many Happy Returns, Logan.” She flashes him a smile and gives him a light hug. 

“Your family’s good?”

“Mhmm. Ramesh and Kapil have a meeting with Tim Cook today.”

“Created a nice bump in Shiva’s stock. King Cobra of Tech’s at it again.” 

Nisha gives him a closed-lipped smile. Her brother, Ramesh, embraced the racist nickname, but she still hates it.  She knows Logan agreed to the marriage because he wanted an in with her family’s company and not because Kendall wanted to marry his college sweetheart. 

“They send their love.”

Logan nods and moves on to other family members. She sees him catch Kendall. They must be talking about Vaulter. It doesn’t last long because Kendall embraces the kids only moments later. Sophie just lights up at the sight of him. He was gone this morning before she got up. Iverson seems more reserved as is his way, but still happy to see him. They go off with Grace’s daughter, Isla, and Kendall turns towards his wife. His eyes scan her petite frame recalling all the times at Harvard he’d just throw her over his shoulder. Carefree. Laughing. Impossibly in love. That feels so far away right now.

Affection is always minimal in public between his father being Scottish and her mother being Indian unless it is for the kids. He thinks she looks effortlessly beautiful and presses a kiss to her sculpted cheekbone. In her simple black heels, she reaches his shoulder. None of his family knows things are rocky between them. No need to add that to their arsenal. 

“I don’t remember this dress.” His hand trails to her slim waist. 

“Went neutral. Didn’t wanna clash with Marcia or Shiv.” She pulls his hand away but interlocks her fingers with his.  “How’d it go with Vaulter?”

“Almost done.” He attempts to smile. 

A probing question rests on her tongue. He doesn’t want to hear from her anymore. That only worked at school, her Waystar internship, and until recently—their marriage.

Logan calls for his children to meet in a separate room. Nisha furrows her brow.

“Trust stuff.” Kendall touches her shoulder. “Marcy.”

“Should I…” The sentence dies in her mouth before he can even shake his head.

“I already signed it.” He walks past her to join his siblings. 

Grace, some string bean of a cousin, and Frank all stand around awkwardly. 

“Do you need help with the table, Marcia?” Nisha crosses over to her. 

Marcia chuckles and responds in French. Nisha replies with a small smile and turns to see the white guests staring as if the two brown women are plotting their demise instead of discussing wine glasses.  Marcia and Nisha have never had any issues with one another. They both knew how rare it was for them to marry into this family. 

“How is Sophie’s dance class?”

“Good. I think she prefers Bharatanatyam to the ballet, but it’s good for her to do both.”

“They inform one another in a way.” 

“Are you talking about me?” Sophie chirps. Isla and Iverson trail behind her.

“Only good things.” Marcia nods.

There are raised voices in the sitting room and the three children look at Nisha whose face stays stoic. 

“Did you make a picture for grandpa?” Nisha leans over. 

“It’s my idea.” Iverson nods, proud. 

“I can’t wait to see it.” Nisha smiles. 

Kendall storms out of the sitting room and closes the doors to the dining room behind him. Again, bright, young eyes look to her for direction. Nisha playfully rolls her own and scrunches her nose.

“Business stuff is so boring.”

Sophie sticks out her tongue and Isla and  Iverson laugh. Nisha straightens his glasses. 

Logan’s booming voice calls for lunch and Nisha sees Kendall slink out of the room with his eyes practically glued to the floor. She guides Sophie and Iverson into the dining room. She waits until they’re engrossed in a conversation about snakes with their Uncle Connor before excusing herself from the table. She ignores the sinking feeling she’s come to expect when approaching Kendall in a bathroom. 3 years clean. 3 years clean. 3 years clean.

Her hand stops mid-air as the door opens. Kendall looks wrecked. They just stare at each other for a moment. She nods to the door and follows him inside the bathroom. Bathroom accents and toiletries are stuffed into the elegant, wicker wastebasket along with a hairdryer. She sees black scuffs on a white set of drawers. Kendall just looks at her with guilty eyes. 

“Still don’t know how to clean a bathroom, huh?”

He lets out a humorless laugh as she pulls the hairdryer out and tucks it back in one of the drawers. She squats down and picks up more broken pieces to throw out and he just watches her.  She stares up at him.

“Look, you know I feel about shells in a bathroom, but, uh, wanna tell me what happened?”

“It’s not me.”

“What?” She straightens up. 

“He’s staying on.”

“For how long? He’s 80.”

“I don’t know. He thinks I was weak with Vaulter. Signed the trust changes without a lawyer.”

“The what now?”

“Marcia gets two board seats when he dies.”

“Why the fuck—why?”

“Yeah.”

“What do I do, Nish?”

Her dark eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. Now her opinion matters? She wants to say this, but his face is broken enough already. Instead, she places both hands on his shoulders. Her dark brown eyes lock onto his hazel ones. 

“Get out. Start your own thing.”

“I can’t—”

“You can. You’re smart. You’re capable. You’re well known. You’re the one who wants to get Waystar into tech. Lemme talk to Ramesh.” 

“I��can’t abandon my fucking family on my dad’s birthday.” Kendall shrugs her off.

Tears burn in her eyes against her will. He notices and looks back at the floor.

“I-I—I’m never gonna win.” Her voice cracks.  

Kendall opens the door and slips out. She presses the heels of her palms into her eyes and sighs. She should be used to the whiplash, but it still hurts. She checks her makeup in the mirror before walking out. She flags down one of the staff and mentions the mess in the bathroom. Nisha takes a deep centering breath before taking her place next to Kendall at the table. She doesn’t even look at him. 

The sterile, familiar smell of the hospital reaches her nose as she gets off the elevator. Kendall’s arms hang on his knees and his head is bowed. If she didn’t know any better, Nisha would think he was praying. 

“Ken, get up. Hospital floors are so gross.” She chuckles, folding her coat over her arm.

Kendall looks up at the sound of her voice. Gone is the thousand dollar dress replaced with a black hoodie and yoga pants (that he’s actually seen her do yoga in), but still effortlessly beautiful. 

“Rome and Shiv keep calling for insider info.”

“Yeah?”

“My mom says he’s in the right hands. They know what they’re doing.”

“She’d know. Kids okay?”

“Yeah. Fast asleep.”

Kendall stays on the ground as he asks if she can bring by their kids tomorrow to see their grandpa. She agrees. Nisha extends her hand and helps him off the floor. Her dark eyes roll upward when he tells her about Shiv and Roman’s concerns about him taking over.

“Wow, well, your siblings don’t miss a beat.”

“Ram and Kap wouldn’t do that.”

“New money, I guess.” She shrugs and he smirks. 

“Oh, sure.”

He looks down and sees their hands are still woven together. She hasn’t let go.

“I’m sorry—for earlier—you’re trying to help—”

She tugs him towards her and wraps her arms around him. Her fingers trail through his black hair and he relaxes closing his eyes. He lets her hold him and maybe gets a little too comfortable as she feels a growing hardness on her stomach. She steps back. He stares at her, exasperated. 

“King Kendall makes an appearance.” She giggles and tries to cover her mouth.

“Shut up.” He hates that she still remembers that. He was 21 and wasted. So wasted he fell asleep on her extra long twin bed with his pants half off. Little Miss Pre Law barely drank that night and teased him mercilessly in the morning. He just thought she’d let it go after almost 20 years. 

“Well, calm down cause tugging you off in a hospital bathroom is not a fantasy of mine.” She’s still laughing. 

“Yeah, that’ll look fucking awesome to the board.” He takes her hand as he walks through the doors. “Thank you for being here.” 

“I appreciate the gratitude.” She snickers into his shoulder.

“Ken, why are we fucking talking about superheroes? Be a grown man and I don’t know talk to Gerri. Your counsel. Sophie, get off the counter! I gotta go.” The line clicks dead and Kendall’s left staring at his phone.  He really wanted a more concrete answer seeing as companies pay his wife thousands (sometimes millions, Richard Branson) for her expertise on this very thing. He sends her flowers anyway.

He doesn’t see her in person until the next morning at his father’s apartment with the kids and Luanne, one of the nannies. The animal print on her blouse makes him wonder if she’s psyching herself up for a big meeting later. She only wears it when she isn’t feeling powerful. Maybe she really was swamped yesterday. She normally doesn’t brush off business discussions. He doesn’t see her crane her neck trying to hear what he’s talking about to Marcia. The elevator dings and Nisha holds up a finger to Luanne who nods. She skips over and joins Kendall in the elevator. He doesn’t hide his surprise. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean to be a bitch yesterday.”

“No, it’s—it’s okay.”

“Thank you. For the orchids.”

Kendall tries his best not to smirk. 

“4 billion, Christ.”

“Yeah.”

“And Roman says you pissed off the bank?”

“He shouldn’t be telling you.”

“He was gloating. And lifeboats? Ken?”

“I didn’t mean Titanic.”

“But they don’t use lifeboats unless the ship is sinking.”

Kendall just shakes his head. He doesn’t like the plan he came up with Gerri and Roman last night. It’s not what his dad would do. He rests his head on the metal wall and looks over at her. 

“Think Ramesh would loan us 4 bill?”

She scrunches her nose. 

“You wouldn’t want to be in his debt.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Not a bad idea though.”

“Hm?”

“Paying your loan without the bank.”

“Right.”

The doors open and she hangs back as he steps out only to come back in. “You free tonight?”

“I can be.” Nisha chuckles.

“Seven? I’ll send a car.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows lift. 

“Yeah. Now, get moving, Cinderella.” Her mouth drops open playfully as she gently nudges him out of the elevator. The doors close and Kendall smiles to himself.

High on the success of telling off the bank and being praised for his venture with Stewy in the press, Kendall feels pretty invincible. Nisha must’ve come from work because the animal print blouse taunts him from across the table. He’s aching to touch her. He reaches out and rubs his thumb against the soft brown skin of her wrist. She doesn’t pull away. 

“You’re the man?” She leans in and lifts a dark eyebrow.  “The man who used to finger me like he was looking for a lost remote?”

Kendall smirks and just takes her in. She’s so stunning. Expressive dark eyes. Full lips. High cheekbones. Perfect brown skin. Her whole family is unfairly attractive, but she is something else. And she’s not even trying. She’s giving him shit for being a bad lover when they were young. She was the only girl he’d met that wouldn’t fake it just because his last name was Roy.  The girls he met before would make obscene and unrealistic moans thinking that would keep his interest. It never did.  Nisha let him know right away she wasn’t satisfied and she wasn’t leaving his bed until he fixed it. For this and a million other reasons…

“I love you.”

Nisha sucks in a sharp breath. She’s heard this before. 

“I was being a royal fucking idiot.”

“Colossal.”

“Please, forgive me, Nish. Please.”

The gears are turning in her head.  It’s been a tumultuous week for him and he’s been seeking out her advice. Maybe he does want her involved again. Nisha flashes him a smile and Kendall smiles right back. The rest of the dinner is perfect. She tucks her head under his chin and lets him play with her dark hair in the backseat. He doesn’t want to drop her back home. He wants to take her to the apartment. Their first apartment that they never got around to selling. 

“It’s you and me.”

She tilts her head up, “Yeah?”

Kendall nods before leaning in and pressing his mouth to hers in a soft kiss. He wants her to know how badly he’s missed her the past three months. Her touch. Her taste. That fucking jasmine perfume. All of her. His fingertips skim the hem of her black pencil skirt. Her tongue clucks in disapproval and it goes straight to his dick. 

“Fikret, just the one stop.”

Kendall raises his eyebrows at her. Nisha doesn’t even blink. 

“Texted Malaya when you were in the bathroom. She can do the overnight.”

The second they’re alone in the apartment, Kendall pounces. Her skirt is somewhere by the door. One heel in the kitchen. Another by the stairs. His hands are all over her body grasping, tugging, squeezing, pulling. He can’t get enough. One moment she thinks he’s going to fuck her on the kitchen counter then against the dining room wall. Now, they’re by the stairs.

“Ken! Where are you going—”

They crash into the wall and he’s tugging her legs open.

“Where are—”

His wet mouth kisses down her stomach before finding a spot between her thighs. She groans and arches her back when he slips off her underwear entirely. He buries his face in all too eagerly because he’s starving for her. She can’t catch her breath. He pushes a single finger in while his tongue licks on that bundle of nerves. 

“Looking…for…” He adds another finger and stretches her out. “…a remote…huh?”

Electric shocks echo through her when he curls his fingers and she doesn’t even remember the question. He keeps up the pace with his fingers and lets his thumb take the over for his mouth. He needs to watch her. Her eyebrows are knit together as her mouth hangs open. Yes.

“F-Fuck—”

“You wanna come?"

“Uhh—“

“Wanna come on my fingers, baby?”

No one else gets this. She falls apart for him.  Any second now.

Seizing all her strength, Nisha surges forward and settles on top of him. Kendall stares up at her, stunned. 

“Enough. Need you inside me.” She undoes his belt while he licks his fingers clean. He smirks at her.  She knows they’re not gonna make it upstairs, so she gets to her feet. Kendall hastily pulls down his pants, then briefs before scooping her up. The back of her head hits the chaise lounge and she shoots him a look.

“Sorry.” 

“Shut up. Just fuck me.” She grips him by the lapels of his jacket and their mouths meet again. He swallows her moans when he pushes inside her. She feels too good and it’s been too long. Her heels dig into his back urging him on.

“Who do you belong to?”

“Harder.” 

“Say it.” He slams back into her and watches her eyes roll back. He keeps hitting that spot over and over on purpose. It’s too much. She can’t think. Her small hands grip fistfuls of his jacket. Words. She needs to remember words. 

“Don’t—coerce me.”

“Nisha…” His thumb finds her again and moves with his hips.

“Yes! Fuck! I��m yours.” She gasps, feeling her body hit its peak. Pleasure rushes through her and all she can do is hold onto him.

“I’m close. Where—”

“Inside me…just please…” 

Their eyes meet and she nods repeatedly. Kendall groans with one last thrust and lets go. Fuck, she’s amazing. His face drops to her chest. Her heartbeat dances in his ears. He just listens marveling at the power he has over this woman. She rips billion-dollar corporations apart before lunch, but right now, she’s his.

In the morning, Nisha wakes with his hand on her heart. She rolls her eyes as a cheesy thought enters her head. She kisses the back of his hand before grabbing her phone. She should go back before the kids get up. He squeezes her shoulder.

“We’re back together, right?”

“No, this was a one-night stand. I don’t even know your name.”

Kendall presses his lips against her neck and lets his hand wander under his shirt she’s wearing. He looks at her innocently while his palm stretches out over her breast. His fingers rub small circles on her sensitive skin and she arches into his touch. She really should get going, but instead, she rolls on her side and he fucks into her from behind.

“I told you I was the man.” Kendall kisses her shoulder when they’re done. 

“Okay, I really gotta go.” Nisha rolls her eyes.

#succession #kendall roy #kendall roy x oc #kendall roy x ofc #happier now #fan fic

[tstwitterupdates]

TS tweet july 24, 2021 :

You know what, fanartists, you are absolutely right. Patton should have round glasses, and Logan should have square.

#*logan’s voice* finally coming to your senses i see #although as a person who is 90% logan 5% patton and who wears round glasses i must say #logan deserves round glasses too #thomas sanders #tstwitter #sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #july 2021

[the-west-meadow]

Getaway- Chapter 2

Greg Hirsch x Reader

Chapter 1

Greg sat on the edge of your bed as you packed.

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” he said, watching as you folded another sweater and placed it in your rolling bag.

“You’re already doing a lot,” you said. “I mean, you’re driving me to Canada.”

“As long as you’re still up for this.”

You nodded. “I think it’s a good idea. For both of us. Does your grandfather know to expect us?”

“I called him earlier. He’s up for anything that involves dissenting against Logan.”

You zipped up your bag, glancing around the room. “What else do I need?” you said to yourself.

“Snacks?”

You looked at Greg and smiled. “Yes. Lots of snacks.”

“We’ll stop somewhere on the way out of the city.”

You sank down beside him on the bed. The emotional exhaustion hit you all at once.

“Do you think we’ll want to come back here?” you said.

Greg shrugged slightly. “I really don’t know. But I think we could use the perspective. There’s more to life than work.”

You laughed. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

Greg glanced at your hands, which were resting on your thighs. His eyes quickly flickered up again.

“I know you work hard,” he said, “But you deserve a real life.”

“Thanks, Greg.”

Then, sighing, you rested your head lightly on his shoulder. Greg blushed at once, not knowing what to do. His heart leapt into his throat.

“That’s good,” he said awkwardly. “Get some rest first.”

But you didn’t remain there long. You stood up, casting a last look around the room. Greg rose quickly.

“Ready?” he said.

“I think so.”

“Then let’s hit the road.”

You drove north out of the city, through the industrial-looking outskirts where the land flattened out. Greg pulled over at the first gas station he saw. He turned to you.

"Snack time?"

"Snack time," you agreed.

The two of you split up, roaming the aisles with your hands stuffed into the pockets of your heavy coats. You scanned the shelves, picking up anything and everything that caught your eye. Candy, chips, frosted donuts from the glass display case. When you met back up with Greg, your arms were full. You dumped everything onto the counter. The clerk glanced up at the two of you with a questioning look.

“Twelve hour drive ahead,” Greg explained.

The clerk said nothing, and began to painstakingly scan every item.

“Cigarettes,” you said, pointing behind the counter. Greg tossed in a couple of neon colored lighters, and the pile was complete.

You headed back to the car, laden with plastic bags, breath showing in the cold air.

Once in the car, Greg looked at you with a grin.

“This is kind of exciting, huh?”

You smiled back at him, unable to contain it.

“I’m most excited about the snacks,” you said.

“Me too. The donuts especially. I bet they’re terrible. But a good kind of terrible, you know?”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

Greg pulled back onto the interstate, gliding into sparse traffic. The land grew less industrialized, more green and mountainous the further north you went.

“I’ve never met Ewan,” you said after a while.

“Oh, that’s right. I think you’ll get along. He’s a very smart guy. You’ll impress him.”

“I will?” you said with a smile.

“Well, you’re smart, too. A smart lady.”

He was blushing again. Trying to save him from his embarrassment, you reached for the snacks.

“What do you want first? Sweet or savory?”

“Oh, savory, please. Any kind of chip is fine with me.”

And you settled in for the ride, munching on chips and listening to whatever came on the radio. After a while you plugged in your phone, playing one of your favorite bands.

“I really like this,” Greg said seriously. “Who is it?”

You told him. He made a mental note.

“I just realized I don’t know any of your favorite music,” he said. “Or books, or anything.”

“There’s not much time to talk about it when we’re at work.”

“I know. It’s like we’re less than human there. I always forget that we’re both well-rounded people with outside interests.”

“Well, we have about ten hours to talk about our interests.”

Greg nodded in your direction. “Please— you first.”

The winter sun began to sink. Somewhere ahead in the shadowy evening was the Canadian border. You had begun to doze, but Greg gently shook your shoulder as you neared the crossing station.

“Hey, we’re almost there. You asked me to wake you at the border.”

You sat up, rubbing your eyes. “Thanks.”

Tall pine trees passed on either side of the road. It had been a long time since you were immersed in nature, away from the city. Sometimes you forgot there was an entire world out there.

You leaned over Greg to show your passport at the crossing station.

"American citizens here," Greg said.

"Reason for entry?"

"Mental health reasons, mostly."

You snorted from the passenger seat. The crossing guard looked at the two of you curiously, but returned your documents and let you pass.

“We made it!” Greg said, holding his hand up for a high five. You slapped his hand and he held it briefly, giving it an excited squeeze. His hand was big and warm against yours. When he pulled away, your eyes followed his hands to the wheel, where they continued to calmly steer.

“You good to drive the rest of the way?” you asked, pulling your gaze away.

“I’m great. Really got my second wind with those donuts.”

“I have to admit, I’m a little nervous about meeting Ewan.”

Greg glanced at you in concern. “If you’re expecting another Logan, you don’t have to worry about that. Ewan is firm in his beliefs, but he isn’t cruel. I know that much.”

You nodded, somewhat relieved. “I guess you take after him.”

“I don’t know,” Greg said. “I’m still finding out just who I am, I think.”

“You’re doing a good job so far.”

He looked at you again and smiled. “Thanks for saying that. Sometimes I’m not so sure.”

He turned onto a dark road, slowing the car. Through gaps in the trees, you could see rolling mountains all around.

“He’s pretty isolated out here,” Greg said, craning his head to look for the driveway to Ewan’s house. Finally it came into view, and your jaw dropped. Ewan’s estate was nestled on the side of a mountain, overlooking the valley. As Greg pulled to a stop, you gawked at the house.

“It’s nice, huh?” he said.

The silence stretched all around as you stepped out of the car. You took deep breaths of the cool mountain air and gazed at the house, warm lights glowing in the tall windows.

“I’m never going to want to leave,” you said.

Greg stepped to your side, hands in his pockets as he took in the view.

“We can stay as long as you want,” he said. “Let’s go meet my gramps.”

Greg started ahead of you towards the house. You found yourself smiling at his familiar form before you followed him to the sprawling estate.

#greg hirsch x reader #greg hirsch/reader #succession fic #succession fanfic

[fruitcoops]

Can you write a thing about the first time remus looks into the stands during a game, and he realizes that people are holding up a sign for him, or wearing his jersey? i just need him to be so loved by the lions fans

Yes, yes, YES. He deserves all the fans, every single one. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Annie is mine!

Remus still couldn’t believe it. He had already played three games with the team—as a player, a real-life, on-the-ice, paid-to-skate player—but it still felt like a dream every time he stepped into the rink. His parents had flown back home the previous day after a million and a half promises not to get hurt and to wear his mouthguard, and while Remus was used to them being gone, it felt different playing without them in the stands.

He fist-bumped Sirius on the way out of the locker room and knocked the fronts of their helmets together; his ‘captain mode’ had already taken over, but Remus still saw a smile as he passed. “Let’s go!” James whooped as the roar of the fans ahead deafened them.

Remus grinned, wild and broad, as his pulse picked up and adrenaline burned hot in his throat. Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go. The ice was smooth beneath his skates, made perfect just for them—he did one loop around the goal, two, and a third before snagging a puck and lining up across from James for a quick passing game. The rhythm soothed him; his wrists relaxed. Let’s go.

Talker whacked the backs of his legs as he passed and Remus checked him lightly, earning himself a bark of laughter. “Watch it, Loops!”

“Square up, Talkie!”

“Careful, you’ve gotta set a good example for your admirers,” he teased.

Remus paused, bewildered. “What?”

Talker tilted his chin toward the row of seats to the right and Remus turned, only to stop cold as red and gold filled his vision. There were jerseys for James, Sirius, Kasey, Finn, Kuny—

And him.

Dead center in a group of kids was a young girl with two missing front teeth, jumping up and down in excitement. The bright 6 on her jersey shone like new and she waved to him with both hands. To him, as if he was some sort of hero.

Her eyes widened when she saw him watching, and though her shriek was lost in the noise of the crowd, her joy reverberated through the plexiglass. He was moving before his brain caught up to his skates; in his gloves, his hands had begun to shake. “Hi!” he called, crouching down to her level with a tentative wave.

She whipped around and grabbed a woman—her mother, perhaps—by the hand, pulling with all the strength in her body.

“Hi,” Remus said again. He was too stunned to think of anything witty.

She beamed at him and pressed both palms to the glass, speaking too fast for him to hear. He glanced up to the woman next to her. You’re her favorite, she mouthed.

“Me?” He looked back to the little girl and pointed to himself, and she nodded frantically. “I like your jersey!”

She bounced on her toes and held the front of it out for him to see; he grabbed a stray puck off the ice, nearly fumbling it in his hurry.

“One second!” He held up one finger to make sure she understood before skating as fast as he could to the bench and snagging a silver pen from the collection, yanking his glove off with his teeth and signing his name. He didn’t have an official signature or anything—sloppy cursive would have to do. He tossed the pen toward his seat, not sparing any of his racing thoughts to wonder whether it landed.

The girl lit up when he returned, and her dark eyes grew huge when she saw the puck.

“For you!” he said as loud as he could, pointing to her. He gave her a clear count of three before tossing it over the boards; she caught it, almost dropped it, then hugged it close to her chest. Her whole face folded and tears began pouring down her cheeks. Remus’ heart plummeted.

His horror must have shown on his face, because the kid’s mother waved to get his attention and shook her head with a smile. She’s happy, she said. At least, Remus hoped he was reading her lips right. The little girl stepped back to the glass and shouted ‘thank you’ loud enough that he heard her through the glass.

“You’re welcome!” Remus yelled back, giving her a thumbs-up. He gestured toward the tunnel. “Come over after the game, okay?”

The kid looked to her mother, who smiled, then turned back to Remus and nodded enthusiastically. He high-fived her through the glass and headed back to the team, still grinning like an idiot.

“Head in the game, Loops!” Logan laughed.

“She’s got my jersey,” he said, running through his drills on muscle memory, lighter than air. “Tremzy, she had my jersey.”

“Who?”

He pointed to the gang of children; his fan was still near the front, clutching her puck. “Aw, Loops,” Logan cooed. “You’ve got a secret admirer.”

“She’s got my jersey,” he repeated.

Logan’s smile turned soft and he nudged him. “You’re part of the team, remember? Always have been, always will be.”

“Part of the team,” Remus muttered absentmindedly.

“Now come on, Lightning McQueen, we need you!” Logan smacked him on the helmet and took off, cackling. Remus rolled his eyes, though he didn’t lose the floaty feeling for the rest of warmups.

-------------------------------------

They won the game. Remus broke the land-speed record showering and all but sprinted to the mouth of the tunnel, sending a silent prayer up that the kid’s mom knew where to go. Come on, come on—

There.

She was still bouncing on her toes, though it looked more like she was searching for someone. The mother saw him first, and gently turned her around; Remus tried to stay calm and collected when she gasped loud enough that he heard it ten feet away.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, crouching down to her level.

“Hi,” she squeaked.

“What’s your name?”

“This is Annie,” her mother informed him after a moment of silence.

“Nice to meet you, Annie. Nice jersey.” Her round cheeks flushed bright pink. “Did you know you’re the very first person I’ve seen wearing my number?”

She finally blinked. “Really?”

“Yep. It made my day.”

“You’re my favorite,” she blurted.

“Thanks,” he laughed. “Not a lot of people cheer for the rookies, so that means a lot.”

“You’re the fastest one on the team, and—and my mama says you’re really smart ‘cause you were on the bench an’ I know people were mean about you on the team but I don’t think that’s fair because you and Pots and Cap are the best line ever and yeah.” The flood of words left her a little breathless. “Yeah. Oh, and six is my lucky number.”

“Mine, too. Do you play hockey?”

“I want to. I think I’m too short.”

Remus felt his heart twist a little. “Annie, I was the shortest, scrawniest kid on my team until I was seventeen. You can do whatever you want to do. Don’t let anyone tell you different, okay?”

She stared at him for a long moment, then launched herself forward and threw her arms around his neck. “Annalise!” her mother gasped.

“It’s okay,” Remus assured her, holding down a laugh as he balanced himself to gently return her hug. “My little brother does this all the time.”

“You’ve gotta win the Cup this year,” Annie said—demanded, really—as she stepped back.

“I’ll do my best,” he promised. A mob of reporters hurried down the hallway toward the locker room, and he caught several staring at them as they passed. “Alright, I think that’s my cue to go.”

“What do you say?” Annie’s mother prompted quietly.

Annie smiled at him, brighter than sunshine. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for coming to the game, and drive safe.”

“We will.”

People liked him. They liked him, he was someone’s favorite. It was an astounding thought, and he only paid half-attention to the few interview questions that went his way. Some of the hashtags he had seen were awful—many people were calling favoritism, and the number of rude DMs seemed to increase every day—but the look of pure happiness on Annie’s face when he passed her a simple puck made them insignificant.

Who cared what assholes thought when he could make someone smile like that?

“What’s on your mind?” Sirius asked as they headed home, exhausted.

Remus shook his head, unable to keep his grin off his face. “She had my jersey.”

#remus lupin #sirius black #logan tremblay #thomas walker #james potter #my fic #fanfic #lumosinlove #sweater weather #oc #coops

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Realignment

Prompt: I love when Remus is a lot smarter than he lets on, so I’d love a prompt where Logan is overworking himself and not taking care of himself and one tic of the clock away from either passing out or having a full on mental breakdown (not the type you can recover from in a day). Remus notices the little signs Logan shows, and hears the intrusive thoughts Logan has. Remus really becomes concerned when Logan’s intrusive thoughts start to involve taking breaks, going to eat properly rather than inhaling granola bars, and even sleeping. Remus storms in and is like “Logan tf????” Then gets hella soft once he realizes the state Logan is in

Thank you for the prompts, babe! I liked this one the best so I picked it. 

GUYS PLEASE VIEW THIS AS A C H E C K P O I N T if you've been scrolling for a while (and you probably have) pause here! drink water! get food! walk around the room for a little bit! stretch! do something please! you are very important to me and I care about you very deeply!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: discussions of self-harm, nothing explicit, some self-destructive tendencies and behaviors. 

Pairings: focus on intrulogical, background LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic i don’t care

Word Count: 2410

Realignment: to align again.

Realignment: to reorganize or make new groupings of.

* * *

Remus hears a lot of weird shit.

The problem arises when the shit he starts to hear isn't weird at all.

Remus hears a lot of weird shit.

 The more appropriate definition would be ‘fucked up like you wouldn’t fucking believe,’ but one of us has a problem with particularly strong language and shit doesn’t have to be censored in a lot of media anymore. Which is so convenient! For some of us!

 It’s fucking great.

Anyway. Point being. Fucked up shit.

 Intrusive thoughts literally fall under his purview. It’s the fun stuff! The stuff you don’t wanna think about that makes your skin crawl and your eyes pop open at the witching hour and stay awake until the sun rises. That’s Remus’s job.

 And it’s like the whole Mindscape is whack-a-mole that he gets to play with! Buttons here and there, squeeze this part and watch the eyes bug out of this part, bap this one on the head, see which one pokes up next. Who’s gonna have nightmares tonight? Who is having a nightmare tonight?

 It’s fun.

 Point. Right. Right.

 It’s normally pretty easy to tell whose intrusive thoughts are whose. They taste different. Patton’s taste like sugar so sweet it’ll fill your mouth with cavities. Virgil’s taste like spiders, crawling around his mouth. Janus’s taste like salt. So much fucking salt. Dry as hell.

 Roman’s taste like blood. Problem is, Remus’s mouth normally tastes like blood, so…

 Yeah, they gotta work that out.

 Logan’s taste like ink. Which is why it took him so long to figure out that Logan was having them. Not just because the nerdy wolverine was so convinced he couldn’t have them—rationalizing them as philosophy principles, come on—but because Remus isn’t exactly an expert on pens. Writing like normal people. Ugh.

 Normal people.

 What a lie, Janny probably gets a big kick out of those.

 No one is normal and normal is boring.

 Logan. Right.

 Okay, so here’s the thing.

 Logan’s thoughts aren’t really…standard? They are to some extent, you don’t really get a whole lot of variety from him—even when Remus has been so helpful in making his room safe for him to be in during bad days, there’s such a lack of imagination there that he wasn’t sure exactly how to feel—but it’s the recent ones that’ve been getting…weird.

 Remus chews thoughtfully on the kraken tentacle. He swings up to the chandelier and hangs by his ankles, letting the blood run to his head. Makes it easier to think sometimes.

 It hasn’t been very long since they found out…well, since they found out.

 Remus frowns. Why is he censoring himself? It’s not like he can’t fucking say self-harm, it’s not like he can’t describe what it was, it’s not like he can’t close his eyes and see it happening again.

 Then his mind jumps helpfully to the shocked, panicked look on Logan’s face and the soft, furious resignation on Roman’s, and his jaw snaps shut.

 Oh.

 Right.

 He cares. So he has to be gentle with them.

 He growls, swinging himself up to perch on the chandelier proper. He turns the kraken tentacle over and chews on the rubbery side.

 The others are delicate. Not that they’re more breakable than any other metaphysical humanoid, but their minds are fragile when it comes to Remus’s side of things. Could they handle the full spectrum of his side of thoughts and shit? Probably, they’re stronger than they give themselves credit for. Should they have to? Hell to the fuck no. But it means that Remus can’t just throw them in the deep end and see if the kraken spits them out whole or in chunks. Could they survive? Absolutely. Would they still be…them? Doubtful.

 Remus lets one of his legs go, hanging by one knee as he tips over.

 Plus they’re always a little more fragile when it comes to these thoughts anyway. Poking and prodding too much would hurt. Like, the bad kind of hurt.

 They’re not supposed to get hurt. Not like that.

 So. Gentle it is then.

 Right. The others. He has a point, he’s just gotta get there.

 Roman…fuck he’s missed his brother. They got—they got so much shit to still work out but they’re gonna do it together and fuck he loves his brother so goddamn much. Roman knows that, he knows that, and he’s always there to pull Remus out of his head when he needs it, hit him with a pillow, or tackle him onto something and hold him tight. He’s—his thoughts taste like blood and Remus hasn’t bitten anything since so that he’ll never miss it again.

 But with Logan...

 Logan is…odd. It hasn’t been long since they first found out—or rather, they confronted him about it, and Remus hasn’t tasted ink without it disappearing very quickly or knocking on someone’s door to please go get your fucking nerd, please. But the ink has only written the usual suspects, whispering the theorems in dark corners, muttering about the incompleteness of a set, the need for Logic, not Logan, and how to jump through the little loophole again.

 It’s not exactly hard for the others to tell.

 Lolo hasn’t been looking great. Sure, he’s all pressed and dressed, glasses perfectly in place, tie done up just so, walking around like everything’s just totally and completely fine, but it’s in his face. Object impermanence aside, normally when Remus bugs him, he reacts in some way.

 Sass is an emotional response and you won’t convince him otherwise.

 Whether it be a wry comment, effortlessly fixing whatever Remus has done to him this time, or even just a look, Lolo does something.

 Not anymore.

 Now he’ll just kind of…sigh and move on? He’ll fix whatever it is only if it’s directly interfering with what he’s trying to do, or when Patton or Virgil come round the corner and freak the fuck out because you’re bleeding! Then he’ll fix it.

 Remus wouldn’t say he’s bored, but he’s worried.

 Mainly because the intrusive thoughts…aren’t what he’d consider intrusive anymore.

 Take a shower.

 Eat something that isn’t just a granola bar.

 Go to sleep.

 Ask someone for help.

 See?

 If those are Lolo’s intrusive thoughts, then what the fuck is normally going on in his head?

 Remus waits. Waits. Keeps waiting.

 The instant his mouth tastes like ink again, with a question of whether or not Logan should take a break, he sinks straight into his shower. He washes his hair thoroughly, gets every single bit of grime off him he can, and puts on the softest pajamas he has—thank you, Roman—and drops himself outside of Logan’s door.

 He strains, mouth still full of ink, to hear anything other than the soft click, click, click of Logan’s keyboard.

 He can’t.

 Fuck.

 He knocks.

 “One moment, please.”

 Indeed, a few seconds later, the door opens to reveal Logan, looking as annoyingly pristine as he always does, surprised to see him.

 “Remus? Did you need something? Why…” he trails off as he takes in what Remus is wearing. “What’s wrong?”

 “Can I come in?”

 “Of—of course,” Logan stammers, moving aside to let him in, “are you alright?”

 “Should be asking you that, Lolo.”

 “Remus, you’ve just knocked, first of all, on my door and asked to come inside.” Logan adjusts his glasses as he sits at his desk. “This is extremely out of character for you.”

 “Uh-huh.” Remus flops onto the bed. “You know what else is out of character?”

 “Not wearing your costume?”

 “Not hearing intrusive thoughts.”

 Logan’s eyes widen. “Has—is there something wrong? Are you not hearing any? Do I need to get Roman?”

 Remus frowns. “Why’s it so easy for you to do that?”

 “Do what?”

 “Care. Try and take care of me.”

 Logan blinks. “Because you deserve to be taken care of, Remus. Your needs are important.”

 Remus idly toys with a loose thread on one sleeve. “Why?”

 “Why? Why are you important?” Remus nods. “Because you’re—you’re an important part of Thomas, you’re important to us, and we care about you.”

 “So it’s easy for you to care for me because…you do?”

 “As simple as that sounds,” Logan says with all the softness that should be directed at himself, “yes.”

 Remus nods. “I’m not having problems with hearing intrusive thoughts.”

 “You’re—you’re not?” Logan sighs, relaxing a little back into his chair. “Then why did you say you were?”

 “Because the thoughts that I am hearing aren’t really what I’d consider intrusive.”

 Logan frowns. “Like what?”

 Glad you fucking asked.

 “‘Take a shower,’” Remus says, his eyes fixed firmly on Logan’s face, “'eat something,’ ‘take a break,’ ‘go to sleep.’”

 He watches Logan’s face tense.

 “Sound familiar, Lolo?”

 “You—I—my apologies,” Logan manages after a moment, adjusting his tie, “I did not mean to be an inconvenience. You are correct, those are not intrusive thoughts, I’m not sure why you’re hearing them.”

 He turns to his desk and begins to fish around for a notebook.

 “That is quite intriguing, I wonder what the possibilities for hearing other types of thoughts are, considering—“

 “Lolo.”

 Logan pauses, turning back. “Yes?”

 Remus fixes him with a look, getting up and walking toward him. “They are intrusive thoughts, Logan. The issue is that your intrusive thoughts are about you taking care of yourself.”

 Logan freezes.

 “W-well, I’m sure that it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

 “So either you can admit that was a lie or Janny’s about to get summoned.”

 “Remus,” Logan sighs, “it’s fine. As you said, these aren’t what are traditionally considered intrusive thoughts, it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

 “No, Lolo, it is,” Remus argues, “because it means that the thought of you taking care of yourself is so foreign, so fucking out of the ordinary that not only does it happen to cross your mind—“ he takes Logan’s chair and spins it around— “but you try to force it out.”

 Gotcha.

 Logan looks anywhere other than Remus’s face and tries to stand. Only to wobble and crash back down.

 “Easy,” Remus says quietly, resting a hand on his shoulder, “you haven’t eaten in a while.”

 “But I have work.”

 “But you need food.”

 “Remus—“

 “Logan.”

 At Logan’s honest-to-fuck pout, he sighs, dragging the poor nerd up and out the chair and sitting him on the bed.

 “Why do you think you don’t deserve to be taken care of?”

 “I didn’t say that—hey!” Logan blinks up at him, scandalized and covering his stomach. “Why did you poke me?”

 “’S what I do when Janny won’t tell me the truth.”

 “I wasn’t—okay, okay!” Logan covers his stomach protectively as Remus readies another poke. “I just…I’ve already asked for help for this before. I shouldn’t have to again.”

 Remus sighs and lightly flicks the side of his head.

 “Hey!”

 “Virgil tries that too.” He stares hard at Logan. “Come on, Lolo, you can do better.”

 “It’s not your jobs to take care of me.”

 For fuck’s sake…

 Remus reaches out and tugs gently on Logan’s tie.

 “Remus, what—“

 “You taking more books outta Patton’s library now?” Remus tilts his head. “You don’t have to beat around the bush, Lolo, just be honest.”

 “I am being honest!”

 “You’re not lying, but you’re not being honest.” At the poor nerd’s confusion, he sighs and fixes his glasses on that cute nose. “Just talk to me, Lolo.”

 “I—“ Logan sighs and oh fuck why does he look so tired?

 Well, because he hasn’t been sleeping.

 Or eating.

 Or taking care of himself.

 Unbidden, part of his conversation with Roman flashes into his head.

 “Self-harm can be self-denial too.”

 “Lolo?”

 “It’s bad enough that I’ve made you all worry about me,” Logan says finally, “I would hate to be a burden.”

 Oh, Lolo. “You and Roman, huh?”

 Logan looks up warily. “What do you do with Roman?”

 “You know what I do.”

 Logan sighs. “May at least take my glasses off first?”

 “You might wanna change too, I’m not letting you up for a while.”

 Logan stretches to place his glasses on the nightstand and poofs himself into a t-shirt and boxers. He sighs and opens his arms.

 Remus takes two running steps and tackles the poor nerd onto his bed.

 “Ah!”

 “Am I hurting you?”

 “No, no, just—just a little startled.”

 “Mm.” Remus snuggles closer into Logan, his arms wrapped tightly around him. “So. Wanna try one more time?”

 Logan sighs, deflating them both to the bed. His head lolls to his left, eyes on his open computer screen. Remus follows it, barely suppressing a growl as he stretches his arm out to save whatever’s on screen and shut it.

 “I know what I’m supposed to be doing,” Logan whispers, “I understand the process, I am aware that healing is not a linear concept, I know it’s going to take time, I—I understand.”

 Remus looks down, giving him an encouraging squeeze. “But?”

 “It’s hard,” comes the soft confession.

 Oh, Lolo.

 “I know,” he murmurs, leaning down to hug him properly, “I know, Lolo, I know it’s hard. But you can’t try and do it all yourself, you’ve gotta remember that we’re here for you, we care about you.”

 “But why?”

 Remus smiles and cuddles him tighter. “You said it yourself, Lolo. We care because we do.”

 “O-oh.” He feels Logan’s throat work as he swallows. “Thank you, Remus.”

 “Of course, Lolo. I’m guessing that sinking us to the living room so everyone else can spoil you is a bad idea, right?”

 “Yes.” Finally, finally, he feels Logan shyly tighten his grip on him. “Can we just…stay like this?”

 “Do I have your permission to hold you hostage until you fall asleep?”

 “Yes.”

 “Then go to sleep, Lolo,” Remus murmurs, “I’m not going anywhere.”

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#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #logan sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #roman sanders #logan angst #virgil sanders #patton sanders #self harm #tw self harm #tw: self harm

[awanderingdeal]

I vote leo meeting the harvard team! 💕

So this fic has been a bit of a mare to write, but we are here!

You can read the first part of this here

Rating: T

CW: Alcohol, academic superiority complex and coming out.

Logan, Finn, Leo, Percy, Will and the general Sweater Weather universe belongs to @lumosinlove. The other team members were made up by me for this fic.

“Okay, tell me their names again,” Leo said, tugging at the rolled neck of his sweater as he shut the car door.

“Nutty,” Finn laughed. “There’s not going to be a pop quiz. We’ll introduce you when we meet people.”

Leo scowled, letting Logan thread their fingers together. It was weird being able to do this in public still and Leo couldn’t help but glance around. “I just don’t want to make a fool of myself.” Logan squeezed his hand reassuringly, meeting Leo’s gaze with a soft smile.

“Nobody expects you to know anything. And everybody’s great.” Logan wrinkled his nose like he’d just smelt something bad. “Except Wesley, he’s an ass, but I’ll point him out.”

Like many of the others in Harvard square, the building was all exposed brick and white accents, blending in seamlessly with those around it. Inside was different, more modern. Leo didn’t get to see much of the first floor, the one dedicated to the restaurant Finn, Logan and the rest of the team had dined at previous evening, before he was ushered up a grand staircase, but he’d seen the photographs. The cherry blossom ceilings and walls of glass provided the perfect backdrop for the instagram feeds of the hoards of celebrities and influencers that flocked there. Hence his surprise when, after checking their invitations again, an employee pushed open a set of double doors to reveal a room that more resembled a 1920’s speakeasy than anything 21st century. A loud cheer went up as they crossed the threshold.

“Is this a team thing?” Leo mouthed at Logan.

He got his answer from Percy Marshall. Leo had met him a few times before when they’d played the Rangers. “You’re the last to arrive,” Percy chuckled. “I’d say I was surprised, but that would be a lie.” He slapped a hand playfully against Finn’s bicep. Is this outfit change number 52, Finn? Don’t worry, you didn’t disappoint. You look wonderful.”

“Fuck you, Marshy,” Finn laughed. “Tremz was on a call to his sisters actually.”

“Oh, I do apologise,” Percy clasped his hand to his chest. “We wouldn’t dare break up a Tremblay soiree.”

“You’re an ass,” Logan scoffed, plucking at Finn’s slacks. “I was only talking to them because Finn was taking so long. Did you know there are several shades of mustard and only one of them goes with this shirt?”

“Oh look, they argue like an old married couple too,” William Morgan, another of those Leo knew, and Percy’s teammate on the Rangers, teased. “Marshy, these hands are looking too empty. Get these men a drink.”

“Aye, aye, capt’n.” Leo set to follow as Percy led the way to the bar, stumbling slightly as he found Will’s firm grasp on his shoulder stopping his movement. Logan turned as his fingers slipped from his hand.

“Go ahead, Tremzy. I’m going to introduce Leo to some of the team. We want all the gossip without you two around to censor him.”

Logan frowned. “I’m not sure -”

“Relax, Logan. This isn’t a hazing. We’ll be right over there,” Will pointed towards a group perched on stools around two of the tables in the centre of the room, a mix of the old team and what Leo assumed were their partners. “Knut’s a big boy. He can object for himself if he really doesn’t want to come.”

“I’m sure I can hold my own,” Leo cocked his head slightly and smiled. “You better not leave Harzy with Percy for too long. They’ll be three shots down by now.”

The next few hours passed in a whirlwind of introductions. Leo had lost count of the number of hands he'd shaken and the new names he'd learned. It reminded him of those first few days in Gryffindor, being shuffled around from place to place and everybody telling him he'd get used to it.

The quiet of the bathroom was a welcome reprieve to the chaos. “Sweetheart,” Leo laughed, listening to Finn sing to himself in the stall. “Are you okay? You’ve been in there a while.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” A concerningly loud crash preceded the door being pushed open. “I’m here.”

“You’re drunk,” Leo chuckled.

Finn pulled his hands from under the stream of water, shaking droplets everywhere as he squeezed the tips of his thumb and forefinger together. “Maybe just the tiniest bit.”

Leo shook his head fondly. “Let’s go and find Lo.” Glancing back to check Finn was following him proved to be a mistake. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he apologised, rubbing at his forehead and stepping back from the wall of muscle he’d just crashed into. Of course, the tall man with his hair pulled back into a loose ponytail was the one person Leo hadn’t yet met.

“Leo, this is James. Call him Hunter,” Finn grinned with his hand resting in the small of Leo’s back. "Hunter, this is -"

"Leo Knut. I know. Everybody knows," Hunter said and Leo noted the familiar notes of his own accent in the words. He faltered with his hand thrust halfway in Leo's direction, letting it fall back by his side. "Oh fuck, sorry man. Did you want to introduce him as your boyfriend? Go ahead."

"It's cool, no worries." Finn shrugged, the rounds of his cheeks tinged with the slightest of blushes. "Aww, what the heck!" He squared his shoulders, standing a little taller, the corners of his mouth splitting with pride. "Hunter, this is Leo, my boyfriend."

Hunter extended his hand again for Leo to shake. “Nice to meet you. Please excuse me, I have to use the bathroom now, but we’ll talk later.”

***

"Boys." The call had come from behind them and Logan groaned low in his chest as they turned to acknowledge it.

"Wes! You made it," Finn smiled, the corners of his mouth tight. "We weren't sure you'd be able to. With all those big meetings you have to attend and such. Is your wife, Renee, wasn’t it, here? I'd love to meet her."

Something flickered in Wes' smug expression. "They stayed in California. Nate has a very busy schedule. Harvard is very important to me, as you know, so I came alone."

“Isn’t Nate three?” Logan blinked.

“You have to give them a good start if you want them to get them to get into a good college these days, I’m sure you understand. Where was it you went, Leo?"

Leo pursed his lips, letting the same calm wash over him that he channelled for interviews. “I didn’t go. I got drafted straight out of high school.”

“Oh, well, that’s a shame,” Wes said. “College isn’t for everybody though, is it?”

Logan bristled beside him, and Leo placed a placating hand on his shoulder. “Indeed,” he blinked. “I didn’t need my intelligence validated by a degree then, and I still don’t now. And I was hardly about to turn down an offer from The Gryffindor Lions now, was I?”

Wes grumbled something that sounded vaguely like an agreement before turning on his heel and walking off in a manner that Leo could only describe as petulant.

“You’re so hot,” Finn took Leo’s face between his hands and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you want another?”

“Please,” Leo nodded. Logan raised his still mostly full glass as a rejection of the offer.

“You should have let me punch him,” Logan huffed. “He would have deserved it.”

"And get blood on your shirt? Let’s leave that on the ice, shall we?” Leo tugged at the lapels of Logan’s jacket.

***

"So," Logan started as they claimed one of the low tables in the corner, a little tucked away from the rest of the room. "What do you think?"

"It's always nice seeing where you two started," Leo hummed, threading his fingers through the thin curls on the nape of Logan's neck. "I just don't know how you used to do this everyday. Live amongst all this energy. The guys all seem great, but it's a lot even now and I'm assuming you've all mellowed somewhat with age."

"I am not old," Logan scoffed. "Mais non, I agree. Wasn't always like this though. There's more than one graduating class here and we've been apart a long time. A lot of excitement."

"Sorry, sorry, I got caught up with Biscuit. He has triplets now, isn't that crazy?" Finn said, pressing a glass into Logan’s hand and setting Leo’s in front of him before flopping onto the couch opposite. "One Margarita for the fine sir."

"Thanks, Harzy," Leo laughed lightly.

"I can't believe him and Vanessa are still together," Logan hummed, taking a long sip of his drink. He leaned back, crossing his left leg over his right thigh and snaked his arm across the dark leather, brushing his fingers against Leo's shoulder. "I only introduced them because she was flirting with you at that party, the one just after we got back from winter break my junior year, and I wanted to distract her."

"Oh, so that's why you got all moody," Finn said. "She wasn't flirting, she needed help with an essay, idiot."

"The fact you remember Logan's mood on a night seven years ago says more about you than him," Leo snorted.

"First of all, Tremzy being grumpy? That's just a good guess. Second, some of us were still stupid at 20, Knutty." Finn sighed wistfully. "Hey, at least it doesn't feel like I'm being stabbed in the chest these days when I think about it. Progress, right?"

Logan tipped his glass in Finn's direction, nodding his head briefly. "I'll cheers to that."

"To -" Leo started, letting the toast die off as another of Finn and Logan's old team mates approached. He hoped the disappointment he felt wasn't written across his face; whilst he hadn't really expected to be left alone for too long, he had hoped for the brief respite to have lasted longer.

"Hey." The newcomer had his hand shoved into his pockets and his shoulders stooped, almost as if he was trying to hide himself. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Ken!" Finn patted the empty seat next to him. "Of course not. Come, sit."

Leo extended his arm, offering his hand. "Nice to meet you. Ken was it? I'm Leo."

"Ken's what the team always called me. Don't really hear it much these days." Leo thought he saw something sad in the smile sent his way. "My real name is Obi."

"That's because you went off the radar," Logan gave a pointed look.

"About that -" Obi swiped Finn's drink, ignoring his disgruntled protest. He drained what was left of it, pulling at an non-existent loose thread on his sweater. "I wanted to say thank you, you know. For having the guts to come out. I know Black and Lupin were first, but that was forced wasn’t it. You made a choice. I know that must have been hard. It was one hell of a ballsy move."

Leo looked between Finn and Logan, expecting them to answer, but neither of them spoke. "We didn't have much of a choice, not if we didn't want to be watching our back every second of every day."

"It was still brave," Obi muttered. "I couldn't have done it."

"Ken, what are you saying?" Logan never did have much patience for others taking their time to get to the point, even though he was a fan of the scenic route himself.

"They gave you a whole Harvard degree and you need to ask that question?" Obi huffed a laugh. "I'm gay. I met Marco, my now husband at the end of senior year, and freaked out. I didn't know how to make these two worlds work, so I didn't. I moved to DC with him, and started a new life. I'm an accountant, he works in marketing. We have four rats, and a Vizsla called Poppy. It's all very domestic. I love it, but I was a coward.”

"You're not a coward. You don't owe that information to anybody, Ken. Not the others, not the media, not the NHL and not us. Not now, not then, not ever.” Finn took a breath, holding up his finger to signal he wasn’t finished. “Besides, it's not as if Lo and I planned this. We went into this with every intention of stuffing this deep, deep into the depths of denial, never for anybody to find out. Including ourselves. And then Nutty came along.”

Obi smiled at Leo, turning his attention back to Finn. "When did you become Gay Yoda?"

"I spend way too much time in our psych's office. Just spreading the wisdom. Heather would be proud."

"Do the others know?" Logan asked.

"Not yet, I think I'd like them to though."

Logan shifted, leaning forward in his seat. "There's no rush, Ken. We've got your back, whatever you decide."

"So, do you have photos?" Leo cocked his head. "We got to show off. Now it's your turn. Even if it's only for us."

"Of Marco?"

"I'm sure he's wonderful, but I was actually talking about Poppy. And the rats," Leo teased.

There were moments when Leo wondered whether they had made the right decision. When he was playing in front of hostile crowds, or fending off stupid media questions, or blocking bigots on twitter. And then there were moments when he knew the decision they had made was 100% perfect. Right now, that was one of those moments.

#leo knut #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #rating:t #cw:alcohol #cw: academic superiority complex #cw: coming out #sweater weather #lumosinlove

[eagerforhoney]

Somewhere Between - Chapter Three

Chapter Three: A Long Time Coming

WC: 2,846

CW: mentions of death, indifference towards death, virginity LOST, smut

He meets your gaze with a sheepish look before pouting and giving you a stiff nod. “C’mon over here, Darlin’. We’ll eat n’ I’ll tell ya what happened.” He starts making his way to sit under a tree on the bank of the river effectively blocking out some of the midday sun. You sit in front of him on the blanket he laid out and take the jerky he offers you, silently chewing to give him time to organize his thoughts. While you wait you take advantage of the opportunity to study his face: the planes of his jaw, his aquiline nose, how there are too many freckles sprayed across his face to count. As he takes deep breaths to center himself, you watch his broad shoulders rise and fall, dropping your gaze to his strong arms all the way down to his remaining hand which currently anxiously rubbed up and down his thick thigh. You had always thought him handsome and always felt something fond for him, but it was becoming very clear to you now just how much you felt for this man.

Your trance is broken by his gruff throat clearing. Your eyes quickly snap up to find him already looking at you. “Well,” he takes a big breath, “I ‘spose I should start with the worst bit. I’m sorry to tell ya that yer husband is no longer breathin’ air on this earth.” Your eyebrows shoot up, not quite surprised but shocked that Clyde was starting the story this way. “Alright,” you say back, “And what does that have to do with the town catchin’ fire?” His pout deepens as he continues. “I was tendin’ bar and he was already dead drunk, so I refused to refill his glass. He got mighty cross with me, and started hootin’ and hollerin’ about how I was a lousy barman and such. That didn’t really bother me all that much until he started goin’ off ‘bout ya.” You weren’t surprised by this, either. When Arthur would get particularly smashed he would start goin’ off on you about how you haven’t given him a baby yet, or how you read too much, or that the Logan boys knew more of you than he did. What confused you was why he thought that would bother Clyde so much. “What’d he say about me? Couldn’t have been so bad to leave the town in flames.” Your confusion made Clyde feel guilty, like he wasn’t explaining well enough. “I couldn’t bear to repeat the words he said against ya, Darlin’, but they were not the words a man says regardin’ his wife that much I know for sure. He spat at me ‘I know ya got a lil crush on my woman, but she could never love a man like you. Hell, you ain’t even a full man!’ which I’ve also heard before, as you know.” Clyde looks down to his lap, his hand now nervously rubbing against where his other arm stopped. He didn’t deny the part about having feelings for you, and it made your heart race. However, you didn’t want to bring it up and have him not finish his recounting of the night. You scoot closer to him and take his hand in both of your own, rubbing soothing patterns on his skin to encourage him to keep going. Clyde gives you a thankful smile before starting again. “I tried my best not to react, but that’s when he started spewin’ awful lies about ya, the most disrespectful sorta things that made me so damn mad. I just couldn’t stand there and let him keep goin’, ‘specially with the saloon full’a open ears. I came ‘round the bar and told him he better quit.” You could see in Clyde’s body shaking that he had not so soon forgotten his anger and remembering this was hard for him. You lifted the hand on top of his and rubbed up his arm to his shoulder to keep him calm. “It’s alright, Clyde. It’s all done now, so just tell me what happened next.” Your soft smile was a reminder to him that you deserved to know what happened, even though it scared him that after you knew, you wouldn’t want to associate with him anymore. Nevertheless he continued: “Well as you can imagine, Arthur did not heed what I said and told me you were a woman who should start pirootin’ as much as you had your nose in a book. I couldn’t take anymore and so I punched him square in the mug, and he went flyin’ back. Before I tell ya the rest, just know I love how much ya read, Darlin’. You were always so smart and I’d love to read with ya more one day.” You can’t help but smile at his aside, at how he felt it necessary to interrupt himself with the thought. You nod your head slowly and reply “Thank ya, Clyde. I know yer a big reader yerself, I’m sure we’d have a grand time readin’ together. If you ever finish this story, that is,” you finish with a joking jab to his ribs. He smiles at you showing his deep dimples and squeezes your hand underneath his own.

“Well, Darlin’, when he flew back the cigarette in his mouth flew out and landed on the ground underneath the table where some men were playin’ cards. There was a lot of spilled liquor there and in a flash the saloon was lit up. Not much time passed before the fire started jumpin’ from roof to roof, I only had time to run out and stuff Clem’s bags full before comin’ for ya. I didn’t even think about draggin’ Arthur outta the saloon, and I’m deeply sorry for that. There was just so much commotion all the sudden and all I could think about was you alone and asleep none the wiser.” Clyde’s eyes look into yours with the deepest sincerity and your heart melts. You could see how deeply he felt for you and your stomach was flipping around like a fish out of water. You sit silently for a while trying to process what happened in your town. “What about the others,” you start, “My parents, your Mama. Oh God, Clyde, what about Flip?” Clyde couldn’t help but feel warm at you worrying more about his own family than the fact that he was essentially responsible for your husband’s demise. “Mama left a few days ago to see Mellie in West Virginia, that’s where we’re headed. Before I went to fetch ya Flip told me he’d follow us once he helped contain the damage. He had to stay bein’ the Sheriff’s deputy n’ all.” He then dropped his smile before looking back at you. “The general store lit up so fast, Darlin’. There wasn’t a spare second to try and get out yer Ma and Pa. I’m so sorry, I wish I coulda done more.”

Before you could respond he pulls you into his lap to embrace you tightly. You were sad to learn of your parents’ passing though you had grown distant from them since your engagement. You honestly felt so lucky that Clyde had come to wake you up and save you. You would have been burnt to a crisp if it weren’t for this man. You squeeze him back with all your might, feeling his nose in the crook of your neck. It might be poor timing, but feeling him pressed against you made the heat in your belly spark to life, and the feeling of his breath down your neck made you shudder. You wanted to show Clyde just how grateful you were and what he means to you.

You lean back to stare into his eyes looking back at you before you grab his face with both hands and lock his plush lips to your own. His shock dissipates after a moment before his arms are wrapped around your back and he’s moving his lips hungrily against yours. Your body is on fire while simultaneously covered in goosebumps. Your fingers rake through his sweat damp hair and you hear him moan softly into your mouth. He gingerly swipes his tongue across your lips, asking for entrance. You heartily accept, your mouth opening and letting his tongue take control. The feel and taste of his tongue is like nothing you’ve ever experienced; the hot, wet dominance it brings makes you involuntarily rut against him in his lap. You both gasp but don’t stop your ministrations. Clyde’s arms have you pressed against him as much as possible, not a sliver of space between the two of you. Your hands skirt down and begin to unbutton his shirt, desperate to feel the skin you had admired earlier. He regrettably pulls away from you, breathing heavily. “Darlin’,” he pants, “I really care for ya, before we go any further I want ya to know that. I ain’t just doin’ this for kicks.” You smile wide at him and lovingly rub your thumb across his cheek. “I know, Honey. I feel somethin’ fierce for ya too, honest. Now keep kissin’ me before I go crazy.” You lean in to continue to kiss his pink swollen lips before he stops you again. You look at him with a hint of rejection behind your eyes, and he blurts out his next words to stop you from full-on spiraling. “I have to tell ya somethin’ else. I, uh, well I, haven’t been with anyone this way before. I just don’ wanna disappoint ya.” You could have easily melted right there if he wasn’t holding you so tight in his embrace. “Clyde, that don’t mean nothin’ to me. I wanna be with you this way because I feel for you and wanna show you. Do you feel strange that I’ve been with someone this way? Because I can tell you right now it’s already better than all the times I’ve been with Arthur combined.” You give him a reassuring smile which he returns before he leans in to catch your lips with his own again.

You get his shirt off of him and the feeling of his skin under your fingertips is better than you imagined. You quickly pull your own shirt out of your pants and pull it over your head only to press yourself against him again. You both shudder at the feeling, and Clyde breaks your kiss to admire yore bare chest. He looks to you for confirmation before softly and sweetly kissing all the way down your neck and chest before taking one of your breasts into his mouth. His tongue swirls around the erect nipple while his large hand kneads the other. You pull the hair at the nape of his neck, now shamelessly rolling your hips into his. It’s only moments before you can feel his stiff length through his jeans which only spurs you on more. You moan at the gentle bites he litters across your breasts, his hand now gripping your hip and guiding your motions against him. “Clyde, please, I want you.” you rasp out, desperate now to feel him on top of you, inside you.

He shuffles onto his knees and lays you tenderly on your back against the blanket you were sitting on. You quickly shrug your pants off and help him unbutton his. As his pants come down his length springs free, bobbing at attention. Your jaw drops at the sight of him. The only naked man you’ve seen was Arthur, and it wasn’t too much to look at frankly. Clyde was long and thick, the veins bulging around his length making you even more eager to have him inside you. You look up at him and he gives you the same rub to your cheek that you gave him moments ago before climbing over you. Your legs spread open to accommodate his wide frame and his eyes trail down to look at your glistening center. Another moan escapes his mouth as his fingers follow his eyes, trailing down your chest and stomach, all the way down to your core. You inhale sharply as his fingers tease your folds, feeling how wet you are for him. You’ve never been this wet before, it was surprising for both of you. His shorter arm bracing his weight at the side of your head, his fingers begin to push at your entrance. You grip his biceps tightly and frantically nod your head, silently begging for him to enter you. He doesn’t take his eyes off of your folds as he slowly slips two fingers inside you, feeling you instantly tighten around him. “God almighty, Honeybee, you feel so amazin’ and I’ve only felt ya with my fingers. Let me get ya ready for me, alright?” You smile sweetly at him and he begins to pump his fingers in and out of you, sending you reeling in bliss. This already felt so indescribably delicious, you can’t even imagine how good his cock is going to feel. After a few moments of listening to your moans morph into whimpers, Clyde removes his finger and grabs his length. He runs the head of his cock up and down your pussy, getting it wet enough to slide into you. He looks you straight in the eyes as he finally sinks into you, a guttural moan erupting from deep in his chest. You forget to breathe until he starts moving, slow and deep. Your hands are wrapped around him, grasping for purchase across his back, anything to try and ground you. He was so large in every way – you felt completely encased in him as he thrusted into you. Only moments after he began you were only able to cry his name and to beg for more.

The elation you were feeling compared to nothing you had experienced in your life. You felt so safe, so close to him as his arm rubbed up and down your body wherever he could reach. His eyes never left yours and it only made the feeling that much more intense. You could feel your stomach getting tighter and tighter, and your breath getting shorter and shorter. Clyde’s hand left your breast to rub his thumb at the bundle of nerves right at the top of your pussy. How he knew about this as a supposed virgin, you couldn’t say. You would have to ask later because after just a couple of swipes of his thumb you felt like you had exploded from the inside. The tightness in your belly released, and you felt like you were floating. You felt like you were out of your own body, yet still feeling every sensation so intensely. You grip Clyde’s neck and pull yourself up to kiss his neck and nuzzle into him while you try to gain your wits about you again. The moment your ecstasy began his hips began stuttering, accompanied with unbridled grunts and exclamations. “Darlin’, I– I’m gonna let go, I can’t hold it.” You nod into the crook of his neck, encouraging him. “Go ahead, I’m right here. Take me as your own, go on.” With that Clyde groans and slams hard into you before you feel something you have never felt: you feel his cum shoot inside you, filling you up with warmth both physically and emotionally. It keeps going and going, and soon you feel it leaking out of you from around his cock. He gives a few lazy strokes both stuffing his cum deeper inside you while the ample excess continues to leak out of you.

You both hold each other close as you wait for your breath to return to your lungs. His hand lightly scratches you up and down your back, keeping you with him in this moment. Finally you lift your face from your spot of safety and he kisses your lips with the lightest touch. He pulls his softening cock from you, somehow even more of his cum leaking out of you. He then stands up and jogs down to the river. He comes back up with his bandana soaking wet and kneels down beside you. “Let me clean you up, Blossom. It can be painful for ya if ya don’t.” You nod and grab his arm for stability as he wipes away the mess you both made between your legs. After he is satisfied he lays his bandana in the sun to dry before coming back to you, carrying your blanket and laying behind you, spreading the second blanket over the top of the both of you. He wraps his arm around your front and pulls you back against him. You feel his nose in your hair and his lips against your head. You never felt this way after laying with Arthur; never so safe, so happy, so content. You lace your fingers with his as they rub lazily across your stomach and close your eyes, letting the warm sun and Clyde’s warm body lull you into a much needed rest.

#somewhere between fic #my writing #clyde logan smut #clyde logan x reader #adam driver #adcu community #adcu #adcu fanfiction #eagerforhoney #fluff #clyde logan #logan lucky #clyde logan x afab reader #LOTS OF WORDS #smut #cowboy!clyde #western!au #yore

[soda-pop-kandy-krush]

omg this request has been in my inbox for so long ahshfhdgh i’m sorry it’s so late, but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

-

6. “Stay still!”

27. “I still love you.”

Romantic Analogically

-

“Virgil.”

Barely biting back his grin, Virgil nuzzled his cheek into Logan’s chest. “Hm?”

“Please, stay still…” Logan growled, the fingers of his free hand tangling in the dark side’s hair, scratching his scalp gently.

Virgil practically purred, his eyes slipping shut. Cuddling with Logan was wonderful, but he could be such a snooze sometimes. Especially when he so very rudely refused to pay full attention to his dear, darling boyfriend- instead focusing on the boring book he insisted on burying his nose in all hours of the day. Yawn.

He was lucky he was so cute, Virgil thought to himself as he breathed deep the comforting smell of fabric detergent, coffee, and something warm and musky and distinctly Logan. A breathy moan escaped his mouth when he felt the smooth pressure move down his neck, massaging the tightness he always forgot was there until his seemingly magic fingers came along to ease it away. Mm… Cute and good with his hands.

But, in spite of his pretty face and knowledge of how to make Virgil melt into a puddle of goop, he was still horribly stubborn and unwilling to put down his book to give him the love and attention that he deserved. And that just wouldn’t do.

“Logan…”

“Yes?”

“I’m bored.”

Silence. Logan turned his page. “Are you, now?”

“Mm-hm…”

“And what do you suppose I should do about that?” He said, his fingers slowing down to play with the fluffy hair as the nape of his neck.

Virgil grumbled, burying his face into Logan’s abdomen, his voice muffled by the soft flesh. The corners of Logan’s mouth twitched as he made out something along the lines of ‘You suck’.

“Ah, I see.” He nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the hand holding his book, before finally placing it on the coffee table next to them. “Instead of asking me for what it is that you want, you’re going to sulk like a child and force me to guess for myself.”

A rush of heat prickled beneath where Logan’s fingers were still stroking his hair. He was casting a line; offering bait- and really, it would be foolish of Virgil not to take advantage of the opportunity by making the most of Logan’s playful mood. Turning his head to the side so that the grumpy pout on his face was visible, he nodded in silent petulance.

“Of course.” Logan sighed, even though he couldn’t hide the fondness in his voice. “Hmmm, well then...”

Two fingers began to creep up each of Virgil’s sides, tip-toeing slowly and gently from just above his hips, wiggling against the tender dip of his waistline, before settling at his lowest ribs. Virgil had to bite his cheek to stop himself from smiling, already blowing quick puffs of air out of his nose to disguise the laughter he could feel bubbling up.

“Yes, yes, interesting.” He muttered to himself, furrowing his brow pensively as his fingers suddenly scuttled up Virgil’s ribs and dug into his armpits. Virgil squeaked, clamping his arms down and dissolving into surprised giggles. Logan frowned.

“No, this won’t do, let me just…” He held one of Virgil’s elbows, pulling his arm to the side just enough so that his other hand was free to worm its way back underneath. He smirked when Virgil squealed, his chest and stomach swooping as Logan’s fingers chased after him whenever he arched away. “Much better.”

“Nohoho! Lo! Stoppit!”

“Shhhh, Virgil...” Logan chided. “You’ve been disruptive enough as is, you could at least allow me to carry out my research in peace...”

“R-Research? Whahat research?”

He took mercy and let go of his arm, instead moving both hands to settle on his back and drift along the length of his spine with light, sweeping touches that left Virgil breathless as he tried to swallow soft giggles.

“I’m conducting a very important scientific experiment.” Logan whispered, fingers creeping further and further down his back. “But, I’m afraid I’ll have to gather much more data to work with before I draw any conclusions.”

With that, he wrapped his hands around Virgil’s hips and began rapidly squeezing. Virgil gasped, immediately bursting into loud laughter as his hands shot down to try and shove Logan away. Whilst this wasn’t the exact kind of attention he was gunning for, he couldn’t really say that he was mad about it either. Logan liked to pretend he was all cool-headed and stoic, but Virgil knew better. Deep down, he was just as much of a goofball as the others- and if it took bugging him all afternoon to get him to come out and play? He could certainly live with that.

“Nohoho!” He cried when Logan’s thumbs managed to wiggle underneath to get at his stomach. “Not there! Not there!” Virgil slammed himself down to try and trap them, the tingly sensations lighting up his nerve endings like a switchboard.

Undeterred, Logan switched to the same spidery tickles from before, concentrating both hands on the right half of Virgil’s torso and causing him to lurch away, rolling off of Logan and onto his side. Unfortunately for him, that was exactly what he had planned for, and Logan wasted no time wrapping an arm around his chest to hold him still as he slipped his other hand up his t-shirt and clawed at his belly.

Virgil shrieked, falling into a fit of desperate cackles. He could just about handle being tickled anywhere else, but his tummy was his weak spot and Logan knew it (he would have cussed him out for playing dirty, but he was far too busy giggling his head off to speak so coherently). Plus, by this point he was so loopy-giddy from the silliness of it all that he was too weak to do more than just lay there and take it, scrunching up his shoulders when he felt a soft, breathy chuckle against the back of his neck.

“This is terribly unprofessional of you, Virgil.” Logan tutted as he pulled him back onto his lap, continuing to squish and squeeze all over his midriff. “Really- science is no laughing matter...”

“Lohohohogan! Plehehe-!” Virgil hiccuped, his eyes misty with tears. As ruthless as Logan was, even he could tell it was time to wrap things up, and so he began to slow down until he was gently tracing the perimeter of his torso with light, feathery touches.

“I think that’s all that I’ll need for now. Although,” He poked Virgil’s belly button, smirking at the little yelp it produced. “I’ll know where to go if I need to run any more repeats.”

Virgil whined through his last few giggles. “Youhu nerd…” He held onto Logan’s wrists as he wrapped him in his arms. “S-So…” He panted. “What’s your conclusion?”

Logan’s smirk softened. “It’s just as I suspected.” He pressed a gentle kiss to his neck, delighting in the way it made the tips of his ears blush, before resting his chin atop the crown of Virgil’s head. “You are, in fact, one hundred percent adorable.”

Virgil scoffed, hiding his red face in his sleeve-covered hands but not before Logan caught sight of the dopey grin on his face. “I hate you…” He grumbled.

“Oh? It sounds like somebody needs another round before they’re convinced...” Logan teased, cradling him closer and allowing their legs to intertwine. Virgil squeaked, hands coming away from his face to bat at Logan’s as he trapped him in the hug.

“No!” He tittered nervously. “Nohoho, I’m not, I’m not- I still love you, I prohomise…”

Humming thoughtfully, Logan relaxed his grip. “Alright, I’ll leave you be. For now.” He pressed one more tickly kiss against Virgil’s cheek, smiling against the warm skin and letting his eyes slip shut.

Virgil giggled, feeling more than a little smug that he had managed to get what he wanted as he wriggled around so that he was on his front again, snuggling into Logan’s chest with a content sigh.

They lay in comfortable silence, enjoying each other’s calming presence enough that they were on the verge of dozing off, but it wasn’t more than a few minutes later when Virgil’s ears pricked at the sound of something rustling directly above him.

“Logan.” He mumbled, his eyes still closed. “You’d better not be reading that dumb book again.”

There was a brief pause before Logan sighed, clapping his hardback shut and carefully placing it back on the coffee table.

“... It was worth a try.” He muttered sheepishly, settling back down for their long-overdue cuddling session.

#asdsdhfjgh i really like this one analogical is very very cute 🥺💗 #i hope you guys enjoy it too! thank you for the request as always!! #ler!logan #lee!virgil #ticklish!virgil #ugh one day i will write lee!logan. i'll get him #my writing #sweet tickles #tss tickle

[roanniom]

Requests just in time for Valentine’s Day! 💘

I’d like to request a Valentine’s Day to remember with Clyde, please. Thank you for doing requests again!

Sure thing, anon <3

Deserving 

Clyde Logan x Reader

Word Count: 3,388

Note: This serves as Part 2 for what I’m now calling Hello Darlin’, a Clyde and Darlin’!Reader series that began with First Conversation Jitters.

Read Part 1 Here

Warnings: NSFW, phone sex, masturbation (f/m), unprotected PIV sex, oral sex (m receiving)

You run your finger over the rim of your lemon water as you watch your bear of a man serve drinks with his sweet and steady charm. It’s the night before Valentine’s Day and he’d asked you to hang out at the Duck Tape during his bar tending shift, something you were more than happy to do. You’d camped out on the last stool on the right with a book, waiting for the moments between orders when Clyde would sail down to your corner of the bar and romance you.

It had been about a month or so since you had begun dating but everything still felt so new. When you’d walked away that first night after leaving your number on the napkin – a move you’d only ever seen in movies before – you had half worried that Clyde would be too nervous to call. And he was nervous, a fact he’d confided to you on the fourth date, the first night you two had spent together. As he held you in the dark, a finger tracing the line of your jaw, the slope of your neck, he’d muttered quiet words into your skin. They were vulnerable but hopeful. That was the thing that struck you most. The hope in his deep, drawling voice as he recounted the way that his heart had stopped when you’d answered the door earlier in your pretty dress. The way your laugh had soothed him instead of increasing his anxiety.

The timing of your courtship had not been ideal as the holidays had rolled in pretty rapidly after that, meaning you had a lot of prescheduled traveling to do. You’d bitten your tongue to refrain from inviting Clyde to Thanksgiving dinner, knowing he had a close family of his own and also knowing that the pressure of meeting yours might be too much to take so soon. Similarly, Christmas and New Years were a wash. You’d spent these days texting Clyde rapidly under the table, sending him sweet messages and well-wishes which he reciprocated to the best of his abilities – Clyde was not a great texter.

What he was good at, however, was talking on the phone. You waited all day every day of your holiday trips for the moment when you could steal away to your guest room in the evenings and wait for his call. It always came, and the deep, rumbling “Hello darlin’” was something that you realized quite quickly had emblazoned itself on the surface of your heart.

“Hiya, handsome,” you’d reply and he could always hear the smile in your voice. Sometimes you’d facetime, but often you would just stay up late with your phone pressed to your ear, whispering into the night. Because like that first night together when Clyde had been emboldened by the dark, Clyde was equally emboldened by the barrier of distance and technology. You weren’t sure if missing you had brought something out in him or just that with time he’d become more confident in your budding relationship. All you knew is that he was no longer holding back and you couldn’t be happier.

“I dreamt a’yer mouth last night, darlin’,” he’d told you on Christmas Eve after you already had caught up on what you both had done all day. His voice was quiet but sure as he said it. Not timid as you’d expect. Heat had immediately rushed to your core and you’d gotten comfortable on the bed, tucking the phone under your cheek on the pillow.

“And what exactly was my mouth doing in this dream of yours?”

“Lookin’ nice an’ pretty…” You were about to thank him but he surprised you by continuing. “…around my cock.”

“Clyde Logan, you dog!” you whisper back at him, trying to contain the excitement that bubbles up from the newness of being dirty on the phone with your sweet man.

“Lips all stretched ‘round me. Almost prettier than yer beautiful smile.”

“I wish I could have left you with memories of the real deal so you didn’t have to just dream about it,” you’d said wistfully, suddenly saddened by the distance between you and all you had yet to experience together.

“There’s plenty’a time fer that when ya get back,” he’d comforted you. “Don’t ya worry yer lil head about that.”

“Clyde?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Can I give you a new memory right now?”

He’d been surprised to see you’d switched over to facetime but had been quick to accept the call. You still think sometimes about the expression on his face when you’d popped on the screen topless and touching yourself already. It was the face of a man who’d been granted a glimpse at heaven but still wasn’t sure of his worthiness.

You intended to prove to him just how worthy he was.

“Get nice and comfy – I want to cum while watching you stroke that beautiful cock, handsome.”

Clyde’s smile had been a mile wide as he’d dropped down on his bed to oblige you.

“Yes ma’am.”

By the time New Years eve rolled around, the two of you had become experts of how to drive the other crazy, often with words alone.

~*~

In the present it’s close to midnight when you glance up from your book again to find Clyde grabbing your empty water glass and bringing it to the sink. He’d gotten caught up with a particularly needy group of out of towners who’d required more service than the average customer. You didn’t mind. It had given you a chance to watch him in action from afar, taking in his large frame as he moved behind the bar. The small smile as he listened – really listened – to his customers. Every once in a while he’d looked up to catch you staring, shooting you a wink from across the way. It always sent the butterflies in your stomach into a flurry when he did that, especially in the bar which had been the setting of his first fumbling advances toward you. His growing confidence was sexy and though you were feisty and more than capable of taking care of him, it burned you up inside even more to know he was able to take care of you, too.

“Grab yer stuff, darlin’, we’re headin’ out,” Clyde says coming out from around the bar. Your eyes shoot to your watch.

“But last call isn’t for a few more hours!” Even as you say it you notice Earl take his place behind the bar, sending a wave your way. Clyde helps you into your coat and pulls you to the door as he explains.

“Earl’s got me covered. No need for m’girl to hang ‘round a seedy bar all night.” You laugh because it’s a regular occurrence for you to spend your nights there with him, but you play along while he helps you into his truck.

“My Prince Charming,” you coo. Clyde gives you a little bow before jogging over to get into the driver’s seat. He starts up the truck and immediately turns on the heat, watching you with a smile as you appreciatively warm your hands against the vent. You catch him watching you and suddenly get suspicious, narrowing your eyes with humor. “What are you looking at, Charming?”

“The most beautiful girl in West Virginia,” he says without missing a beat before shaking his head. “No – in the world.”

You laugh. It’s the full-bodied sound that he loves with his whole being.

“Now that might just be a bit of an exaggeration, Mr. Logan, but I think I’ll take it anyway.” You lean over the truck’s center console expectantly. Clyde leans forward immediately to oblige you with a kiss. His lips are soft and taste of lemon, or maybe those are your own lips, but either way, it’s warm and tangy and everything you’ve been waiting for all these hours at the bar. You try to deepen the kiss and are surprised to feel him pull away, your head moving forward to chase his lips when he breaks the contact.

“We’ve got somewhere to be, darlin’. You’re gonna make us late,” he chides you playfully, throwing the truck into gear and pulling out onto the dark road.

“Where could we possibly need to be? It’s almost midnight,” you reply, surprised.

“Exactly,” he says with a wide smile.

~*~

Clyde won’t let you look out the window as he approaches your destination. You tease him because it is night time in rural West Virginia and it’s not like you would be able to see anything through the darkened windows anyway, but you humor him by keeping your eyes squeezed shut. When the truck cranks to a stop he jumps out and makes his way to help you out, pulling you down with his metal hand and covering your face with his massive, warm flesh one. His prosthetic presses into your waist to guide you forward and you grin, happy about the contact.

“Am I allowing you to lure me deep into the woods, Mr. Logan?” you sing out, hearing him chuckle behind you.

“I’d say yer right on the money, sweetheart.”

“Trying to have your way with me, are you? Is that what Prince Charming would do?”

“If he had a girl as pretty as m’girl he sure would, you bet yer ass.” His hand abandons your face for a second to drop light little slap to your backside and you let out a laughing squeal, sure to keep your eyes closed of your own accord.

“No peakin’,” he says, quickly putting his hand back over your eyes.

“I didn’t! I wouldn’t – I’m a good girl,” you say, know the implications of the statement. You hear Clyde swallow thickly behind you. Bingo.

“Ya sure are, darlin’.”

Just as you’re about to ask if you’ve almost arrived wherever he’s taking you, Clyde pulls you to a stop. You feel him lean down low to meet your height, his chin dipping to rest on your shoulder, both his facial hair and his breath tickling your ear and making you shiver.

“Open yer eyes.”

You do as he says and immediately let out a gasp. In front of you lies a picnic blanket set up with a comfy assortment of pillows. The space is illuminated by a mix and match assortment of camping lanterns which cast a soft glow about the scene. A basket of fruit and cheese sits open beside a bottle of champagne that sits chilling in an ice bucket with two delicate glasses.

“Clyde!” You turn and throw yourself at the satisfied looking man behind you, curling around his body and kissing every part of him you can reach. His watch beeps and he looks at it with a broad grin on his face.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.” He pulls you down to recline with him against the gathered pillows. You blink hard to hold back the tears that form unbidden.

“You planned all of this? For me?”

“Well I’ll be honest. Mellie and Jimmy helped,” he admits, running a hand up and down your back and pulling you into him to press a kiss to your forehead. “I had ‘em set all this up during my shift.”

It’s the most overtly romantic thing that anyone has ever done for you. You glance around and take in all of the details again, now with his warm skin under your fingers, his chest to your chest. It’s like something out of a romance novel, and you would know, you’ve sure read your fair share. Looking back down you see him watching you, registering each of your tiny reactions. He’s nervous, trying to make sure he’s pleased you. But he’s also hopeful. And that’s what breaks you.

Suddenly you launch yourself at him, pushing him down so that his back is pressed into the cushions and you are now straddling him. You pepper his face with kisses before arresting his mouth in a desperate lip lock. Though you are often the one who is chatty in the face of his pensive, thoughtful silence, you now find yourself at a loss for words. How do you tell him that you’re not used to being cared for in this way? How do you tell him that his sweetness sets your long-neglected soul on fire? That the string of meaningless relationships littering your past suddenly had meaning if only to lead you directly into his arms?

You don’t have the words to tell him these thoughts. So instead you tell him with your lips, your hands, your body. You run your hands down his t-shirt-clad chest, reveling in the thickness, the fullness of him, before drawing your hands down the length of his arms. You grab his wrists, sure to be gentle with his prosthetic, and urge them to settle above his head. It is only at this point that he resists, pulling out of a kiss.

“But darlin’…I need to touch you…” He’s breathless and you want to keep him like that forever. Keep his voice ragged and chest heaving so you can be his oxygen. Breathe life into him over and over.

“Let me do this, Clyde. My Valentine’s gift for my handsome man.” You grind down onto his hardening length at the end of your statement and his eyes roll back. When you feel him stop resisting the press of your hand on his wrists you know you’ve gotten him right where you want him.

You take your time. You kiss every inch of him over his clothes before crawling back on top to gyrate on his now straining member. His heavy breathing has made way for small, unabashed whimpers that are your new favorite sound. Clyde has been getting more dominant with you and you are excited to explore that new facet of your relationship. But for tonight you want to translate your emotions by riding him for all he’s worth.

After teasing him for long enough with your swiveling hips, you finally relent and pull his cock out of his dark jeans.

“Look at this beautiful cock. All hard and swollen just for me.” You double over to press a sweet kiss to his weeping tip.

“Only for m’girl,” Clyde nods feverishly below you. “Can ya…”

“What would you like, Clyde?” you ask, moving your hand steadily up and down his cock with languid strokes.

“Wanna be inside’a ya darlin’. Wanna feel if yer wet fer me.”

“Oh, baby…” you trail off and guide his cock to your pussy lips, your skirt long hiked up over your hips. You slide him up and down the seam of your opening, gathering your slick to coat him. He lets out a deep moan at the feeling. As you line him up you rake your nails over his soft belly with reverence. “You turn me on more than I’ve ever been turned on in my life.”

“Fuck,” comes Clyde’s muttered reply, his eyelids fluttering shut. You take this opportunity to lift up and then ease yourself down on him, letting his cock breach you with a slow ease. He’s large but you weren’t lying. You’re dripping for him, aching and desperate for the fullness that only he can provide you.

“Yer perfect. Feel so good,” Clyde forces out through clenched teeth.

You begin to ride him in earnest after you adjust more to his size, letting the muscles of your thighs propel you up and down to take him at an angle that causes you both to let out steady strings of moans. Clyde’s hips begin to work in tandem, thrusting up to meet you and making the slide of his cock through your pulsing walls that much more delicious. When a particularly good thrust topples you down to grip his shoulders, your breasts push down into his face, spilling from your bra cups and up through the wide neck of your shirt.

“Oh darlin’. Oh darlin’darlin’darlin’,” Clyde breathes out, straining his neck to push up into your cleavage. His flesh hand, which had up till now dutifully remained above his head, comes now to cup the side of your breast but you don’t have the presence of mind to reprimand him. You wouldn’t even if you did, his touch feels too good.

You gasp when he plants one foot flat on the ground for more leverage and spears up into you more aggressively than before. You shudder around him, cunt spasming on his cock with euphoric tension.

“Right there, baby?” he growls. He’s gazing up at you with a sweet intensity that you want to drink in forever, but the sensations in your cunt are overwhelming and it takes everything in you to simply nod. Your eyes screw up and your jaw drops, mouth forming a little “o” in response to another punishing thrust. Clyde chuckles below you. “Oh yeah. Right there.”

You cum shortly after but, as you had promised yourself silently the moment you had mounted him, you drag yourself down his body immediately, ignoring his groaning protests and gripping hand. When you take him in your mouth he’s already partially gone. He props himself up on his good elbow and alternates between gazing at you worshipfully and wincing in pleasure.

You suck on him, knowing how close he is and knowing he likes it when you get sloppy. He’d told you so over facetime on Christmas eve as you’d sucked on the fingers of one of your hands while riding and cumming on the other for him, your phone propped on the pillow. You gurgle as you take him deep into your throat, moaning around the fullness, the thickness of this perfect man below you. When you reach down to gently fondle his balls, Clyde lets out a deep-throated groan. His balls draw up from your hand and his hips pivot up, driving him deeper into you as he paints the inside of your throat with his cum. You welcome his orgasm, drinking him down until there’s no more, holding firmly at his hips as shudders wrack his body.

When you finally pull off to rock back on your heels you take in the sheer debauchery of this whole experience. Clyde lies sprawled out on the pillows below you, hand running through his sweaty hair, chest heaving, softening cock still poking out of his jeans. A giggle bubbles up from inside you and you let him pull you down where he silences you with a hard kiss as deep as the rumbling of his satisfied groan.

After a few seconds he rolls you so that you both are on your sides and he’s quick to bury his face in the space where your neck meets your shoulder. His customary place immediately following an act of intimacy. You’ve learned to recognize this and you don’t push him. Instead you welcome the tight clutch of this, the largest yet kindest man you’ve ever met, dragging your fingers up an down his cheek in a light caress. Moments pass in silence, save for your slowing breaths, until he speaks up, words muffled by the way he whispers them into your neck.

“Yer too good fer me, y’know.” He says it as a statement, not a question. There’s a weariness in his voice that doesn’t stem from how hard he’s just cum. Only now do you grip his jaw lightly, coaxing him from his hiding place against your flesh. You look him in the eyes, though he tries to avoid you. Instead you hold his gaze, finger swiping along his jaw. He sighs and adds. “I don’t deserve someone like you, darlin’.”

It’s your time to silence him with a kiss, but this time you don’t let actions do the talking. Clyde needed to hear you say the words that your clenching heart beats out, like some anatomical morse code. You grip his jaw tight and speak loud and clear.

“You deserve the world, Clyde.” His eyes melt, soft and full of adoration. You press a kiss to his forehead, one to each cheek, and then a chaste one on his lips before finishing. “And I’m going to give it to you.”

You may have spent the first three holidays of your relationship apart, but this Valentine’s Day you spent together in every way that mattered – mind, body, and soul.

~*~

Tagging some lovely friends (please let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged in the future!): @noocturnalchild @thedivinemissn @insufferablelust @historyandfandoms50 @lostinthedrive @thewilddingleberries @edencherries @mariesackler @safarigirlsp @direnightshade @sacklerscumrag @paper-n-ashes @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @thegreenmatt @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely @han-not-solo @morby @emeraldsiren20 @maryforyou @aloneandsleepless @jynzandtonic @renmaulxo @millenialcatlady @leather-flannel-liquor @soggywhore @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess

#anon #request #Clyde Logan x reader #Clyde Logan x you #Clyde Logan/reader #Clyde Logan/you #Clyde Logan smut #Logan Lucky fanfiction #Logan Lucky smut #cw: unprotected sex #tw: unprotected sex #smut #writing #Roanniom #Hello Darlin' fanfiction

[moonyswriting]

Monopoly

Big thank you to @ttylfedora for helping me with this and just writing one of the paragraphs :)

Charcters are by @lumosinlove with minor changes

Requested by an anon on my main blog, i know it took me over a month. But today is the perfect day to post this.

HAPPY TRANS DAY OF VISIBILITY! 💕🥳

TW: coming out

They heard a knock and Finn got up from their couch, reluctantly removing himself from his lovers’ embrace to open the door. That only got Logan told hold Leo tighter, wrapping his legs around the taller person’s body, pulling them down so they were pressed together as close as possible.

“Regulus. Hey, man, how’s it going?”, they heard Finn’s voice from the door.

“Good, good. You?”

Finn and him held up easy conversation on their way back to the living room. “Reg!”,when Leo spotted their friend, they couldn’t help the blush that spread onto their cheeks. Yes, of course, he knew about the Cubs’ relationship and had seen them cuddling more often than not, but Leo still felt like it was an intimate moment. It was obvious that Leo tried to move out of Logan’s hug, to sit up on the couch and greet Regulus properly. Their smaller boyfriend had something else in mind. The blond was now sitting upright on the couch with a human koala pressed into their side. Leo didn’t complain.

“Nice flag you got there.”, Regulus noted as a grin split his face, looking from the trans flag the cubs hung up today to his friend, who had a similar expression on their face. 

Leo looked up at him and answered smugly, “Thanks. I know.” They still couldn’t believe Logan and Finn had just accepted them so quickly. It was surreal really, thinking about how much time Leo had debated about what to do if they didn’t. But they had. They did. They hugged Logan tighter and looked up at Finn, who practically threw himself on the couch and onto his lovers in the process.

After leaving them to a moment of affection – because he knows they would want that – Regulus cleared his throat. “Leo. We have to go.  The reservations are made. We can’t be late.”

It was something Leo had noticed. Reg got extremely anxious at the thought of being late. They didn’t know if it had something to do with his and Sirius strict parents, but he really didn’t need to know. Since they didn’t want their friend to get uncomfortable, the blond tried to get up again, with minimal success.

“Guys, you have to let me go.”, Leo whined, “It’s only for one night. I’ll be back tomorrow.” They turned to Logan, who had a pout on his face, clearly not happy thinking about Leo having a sleepover at Sirius’ and Remus’ place.

“But I need you to cuddle me.”, he whined holding his partner tighter.

“Logan,” Leo wiggled around in their boyfriends embrace to be able to look Logan in the eyes, “You have Finn for tonight and I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?” They leaned in closer and added in a quiet voice, “I’ll cuddle with you the whole day. I promise.”

Logan seemed to be debating their offer, only to squeeze their body one last time and then loosen his arms and press a kiss to their nose. “Fine. The whole day.”

They rolled their eyes, but stood up and walked over to Regulus. “Alright. I’ll be back tomorrow. Love you.” Leo turned towards the door and suddenly felt a heavy weight against their back.

“Love you too, Nutter Butter Baby.” Finn said, kissing Leo goodbye.

Logan moving next to them kissing his lover afterwards “Love you. See you tomorrow, Peanut.”

Leo leaned into the kiss, staying tucked into their boyfriends arms for a second, until Regulus fake coughed behind them and they let go.

“Alright Nutter Butter Baby. Can we finally go now?”

Leo turned around, facing their friend with eyes that could kill, but a slight smile on their lips. “Oh, do fuck off.”

The laughter echoed into the staircase as the friends made their ways into town for a round of bowling.

-

“So.”, Regulus asked picking up a bowling ball from its mount and stepped up to them lane. “Do you know what you want to say?” The ball, as it left his hand, went straight for the side and all the way to the end without hitting a single pin.

Leo swapped places with the other, “No.”, they groaned letting their head fall back for a second. “Is it not weird for you that I’m coming out to your brother before you do?” They both watched the ball hit three of the ten pins, “Ha! I’m in the lead!”, Leo celebrated before sitting back down.

“Okay, first of all”, he carefully selected a ball, “No. For me it’ll just be a spur of the moment thing, I won’t plan it and you’re ready now and he’s your captain. Go for it.” Regulus reassured them and rolled the ball down the line hitting three pins aswell, but waiting for one more to fall at their impact. “And Second.” he started again, “I am in the lead now, bitch.”

Leo laughed and rolled their eyes. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

They played on for three hours, talking about everything that came to mind and being incredibly glad that they were able to change their shoes again. Leo’s had been a tiny bit too small and Regulus would have been able to fit in his wearing seven pairs of socks. 

-

They arrived in front of Sirius’ and Remus’ place later that night, walking inside, toeing off their shoes and being greeted by the smell of fresh cotton and the sight of the couple sitting at the big table in the middle of the living room. There was a monopoly board on the table and Remus grinned up at them both.

“You up for a game?”, Regulus asked Leo as he got a glass of water for both himself and his friend.

A smile spread onto their face, “Only if you’re up for loosing.”

-

After a while, Sirius noticed the persistent bounce in Leo’s leg – a bounce he knew well enough to associate with nerves. The first thought that flashed across his mind involved the current game, but Leo was, in general, a good player. Whenever they played, Leo would put on the ‘goalie face’ – intense, focused, but relaxed. He turned to the younger one to get a further read on them. Leo had furrowed their brow and was rolling their bottom lip between their teeth – another two nervous habits Sirius had picked up on from working with Leo near on every day.

“Everything okay, rookie?”, Sirius asked.

Leo’s head snapped up from where they had stared at the board, lost in thought. They laughed stiffly, becoming more and more nervous by the second. It would be fine. They had done this once, they could do it again. Sirius and Remus would be fine with it. Leo was sure they would. Well, almost sure. “Yeah, yeah. I’m wonderful.”, they answered, voice a bit raspy.

“Nothing you want to get off your chest?”, Sirius prompted further, giving Leo the opportunity to talk, but not forcing them.

Leo knew he could see their leg bouncing. It was even moving the water in their glasses, there was no hiding it. They let out a sigh. Now or never. Although the statement was not completely true, it provided them with enough courage to actually spit out what was burning on their tongue. “Could you maybe, possibly refer to me with they/them pronouns from now on?”, Leo’s voice got smaller closer to the end but they were pretty sure both other man had understood.

“Of course, Knutty.” Sirius told him, as if Leo had just asked him to pass over the salt. “Whatever makes you most comfortable. Do you want me to tell the team or do you want to do it?”

That was not what Leo had been expecting. Looking over to the other, Loops just smiled at him and continued to stare daggers at his boyfriend, who had just cost him half his money.

“No. No that’s fine thank you, I’ll tell them.”, Leo told him, the surprise still evident in their voice. “Your support means the world to me.” they added a disbelieving smile on their lips, looking at the couple on the other side of the table.

“Yeah, no worries, buddy. We’ll be here every step of the way.” Remus told Leo, which almost made their eyes tear up. How did they deserve a team like the Lions.

-

Sirius rolled the dices and landed on one of Regulus’ hotels. “Pay up.”, Reg told him, with a bright grin. It seemed like the younger was going to win.

Sirius just pouted, turning to his boyfriend and started whining. “This is so unfair! I got onto his property five times already.”

Regulus didn’t even look up from where he had been checking what Sirius was due, just simply  told him “Their property. Agender. They/them, thank you.”

Sirius didn’t even hesitate, before starting his sentence again. “I got onto their property five times already. Come on, this is cheating.”

Regulus often seemed like they didn’t care, but they flashed Sirius a grateful smile, receiving a loving one and a wink in return. 

“Love you.”, Sirius mouthed as Remus continued the game.

Regulus felt it wash over them, warmth spreading through their body. “Love you, too.”

#twenty eighth fic #nineth request #1.5k words #<2k words #fluff #leo knut #logan tremblay #cap #loops #finn o'hara #regulus black #monopoly #lumosinlove #o'kuntzy cuddles #cuddles #written by meee #coast to coast #sweater weather #bowling #leo reg friendship #enby leo #trans!leo knut #trans!regulus black #enby reg #trans day of visibility #request #enby #trans #tw coming out

[slimeypuppy]

Since Kendall also married Rava in this au, could you write about Rava confronting Stewy about his relationship with Kendall?

Stewy looks out of place in their home, but he sits like its a natural environment, like he's been here countless times that she wasn't aware of. She wouldn't put it past him or Kendall to have been here when she wasn't. It still feels wrong, though, for him to be lounging on her couch dressed to the nines, a harsh contrast to her loungewear and the exhaustion born of taking care of Iverson round the clock with a second baby on the way. Kendall's not helpful at all besides paying for the live-in maid that helps her out so she doesn't go insane.

"Please, Rava, sit?" he implores, not unkindly. "You must be so tired. I'm not here to start a fight."

She does sit down across from him, but only because her feet hurt and she is tired, honestly. She doesn't know why she's doing this. Their second baby isn't even Kendall's, but a donor's, and it's not like Kendall wanted Iverson anyways. They're both grasping at straws of normalcy and as much as Kendall loves and adores their son, he's not made to be a father. He's too much like Logan for that.

"I honestly don't know why you're here. Ken is out of town."

"I know. Don't think I don't keep a very close eye on our boy's whereabouts."

Rava raises an eyebrow at the phrasing, but doesn't comment on it. The thing is that she's never been stupid. She was handpicked from a lineup of women with great educations but no burgeoning prospects in an industry. Logan chose her for Kendall because she's smart, pretty, and fits into designer skinny jeans. She's the perfect little machine to pump out an heir, since Roman can hardly be trusted to procreate and Siobhan would rather drop dead than carry a child. It's kind of a fuck you to Logan Roy that her second baby won't be his grandchild in blood. Maybe she shouldn't be a mother any more than Kendall should be a father. The fact remains that she's smart enough to know when there's things that are being kept from her, and Stewy is the world's biggest blind spot because Kendall doesn't talk about him and he has a habit of making himself scarce any time he catches a glimpse of her face or a whiff of her perfume.

"So what is it you want? I'm not letting you take Iverson."

He feigns offense with a hand on his chest. "I have no interest in taking anyone's children. I don't know where that comes from. Just because the Roy family are soulless devourers of mankind doesn't mean I am too. You and me, we're pretty similar, right? Outsiders brought into the orbit."

"We're not the same."

"No."

Although she can't drink, she had poured a polite glass of wine for him that he swirls in its glass now, studying the way it catches the cool toned lighting of the modern designed apartment. She's never seen him drink anything he didn't pour himself, but the gesture is one she's never abandoned in her life. It's more just a ritual, a pretense, to act like they have any reason for civility.

"The main difference between you and me is what makes us useful to Kendall, isn't it?"

"I don't think it's so simple."

Stewy hums. "It is though, I think. I'm not here to insult you, Rava, I want to be clear. I think you're smart and capable, a hell of a lot more so than the firm gives you credit for. I'm just wondering what you're doing here."

"Raising a family," she reminds, but it doesn't feel like she's really even doing that.

"All due respect, Mrs. Roy," he says, spitting the formality like an insult, "but you're nothing to them but a working set of parts. I know you're more than that, and you know it too. You deserve so much better than sitting around, pumping out little babies to carry on the legacy or whatever bullshit it says in that surrogacy contract you call a marriage."

"Get to the point, Stewy."

He reaches into his coat and pulls out an envelope, opening it and rifling through before passing it over to her. The thick, cream colored paper feels expensive to the touch, but the real cost lies in its contents: two passports and two plane tickets.

"Like I said, we're useful in different ways. You're an heir machine, and let's be honest- Kendall doesn't want that, and at some point, Logan's going to realize that your second kid isn't even really a Roy. How do you think that's going to for you? They'll just wrap up your divorce in a pretty boy and send you on your way with a severance package? You're smarter than that, Rava, and I know the last thing you want is for Iverson to be left solely in his father's care."

He gets up to reseat himself next to her, their shoulders brushing as he gestures at the two passports that don't contain either her or Iverson's real names. His cologne is woodsy and earthen, subtle from across the room but much stronger when he's so close. He doesn't seem interested in overpowering her with his presence the way her husband and his family do, but there is something undeniably compelling and in control about his whole demeanor. He's right; she is smart. She's smart enough to know that the fact that she doesn't feel threatened is exactly why he's more dangerous than they are. She's smart enough to know that this lifeline comes with strings. She's smart enough to know that if she runs and doesn't get far away fast enough, or lets her guard down for even a moment in the years to come, it'll be her death.

"You said we're useful in different ways," she says, buying herself more time to think. "What makes you useful? And don't say your 'extraordinary skills' or some bullshit, because that's why Logan's up your ass all the time. What makes you useful to Kendall?"

She looks at his gloved hands and thinks of all the ways that Kendall is the least of her worries. If Kendall ever laid a hand on her -not that she thinks he would- there would be evidence and a clear trail. The rest of the Roy family would have the foresight to hire someone else to do the dirty work, and even now, Stewy is so carefully put together that he could do nearly anything that he felt necessary. He doesn't seem the type to cater to whims, but he strikes her as ruthlessly efficient and loyal to a fault. If Kendall asked him to kill her, not that Rava thinks he would, she has no doubt that Stewy would attend to the task with nothing but professionalism and vigor.

"We make a good team."

"It's more than that, isn't it?"

Then Stewy shrugs, and pulls a second envelope from his coat, this one thicker. It's not surprising that when she opens it, there's a thick wad of cash, all high bills culminating in an amount that would make her dizzy if she counted it. She has plenty of money in her bank account now, but if she's really going to leave, she'll have to either drain it or it'll get frozen- or they'll use it to track her. This is a safety net.

"I suppose it is. I've been working with Kendall longer than you've known him, Rava." She remembers the first time she met Stewy, because it was the same night she met Kendall. The two of them were thick as thieves even then, with Stewy pressed against his side and the two of them sharing bumps of coke off the back of Stewy's hand, smiling together like there was a joke no one else was in on. She remembers how on that night, she had allowed herself to indulge of a moment of fantasy in which it was Stewy's hand on the small of her back and Stewy who kissed her chastely as he helped her into her car. She knew even then that it was going to be a loveless marriage with Kendall, and had quickly realized that Stewy wasn't someone who would indulge in infidelity. It occurs to her that it's not simply her and Kendall's relationship that could be jeopardized by such behavior. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Please."

"Think of it like this. If it came down to the two of us- I mean, if we were lined up for the gallows, and Kendall could only get one of us out of there, who do you think he'd choose? You can't seriously tell me you think Kendall would choose you over me."

The blow stings, but the worst part is that she knows what he's getting at. Kendall wouldn't choose her. Not over Stewy, not over Roman, not over Logan, not over anyone. She's a convenience, as important to him as the groundskeeper in that someone must fill the role, but it doesn't particularly matter to him who does it. She's replaceable in a way that Stewy has never been.

"I'm trying to do you a solid here," Stewy says, reaching too close so he can pull her soft cardigan tighter around her shoulders. "You and me are a lot alike. We're fun little toys for people like the Roys. The difference is that I've been around maybe fifteen years and they're still having fun playing with me. You've been around less than five and honey, they're getting bored of you fast. Let's pack your shit up and I'll drive you both to JFK now."

She studies him and sees all the things he doesn't say. Sure, part of this may be him simply looking out for her, but a much larger determinant is a possessive instinct that she recognizes all too well. The fire in his eyes when he talks about Kendall is the same one that Kendall burns when he talks about Stewy, the one he never even lit when it came to her. She'll never really compare.

#agent!au #stewy hosseini #rava roy #emwrite #everyone enjoy this little character moment hope it's good for u

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 1: Logince

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 1: Your soulmate’s name is on your wrist.

Content: Flower/Tattoo Shop AU, background character death (unspecified cause, none of the sides), that’s pretty much it, it’s just soft Logince.

Word count: 2.7k

A small ding from the store entrance pulled Roman out of his thoughts, and he groaned softly. It was nearing the end of his shift, almost closing time, and another customer at this time would probably mean he was staying after hours again. All he wanted to do was go home and watch cheap reality TV in his sweatpants while shoveling handfuls of hot cheetos into his mouth. So sue him, it had been a long day. But nooo. Someone else had just walked in, probably someone with a very specific style that was out of season and they would argue for half an hour, no matter how many times he explained that tulips aren’t blooming right now, Vanessa! 

Sure, usually his customers were great. Nervous first anniversaries, eccentric brides, all that romance stuff. He loved it. And they were usually all too willing to give him a budget and a color scheme and let him go wild, which was the best part about his job. He was good at it, too. His boss had seen his eye for style and almost immediately gave him solo shifts, which meant decently good pay and hours alone to belt out songs amongst the flowers and daydream to his heart’s content. It was a small enough business that the only mandatory part of his outfit was a green apron, so he could wear whatever he wanted, and he didn’t need a pesky nametag. Those had always weirded him out just a bit. So yeah, he loved his job, but right now, he knew himself too well. He had awful luck. 

With a forced customer service grin, he poked out of the backroom and began his usual spiel of, “Thanks for coming to The Rainbow Bouquet, what can I get started…” 

His words died in his throat at the mere sight of the man before him. Never had he been so equally attracted and frightened at the same time.

He was tall, probably just taller than him, but he held himself in a way that made Roman feel miniscule. Both arms were covered in tattoo sleeves, the left one a flurried mix of black and white and color, beautiful strips of pink and blue galaxies blending with grayscale skulls and clocks. The other had more order; shadows of a forest growing from around his wrist, shimmering mist curling up over his bicep and ending with a full moon stamped on his shoulder like a crest. A corner of something peaked up around the collar of his torn vest, and if Roman had to guess, there were most likely plenty more tattoos that were covered by his ripped black jeans and blue Nasa shirt. Not that his mind was going there at all, no siree. 

Once Roman’s brain had screeched to a halt back in his body, he spoke again.

“What can I get started for you today?”

The man swallowed with difficulty, taking in the rows and rows of flowers surrounding him. He definitely didn’t look in his element.

“I need an arrangement for my mother. She’s in the hospital.”

Ah, the part of the job that Roman didn’t enjoy. Probably half the orders that came in were for sick people or funerals, and those were always a lot harder to arrange. It was always hard to find joy in creating for something so dismal.

“I’m sorry to hear. Did you have anything specific in mind? Does she have a favorite flower?”

“Daisies. She likes Daisies,” He murmured, still admiring the space around him. Roman couldn’t help but smile at the man’s expression. It was just a little awe inspired, a little bit of childish wonder, under that rough exterior. It was a gorgeous shop, that’s one of the reasons Roman had started working there.

“That’s good, it makes it a little easier for me to design something when I have that to go off of. Do you have a budget, or…”

He shook his head weakly, finally turning to look at Roman. “Price isn’t an issue. This is one of the last things I’m going to be able to give her.”

“Oh,” Roman whispered, slowly putting down the pen he’d been writing with, “I’m so sorry.”

“It can’t be changed. There’s no point in losing sleep over it.”

“Just because it’s going to happen doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck. You’re allowed to be sad about it.”

The man narrowed his eyes, giving Roman a once over before lifting his chin slightly. “I don’t need advice from a stranger.”

“Of course you don’t,” Roman quickly corrected, remembering he was still at work, “My apologies. When did you want to pick it up?”

“I’m visiting her tomorrow at noon. Could it be ready by then?”

“You bet. Can I have a name for the pick up?”

“Logan.” Roman’s pen skittered over his notepad, almost falling through his fingers. 

Having a common name on your wrist was a curse in and of itself. And poor him, the hopeless romantic that he was, had met countless “Logan’s” in his day, and consequently fallen for most of them at first introduction, only to figure out quickly that they weren’t destined for a “Roman”. As inconspicuously as possible, he tried to glance down at Logan’s wrist, only finding a mass of swirling tattoos covering his skin. Dammit. There were some people born without soulmates, or had their soulmark fade to nothingness when their person passed away, and he tried not to think too terribly hard on which one Logan was. He tampered his rush of excitement as quickly as it had arisen and turned back to his notes, ignoring Logan’s raised eyebrow at his sudden stop.

Roman scribbled down the name and phone number as it was given, setting down the notepad with a customer service smile. The man spent no time dawdling, immediately starting towards the door, only to hesitate before walking out.

“Her favorite color is yellow.”

Roman nodded, the fake smile slowly morphing into an authentic one. “I can work with that.”

It was now a week after Logan had picked up the bouquet, a somewhat awkward interaction filled with small compliments towards the arrangement and Roman nearly dropping the flowers as their fingers touched while passing it over. As he was ringing up the total, he’d been able to uphold a brief conversation where Logan revealed he was a tattoo artist (no shock, considering he showed more inked skin than plain), and Roman showed off his rose tattoo on his upper arm. It would have been fine if the conversation ended there, but no, Logan had to reach up tentatively to brush his finger along the edge of the piece, commenting off handedly about how the color had started to fade.

“How long ago did you get this done?”

“Probably ten years, give or take.”

“You’re what, mid twenties? There’s no way you were legal ten years ago.”

“Who said I was?” It was said with a small wink that made Logan pull his hand away, an action that immediately dampened Roman’s mood.

“If you ever want it touched up, come by the shop. It’s just down the road.”

Roman had promised to consider, pulling the collar of his long sleeve shirt back up over the rose and bidding the man a good visit to his mother. Even now, a full week later, he couldn’t help his thoughts that were so centered around the tattoo artist. So maybe that was why Logan walked back into the shop the following Wednesday. I simped so hard I summoned him, Roman thought weakly as the gorgeous man strode straight up to the counter, leaning on it like he owned it. 

“I have a question.”

“What’s your question?  

“A client asked me yesterday to design a tattoo for her. A bouquet, seen from the top, and all she specified was it should feature hydrangeas, and she asked me to, quote, ‘go nuts’.”

“This isn’t sounding like a question so far.”

Logan sighed apprehensively, adjusting his glasses, “I was hoping you could give me some ideas on how to start. All the tips I found online contradicted each other in some way or another, and the arrangement you created for my mother was so well done…”

He trailed off, giving Roman a look that clearly said I need your help but don’t make me ask for it. Chuckling slightly, he leaned onto the counter as well, his face inches away from Logan’s. For the first time, he could see the small piercing on the man’s tongue as he sighed again. God, that’s hot.

“I’ll help you. On one condition.” 

“Being?” 

“Help me design my next tattoo.” In full honesty, he hadn’t even considered a second tattoo until that second. 

“Deal.” There was no hesitation in his answer, and he took Roman’s offered hand, barely shaking it in the small space between them. 

“Alright!” Roman pulled back, satisfied but disappointed as their hands separated, “Let’s talk flowers!”

And talk they did. For hours, in fact. It started with Logan’s tattoo dilemma, and Roman’s skillful eye and creative mind solved that problem in a flash, crudely drawing out a bouquet idea that fit all the criteria. The tattoo artist took it from there, using the notepad paper and Roman’s sketch, along with a quick round of the shop to see what the recommended flowers, fillers, and greens would all look like, and drew out a detailed piece that put Roman’s own art talent to shame. After explaining that his shift was done at the parlor and he had the rest of the afternoon free, Roman invited Logan to stay for a while longer, seeing as his day had dragged on customer-less so far, and he was bored. Plus, now was as good a time as any to pay back the favor. Two mugs of breakroom coffee later, the two were huddled around the counter, Roman describing his ideas and Logan sketching them like there was no tomorrow. Maybe half way through the brainstorm, the conversation switched to Logan’s mother (which he talked about hesitantly), then to Roman’s family, slowly changing to the absurdity of satin couch cushions, then to their favorite foods, and finally ending with a loud debate on whether pineapple deserved to be on pizza.

“It’s a fruit, Logan! Why the hell would you put fruit on a pizza?!”

“All I’m saying is that the sweet flavor of the pineapple balances out the tanginess of the marinara sauce, and adds more to the plain crust!”

“That doesn’t make it right!”

Logan had to go soon after that, wanting to visit his mom before visiting hours ended. He left with a begrudging smile on his face and a promise to come back another day, drawing an ear to ear grin from Roman. He’s just a friend, he reprimanded himself sternly, all the while sliding the drawing of his next possible tattoo into his phone case with startling reverence. No use getting attached to some who wasn’t his soulmate. 

Yet, he still couldn’t help but feel saddened as a week passed again, then two, then a month. His job had returned to it’s boring normalcy, with only the flowers and no cute boy to keep him company. Even when he sat at his little desk next to the counter, hands working effortlessly to string together order after order, he couldn’t help the occasional glance at the door. The hope that his prince charming would waltz back in, piercings and ripped clothing galore, never faded. 

A month and a half later, the little chime above the door dinged, and Roman glanced up from his handful of Baby’s Breath (seriously people, there are other fillers). Immediately a huge smile pulled at his lips and he dropped the half finished bouquet onto his table.

“Logan! What took you so… long…” His expression morphed into one of worry as he took in the other’s appearance. Gone was the usual grunge attire he was so prone to wearing, replaced with a black hoodie and beaten up Vans. His eyes no longer held that dangerous glimmer that had intimidated Roman so much when they first met. He just looked… small. Logan had never looked small before.

“My mom died last month,” He whispered.

Roman was over the desk in a second, pulling the man into his arms before he could protest. It took Logan a second, a long, awkward, stiff second, before he let his arms wrap around his waist, allowing his forehead to rest on the florist’s shoulder. 

“I thought I’d be okay when she died… it was inevitable. It was her time… so why does it still hurt so bad?” The desperate whisper shattered Roman’s heart. 

“You’re allowed to feel sad, Logan.” He felt him merely shake his head in response, but he said nothing to push the topic further. 

Logan didn’t cry as they stood there, though he clung to Roman almost desperately. If he had to guess, the poor man was probably already cried out. He looked exhausted, and his unusually slumped posture only weakened more when Roman tightened his arms ever so slightly. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. You were probably waiting.”

“Hey, no apologizing.”

“I just… didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“So what changed your mind?”

Logan shrugged, still not pulling away, “I couldn’t seem to snap myself out of it. And I needed someone who wouldn’t laugh at me. If our few interactions were anything to go by, you were that person.”

Roman decided to ignore the blatant implication that Logan didn’t have anyone except a practical stranger to go to. They could talk about that later, if he decided to stay for a while. Roman really hoped he did. 

When the tattoo artist finally pulled out of the hug, many minutes later, he pushed his sweater paws under his glasses to scrub at his eyes. Maybe he hadn’t cried, but he sure was close to it. 

“I’m sorry-”

“Stop apologizing.”

“I don’t even know your name, and I-”

“It’s okay, stop-” Roman reeled back slightly, eyebrows shooting into his hairline, “Oh… sweet Zac Efron. I never told you my name! Why didn’t you say anything?!” 

“It felt too late to ask,” Logan smirked subtly despite himself, letting his hands fall back to his side.

“Oh, my sweet summer child.”

“I am none of those things.”

Roman sighed in soft exasperation, smiling at the barely perceivable glimmer in the other’s eyes. Ah, there it is. “My name’s Roman. I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.”

He was instantly concerned with the way Logan’s face fell into one of total shock. Shit, what did he do wrong? The fear was quickly replaced with understanding, however, as the artist’s hand drifted to his right wrist. 

“What are the chances that your wrist says my name on it?” Logan said it like he was scared to be hopeful, like a happy ending was just not imaginable for him. Roman couldn’t comprehend all the emotions he felt at one time; elation, shock, fear. He answered in a choked voice, smiling all the while. 

“One hundred percent.”

The both upturned their arms in near harmony, Roman pulling his gardening glove down to reveal the name. He squinted at Logan’s wrist, finally noticing the small writing that just barely stood out underneath a grayscale (anatomically correct) heart. No wonder he missed it before, it almost blended in with the outline. 

And then Logan did cry, but so did Roman, so it was a little more okay. He seemed more confused than anything as Roman pulled him back in, holding him even tighter than before.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“I’m so unused to… well, feeling. I’m not usually like this, I believe I’m just sleep deprived and worn out from-”

“You never, ever need to be guilty for feeling, you absolute punk stereotype.” Roman pressed a long kiss to the other’s temple, letting him unwind in his arms. “We’ll work on that together. I promise.”

A muffled affirmative hum was all he got in response. He pressed another kiss to the top of Logan’s head as his crying slowed, breathing out heavily into the man’s hair. Together. That’s all that mattered.  

Peep this gorgeous art piece for this fic

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #logince #logan sanders #roman sanders #ts soulmate au

[hydra-collector]

Wrath

Ship: Platonic LAMP???? I wouldn’t really know what to call it, platonic (or romantic) Intrulogical

Characters: Logan Sanders, Patton Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Roman Sanders, Remus Sanders

TW: self-harm, suicidal thoughts, crying, blood and fairly visual description of injury

Words: 1542

Summary: “Shut up.”

The last word was uttered in a growl, Logan’s hands tugging at his new long sleeves in frustration. Patton didn’t hear him, Virgil gave a small glance before looking back over to Roman, and Roman was too invested in his debate with Patton to notice.

“I said, shut up.”

(In which Logan has an angry breakdown.)

~~

“Shut up.”

The last word was uttered in a growl, Logan’s hands tugging at his new long sleeves in frustration. Patton didn’t hear him, Virgil gave a small glance before looking back over to Roman, and Roman was too invested in his debate with Patton to notice.

“I said, shut up. ”

He said it louder this time, gaining the attention of the other three.

“Isn’t that kinda rude, Lo-”

“I don’t fucking care,” Logan cut Patton off. The moral side looked taken aback at his use of cursing, but didn’t say anything. Good.

“I think you’ve been plenty rude already, haven’t you, Morality?”

He refused to address Patton by his name, the cuff of his button down he was gripping cutting off the blood flow in his wrists. He straightened up, looking around at his friends.

“Do you know stupid you all sound?”

“Wow, teach-”

“Nope. None of you are allowed to say anything. I have been trying to help you for the past hour, but yet you all still refuse to listen. This problem would have been solved ages ago if you had just let me talk. You hate that, though. You hate me.”

Roman and Patton looked as if they were trying to hold back from saying something back. Logan let go of his cuff, shifting his hand so his nails could dig against his wrist. Little pricks of blood made their way out of his skin, but he didn’t dare stop.

“You all have made it very clear that you want nothing to do with me. You ignore me, interrupt me, ridicule my perfectly valid advice, villainize me for simple mistakes that I immediately fix, ignore my obvious mental health issues while you make a big deal out of each other’s slight concerns, and you,” he shot a look at Patton, “don’t respect my boundaries.”

“We-”

Patton cut himself off this time, anxiously tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie hanging down over his chest. He hadn’t deserved that gift, Logan decided.

“Maybe you’re all right. Maybe I’m not important. Virgil may be a key component of Thomas, but are you really going to pretend that Anxiety is more important than Logic?!?”

He looked around, letting the thought sink into their minds. The guilt was showing on their faces, he could tell that they felt bad, once Logan finally had the balls to call them out on it.

“Or maybe I’m just not important to you. I’m annoying, stupid, intrusive, boring, the list and insults go on, and I’m not good enough for any of you. I have tried harder. I have done everything I can to make you all listen, to make you all care, to show that I know full well how much feelings affect me in the best way that someone like me can. But you don’t want that. You don’t want anybody harder to deal with than Anxiety, you don’t want someone as useless and incompetent at I am because you refuse to make an effort to understand me, how I work, how I feel things, because I’m the problem!”

His voice was getting louder, bloody half circles drying as he shoved his finger into his chest, pointing to himself. He could feel salty tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, not making an effort to ignore them anymore.

“And look where that got us!!! Thomas is miserable because Anxiety has him staying up to ungodly hours of the night, Morality has him giving up his free time when his friends are mildly inconvenienced, and Creativity has him destroying his mental health over his self worth! I could help if you all would fucking let me!!! Virgil’s scared for Thomas’s mental health, for Roman’s mental health, for Patton’s mental health because somehow Patton destroying Thomas’s life hurts him, while I’m left here to figure this out on my own, while knowing the people who I care about hate me!!!”

It was a scream at this point, the words beginning to scratch at his throat as tears really began to fall.

“And maybe I’m not good enough!! Maybe I’m not logical enough!! Because what kind of Logic does something like this!?!?”

Logan yanked up his sleeve, tearing bandages off of numerous cut marks, sweat hitting them as their dried blood glittered underneath the light. Patton made a move to approach him, but Logan let out a sound between a hiss and a scream which scared him away well enough.

“Maybe I am defective!! I’m not GOOD enough for you, I’m not good enough for THOMAS!!! I’m USELESS, I’m-”

He cut himself off by biting down hard on his right arm, teeth breaking the skin until blood leaked out. He yanked up his other sleeve, using his nails to dig past the skin on his left arm, leaving four long, thin streaks of blood.

“Logan, stop. ”

Virgil moved forward, worry and fear showing behind his eyes. Logan just missed hitting him, using a swatting motion to get him away.

“Logan, please, we can help-”

“DIDN’T I TELL YOU TO SHUT UP?!?!” Logan’s death glare darted to Roman.

He inhaled sharply, face softening to worry as he saw the looks of fear on his friend’s faces. He took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry. I have no desire to hurt any of you. You are still my friends, so the only person I will be hurting is myself.

“I’m just… so tired. So fucking tired of being ignored, and maybe you all are right. Maybe I deserve this. The blood, the pain, the absolute misery. Maybe I need to shut up, maybe I need to never say a single irritating, useless fact ever again. Maybe I need to hurt myself. Maybe I need to let Thomas make the decision to get rid of me. Maybe I deserve all of this! Maybe you guys should hate me, despise me, never give a single shit about what I say! Maybe I should fucking die, let you use me as an outlet for your anger, each of you using your own method of torture! Maybe I shouldn’t hate any of you, just hate myself for being such a useless piece of shit!!!”

He was sobbing now. Hard, painful sobs wracking his body as what he believed the ultimate feeling of misery must be. He pulled his glasses shakily off his face with his right hand, using both hands to keep them steady.

“Well… if I’m not gonna be Logic anymore, guess I won’t need these. ”

He snapped them in half, ice lacing his voice. He dropped them to the floor, reveling in the crack that came as he shattered them with his foot.

“Lo…” Patton’s voice was quiet and scared, terrified for his friend.

“I wanna die,” Logan muttered, voice wobbly and throat hurting. He took his tie in his hand tentatively before getting a firmer grip on it.

“I wanna DIE!” he screamed, ripping the tie from his neck. The back of his neck hurt from the force, his hands hurt from the grip, his arms hurt from the cuts and biting and scratching, his chest hurt from the crying, his head hurt from the crying, his legs hurt from more cuts, his throat hurt from screaming, his mind hurt so much from his stupid, stupid emotions.

He was hurting. All the time.

“Wait, wait, Logan, no, don’t leave-”

He sunk out before Virgil could finish his sentence, setting off through the corridors quickly. Surely there would be something in the Imagination, maybe a tall building, a deep lake, a ravenous monster-

He was stopped in his tracks in the Dark Side’s living room by a strong arm, the world too blurry for him to make out obstacles in his path without his glasses. The arms- which he recognized as Remus’s due to the soft amount of fat on them- tightened around his middle as he struggled to get free, mostly just succeeding in sinking into the Dark Side’s warmth.

“Re- let- Re-”

He wasn’t able to voice much more than that due to the state of his throat. He gave up, letting himself go limp in Remus’s arms as he continued sobbing, the pain in his throat reignited with every one. He barely registered being picked up and carried through the halls, processing nothing but Remus, knowing nothing but hold on, hold on.

He was dropped onto something soft, sobs receding into whimpers. His eyes were shut, it wasn’t like there was really any point in opening them without his glasses. He felt a pang in his heart at the memory of his ripped tie falling to the floor, the blurry figure of his shattered glasses already on the ground. A new round of painful sobs wracked his body at the thought.

Warm hands surrounded his body in a thick blanket, Remus wrapping it around both of them. Logan had nearly forgotten what physical contact was like, the warmth and the burning bleeding comfort into him. Remus’s arms squished around his soft belly, holding him close and tight.

He was still angry. At himself, at the others, even at Remus. But he couldn’t bring himself to give an ounce of care as he sunk into the much needed hug.

Taglist: @bluerosesbleedred @mxxangel

#logan sanders #logan angst #intrulogical #platonic intrulogical #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #ts logan #ts patton #ts virgil #ts roman #ts remus #ts fic #sanders sides fic #grays fics

[myhockeyworld87]

Bubble Wrapped - Part 7

Word Count: 4,131

POV: Reader

Warnings: Same as always, Language, Smut, NSFW, Please see the note in the Masterlist

Teams: Bruins, Caps, Flyers, Lightning and Pens (others)

Notes: So today was like crazy busy, but I was able to finish this tonight then do a quick edit. I’m not sure how I feel about it, but here it is anyhow...haha! Hope you guys have a great weekend! Happy Reading!

As you followed Logan to the lobby, you thought for sure this was going to be another false alarm, just as the rest had been. Why after all this time in the bubble had these men decided to fight, you had no idea? You knew tensions were high with games starting but they all had seemed fairly cordial with each other. There were about a dozen players gathered round when you saw the first fist fly and suddenly your heart rate sped up. You wormed your way to the front, to see who the hell was fighting. You weren't surprised to see Brad Marchand mixing it up with one of the Flyers but you couldn't quite tell who it was as their back was to you.

 The two teams had just come off a round-robin game, that you had no clue as to who won as you'd been busy working the entire time and not caught any of the game, but it obviously left a bad taste in their mouths. As Marchand swung with his right hand, the two twisted and it was then that you saw Travis Konecny was the one he was fighting with. While you knew that TK was a bit of a chirper, you'd seen a completely different side to him that first night in the bubble. You'd honestly thought he'd be the least of your worries here, other than maybe calling you up again to say his bed squeaked, yet here you were watching him take a jab at Marchand. Not that Marchand probably didn't deserve it, hell you wanted to take a swing at him the other day when he'd shoved you into the pool.

 You looked around at the other players that had gathered hoping one of them would put an end to this whole mess, but they seemed more entertained than anything. Part of you wondered if this went on would more of them end up fighting? TK had a nice right hook into Marchand's jaw and you saw them stumble back knocking a vase of flowers off the entry table and shattering it. That's when you knew you had to do something. "That's enough boys," you yelled trying to use your most authoritative voice, but it was ignored as Marchand threw a punch to Konecny's abdomen. At some point, you were sure this was going to turn into a wrestling match with the two of them lying on the ground amidst shards of glass. You gave a sharp whistle hoping that you sounded like one of the refs during play and that they would at least calm a bit, which they did. It was at that moment you chose to try and break the actual fight up, apparently feeling more like a referee now that you'd got them to just circle each other, neither one letting go just yet.  Taking your arms, you moved between the two hotheads saying, "I said stop fucking fighting in my…" You weren't exactly sure what happened next but you felt a partial fist fly to your jaw. It knocked you off your feet and sent you stumbling back hitting your head against the table the vase had been on moments ago.

 "Holy fuck!" Someone yelled. You closed your eyes to stave off the pain that was now not only in your jaw but also on the back of your head. "Jesus, are you ok?"

 "I don't think she is."

 "She's bleeding."

 You had no clue who was saying what but you could feel a million pairs of eyes on you. "Someone call one of the trainers."

 "I'm fine," you managed to mumble out while opening your eyes, only to have your vision blurred by blood trickling down. "Ok, maybe not." About five players were kneeling down around you, or maybe it was four, it was hard to tell as the blood obscured your view. Finally, someone gently pressed something against your forehead to stave off the flow.

 "Fuck (Y/N), I'm so sorry, you got messed up in this." It was Travis's voice you were sure of it and not because you knew Marchand would never apologize but because you recognized it from your night with him. Only he wasn't surrounding you at the moment.

 "Next time keep it on the ice and not in my hotel." You went to sit up but felt a little woozy. A strong arm clamped around your waist. It was the same person who was holding, what you now believed to be said person's shirt, against your head.

 "I think we need to get you somewhere else then this lobby." The voice was smooth and rich, and pleasing to listen to, yet every time you tried to see who it belonged the damn t-shirt was in your way.

 "You can take her to her suite." This voice you knew, for you'd been plotting to strangle him so many times over the last several days, it was hard to forget.

 "Thanks, Logan, I was just going to say that."

 "Here hold this and I'll carry you." In one easy swoop, strong arms scooped you up, and then he was standing with you in his arms. He was shirtless and you could feel his muscles bunch as he held you. Vaguely you realized where his shirt was at, as you held it to your head.

 "Logan, can you clean this up, please? And have Carly get new flowers in here." You saw him scurry away out of the corner of your left eye.

 "I'm sure there's someone in charge here that can take care of that." The man who was now carrying you off to the elevator said.

 "Yeah, that's me," you told him catching a glimpse of soft brown curls as you again tried to get a good look at his face.

 "Oh, I didn't realize." Which seemed funny considering how everyone at the hotel seemed to know who you were.  "What floor?"

 "Penthouse."

 "Well, I guess you are in charge then." He laughed and you found yourself joining in, even though your head hurt a bit. The ride on the elevator was short and soon you were in your room and he was setting you down on the sofa. "I'll grab you some ice if you steer me in the right direction."

 "Kitchen is down the hall on the left." He turned and you got a view of his well-defined ass as he walked away. God, even the muscles on his back were sexy. You heard him rummage around a bit and you wondered how bad you actually looked. You were too far away from the hallway mirror to find out, but you imagined you had blood in your hair from the cut; you just hoped your jaw wasn't sporting a nice bruise. It was then, that he walked out of the kitchen and you were finally face to...well somewhat face to face, with your rescuer, Josh Anderson. It was no wonder that he didn't know you, as he wasn't currently staying at your hotel. "Now, let's see that pretty face of yours," he said while cupping the good side of your jaw. "I don't think it'll bruise too bad. Didn't look like Marchy got you full force with that hit." Josh gingerly put the ice to the spot that had been hit.

 "I should've figured it was Marchand that hit me. He's had it out for me since he got here."

 "Marchy has it out for everyone, but I can't see why he would pick on someone as beautiful as you." The compliment caused you to blush, but thankfully between Josh's shirt and the ice, you didn't think he'd notice.

 "Not sure what I ever did to him, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't like me."

 "Well, his loss is my gain." It was Josh who was blushing a bit at his own words this time and you found it very attractive. "Now, let's have a look at that cut and see if it needs stitches." He brought his shirt down and examined your head. His lips just a hair's breadth away from yours making you ache to kiss him. "I think you'll be good with just some butterfly ones. It doesn't look that deep, though I can call our trainer and have him come over and double-check."

 "No that's ok. I'm sure your right. I have some upstairs." You went to get up and he placed a supporting arm around your waist.

 "Here why don't you just let me…" Before you could even take a step, he scooped you back up into his arms and started up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He made it seem like carrying you around was nothing, and honestly, it was sexy as hell. He set you down at the vanity stool in the bathroom. "Ok, so where are bandages?"

 "Top shelf there is a medical kit with some in." He grabbed it, shuffling through it to find what he needed. "This might sting a bit," he told you as he opened up an alcohol swab to clean the cut first. You winced as he gently stroked it over the wound. When he stepped back, you finally looked in the mirror at yourself.

 "Oh my god," the words were out of your mouth before you realized how they startled Josh.

 "Are you ok? Did I hurt you more?"

 "No, it's not that. I was just looking at my face…or maybe my hair." Dried blood covered half of your face and your hair was matted and tangled like a stray dog's. "I look like I walked out of the set of a horror movie."

 He laughed, brushing your hair back before placing the steri strip on your forehead. "It's not that bad."

 "I seriously need a shower."

 "Oh…uh…" Josh fumbled around with his words, looking very uncomfortable and you sort of chuckled to yourself. "I can leave you alone then…probably should be going anyway."

 "You don't have to," you mentioned casually, though you weren't sure that he would take you up on your silent offer with the way you looked at the moment. "I mean, I'm still a little unsteady on my feet." There wasn't a whole lot you knew about Josh Anderson but what you did know of him, was that he was the protector type; so you tried to play to that sensibility of his.

 "Well, I wouldn't want you to fall in the shower and get hurt worse." There was a cute little smirk on his face and if you weren't doused in blood you would've kissed him. Instead, you stripped off your top, yet another piece of clothing ruined, you thought vaguely. Your skirt and shoes followed till you were left in nothing but your bra and panties. Josh made quick work of getting rid of his shorts and stood there in front of you in his boxer briefs. Reaching around you unclasp your bra, letting it fall off your shoulders and to the ground, before gliding your panties down your legs. Josh bit his lip as he drank in the sight of your body; his eyes lingered a bit long at your breasts before moving down to look at your pussy. Even though he still had his boxers on, you saw his cock twitch as he took you in. You let him drink his fill and when he didn't make a move, you stepped into the shower hoping that he would follow. He did within seconds.

 The water sprayed over your head diluting the blood that had been matted to your hair and skin. When you went to grab the shampoo, Josh's hand stopped you. "Let me." He put some in his hands, then started to massage it into your scalp. His fingers were gentle and he avoided your cut as best he could, sliding through your hair all the way down to the ends. When he was done, he had you rinse then followed up with conditioner. It was only as that rinsed out of your long strands that you finally turned to face him. Droplets of water coated his body, and there was a heated stare in his gaze. Josh was tall, so you went up on your toes so that you could kiss him. His arms immediately went to your waist to press you to him. Maybe it was his caring nature or the way that he'd just simply swooped in to take care of you, but your body just completely melted into him and you moaned into him as his tongue caressed yours. Josh was a sensual kisser; his mouth and tongue just working its magic on you as he ignited a flame deep within.

 His hands roamed around your back only to slide up your sides and move to your breast. Breaking the kiss, his lips traveled southward along your neck and collarbone until he was cupping a breast and bringing it to his lips. His tongue swirled around your nipple before he took it in his mouth and sucked on it. You felt yourself grow damp though it wasn't from the water cascading down on the two of you. Josh lavished each of your breasts, and with every tweak and caress you moaned out his name. When his fingers skated down past your stomach to slip between your folds, you thought you would die from the pleasure he was giving you. It was nothing like the other night with Tom. Josh knew exactly what he was doing. Listening as you moaned out what you liked, so he could repeat the action again. "I want to taste you so bad," he whispered, before dropping to his knees. You backed up against the shower wall, and he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder. His tongue slipped out to lick a strip between your folds, and you found your hands threading into his hair to urge him on. They were small little licks at first before he actually sunk his tongue deep in your pussy. You tossed your head back forgetting about your injury, but not caring when he repeated the action. His nose nudged your clit as he licked at you furiously. Your hips started to buck and one strong arm, held you upright and secure against the wall, as his mouth suctioned on to your clit.

 "Yes Josh, fuck that feels so good." You panted out, as your hand locked around the back of his head. He slid two fingers into your pussy easily, pumping them in and out, while he continued his torturous treatment on your clit. Your orgasm hit as he made that simple come-hither movement with his fingers. Your legs shaking, body writhing as the pleasure overtook you. He dropped your leg back down when you finally came down from your high. Moving gracefully off the bathroom tile, Josh stood up and kissed you. Your essence still lingering there on his lips, as his cock pressed hard against your stomach.

 Reaching down you clasp your hand around the length of him; twisting your hand as you stroked him, in a way that had him hissing out his pleasure. "Fuck (Y/N), I just need to be in you." He moaned out. "It's been way too long." He drew your leg up again to wrap around his waist this time, allowing him easier access to the place he longed to be. His cock nudged between your folds, the head just inside you. Josh was thick and as he slowly slipped inside you; you could feel your pussy stretch to accommodate him. "Damn you're tight." You weren't sure if that was the case or if he was just so big, but you knew he felt delicious as he bottomed out. He took a minute, just looking you in the eyes as he stayed buried deep inside you.

 In the next second, his lips were on yours and he started to move. His tongue mimicking what his cock was doing, as he thrust in and out of you. You were simply two bodies sliding together as the water pelted down on you. Josh pinned you to the shower wall again, his strong arms biting into your waist and you thought you'd have bruises there but you knew he was also keeping you from falling down to the tiles. You looped your arms around his shoulders, so your hips could meet each of his thrusts. The water caused your leg to slip off his hip. "Josh…" you panted out.

 "I know," he hissed and he was pulling out of you so that you both could be more comfortable. He twisted your body so that your back rested against his chest for a moment before, bending you down. You spread your legs wide giving him greater access to your cunt so he could glide back in. Using the bench seat, you placed your hands there to hold on as Josh grabbed ahold of your hips before thrusting back in. Moans echoed off the bathroom walls as your bodies slammed together. "Fuck, yeah baby," Josh groaned as you pushed your ass back against him.

 His hand on your hip, snaked down so his finger could rub circles around your clit. "Yes…Josh…yes." He had you teetering on the edge in no time. It was when his other hand drew you halfway up and his lips bit down on your neck that you completely lost it, cuming with a loud moan. Your legs shook and felt like they would give out but Josh held you close still pumping in and out of you as you came down from your high. He pounded in and out of you a few more times, before thrusting even deeper into you and spilling himself inside your pussy. A guttural moan left his mouth and his fingers dug deep into your hips holding you still as he came.

 He stayed inside you for a minute as he said, "Damn, I needed that." Dropping kisses on your shoulder, he slowly pulled out. "Thank you," he said softly, turning you around so he could once again capture your lips in a sweet kiss. "We should probably finish up." You knew he was right, though you were out of energy after two orgasms. Josh must have sensed this for he grabbed your loofah and the shower gel, and started to wash your body. His touch was gentle and he added more soap to his hands, abandoning the sponge as he washed your breasts and pussy. You couldn't help the moan that left your mouth as he touched you; your body still sensitive. "God, you are so sexy. I could…" He didn't finish the sentence.

 "You could what?"

 "You've already given me enough. Especially with this," his hand brushed the water off your forehead where your cut was. You'd completely forgotten about it. Your eyes dropped down to his cock, where you could see it coming back to life.

 "I'm fine Josh," you told him, looking him in the eye. "Though maybe we should get out of this shower."

 He chuckled lightly. "Agreed."

 He went to turn off the water and you stopped him. "Let me at least wash you a bit first." Josh eyed you funny considering he really wasn't the one that needed to shower. "Humor me." He shrugged and you grabbed the soap. The feel of his hard muscles under your soapy hands, made you tingle all over again. By the time you reached his cock, it was back to being erect. The suds made it easy to work your hand up and down the length. This time it was Josh that was moaning as you pumped him up and down.

 "Babe," his voice warned, as he gripped your wrist and you knew it was time to rinse off and continue this out from under the water. He grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist before taking another so that he could dry you off. His fingers were swift yet gentle as he made quick work of drying you, then did the same for himself. The two of you shared more soft kisses as you headed to the bedroom for round two, which was just as magical as it was in the shower. "I should probably head back to my hotel before I'm missed," Josh finally said as the two of you laid in bed.

 You hummed your agreement. "I forgot for a little bit that you're not staying here."

 "Well hopefully we'll get to move over here soon and maybe we could continue this." The idea of spending more time with Josh was definitely appealing and something that could be happening soon.

 "I'd like that," you told him as he kissed your lips one more time before crawling out of bed. "I'll walk you down."

 "You don't have to, but you should get some ice on that jaw." He tipped your head to the side and winced. "It's starting to bruise a bit."

 "Ugh, at least it doesn't hurt."

 "You're one tough cookie." He pulled on his boxers and shorts, while you grabbed a robe. "You know I'm not opposed to beating the shit out of Marchand for you."

 "Don't bother, he's not worth you getting into trouble."

 "Well, I'm sure he'll get his somehow," he gave you a little wink and you wondered what he was planning with that statement. "So this was fun…well except that part." He gently touched your bandaged head before kissing you. "See you soon?"

 "I sure hope so." With one last kiss, he left you alone, and you went to grab the ice he talked about earlier. Now that you were done having your fun with Josh, you realized your jaw did hurt a bit, but a couple of aspirin would help. You headed back upstairs to grab the meds, then laid back down on the bed, texting Carly to make sure everything was fine, which it was and she told you to take it easy.

 You were half asleep when your phone rang; a FaceTime call from Tyler popping up on the screen. "Hey Ty," you answered sleepily.

 "Hey…omg what happened to you?"

 In your half-asleep state, you'd forgotten about the bruise and cut on your face. "I stupidly tried to break up a fight. It didn't go well."

 "Jesus babe, are those stitches?" There was concerned laced in Tyler's voice, as well as a worried look on his face.

 "No just butterflies. I'm fine." The look he gave you said he thought you were lying. "I swear it's not that bad."

 "Who the hell was fighting? Better yet, who do I have to kill?" You winced, not really wanting to tell him. "(Y/N), I swear to god if you don't tell me…"

 You weren't sure what he was going to do if you didn't tell him, but there was also no point in hiding the truth. "It was TK and Marchand, though apparently, it was Marchy's fist that caught me."

 "That fucking son of bitch." His face was getting red with anger. "I'm gonna kill him."

 "Easy tiger," you tried to tease but you could tell he wasn't having any of it. He started to pace around the room. "What are you doing?"

 "Packing. I told you I'm going to beat the shit out of him."

 "Tyler, you're not a fighter." He finally stopped at your words.

 "I'll still beat him to within an inch of his life."

 "Oh, stop. I'm fine. And you're not coming here. You're in the damn bubble and not going anywhere on my behalf." Tyler had a tendency to overreact at times and this was one of them, though you'd never seen him this angry before. "With a little makeup, you won't even see it."

 "You can't stop me from calling him and bitching him out."

 "Well, if it gets him to settle down in my hotel, I'll gladly take the help." It would be nice not having to worry about being thrown in the pool again or him starting up fights with another player. "But enough about that, tell me about your day?" The two of you chatted for over an hour, Tyler never once hinting about anything sexual happening, which surprised you a bit. It was nice though just talking about everything and anything with him. You always had this easy banter with him, but this just felt different. "Hey, I have another call coming in. Can I call you later?"

 "You can call me anytime babe. Feel better." He kissed you over the phone and you did the same for him before hanging up.

 You didn't recognize the number, but said hello anyhow only to be met with, "Hey (Y/N), I need your help?"

#bubble wrapped series #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl smut #hockey imagines #hockey fanfiction #hockey imagine #hockey smut #Pittsburgh Penguins fanfiction #Pittsburgh Penguins imagine #Pittsburgh Penguins imagines #Washington Capitals imagine #Washington Capitals imagines #Boston Bruins Imagine #Boston Bruins Imagines #Tampa Bay Lightning imagine #Tampa Bay Lightning imagines #Philadephia Flyers imagine #Philadephia Flyers imagines #Tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin imagines #Josh Anderson #josh anderson imagine #Josh Anderson Imagines #josh anderson smut

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Goodnight

Prompts: TODAY IS LESBIAN DAY WE NEED WLW SIDES - anon (who is correct)

Hi, I just wanna say I love how you writing is a perfect blend of angst and fluff.

If you want, could you write a story of Remus (or Janus) comforting Logan after a nightmare. No pressure.💚 - anon (who is also correct)

I mean we gotta appreciate the lesbians

Read on Ao3

Warnings: literally this thing is so fluffy imma use it as a pillow

Pairings: introloceit, implied background dlampr

Word Count: 1437

 Just because she’s Logic doesn’t mean she doesn’t get nightmares.

Logan’s footsteps are silent save for the few creaks in the floorboards. Despite the fact that they are decidedly not physical, it seems the laws of physics have no trouble extending to a metaphysical level. She keeps her eyes out for anyone who might be awake. She has to keep them safe, they have to—

 They’ve just got to be safe.

 She rounds the corner into the Dark Sides’ living room and pauses. Remus—Remus isn’t here. Remus is always here. She doesn’t sleep, not like the rest of them do.

 Logan feels her blood run cold.

 Remus. Where is Remus?

 She breaks into a run, looking for the one light under her door, under Virgil’s door, under anyone’s door. She rounds the corner and—

 Janus’s door is cracked, a soft glow spilling into the hallway. As she edges closer, she hears a faint tapping coming from inside.

 She hesitates, then reaches out and knocks twice.

 The tapping stops.

 “Come in.”

 Breathing a sigh of relief, Logan pushes the door open to see Janus sitting at her desk. She looks up and smiles softly. 

 “Hi, sweetie,” she murmurs, “what’re you doing awake?”

 “I could ask you the same question.” She glances at the door. “May I come in?”

 “Of course, sweetie, come in. Sit down.”

 Logan glances one more time at the hallway. Janus catches it and frowns.

 “What’s wrong, sweetie, did you hear something?”

 “No, I’m alright, I just—“ she swallows— “haven’t seen Remus.”

 “I’m in here too, Pocket Protector.”

 Logan’s head jerks around. Janus gestures to the bed and sure enough, there’s Remus, her legs kicked up behind her. She waves.

 “Get over here, Lolo,” she calls, “sit down. Jan-Jan’s gonna be protective since you’re up so late.”

 “You’re both up late too,” Logan mumbles as she does as bid, closing the door with a soft click and perching awkwardly on the end of the bed. Janus frowns, turning around.

 “Did you want something?”

 “Huh? Oh no, I’m perfectly alright.”

 Janus hisses gently.

 Logan pushes her glasses further up her nose. “May I ask what you’re working on?”

 Janus and Remus exchange a glance before Janus sighs. “A plan for a new test Remus wants to do. Hopefully, it should increase effectiveness and control the reverse-osmosis-torque factor.” She frowns at Logan when there’s no response. She waits for a second before standing and coming to crouch in front of her “Alright, what’s happened?”

 “What?” Logan blinks. “Nothing, nothing, everything’s fine.”

 Janus raises an eyebrow.

 “Mmm, what the hell is reverse-osmosis-torque factor?”

 Logan’s mouth opens and closes soundlessly. Remus huffs and scoots a little closer.

 Janus softens, reaching up to fix Logan’s glasses. “Why did you come in the middle of the night?”

 “You’re still awake too!”

 “Insomniacs, sweetie. Why did you close the door?”

 Logan stutters into silence, mouth trying to form words. Janus stands, reaching to gently cup Logan’s cheek. “Sweetie, what happened?”

 “…you won’t believe me.”

 Before she can blink, Remus is sprawled across her lap, toying idly with the hem of her nightshirt. Janus sits on the bed next to her, still cupping her face, another hand stretching out to turn off the computer.

 “Lies are my job, Logan,” she murmurs, “I’ll believe you.”

 “I had a nightmare.”

 She waits for her to laugh. Nothing except an encouraging tap under her chin.

 “It was…bad.”

 “What happened,” Remus asks quietly, “can you tell us, Lolo?”

 She swallows heavily. “I couldn’t remember who you, or Patton, or Roman, or Virgil, or—or Remus were. You—I didn’t know what to do, you—”

 Janus lets out a soft noise as she swallows again.

 “…you didn’t remember me either.”

 “Oh, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, pulling Logan’s head into the crook of her neck, “shh, we remember you, of course we remember you, you’re so important, sweetie.”

 “You’re not going anywhere, Lolo.” Remus turns over to plant her face in her tummy. “You’re ours. You’re never getting away.”

 Despite everything, the corner of Logan’s mouth quirks up. “What did I do to deserve this?”

 “You’re you,” Remus says simply, “that’s enough.”

 Before Logan can respond to that—or even work out how—Remus rolls off and starts tugging her hand. “Come on.”

 “Where are we going?”

 “You’re gonna sleep, Lolo, and we’re gonna take care of you.”

 “What about—“ she gestures toward the computer.

 “Mindless scrolling, Logan,” Janus says softly, “now come on.”

 Logan lets Remus tug her up, only to squeak in surprise when she suddenly has an armful of green.

 “What are you doing?”

 “I’m hugging you, you big doof.” She looks up at her, placing her chin flat on her chest. “You look like you need a hug.”

 “What are you gonna do, just cuddle me all night?” Remus nods. “N-no, you don’t have to, I’ll be alright—“

 “You don’t have to do that, baby girl,” Remus says, still trying to get Logan to lie down.

 “Let us take care of you, sweetie.” Janus does up behind her to wrap more arms around the two of them.

 Logan knows when she’s outnumbered. As Janus goes to turn the light off, she lets Remus pull back the covers and snuggle into bed near the wall. She lies down next to her, trying to get comfortable in the darkness.

 Only for Janus to try to lie down on top of her.

 “Janus, I—ah! You’re squishing me!” She’s met with a chuckle as Janus’s weight settles atop her. “Get off me!”

 “You’re in my spot, sweetie.” She slings one leg over hers so they’re flush. “You move.”

 “I cannot move with you on top of me!” She pushes lightly at her chest to demonstrate. In the dim light, she sees her grin turned wicked.

 “Really?” Her hands begin to slowly trail up and down her sides. “You can’t move? At all? Mind if I test that?”

 Her eyes widened. “Don’t.”

 “Too late.” She smirks and starts tickling her, smiling as she starts to giggle and squirm, trying to get away. “Seems like you can move fairly well to me.”

 “St-stop! Pl-please stop—no!”

 “But your laugh is so cute, giggle bug,” Remus says, the traitor. As her giggles turn silent, Janus kneads her sides one last time before stopping, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

 “You okay, sweetie?”

 “No…more. Please?”

 Janus chuckles and runs her hand over her stomach. “Want to move out of my spot?”

 She pushes herself up, giving Logan room to roll out of the way before collapsing back down. The second she lies down, she wraps her arms around Logan’s waist, pushes her legs between her, laying her head on her chest.

 “Are you certain this is not an excuse to cuddle me?”

 Janus lifts her head up, running a hand through Logan’s hair. “Why did you come to me, sweetie?”

 At Logan’s silence, Remus chuckles and snuggles against Logan’s shoulder. “She gotcha. Now she’s not gonna let you go for a week.”

 That…doesn’t sound like the worst possible outcome.

 Remus smirks. “You know you’ve just given me the green light to protectively cuddle you at any time, right?”

 Janus plants an exaggerated kiss on her forehead, hushing her whine of protest. “You love it, sweetie. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

 “So do you.”

 “Of course.” Janus winks. “Just don’t ruin my reputation.”

 The room quiets. Remus drifts off first, whistling snores in Logan’s ear. The noise itself isn’t enough to keep her awake, but she stays doggedly alert, her eyes opening every few seconds.

 Will the nightmare come back? What if they realize that it’s true, that they don’t need me? What if this makes them decide they don’t want me anymore?

 “Sweetie,” Janus whispers, moving up to tuck Logan’s head under her chin, “shh. That’s not true, you know it isn’t. We love you, sweetie, you’re important to us.”

 In her sleep, Remus grabs onto her, turning her face into her shoulder.

 Oh.

 Oh.

 “Go to sleep, sweetie,” Janus soothes, running her hand through Logan’s hair, “we’ll be here when you wake up.”

 The hand in her hair is doing wonders to send her right to sleep. She opens her mouth to clumsily mumble: “thank you.”

 “Of course, sweetie. Now goodnight.”

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#sanders sides #fic #dragonbabbles #logan sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus

[awanderingdeal]

Maybe you could write o’knutzy date night and them just being so fucking in love?

Hi Anon! This one kind of wrote itself and it's a bit random, but I quite like it? I hope you do to!

CW: food

Let me know if you think I missed any content warnings.

Rating: G

Credit for Leo, Finn and Logan go to @lumosinlove

"Did I win?" Logan asked, tearing his helmet off as he stumbled from the Huracan.

Rashid, the tall, wiry brunette who had been saddled with the job of making sure that he, Leo and Finn were given the VIP treatment gave a small chuckle. "Yeah," he nodded, "You definitely got round the fastest."

"See, this is why we don't let him drive," Finn scoffed. "Zero self preservation."

"You're just a sore loser."

Finn pushed Logan out the way, taking the spot in front of bemused looking Rashid. "Can I go again? I mean we're already breaking our contract just being here, why not risk death, huh?"

Rashid glanced his watch, his forehead crinkling slightly in the centre before he managed to school his features into a smile. "Er, yeah, I'm sure -"

"Hey, no, it's okay. We've been here way longer than we should have been already," Leo interrupted. "Let me apologise for my bo-," he paused, clearing his throat quickly. "Let me apologise for my teammates. They're athletes. Can't help being competitive y'know?"

Rashid waved his hand dismissively, "Don't worry about it. Trust me you're very well behaved by the standards we see in here."

Logan winced internally, figuring those standards were probably not too high. "Non, we are sorry. If you can show us back to where we left our things, we will leave you to get on with your day."

Rashid showed them off the race circuit and back to the large glass atrium where they had entered. Once they had gathered their bags, Logan thrust his hand out towards the attendant, "Thanks again, you were fantastic. We'll let the management team know we were very satisfied."

Leo stepped forward next, adding his own thanks and sliding his wallet from the front pocket of his backpack. "Here, let me give you a tip. I know this was way above your pay grade."

"It's not a bribe though, you can still go to media and tell them we're total jackasses if you want. Get that dollar," Finn added, leaning casually against a metal beam that.

Logan groaned, pulling the brim of his cap further down his forehead. "Please ignore him."

Thankfully Rashid didn't seem to take any offence, his laugh deep and sincere. "No, no media. I know this isn't very professional, but there is one thing you could do for me?"

"Go on," Logan said, gesturing for him to continue.

"An autograph? I have twins and they are big fans of The Lions," Rashid said, and Logan breathed a sigh of relief that this was not some outrageous request. "They would love if you could sign something for them."

"Of course," Logan smiled, reaching forward to accept the pen Leo offered. He slipped one his photocards from the pouch slung across his chest, having learned to carry them almost everywhere after a few occasions of meeting a fan who didn't have anything for him to sign. "Is it okay for me to do it on the back of this, or did you have something else?"

"No, that is perfect. Thank you."

"What's their names?"

"Oh, one second. I have a photo." Rashid's patted the breast of his jacket. He hesitated, his eyes flicking back up to Logan's face before he pulled out a small square, barely larger than a passport photo. "This is Nia," he said, pointing at the young girl sporting a maroon coloured hijab that matched the jersey she was wearing, and a wide smile that showed off her braces. "And this is Ari." Rashid's finger traced over the matte paper to the boy sat next to Nia.

"They look like great kids," Logan gave the rehearsed sentence. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy meeting fans, but right now he was on a date and it just wasn't exactly what he wanted to be doing in the moment. He shoved the slight resentment away, concentrating on writing something meaningful on the back of his photocard.

***

"It's not a bribe though!" Logan punched Finn lightly in the arm as soon as they had pushed through the doors to the parking lot. "What were you thinking?"

"Hey, at least he didn't near fucking out us," Leo drawled, stabbing at the button on the car fob.

Finn climbed into the front passenger seat, grasping Leo's hand across the console. "Don't stress about it, I don't think he noticed anyway. And even if he did, he probably just thought you were going to say your boys. Just three bros hanging out, racing cars. Can't get more straight than that."

Leo wrinkled his nose, and Logan wanted nothing more than to lean into the front and kiss it. He resisted though, there were too many other cars in the lot to risk it.

"Thanks for arranging it, Lo. It was fun," Leo turned to look at him.

"We're not done yet. I was thinking we could go get ice-cream?" Logan said, laughing as Finn's eyes brightened.

"At Fortescue's?"

"At Fortescue's," Logan agreed, rolling his eyes. He preferred the parlour on the other side of town that brought out new flavours each week, but could admit the quality was better at Fortescue's and it made Finn happy, so he was happy.

"They do the best vanilla there."

"Leo, what did we do so wrong to deserve a boyfriend who thinks vanilla ice cream is something to get excited about?" Logan sighed, playfully exasperated.

Logan never did get an answer to that question, but thirty minutes later, wandering through the quiet woodlands that Fortescue's ice cream parlour backed onto, Logan was asking himself something different.

He clutched his ice cream cone, a combination of double chocolate and birthday cake flavoured which was the most adventurous Fortescue's got, in one hand. His other was tucked into Leo's swinging in the space between them. A few feet ahead, Finn had carved their initials into a tree and was working on the heart to surround it.

What had he done so right so deserve these two?

#logan tremblay #finn o'hara #leo knut #rating: g #cw: food #sweater weather #lumosinlove