#like hes inviting logan into his own little bubble

[quigzahhutt]

personal space? never met her

[spicyspiders]

old man logan part 3

1.6k words

ft scott summers. logan has noticed scott has been angry at work and knows a way to help him relax. old man logan is his own warning, of course, but also a warning for rough oral sex, choking, and boot humping.

Part 1 and Part 2.

“My friend-”

“You have friends?” You ask, playing up your joke with a shocked expression. 

Logan sends you a glare after cutting him off, a scowl darkening his handsome face. You bite your lip, trying not to let out the laugh that bubbles up, but when you see the man’s face beside him slit into a grin, you can’t help but let it out. 

“My friend,” Logan starts again as he wraps an arm around the man’s shoulders, “I thought Scott could use a little downtime. He’s been a little stressed at work,” he says, sending Scott a knowing look, “I was thinking we could all hang out.”

“I didn’t know people over 45 still used the word hang out,” you responded to Logan. 

“What word did you think we used?” Scott asked with a confused smile. Even inside Logan’s house he still wore the sunglasses he showed up in. It kinda weirded you out, but everyone had their quirks, you guessed. 

“I don’t know,” you said, giving yourself a few seconds to think, “I thought you just had meetings,” you answered. Scott looked even more confused with your response, which meant maybe Logan was right. It looked like the man needed to spend a little bit of time not thinking so hard, some time where he could turn his brain off and relax.

“After all,” Logan said, turning to look at you, “I always feel much more relaxed after our– what’d you call them?” he asks, now sending you a knowing look. 

“Meetings,” you answered with an eye roll. You weren’t a fucking prostitute, but it looked like Logan thought of you as one. Or perhaps this was Logan turning a new leaf like he did when he gave all of the toys back that littered his backyard and he was just trying to help someone else. 

Or maybe there was just something weird, sick, and twisted in him that made him want to watch you suck another man’s cock. You had a lot of questions to ask afterwards, but now, you had more pressing matters to handle. 

It was easy getting Scott to Logan’s couch, but he was mouthy when it finally came time to get his pants and underwear down, “this isn’t what I thought was going to happen when you invited me over,” he said to Logan, his already hardening cock twitching in your face. 

“What?” You think I invited you over for a game of chess,” Logan said with a laugh, “you’ve been so hot-headed lately I thought this would help you cool off,” he said, one of his knees knocking Scott’s. 

It was kind of sweet, in a weird, sexual way. It also answered a question you pondered on if Logan was as rude to his friends as he could be to you. 

“I’m sorry about him,” you said to Scott, placing a kiss to his thigh, though you were sure he was already familiar with how Logan acted from working with him. “You could stand to be a little nicer,” you said up to Logan.

Ignoring what you said, Logan wrapped his arm around Scott’s shoulder again, “he’ll finally shut up when your dick is in his mouth,” he said to the man beside him.

“You’re sure?” Scott asked. You had forgotten how many times he had asked that since he was able to pick up on why you were really here, but it was sweet of him to ask, even if it started to annoy you after the last few times he asked. 

You responded by taking the head of Scott’s cock into your mouth, the man above you gasping. You teased the head with your tongue, swirling the wet muscle around the sensitive glands on the crown. Once his cock was fully hard, you were rewarded with the salty taste of his precum from the slit. 

Seemingly in another fucked up way to help him, Logan placed a hand on the back of your neck, “he likes it rough,” he said, his voice an octave lower, “he can take it,” he finished, showing Scott just how well you could by pushing your head down so his cock went deeper. 

Scott wasn’t as large as Logan, but that didn’t mean he was anything to scoff at. His cock still brought tears to your eyes as it touched the back of your throat, your nose just a few centimeters away from the thatch of dark hair at the base. 

Logan’s hand moved away as he let Scott take control, the man moving much slower than the other as he fed you his cock. Scott groaned when you swallowed and the wet heat of your throat contracted around his cock, his hips jumping off the couch. 

The motion made you gag as he went even deeper, your tears spilling over, “attaboy,” Logan said as you heard the clink of his belt buckle unfastening. Though you weren’t sure who he was talking to, if the praise was meant for you for taking Scott’s cock, or if it was for Scott as he took the reins with his hand on your neck, the words still had your cock twitching in your pants.

“You okay?” Scott asked softly, his voice, like Logan’s, deeper than before. He pulled his cock free from your mouth with a hand wrapped around the base and used the other one to wipe at the tears that had fallen. 

You nodded, looking up at Scott with a watery smile, one that Scott returned as he placed his hand back around the back of your neck. You glanced over at Logan, your cock jerking in your pants once more at the expression on the man’s face. It was difficult to tell what it was, probably due to the lack of oxygen to your brain from sucking Scott’s cock, but he didn’t exactly look happy.  

Logan always looked like that though. The closest emotion your brain could come up with was jealousy. You didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to think about the possibility of Logan being jealous watching you suck another man’s cock. It looked like your cock would think about it though, especially as it grew fully hard in your pants. 

Logan’s legs were spread wide, giving you full view of the bulge in his jeans. What you last watched before you closed your eyes and took Scott back into your mouth was his fingers moving past the top of his underwear.

Scott didn’t push with his hand, just laid it there as he let you go at your own pace. It proved to be satisfactory as he moaned above you as you bobbed your head up and down along his cock. It was easier than moments ago to take him deeper, aided by the spit that slicked your way. 

You heard a shifting noise on the couch, but with your eyes closed missed the soft, wet noise of Logan spitting into his palm. The slick noise of Logan’s hand along his cock lit a fire in your belly, and the sound of Scott’s moans only made it burn brighter. 

Scott came when Logan’s boot made its way between your spread legs and the contact to your cock made you moan. The vibrations went straight up Scott’s cock, right to the tip where cum pulsed from his cock. 

You swallowed his salty spend once it hit your tongue, warming your throat as it went down. Scott’s hand tightened around the back of your neck to keep you in place as he came, his hips spasming as his cock throbbed along your tongue. You ran your tongue along the thick vein along the underside, drawing all you could from his cock until it started to soften. 

His cock fell from your lips with a pop as Scott’s hand was once again replaced by Logan’s, “ah!” You said in pain as Logan pulled you toward his cock. His hand moved to the front of your neck in a tight grip, locking you in place. 

The pace Logan’s hand moved along his cock was impressively fast as he stroked his cock. His boot moved back between your legs, placing the toe of his boot in the perfect position for you to hump your way to completion as Logan fucked his fist. 

“You’re like a bitch in heat,” Logan said around a cruel laugh, his words sending you right over the edge. 

Your mouth fell open as you moaned, your head still held in face by Logan’s fist. You wheezed your way through your orgasm, Logan’s fingers tightening as he hit his own. Your vision went spotty and darkened along the edges as Logan’s fingers cut off your air supply. Mouth open, you tried to gasp in breaths, another taste hit your tongue as Logan spurted ropes of cum onto your face and a select few landed in your mouth. 

“Logan!” Scott said loudly before Logan’s hand fell away from your throat. You fell forward onto Logan’s leg as you sucked in breath after breath into your aching lungs. You knew there would probably be a hand-shaped bruise there tomorrow, but right now all you could focus on was the quickly cooling mess in your pants. 

“Quit yer bitchin’,” Logan responded, pulling you up with his hands under your armpits, “he’s fine,” he said as you fell forward into his lap, his softening cock rubbing messily into your shirt. 

“M’fine, Scott,” you said to him, your voice rough and nearly unrecognizable, even to your own ears. “Will you get me a paper towel?” You asked as you let your head fall to Logan’s shoulder.

[aryxchse]

the same type of blue. | percy jackson x daughter of hera! reader.

a / n : the history book on the shelf, is always repeating itself. and i won't shut up about how logan lerman and his wife being sally and poseidon in my head

warnings : emotional, i can't warm up to paul im sorry, sally and poseidon should've been an endgame but idek how, mentioning past, you looking like sally, crying, some of the hera cabin power mentions that i had in mind

the moment sally jackson met you, was the moment she saw her teenage self in your eyes.

you were this funny and bubbly girl who was too nice for your own good. you had these mother instict in you that later she found out it was because of your mother being hera. you would always say what type of marriage you imagine with percy and how many kids do you want. one boy and one girl, doesn't matter who's the older. the girl was going to have percy's eyes, but the boy will have yours.

and it always put a smile on her face to listen you talk about your dreams so comfortly to her. because she saw herself in those dreams. they were once her dreams too.

percy looked and acted too much like poseidon for sally's own good. he would unknowingly make his dad's jokes, and would call you 'darling' like he did to her back then. all these little details would remind sally her past love.

it was a barbeque day for the jackson-blofis family at the montauk cabin. where you were obviously invited, and poseidon, obviously was not. he liked to show up in family gatherings once in a while, to spend some time with his son or suprisingly, estelle.

you and sally prepared the table as the boys made the meat while laughing at something. paul and poseidon had this awkward friendship that always made you giggle. and percy would chat with his biological dad more often, since he felt more comfortable with him. don't get me wrong, he loved paul. all of you loved paul. but poseidon's warm energy made him easier to talk.

you never thought you'd have a dinner with a god but here you were, eating a meal with one of the most powerful gods ever existed. poseidon was really good at making people forget that he's a god, the one that rules the seven seas.

after the dinner, percy and you started to clean the area as paul went inside to watch this new game he followed, you didn't really paid attention. sally stayed outside, smelling the sea's calming scent, her bare feet dipping in the sand.

she looked over were poseidon and estelle was playing. he made sand castles with her as he laughed like a true grandpa. it made sally chuckle too, seeing him acting all fatherly with her daughter.

"he wants to make up for it," you said, and it made sally slightly jump. you apologised while putting a hand on her shoulder. "you know, since he couldn't look out for percy and you."

sally's eyes started to water up, but she managed to crack a smile. "how do you know this?" she asked. you shrugged, "i can feel a parent's feelings, even if they're a god. weird power, i know." you chuckled at the end with her.

"he didn't had any choice," sally muttered, looking at the sea again. you nodded. "i know, but he still feels bad. he really loves you sally, still like the first time." your whispering words made sally want to breakdown right then and there, but she only sighed.

"baby!" percy called behind you, smiling like a little kid. you both turned around as you made your way to percy, giggling. once again, it reminded sally the good times. but she wasn't alone this time, poseidon could also see the similarities between them. how you had sally's hair back then like how she used it, and how percy was a literal copy of himself.

sally sat next to poseidon as he sat there silently, watching his son and his girlfriend chase eachother around the beach, just like he and sally did. estelle was asleep in his arms, the calm energy he radiated making the girl fall asleep immediatly.

"they're just like us." poseidon whispered, not looking at the woman he still loved. sally smiled, not that he would see. "yeah. but a better version." she responded.

"one that ends happily unlike us." he agreed, too afraid to look in her eyes. sally didn't said anything, and the past lovers watched their son having the time of his life with the girl he loved.

suddenly percy lifted you up on his shoulders and ran into the water with you, still being clothed. you whined the moment you swimmed up. "percy it's not fair!" you yelled at him between your giggles.

"m' wet too baby, see? there's nothing unfair in this!" percy laughed with her, hugging her waist tightly so that she won't slip away.

"you used to do that too," sally whispered to poseidon, smile hurting her cheeks at this point. poseidon mimicked her facial expressions as he nodded quickly.

"and you would always whine like her." he chuckled, making the woman laugh along with him.

percy stepped out from the water with the help of the waves, still holding you in his arms in bridal style. while he made his way into the cabin, he spinned you around once in a while to make you laugh.

"he's really your son." sally chuckled, watching the couple enter the cabin.

"he's our son." poseidon corrected. he finally faced the woman, and saw the tears perking in her eyes through a smile. this was sally jackson, the woman he loved the most. smiling through everything.

he made the tears go away with a flick of his hand, too afraid to touch her. "a proof that our love was real, not a dream i had."

[logan-fields-official]

Baking Cookies?

Logan Fields x Reader platonic

Might start writing for SBG

In the glow of gold fairy lights, Y/N stood in her kitchen decorated in Christmas cheer, a bright bubbly spirt surrounding her as Christmas was near. The air held the scent of peppermint, a perfect scent for the Christmas season. Y/N looked back at the recipe making sure she had everything needed out, her heart pounding with excitement. She had invited her friend Logan Fields over to help bake and decorate Christmas cookies, to share some holiday spirit with the boy and give him a break from all the phantom dimension stuff. Logan entered the kitchen, his light brown hair tousled slightly, framing his face as he adjusted his cardigan—the deep green perfectly complementing his blue eyes. The sight made Y/N smile; he always managed to dress to impress even in casual settings. She watched him squirm a bit under the bright lights, clearly more comfortable with books than baking. “Um, so where do we start?” he asked timidly, glancing at the array of colorful sprinkles and shaped cookie cutters set out on the counter. His voice was soft, a mix of hesitance and curiosity, and Y/N could tell he felt a bit out of his element. “Let’s start with the dough!” Y/N replied, her enthusiasm infectious. She took a moment to explain the steps, and Logan listened intently, nodding with meticulous focus. As they worked side by side, his tension slowly eased. With each roll of dough and each gingerbread man shaped, laughter filled the kitchen, accompanied by playful banter about their favorite holiday treats. Y/N marveled at how, beneath his anxious exterior, Logan was quite the creative spirit. It didn’t take long before they were covered in flour, the cheerful chaos a testament to their whimsical afternoon. Once the cookies were baked and cooled, the real fun began. Y/N laid out an array of frosting tubes and sprinkles, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Let’s see who can decorate the best cookie!” She could see Logan’s competitive spirit flicker for a moment, despite his usual timid nature. He took a deep breath, his fingers trembling slightly as he picked up a frosting tube. As he carefully piped intricate designs onto a snowman cookie, Y/N couldn’t help but admire his focus. It was like watching an artist at work; every swirl and dot was precise, even if he’d stolen glances at her creations, using them as inspiration for his own. Finishing up, they surveyed the array of cookies adorned in festive colors and patterns. Some were imperfect—the edges a bit jagged, the frosting a little too thick—but together they captured the joy of the afternoon. Logan’s eyes sparkled as he admired their handiwork. “I never thought I could enjoy baking this much,” he admitted, a shy smile breaking through his usually concerned demeanor. Y/N beamed back, knowing that this shared experience had not only brought them closer but had also given Logan a moment of reprieve from his worries. As Christmas approached, Y/N realized that friendship, much like the most special cookies, was crafted with effort, a dash of creativity, and the warmth of shared laughter.

[edupunkn00b]

Just Like Magic, Chapter 11: Heal

Prev - Heal - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

From Chapter 10: Help

Slowly, Logan looked up. The man had crouched next to him, and the twins stood just behind. In the man’s other hand sat two bright blue lucis. His lucis, the ones he’d sent after finding Janus. “We’ve come to help,” he said.

“You can really help him?” Logan asked. Between the lucis and the kind glimmer in the stranger’s eyes,  Logan’s fear cracked and he peeled back the corner of Janus’ cloak to reveal his wound. “He’s been stabbed, I think… I…” He shook his head, shame at his failure to heal his new teacher bubbling up, choking him. “I’ve already tried every healing spell in my book… Well, the ones for which, well, I—I am successful, at least. Ca—can… Do you use… magic?”

Worry creased the man's forehead, but he smiled, a warm, inviting grin that softened the splinters growing in Logan’s throat. He was a complete stranger, and the three of them had made an impossible claim. He didn’t even know this man’s name, let alone even begin to understand how—

“Call me Patton,” he said, like he’d heard his thoughts. “And here,” he added, offering the lucis. “These are for you.”

Logan held out his own hand and the lucis flew to him. The lights floated above his palm, bouncing against his fingertips and each other. Warmth washed over his hand and flowed up his arm, filling his chest with each breath. But the lights didn’t change shape the way they had in Janus’ palm, and Logan looked up, question on his tongue. Before he could ask, Patton nodded.

“Kiddos?” He turned and addressed Imaginary—real? And grown?—Roman and Remus. “Will you help Logan with your charms while I take a look at Janus?”

“How…” Tears pricked his eyes and the lucis tapped his palm, reassuring. “How do you know my name? How do you know his name?”

“C’mon, Logie.” Remus took one arm and Roman the other. Together, they helped him to his feet without him having to let go of either the lucis or his staff. “We’ll show you how to use these.”

Roman grinned at him, giving his arm a squeeze. “Then Padre will explain everything.”

Clutching the lucis close to his chest, Logan nodded and let himself be led to the other side of the firepit.

A blend of spice and sage filled the air when Patton loosened the knot keeping his satchel closed. Logan peered over his shoulder, watching as the man pulled several clay jars and a hollowed out stone dish from his bag.

He froze. “You’re a chemist!”

“Yes.” Eyes twinkling, Patton nodded. “Khymiá is my specialty, like Janus’ is protection charms and…” He smiled down at Janus, removing his own cloak to serve as a pillow beneath his head. “And a few other tricks he’ll likely show you some day.” Patton's eyes flashed over to Roman, nodding in silent conversation. “Janus has taken you on as student, yes?”

He didn’t know what else to do but nod. He’d thought chemistry was a myth. There were warnings of it in the few books he could find that mentioned magic. Usually it was as the villain of children’s stories of dragons and telepathy and… prophecy.

Logan’s throat went dry.

“You’re going to learn so much!” Remus bounced on his toes, both hands gripping his sleeve. His eyebrows twitched as his whole body vibrated, a leaf on the wind. Just like he used to when they were little. “You’re going to be just like us! Someday all you’ll need to do is touch someone and you’ll—”

“Re?” Patton interrupted with a crooked smile. “First things first, please. Help Logan with the charms. You heard him—he’s exhausted himself.”

It took Patton’s pointed look at his wobbling knees for Logan to realize he’d have fallen over if the twins didn’t have him in their grip. He tried to straighten, to stand on his own, but only fumbled the lucis. They never dropped, though, and remained close to him, hovering patiently.

“We’ve got you, Lo,” Roman murmured near his ear and carefully sat him in a mossy spot near the fire Logan was sure hadn't been there before.

“And we’re never, ever leaving you alone again!” Remus grinned, all teeth and laughter.

“Don’t scare him, Re!” Roman shook his head. “You make it sound like a threat!”

“Eh, promise, threat…” Remus winked at him and, despite himself, Logan chuckled. “It’s all the same thing.”

Lulled by the familiar bickering and the warm purr of the lucis in his hands, Logan had begun to regain a bit of the hope he’d felt when Janus had first promised to teach him. “You… You really are you,” he said, cheeks warming at the inanity of his words. “I m—I mean…” He peered closely at each of them. The brows above his friends’ familiar green eyes now thick, their voices deep and rough. Hands strong. But their movements, their words… they… “You two haven’t changed.”

“Neither have you,” Roman smiled, cupping his hands before him, palms up.

“Eh… You’re a helluva lot skinnier,” Remus said, mimicking his brother’s pose, laying his hands on top of Roman’s. “But Pop’s cooking’ll take care of that.”

At the mention of their father—teacher? Was padre the same as Consililario?—Logan peeked past Remus’ shoulder at Patton and Janus. The chemist had lifted Janus’ tunic, tutting quietly as he prodded at the wound. Dipping a cloth in a solution from one of the clay pots, he wiped away the new blood that had collected, whispering under his breath.

Right before his eyes, the wound closed and Janus’ bleeding stopped. With a little rhythmic hum, Patton’s broad shoulders dropped in obvious relief. He tucked the cloak around Janus’ form again, gently stroking the hand he’d laid over top.

“See?” Roman whispered. “Padre takes good care of him.”

Logan’s brow furrowed in confusion. But before he could work out just what felt odd about Roman’s words, Remus moved their hands beneath his, layering Logan’s between the lucis and the twins’. “Now let us take care of you, Logie.”

~

Light danced over Janus’ closed eyes, soft red fading into black. Whispers wove through his dreams, an old melody he’d almost forgotten. Laughter. He was wrapped in warmth and softness, fluffy down and golden sunlight. The fire at his back abated, high tide retreating with the rising sun.

It grew quiet again and he drifted in darkness and dream, honeysuckle fields and the clear blue bay. Starlit paths. A strong, soft hand in his.

He woke to candlelight, a damp cloth at his forehead and a deep voice humming a healing chant. He groaned when he swallowed, throat papery, and licked dry lips. The humming stopped and a wave of nutmeg and clove and honey filled his lungs. A cup was lifted to his mouth and he drank.

Slowly, Janus blinked and eyes the color of the Puget Bay appeared before him. The entire room glowed with their light.

“I know those eyes,” he murmured, voice cracking. He drank gratefully when the cup tapped his lips again.

“I should certainly hope so, Mister,” Patton replied with a put-upon huff and a poorly concealed grin. “It hasn’t been that long.”

“It’s been long enough to dearly miss—Logan!” Janus bolted upright, spilling the potion. His head whipped around the room as he fought with the blankets tangling his legs. “Logan? Where’s—” He pulled at Patton’s sleeve. “Please, Pat! My student—He's—Where’s—I sent him to find a sta—”

“Shhh, Jan… Everything’s alright,” Patton soothed. “Logan’s fine. He’s perfectly safe.” He nodded slowly and smiled when Janus stilled. He straightened the covers and dabbed at the wet spot with a towel. “Logan’s in the other room with my boys.”

“Your…” Janus stared at him. “Your boys?”

Patton smiled back, laughter in his eyes. “My boys. If you’re feeling strong enough to get up, we can get you all introduced.”

Janus took his offered hand, surprised at how little his side ached as Patton slowly helped him sit up again. “Lead the way.”

~

The main room in Patton’s home bubbled with activity, a large fire snapping and popping in one corner, a lush sitting area with a low table and puffy cushions and knitted throws across from it. The opposite corner, beneath a window box bursting with herbs and flowers, housed a long worktable covered with vials and jars and the large crucible Janus had helped Patton cast when they young.

At the other end of the room sat the kitchen. Crowded together on the wood stove, three pots simmered and spat, spilling the scent of garlic and ginger and fresh morels into the air. A loaf of bread sat cooling in one corner, and the yeasty aroma wafting from under a towel-covered bowl next to it meant another loaf was well on its way.

The biggest source of activity in the room, though, were the three men working over the heavy wooden table, chopping and peeling and stirring. And laughing.

Janus paused at the doorway, one hand on his staff, the other hooked through Patton’s steady arm. Logan’s face was bright, the warmth of the fire and the company bringing a rosy glow he’d yet to see on his new student’s face. His aura was blinding, waves of deep blue dancing at the edges every time the glittery red and green auras of the others—Patton’s ‘boys’ were fae?—overlapped.

He sighed, a release of worry for his student, for his future, for his ability to find peace enough to practice and learn and live after all he’d already been through.

The soft sound managed to alert the trio to their presence. “Janus!” Logan cried, smile growing as he rushed to wipe his hands on a towel tied at his waist. He dashed past the table and ran to him arms open wide, hesitating only at the last moment before embracing him.

“Is this your doing?” Janus stepped closer and released Patton’s arm to pull Logan into a hug.

Logan melted against him, nodding before giving a little shrug. “They came for us when I sent luminaria.”

Pride burst from Janus’ chest and he pulled back to meet Logan's eyes. “You sent them on your own?”

He caught Patton’s eye over Logan’s shoulder and Patton beamed. “He sure did!”

“I’m so proud of you, Logan,” Janus whispered. “I showed you the spell only once.”

“You needed help I couldn’t give,” Logan whispered back. “My magic could not help you.”

“Oh, Logan,” Janus shook his head and cupped Logan’s cheek. “Look where we are. Your magic did help me.”

Grinning, Patton ruffled Logan’s hair. “He’s right, Kiddo. And you should’ve seen him, Jan.” Logan’s eyebrow quirked up at the nickname but he only listened. “He looked ready to take our heads off with his staff before I could convince him we wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Your staff?” Janus’ eyes widened. “You found one?”

“Well… It is uncarved, and…” Logan demurred. “And I…”

The thinner twin turned and stroked his back, nudging him toward the door. “Logie, show him.”

Logan looked back at each of them and the twin fae grinned at him with matching smiles. Lip caught between his teeth, Logan hurried to the doorway where a tall bluish branch lay propped next to a row of cloaks and boots.

The room exploded in light no-one else could see as Logan drew near the bough, a bright blue-white streaming from his hand as he reached for it. Logan and his staff’s aura filled Janus’ vision, slowly dimming until he could just make out his form as he returned, presenting his staff to him.

“Logan,” he gasped. “It’s remarkable.” Fighting to clear his vision, Janus blinked until he could see the broad smile brushed across his student’s face.

Logan looked over his shoulder at Patton’s ‘boys’ and smiled. “I had help from some old friends. I…” Moving the staff to one hand, he held it upright like Janus held his. He let his free hand float near Janus’ and the staff responded, golden light spraying out to meet his hand. Logan smiled and stretched his fingers, likely feeling the light.

“The first wood I found was just like yours. Buzzy and… warm. I thought it was the wood I should choose. But then…” He grinned at the twins. “They helped me find this one and…”

Janus gripped his shoulder. “And you knew.”

“And I knew,” Logan nodded, a bit of pride spilling into his voice. After a moment, he cleared his throat and turned to face each of them. “Janus…” A blush dusted his cheeks as he gestured to the twin fae still working in the kitchen. “I’d like you to meet Remus and Roman.”

[espithewarlock]

Happy @1016week! Day 4 -Free Day! (Yes, I'm posting something ~else~ today. Please direct your complaints to Logan.)

Mild content warning for the inevitability of what happens when two people grow old together...

(o゜▽゜)o☆

The magic manifested in Pierre when he was twelve years old and Charles was only ten. He didn’t quite understand what all that meant when it happened, but it was impossible to miss how all of the adults started looking at Pierre’s parents with pity.

Not Pierre, though. He went from being the village favorite, a bright and sunny child, the youngest of five, so rarely at his own dinner table because he was constantly at one of his friends, to being completely outcast. A social pariah. The sort of child parents would caution their own kids to stay away from.

Charles thought that was stupid. Pierre was still Pierre, of course. He could still laugh and run and kick a ball around on the village green and explore the woods. He just had some magic now.

Having magic wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Most of the adults would happily admit that having a Witch in the village was a good thing. The current Witch had been in her role ever since Charles’ grandmother was a young girl and Charles heard plenty of stories about the Witch from his own mother.

Nobody knew exactly how the magic worked. (That was rather the point of magic, really.) There was one thing that everyone knew, though. When the current Witch had exactly three years left to live, a successor would be chosen and the magic would manifest in another.

Pierre’s magic manifested in front of everyone so it was no secret. They had been playing with their group of friends on the village green and Pierre was playing goalkeeper. There was a really great shot and Pierre dived to try and save it. The ball was blocked by a misty, ethereal hand that projected out of Pierre’s own hand.

Instantly the game was over as most parents hurried their children away. Charles had run over to his best friend to give him a hug.

It definitely wasn’t Pierre’s fault that the magic was unpredictable. While the benefits were amazing, the drawbacks could be catastrophic. That was most of the reason why the Witch was always revered and always ostracized.

There were stories, of course, of when the magic went wrong. Sometimes it seemed entertaining, like when the current Witch grew a beard of feathers, or briefly turned herself into a potted plant, or had pink bubbles floating out of her mouth.

Sometimes it harmlessly affected those around the Witch, like when everyone nearby turned invisible for a full minute. That had initially caused some panic, but everyone reappeared and were perfectly fine, if mildly disoriented by the experience.

Other times it was dangerous. The previous Witch had died in such an event. As the story went, they had been summoned to assist with a relatively routine aliment and the whole house had gone up in flames. Everyone had died, including the Witch.

The magic went wrong rarely, and very wrong even more rarely, but it was often enough that nobody wanted to invite that chaos into their life unless it was strictly necessary.

Well, nobody except Charles, apparently.

As soon as Pierre’s magic manifested, his parents brought him to the Witch’s cottage on the outskirts of the village. Pierre didn’t vanish entirely. He still lived with his parents and had free days to spend with Charles, but it was different.

None of the other children, not even Pierre’s or Charles’ own brothers, would play with them anymore. Pierre always seemed a little sad that none of their friends would join them for adventures out in the woods or games on the village green. He became quiet and withdrawn.

Charles did his best to distract Pierre with stories that would make him laugh and listened attentively whenever Pierre excitedly told him about what he was learning from the Witch.

(He never showed Charles any of his magic, though. That was apparently too dangerous.)

Pierre started appearing in public with the Witch a year into his training. He would accompany her on house visits and to the weekly market to pick up supplies.

Everyone treated him with the same respectful distance that they gave the Witch. Everyone except Charles, who always greeted his friend with a familiar hug.

Once, Pierre asked why Charles didn’t avoid him, like all of the other children.

“You’re my friend, Pierre. You having magic doesn’t change that.”

“But it could be dangerous! You could get hurt.”

“I know that you won’t hurt me.”

Pierre fidgeted uncomfortably. “Ellie says that I should keep my distance from you, for your safety. She says you might get injured. That you’re going to have a job and family of your own someday and you’ll slowly drift away from me. A clean break is easier to heal, she says.”

“That’s stupid,” Charles scoffed, “just because she’s a miserable, lonely Witch doesn’t mean you have to be a miserable lonely Witch. I’m going to always be your friend, I promise. We’ll be together forever.”

The smile he got in return could have rivaled the sun for its brilliance.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Exactly three years after Pierre’s magic manifested, the Witch passed away. It wasn’t like the previous Witch, who died in the blazing inferno that claimed many lives. It was a quiet affair.

Thirteen-year-old Charles was the only person to stand by Pierre’s side as the Witch’s body turned to ash. Fifteen-year-old Pierre scattered the ash around the Witch’s, now his, garden as he took up the mantle.

It didn’t seem right that such a heavy burden was put on Pierre at such a young age. He had embraced his training with a quiet maturity and the whole village was treating him with the same distant respect they granted to the previous Witch.

The responsibilities kept him busy, but Pierre always made time to keep his friendship with Charles strong. Despite his friends and family warning him otherwise, Charles never faltered in his promise.

He always saw Pierre at the weekly market without fail. Pierre would stop by every single stall to have a quiet chat with each family and to acquire his provisions for the week.

Everything he selected, eggs from the Russells, produce from the Hamiltons, jams from the Albons, cheese from the Ocons, all went into the tiny satchel at his side. It seemed too small to hold everything, but Charles knew that it was magically expanded and could hold quite a bit more than just the weekly shopping.

Pierre carried all of his supplies with him at all times. There was no way of knowing when his services were needed and he was always prepared.

As the Witch, Pierre was responsible for everything health-related in the village. Anything from pregnancies to broken bones to illnesses would demand his attention on any given day.

Still, he always made time for Charles. Pierre’s last stop at the weekly market was always at the Norris’ where he would get two freshly made meat pies and bring them to where Charles was waiting.

The two of them would sit on the wall outside of the town hall and eat together while they shared stories about their week. Everyone gave them a wide berth and Pierre tried to pretend that it didn’t bother him.

Charles hated it. He would see how everyone would easily do business with him, would demand his services when they needed him, but they were eager to get rid of him once he was no longer useful. They treated him like he was no better than a dangerous animal.

He asked, once, why Pierre didn’t try to change the attitudes of everyone around them.

“Ellie always said that our existence was a lonely one,” Pierre explained, “that we are tolerated because we perform a valuable, necessary service.”

“But you should be more than tolerated,” Charles argued, “you should be loved. Your magic can do incredible things.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Pierre said, resigned, “someone could get hurt. It’s better that I keep my distance until I’m needed. I like being useful. That’s enough for me.”

Charles wanted to argue more, but Pierre put a hand on his knee gently. The pleading look in his eyes was enough to make Charles fall silent. He didn’t bring it up again.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

As the years went on, some things changed, some things stayed the same, and Charles found himself to be aimless. He had no real idea of what he wanted to do with his life and his parents were pressuring him to do something.

His older brother was already stepping up to assist their father as the village tax collector. Charles had no head for books and numbers like his brother, so that wasn’t an option. His younger brother was all set to join the town guard, obvious from the way he would watch their daily training and follow their patrols, but that life did not appeal to Charles in the slightest.

So, without anything better to do, Charles started helping Pierre.

Not with anything magical, obviously, but with the more mundane things. Sweeping out the cottage, weeding the garden (after Pierre taught him which plants were supposed to be there and which weren’t), foraging in the woods for rarer plants and fungi, drying out herbs, and keeping Pierre’s collections organized.

Initially, Pierre flat-out refused to use any of his magic while Charles was in the house. In fact, Pierre initially refused to even allow Charles inside the house, but then Charles spent several entire days sitting on the doorstep.

Eventually, Pierre relented to his stubbornness, saying that if he was going to be there he might as well make himself useful.

Little slivers of magic began to escape when Pierre got comfortable with his presence. An ethereal hand would grab ingredients when Pierre was engrossed in a potion, tiny lights would appear out of nowhere if their work in the garden ran too late, the fireplace would crackle to life as Pierre walked through the door.

Nothing ever went weird or wonky with any of those glimpses of magic and Charles was completely charmed. It was incredible what Pierre could do with just a thought and Charles wished the rest of the village could see it too.

Pierre still kept him away whenever he practiced his big magic, as he called it. The spells that were more likely to go wrong.

Occasionally, Charles got glimpses of that too. One day, Pierre came home and was completely blue, head to toe. Charles laughed until he was blue in the face while Pierre glared.

(He was back to his usual skin tone the next morning.)

Other extremely rare occurrences included the entire garden being filled with fog and little butterflies circling Pierre’s head for a full minute. He looked extremely embarrassed on both of those occasions, though his intended spells still worked. Charles wasn’t harmed by any of it and thought the mundane side-effects were quite lovely.

At least, he did until Pierre came home from one of his practice sessions with singed hair and burns covering his palms and forearms. Charles rushed to find Pierre’s burn salve, but Pierre screamed at him to leave, that he was dangerous and it was only a matter of time before Charles was hurt.

Charles refused, and the next instant he found himself inside his parent’s kitchen. It was the first time that Pierre had ever used magic directly on him and it was to send him away.

He was furious and he stayed away for a full week, even avoiding the weekly market so he didn’t run into Pierre.

At the end of that week, Charles realized that Pierre’s attempts to push him away were working. Charles was mad at himself for falling into the obvious trap and stalked his way back to Pierre’s cottage on the outskirts of the village.

Without knocking or waiting for an invitation, Charles walked right inside the cottage and stormed up to a surprised Pierre.

“If you want to get rid of me,” he shouted, “you’re going to have to send me a hell of a lot further than this village because I will come right back.”

“Charles, I’m dangerous,” Pierre pleaded, “you shouldn’t be here. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.”

“So, what, I’m just supposed to leave you to your self-imposed isolation? Why? Because these idiots in the village are scared that something might happen to them?”

“Ellie always said–”

“Fuck what Ellie said,” Charles cut Pierre off, “I know you, Pierre. I know you’re not dangerous. I know you won’t hurt me. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it. Are you going to make me break my promise?”

“I…I can’t…it’s not safe…you should…”

“Don’t tell me what I should do,” Charles growled, “tell me that you want to be alone and miserable for the rest of your life. Tell me you want me to leave and I will. But don’t tell me to leave of my own accord because I will not.”

He stood there, staring at Pierre as he waited for an answer. There was desperation and sadness in his eyes as he silently pleaded with Charles. He knew that Pierre wanted him to choose to leave, to abandon him to a life of solitude all because the magic had selected him.

Charles was not going to do that. He was going to make Pierre choose what he wanted out of this life that had been forced on him.

There was a long moment of silence as Charles waited for Pierre’s answer. He saw Pierre struggling, was close enough to nearly feel him trembling, and he waited.

Eventually, Pierre took a deep shaky breath and closed his eyes. “I don’t want you to leave,” Pierre said, so quietly that Charles almost missed it.

Fortunately, he didn’t miss it and a smile curled across his face. “Good,” was the only thing Charles said before he closed the inches between them and crashed their mouths together.

Kissing Pierre was lighting a fire in his veins. Charles finally understood what magic felt like, the energy coursing through his body was intoxicating and he wanted more.

If this was what Pierre felt like all the time, then Charles never wanted to stop. He pulled Pierre even closer to him, wrapping one arm around his back and threading the other hand through his hair.

Charles was not going to let Pierre be alone ever again.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Over the years, Charles started a personal campaign to de-stigmatize the Witch’s magic and integrate Pierre into the society of their village. He was a vital member of the community and deserved more than being tolerated at the fringes.

The first time he pulled, literally dragged, Pierre into the tavern one evening, the village stared at them as if they each had three heads. Everything was fine, Pierre didn’t cast any magic so nothing went wonky and slowly people got more and more used to their presence.

Together they learned more about how Pierre’s magic worked and what was likely to make the magic go wrong. They had some close calls where Pierre had to frantically heal Charles, but there was no lasting damage. They learned, they got better, and Pierre’s spells improved.

One year, Pierre crafted Charles a gorgeous lute. He had played a little bit in his childhood but never with any passion. With Pierre, he found that passion and the music helped settle Pierre’s magic even more.

In private, Charles liked to think that his music was his own little form of magic.

Their cottage became filled with laughter and joy. Friends and family started to visit and Pierre’s ethereal hand was constantly zipping around, assisting with filling drinks and stirring whatever was cooking on the stove.

Pierre was included in the community, not just as a tolerable necessity but a welcome member. Children would flock to him to hear stories that were made all the more real by the illusions he could conjure and the music that Charles would play alongside him.

The magic still went wonky occasionally. It was magic and it was inevitable, but people began to realize that it was harmless. Pierre’s control improved and he could channel how the magic went wrong.

(On one memorable occasion, he unintentionally turned into a sheep for one highly entertaining minute. After he changed back, he deliberately turned back into a sheep just to hear Charles’ delighted laughter.)

The years continued to pass and the two of them grew old together. Their hair turned gray, their faces grew wrinkles, and their nieces and nephews had children and grandchildren of their own.

A child manifested their magic and Charles knew that their time was limited. A new Witch had been selected. Pierre immediately took the child under his wing and taught them everything he could about controlling and utilizing the magic while minimizing any harmful side-effects.

He taught them about having an anchor, someone to ground them when the magic threatened to spiral out of control. Someone that would stay by their side through any difficulty or challenge put in their way. He always smiled at Charles when he said that.

This time, the community embraced the child and promised to watch over them when Pierre was gone.

Exactly three years after the child manifested their magic, Pierre and Charles said their final goodbyes to the village they loved and were loved by in return.

Pierre held Charles close and teleported them deep into the woods, into a clearing that was far away from any civilization, where the magic would only touch them.

He told Charles that he felt the magic burning, ready to claim and consume him, and he offered to leave Charles behind. To let him live out whatever remained of his natural life without Pierre.

“Are you going to make me break my promise?” Charles asked, smiling with the love that never faltered over the years.

Pierre shook his head and kissed him, letting Charles feel the magic pulsing through his body one last time. A blazing inferno surrounded them, but Charles wasn’t scared.

They were embarking on their next adventure. Together, as they always would be.

[chesterfieldblossom]

ALL IN Logan Howlett x Reader (3k words)

SUMMARY | It's Poker Night on Wade's apartment and you were invited. Plus, Logan will be there too. WARNINGS | Sexual tension, public teasing, fingers in v, dirty talk, smut RATING | +18 NOTES | I don't know why, but in my mind this man loves playing poker. So I just decided doing this little scene to warm up things a little.

You knocked softly on the door, a few beers balanced in your arms. The muscles in your shoulders and back ached—a stark reminder of how long it had been since your last training session. Wade had been so absorbed in rekindling his bond with Vanessa that he’d left you to fend for yourself. "Wade! Open the door, your bastard." You yell, frowning a little.

Just as you prepared to knock again, ready to unleash another round of exasperated shouts, the door creaked open slightly. Logan stood there, a half-smile playing on his lips. His dark eyes met yours with a hint of curiosity, and you felt an involuntary heat rise in your cheeks.

Logan’s casual attire only added to the effect: a crisp white T-shirt underneath a flannel, paired with well-worn cowboy jeans that hugged his figure just right. The sight was enough to make your heart skip a beat, and you caught yourself thinking about how much you missed the intensity of training sessions—more than just the physical exertion. Wade’s said on one of these sessions that Logan's could actually smell if you where horny or not. And that echoed in your mind, but you shook it off, focusing on the matter at hand.

“Can you give me a hand here?” You asked, trying to keep your tone steady despite the mix of annoyance and something else that bubbled just beneath the surface.

Logan’s dark brow arched in silent amusement as he glanced at the beers in your arms and then back at you.

“Looks like you could use some help, bub.” He said, his voice low and steady.

You couldn’t help but notice the slight shift in his gaze—a fleeting, lingering look that sent a shiver down your spine. He tilted his chin inside, gesturing to you to follow him towards the kitchen. The air was filled with the faint scent of butter and the faint sounds of the microwave working—or at least, trying to work. That thing would explode by any moment.

Logan motioned toward the fridge. “You can set those in here.” He said, his voice low and smooth, making your pulse quicken.

You moved to the fridge, trying to keep your composure as you placed the beers inside. The refrigerator’s interior was filled with some half eated japanese food, some suspicious goo and milk, but your focus was on Logan’s proximity. He stood a few steps away, his presence an imposing, magnetic force in the small space.

As you closed the fridge door, you turned to find Logan leaning casually against the counter, a bottle of his own beer in hand. His gaze followed you with an intensity that made your heart race as he take a sip.

“Y���know,” Logan began, his voice rich with a drawl that seemed to caress each syllable, “I don’t see you around here often enough."

You met his gaze, trying to ignore the way his eyes seemed to undress you, even as his body remained casually relaxed. “I’ve been busy. Working. Waiting for Wade to actually stop fucking with Vanessa 24/7, so we can train."

Logan’s lips curled into a half-smile. He took a slow sip of his beer, never breaking eye contact. “Waiting for him, huh? Ain’t no substitute for what you might be missin’ around here.”

You felt a flush rise in your cheeks. The way he said it, so deliberately, sent a jolt of heat through your body. You could feel the space between you narrowing, the air thickening with an unspoken promise.

“You’re one to talk.” You retorted, trying to maintain a semblance of control despite the growing heat between you. “You’re always so... distant.”

Logan pushed off from the counter, his movements languid and deliberate. He took a step closer, his presence engulfing you. “You think I’m distant? Maybe I’m just waitin’ for the right moment to get a little closer.”

His low husky voice made every word sound like a slow dance, each syllable dripping with suggestive intent. He reached out, his face leaning softly to yours. The eye contact was electrifying, leaving a lingering sensation of warmth on your thighs.

You swallowed hard, your breath catching as his hand brushed against yours. “And what exactly are you waitin’ for?”

"Enough of flirting in my kitchen, hornies." Wade said, appearing from nowhere. Damn you, Wade. "Let's play poker." The apartment buzzed with the lively energy of the poker game. Wade had taken the dealer’s seat, enjoying his position on the table. The modest stack of poker chips and snacks created a casual environment, but there was an electric charge in the air—especially between you and Logan.

As the first hand was dealt, you felt a flutter of excitement mixed with nerves. Your cards were a 6 of clubs and a 9 of hearts. Logan, directly across from you, met your gaze with his usual intense focus. His presence was both reassuring and unnerving, making it hard to concentrate. Sip your beer to look cool, you think.

Wade broke the silence with a grin. “Alright, let’s get this started. Small bets tonight, bastards. Keep it friendly, let's not fuck up my bank account."

Wade put 5 chips into the pot. Al Blind, her fingers deftly feeling the chips, matched the bet. “Call.”

Logan’s eyes were locked on you for a moment before he placed his chips into the pot. “Call.” His voice a little huskier as he sips his beer. So damn hot.

Feeling the heat of Logan’s gaze, you swallowed and decided to stay in. “Call.”

The flop was dealt: the 4 of hearts, 7 of diamonds, and Queen of spades. Your cards were not improved, but the Queen could still offer possibilities. Logan’s eyes flickered over the cards, then back to you. There was a charged silence as he contemplated his next move.

Wade, ever the performer, pushed 10 chips into the pot. “Betting 10. Who’s in, little fuckers?”

Al Blind called. “Call.” "Why in the actual fuck are you playing? You can't see shit." Wade says as he narrow his eyes to Al Blind. "The magic dust making miracles." The African lady shrugs, everyone trying to know how she was managing to play that thing.

Logan lips slightly curls into a smirk as he sips his beer. He added 10 more chips to the pot, his eyes lingering on you as he did. “Call.” You could feel his alcohol breath for a moment, you felt your fingers digging on your chair under the table. You took a deep breath, feeling the pressure. Deciding to stay in, you added 10 chips to the pot. “Call.”

The turn card was dealt: the 5 of diamonds. You now had a pair of 5s, though not much else. Wade’s eyes sparkled as he leaned back, clearly enjoying the game. This little fucker has cards and you can tell it. Wade is the worst at making Poker Face.

“Alright, I’m raising, bitches. Let’s make it 20 and open these bankrupt bank accounts.” He giggles, biting his lip.

Al Blind, her fingers grazing the chips, decided to call. “Call.”

Logan’s gaze remained fixed on you as he matched the bet. “Call.”

You felt a flutter of heat as Logan’s eyes lingered on you. The atmosphere between you two seemed to crackle. You decided to call as well, pushing another 20 chips into the pot. “Call.” Suddenly, you felt for a second or two, his knee brushing on yours under the table and that made you destabilize for a moment.

The river card was dealt: the King of hearts. It didn’t change much for you, but it might have improved someone else’s hand. Wade’s grin widened as he took in the final card. Motherfucker.

“Alright, last bet of the night. I’m putting in 30 chips.”

Al Blind called with a calm expression. She was looking a little high, her brain was so cooked. “Call.”

Logan’s gaze was unwavering as he raised the bet to 50 chips. ���Raise.”

The pressure mounted. With a pair of 5s, you weren’t confident, but Logan’s intensity made it even harder to decide. You hesitated, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, then decided to fold. “Fold.”

Wade chuckled, sensing the tension. “Looks like someone’s not feeling lucky.” "Shut the fuck up." You mutters, sipping your own beer.

Logan’s eyes followed you as you folded, his expression a mix of intrigue and something softer. He turned his attention back to the remaining players. Al Blind revealed a pair of Queens, and Wade showed a pair of 8s with a 7 and a 4.

Logan revealed his hand: a pair of Kings. “Kings over Queens. Good hand.” His veiny hands grabbing the chips.

Wade clapped. “And Logan wins this round! Well played!”

Logan’s gaze settled back on you, his eyes lingering with a rare softness. “Good game tonight. You played well.”

You felt a warm flush at his compliment, the tension between you almost palpable. “Thanks, Logan. I enjoyed it.” "Go to a room you two." Wade announced, tapping Logan's shoulder. Logan's face twitched a little.

The game continued, but each hand felt charged with the electricity of your earlier interactions. Logan’s occasional glances and the way he leaned in during betting created a sense of closeness that made the game feel more intimate.

During a break in the game, Wade was busy grabbing snacks, and you found yourself alone with Logan for a moment. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving you. “So, what made you decide to come tonight?”

You swallowed, feeling the intensity of his gaze. “Thought it would be fun. Plus, it’s always interesting to see how you play.”

Logan’s eyes softened slightly, and he gave a rare, genuine smile. “Glad you came. You’ve got a knack for this.”

You met his gaze, your heart racing. “Thanks. I guess I’m just lucky.”

Logan’s smile lingered, and for a moment, the room felt smaller, the space between you charged with unspoken possibilities. “Maybe it’s more than luck.”

As the game resumed, the atmosphere remained charged. Each card dealt and each bet made seemed to heighten the connection between you and Logan. You finished your beer earlier and Logan was sharing his with you, your minds twisting about sharing saliva. The playful banter continued, but beneath it all was the undeniable tension that made every glance and touch feel significant. "Alright, folks. I will grab more beer to me." You said as you get up from the table, Al Blind and Wade talking about going to the room to take some White Snow to warm up the final round. "Same." Logan spoke nonchalant, getting up from the table. You could feel his gaze on your back, eating you alive. You gulp as you head into the small kitchen, tossing your empty beer on the trash. You crouch softly, leaning inside the fridge to grab one more beer. "Hand me one too." You felt Logan's voice on your back, his hand brushing on your back. "I—" You gulped, turning around to see him inches of you. "Sure." You grab another one and close the fridge. Somehow, you managed to go to the counter and sit on it, sipping your new beer. Damn, your legs were trembling. "You're shaking to death." Logan said as he walked towards you, his small back resting on the counter beside you. "You're alright, pal?" That fucking smirk. It was there, playing with your thoughts. "Low sugar." You shrugged, trying to play it cool. You felt his thumb brushing on your bare knee, so lazily and mischievous that made you dizzy. That man would fuck you like a hero. You just wanted to be one of his girls tonight. Just tonight. "Sure. Low sugar." He chuckled softly, a rough chuckle. He sipped his beer one last time before placing himself at your front, his hands on your incandescent thighs with no mercy. You spread your knees softly, to let him be closer at you. Your throat felt dry and you imagined how would be to make out with him, in Wade's kitchen with him and Al Blind at home. Of course that they were pretty cooked by this time, but you could feel the adrenaline of being caught. "You like this, right?" He said as he leaned to you, his fingers tracing torturous circles on your thighs. " The idea of being caught." He read your mind so easily. "I doubt that Wade is seeing shit now." You mumble, sipping your beer to keep it cool and try to ignore how horny you are now. Logan's nose twitched a bit and a small, almost non-existent smirk tugged in. With that, one of his hand slide on the back of your neck, forcing your lips against his. It tasted like alcohol, barley, cigarettes and victory. His tongue forced the entry on your mouth, a little sharpy. You leaned more, putting your forearms on his shoulder as he stepped closer. Logan's kiss was intense, rough, starved. His hand was gripping your hair while his other hand digs on your thighs, leaving red marks of fingers. Your legs spread so you could feel his cold belt on your lower stomach, his arousal between your legs. And you could said that the thing was big. Jesus Fucking Christ. His hand forced a grip on your jaw when the kiss deepens, his hand squeezing your inner thighs as you muffled moans on your throat. "Look at you. I barely touched you and here you are, muffling moans." He whispered in your lips, the huskier in his voice growling. Your desperated lips seek his again, with playful bites. He growled against your mouth. "Shut the fuck up." You said, your hands destroying his styled beast hair. With that, his hand slides between your legs, touching your warmed panties. "Come again?" Logan's teeth grazed on your bottom lip, marking it softly. It was an educated way to make you be quiet. "You heard it." You managed to say, between ragged breaths. He smirked as his fingers pushed your panties aside, releasing the entry. His finger slipped on your cunt, taking the wetness there and bringing it to your clit.

"I will fuck you up with my fingers," He said, managing lazy circles around your clit. The touch were so precise, firm. "And you will not say a word."

Anything you say.

You think, your brows curling as your jaw drop. His thumb were placed on the clit as the middle finger slide slowly. It burned softly, it's been a while. You bite your lip in embarrassment as you feel the burnt, but his eyes were eating your alive with primal hungry. He noticed that he is the first in while, and that made him so fucking horny. With that, you bring him closer, your tongue sliding on his in need. The finger finally slide all inside your wet cunt, making little sounds of slapping. You felt dizzy, gripping his shirt as he goes deeper, slowly until you get used at his finger. You felt his eyes on you, as of asking silently if he could slide another one. That eyes made you melt. You nodded fervently, as you muffled another moan when he put another finger, filling you. You arched your back softly as he took you expression in every single glorious detail, he is going to dream with that expression. Logan is not much a type of talking during it, he just growls and look at you like a piece of meat. But that just make you feel more wet. Your hips moves against his hand, seeking more. He brought his face your shoulder, licking the base of the neck. He could smell your arousal in kilometers.

"Logan—" You moan in the lowest voice possible, shutting your eyes.

"Quiet." He hisses, kissing your neck as he mover faster, the little wet sounds escaping from the kitchen.

Thank to God that the TV on the living room was playing some music. Man in the Box by Alice In Chains. Damn, you were definitely going to listen that song multiple times after that night.

You bite your lip as he looks in your eyes, his free hand embracing your waist as the finger slide in and out on a perfect pace. His eye contact was ending you over. His firm arm was keeping you in place as you were being so well fucked. His thumb managed to rub your clit again, making you tilt your head back. He smirked seeing you on his mercy as the fingers were touching your G point like a champion. Oh God.

You felt your lower stomach burning as he took your mouth as his, the thumb rubbing you in quick circles and the other two curling inside you in a glorious speed. That's it. You felt the feeling of death all of your body, a muffled good moan escaping your lips as you grind hard against his hands, feeling the release spreading all over your form. Riding Logan's hands was your favorite sport now.

In some minutes you walked to the bathroom without dignity and trembling legs to clean yourself quick. Wade and Al Blind were wasted on their shared room, his noses kissed by the white powder. Logan lead you to the front door, leaning against the door frame.

“Good game tonight,” He said as you prepared to leave. “You did well.” Motherfucker, he was finding this very amusing.

You felt a flutter of excitement at his words. “Thanks, Logan. I had a great time.” You flashed a playful grin. "See you next week, bub?" He said, squeezing your waist in a reminder. You felt a slight shiver on your knees. "Yes." You mumbled as your throat felt dry. The answer was a little too eager.

As you left the apartment, the night had been filled with unexpected scenarios. The casual poker game had turned into an evening of the best release you had in a while, leaving you with a sense of anticipation for what might come next.

[inabcck]

It's like their own little bubble that they're in right now. The parties, other people, and their pasts don't really matter right now. Right now they're two men who were way too attracted to one another for their own good. Magnus was surprised that Logan pulled back when he had kissed his scars paying attention to what he has to say about them. "A badge of honor that only adds to your beauty." For Magnus always seemed to be attracted to the broken people in life that either loved him like a burning fire for a short time or left him more broken than they were.

Magnus makes sure that Logan understands just how he feels about him with his kiss to his lips and how much he means to him already. The way that he looks at him makes him feel like he possibly conveyed that as Logan presses their foreheads together and his golden cat eyes look back into those mismatched ones. It was nice to have a quiet moment before he was totally thrown with what Logan had in mind for a good time. The warlock chuckled his eyes bright and almost daring Logan to do exactly as he is suggesting.

"I can't say that I would be against that." He smirks a more feline smirk almost inviting Logan to put his money where his mouth is. All he knows is Logan can kiss him however he wants as long as he goes back to running his fingers through his hair. Magnus does pull him in a bit closer almost locking him in with his legs around him. "I feel the same way though. I can't get enough of you either." He pulls Logan back in by the back of the neck for another kiss this one a bit hungrier than the others were now.

Logan scoffs at the comment of embarrassing himself and shakes his head with a good natured smirk. "Please, I've done that far too many times on my own to count." But he wouldn't reveal them now, not while he is allowed to think of himself as possibly being able to be a perfect partner. It sends a shockwave through him but for the moment, he allows himself to feel the way Magnus holds him, to let that shiver slide up the base of his spine and gaze into those golden eyes, even more beautiful than a supernova. He stares at Magnus unabashedly, really...because he just is.

But he goes still at the feeling of that kiss, a spot Magnus seemingly plucked out of thin air where he actually had sensation. But honey brows furrow slightly as he pulls back just a tad, another moment of his fingers sliding through that hair, maybe intentionally messing it up a bit. "In a way, though, these are also my heritage. A badge of honor." He says that last bit with a gentle derision, but he's soon distracted by the other's kiss to his lips, something so soft and endearing but equally maddening. His pupils must be dilated, he stands a little above the other at this angle and he can't stop himself from drinking in the warlock by every inch of his features.

You're hardly boring. Logan exhales with a smile but brings their foreheads together, allowing his eyes to close and breathe in the scent of the warlock instead, a heady mixture so lively and inviting. "My idea of a good time, Magnus, is wanting to kiss you senseless right now." It's almost as if the words leave his mouth with absolutely no inhibitions, he knows he might blush at the forwardness of it all but he has no way of stopping himself now. Magnus has done something to him, has unleashed a need to be a devouring force for someone: maybe that someone is the man who has his legs bracketed on either side of his waist. "It's like I can never have enough of you."

[moonbaby26]

Title: Sleepover

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Continuation from previous chapter. After getting Peter back to his house in D.C., he asks you to spend the night. You want to, but you’re also worried about what his mother and his twin sister Wanda may really think of you. As you and Peter get a little more time alone, you also wonder how far you’re ready to go yourself.

Warnings: Nothing more than kissing really in this chapter. Bit of awkwardness from Reader though not knowing what they really want or how to go about it yet.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa , @cringingmemeries , @bi-panicatthe-disco , @himbos-are-my-lifeblood , @simp4mcuwomen , @ikkleroniekins , @cowboyenorgy , @the-chaotic-cow

My Masterlist

——————————

“Anyway, can we argue inside at least? (Y/N) promised to call Xavier when we got here.” Peter piped up, trying to shuffle away from his mother at last.

At the sudden sound of your name though, you felt an added bit of nervousness. You also made eye contact with Peter’s mother for the very first time then, as if she’d only just realized you were there.

Peter’s sister Wanda was also looking back at you with question in her face as well at the reveal of your name. But you said nothing yet, just walking up to hand Peter his crutches.

You purposefully busied yourself turning right back around too, getting that jacket he’d stolen on the plane out from the back of the car as well for him. The sunglasses he already had still on top of his head.

So then, the only other things left in the car were the meager amount of clothes you’d bought for yourself. Which you didn’t need right now as you walked back to the others, carrying his jacket. But really pretty unsure yourself if you were even going to be invited inside for long at all.

“Come on, I’ll show you where the phone is,” Peter spoke again though, either oblivious to the increasing awkwardness for everyone else or just ignoring it entirely as he motioned for you to follow him back up the steps and through the still open front door.

—————————

As you were unfolding the little piece of paper with the motel address and phone number from out of your pocket, you tried to concentrate on the task at hand. The corded phone was propped against your shoulder to rest against your ear, you now standing there in the Maximoffs’ small kitchen. But even as you started to dial the numbers, half your attention was still on whatever Peter was now rapidly saying to his family.

“Yeah, (Y/N) goes to that school. You know I just went there to go ask about Dad since they know him. But then there’s this explosion, and I had to pull everybody out. And all the sudden this mutant god is apparently attacking the world and he took Xavier. But then the government shows up like dolts thinking Xavier’s doing it instead. And they take us to question us, but they’ve got some evil experiment shit going on in there too-”

He only took the smallest breath, continuing at that accelerated pace. “And they had that other guy, remember him, Mom? Logan? Anyway, so he breaks out and wrecks the place, so we get out and I get (Y/N), then we find out where Xavier is so we go to get him. We’re in Egypt and we all fight and that god dude breaks my leg. But he’s trying to make Dad help him, but Dad turns on him and-”

“Hello?” You heard someone on the other end of the line finally answer at the motel. You could still hear Peter rattling on excitedly behind you though, your name peppered into his story several more times as you just answered back on the phone.

“Hi, is there a Charles Xavier checked in there? I need to ring his room please.”

There was a long pause where you could only keep standing there, just looking at the kitchen wall and the bit of older panelling that covered it before the phone finally started ringing again.

Peter was now already talking about the aircraft carrier and your stay there by the time you heard the receiver pick up again.

“This is Charles.”

“Hi…hey, it’s me.” You answered with some relief.

You could hear the quick recognition in the Professor’s own voice as you didn’t have to say your name before he gladly responded. “Ah, good. You made it with no trouble then? We checked in here a while ago. I’m in room 104 if you’d need to call back. Are you leaving now to drive back?”

You tried to commit the room number to memory even as you were already replying. “Yeah, it wasn’t a bad drive. We just got here a minute ago. I-”

“Yo, Prof.!” Peter interjected, surprisingly at your side abruptly, also speaking into the phone then. “We’re barely in the door. I was going to show (Y/N) around a bit. That cool? Pretty jet lagged anyway. Probably be safer to crash on the couch tonight and have (Y/N) head your way in the morning, right?”

You blinked, for one thing not even having heard Peter stop talking to his family. But two, he was really saying you should sleep here? Not just joking around anymore? Could he even decide that on his own?

You felt frozen in that moment, not wanting to look back towards the kitchen at all and whatever surprised expressions his mother and sister may now also have on their faces.

The pause on the other end of the line was very noticeable as well before Xavier eventually continued. Peter shimmied even closer to you so he could also put his ear almost against the phone as you turned it slightly for him.

“Peter, I appreciate you looking out for everyone’s best interests and safety,” The Professor answered then, but with that tone which said he clearly doubted that was the speedster’s true or only reasoning. “But I would think that’d be more for your mother to-”

“Mom!” Peter turned his head back, rather loud in your ear as you flinched a little. “Can (Y/N) sleep on the couch? I mean you hate it when Wanda drives late by herself. Same thing right? It’s a long drive back to New York. What self respecting mom is just going to throw anybody’s kid out into the night like that, huh?”

You were tired, yes. It’d already been a very long day of traveling. But you weren’t that helpless. You were pretty sure you’d be fine. This was so weird though. Standing here in silence while someone else bargained for you. Was he really just trying to extend your time together however he could?

“I don’t care, Peter.” You just heard a rather exasperated answer though from Magda after another moment. “You’re going to do whatever you want anyway. Why even ask me anymore?”

The tension from their argument in the driveway clearly remained, or maybe this was how it always was between them? You couldn’t know yet, just caught in the middle it seemed as Peter only took that as good enough, talking back into the phone quickly, “Mom says it’s cool.”

You heard a sigh on the other end, and Xavier replied, “You’re old enough, I don’t have much say myself. But do call me again when you are leaving so we know when you’re back on the road, agreed?”

“Yes.” You said, pulling the phone more back to you then. “I’ll definitely let you know. Please tell the others I’m okay. I’ll see you all soon.”

After that, you and the Professor both told each other goodnight, and that was it. You hung the phone back up, but not yet sure what you’d really gotten yourself into as you glanced back at Peter. Peter who was now outright grinning from ear to ear.

“So…Chuck Norris or Bruce Lee? Movie night?” He asked you.

But what else could you do? You didn’t mind getting the chance at a little more time together of course. You just weren’t sure about how much anyone else actually wanted you here in this house tonight.

——————————

Not long after, whatever deeper discussions still loomed in the air about Peter’s choices of chasing his estranged father straight into a near death experience with a genocidal mutant god appeared shelved. At least for now anyway.

You’d seen Magda grab some sort of drink. Resigning herself to an armchair and the living room television as she seemed to ignore you all then, even as Peter remained almost bubbly while the two of you started down the basement stairs to his room.

You really hadn’t seen where Wanda had gone, but Peter just kept talking. So your focus only returned to him as you both cleared the last step at the bottom of the staircase. You behind him as you carried his crutches, then handing them back to him as you entered the room.

“And voila, man cave de Pietro!” He announced, waving an arm out towards the space.

You weren’t sure why you’d expected something smaller either. Of course most basements sprawled out to take up near the whole bottom footprint of a house. But this was still large to you, and clearly well used.

There were things everywhere. More than just a room obviously. No, this was his life, his hideaway. The more you looked, the more things you saw. Bicycles, guitars, comic books, band posters, all pieces of his hobbies and likes scattered about.

But there was furniture as well. A little table, some chairs, was this always where he ate too? There was a big sectional couch, the cushions indented a little like he may have a favorite spot there.

You didn’t miss the expensive looking television as well, and the VHS player. All the tapes, and the nintendo and the atari, the record player, a stereo, and boxes of games, cassettes, and music records.

And his bed was near in the center of it all, much wider than one person should need and almost right on the ground as he just fell back onto it sending a noticeable wave across the sheets. A waterbed clearly. But you just laughed a little, still a bit amazed. “You really do live here in the true sense of the word don’t you?”

“Hey, I make do. Home sweet home.” He smirked, but also raised an eyebrow at you not long after. “So you didn’t even notice the table back there did you?”

At his words you did look back over your shoulder with a little confusion. But you started to smile as soon as you realized what he was talking about. An air hockey table back around the corner. Some clutter on top of it like it hadn’t been used in a while, but it was clear he remembered your arcade favorites to point it out like he was.

“I figured I’d try to keep that a surprise until now…you know, since our arcade date might be a little postponed for the moment. So uh, surprise?” He said, laying back on his bed as he put his arms behind his head, still watching you.

“I did see the Ms. Pac-Man.” You replied, motioning to the more obvious machine right against the wall. No wonder he’d said he was pretty good at that one.

“Yeah, I used to have Pong too. Wore it out though. And got tired of trying to find parts to fix it.”

“Oh, I could see that happening.” Sure, he probably played everything with a little super speed. Though imagining him somehow ‘shoplifting’ a whole arcade machine whenever he needed another one was a bit interesting. How did that even work?

“So, uh…you want me to put a movie on for real? I was trying to get us out of that kitchen before Mom went off again. But we can do whatever. You know…whatever you want?” He spoke, albeit maybe a little oddly as you glanced to him again.

He almost sounded a touch nervous with those last words? The slight change in tone was enough for you to catch anyway as you did walk over to the bed regardless before sitting down on the edge of it beside him.

But it was strange here, the more you considered everything. It was hard to explain really. Because how many countless times had you sat in your friends’ rooms at the mansion? Guys or girls, just talking or playing games or whatever. Just hanging out as you supposed most all people your age did. But there was never anything weird, never anything uncomfortable.

It could even be late at night sometimes, some of you only half dressed in your sleep shirts or pajamas and no one thought anything about it. Because you just knew back then that no one thought of you as anything but a friend too.

But with Peter…being here now, you were suddenly acutely aware that you were sitting on his bed. In his room, as he seemed to be waiting for some sort of guidance from you as well. Was that why he sounded nervous?

Yet had Crystal ever been here too you wondered. Sitting just where you were sitting now? And why would you think of such a stupid thing in this very moment?

“Hey.” Peter said gently, causing you to look down as you felt his fingers graze your wrist after he moved his arm to reach out.

You smiled a little at the contact, but still felt kind of foolish. There was no point in trying to play it cool though as you confessed the current reason for your own awkwardness at least. “I guess I just didn’t expect to be in anybody’s room like this. It’s not bad, it’s just…”

“Different?” He asked, helping you out a little to your surprise.

“Yeah.” You answered simply. But you could see as another emotion seemed to pass briefly through his expression, furthering your bit of confusion.

Was that guilt on his face?

And he spoke a little abruptly, with that rarer more serious tone emerging even though the words came fairly quick. “You know I was still just giving you a hard time right? I’m cool going as slow as we need. Despite being the fastest dude alive and all, I don’t have to be the fastest guy in bed. That’d royally suck actually. For both of us. So don’t feel like there are some sort of rules here. Like, you do not have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

You blinked, those words not what you were expecting. But it wasn’t bad at all the more you got to consider them. Was he really so worried that you may think he was trying to get something from you here that you weren’t yet ready to give?

Honestly, you didn’t even know yourself what you were ready for though. “Really, it’s okay.” You replied truthfully. “I’m not uncomfortable. I think I’m still in disbelief is all. I never would have thought this is how my summer would start this year. Never in a million years.”

He sat up, smiling again then with his normal tone bouncing back fairly easily. “And I am totally coming over for a pool party, as soon as this damned cast is off. I mean I’m white as shit so people may have to avert their eyes. But we would totally wreck the others in some volleyball or something. I know we would. As long as Jean doesn’t cheat with the telekinesis crap. I could do some whirlpools too you know, knock ‘em off their feet.”

“Sounds safe.” You said, laughing at the image. Maybe living in some random motel for the foreseeable future wouldn’t be so bad after all?

He chuckled in return, but was cut off by another voice just before he started to speak again.

“Knock knock.”

You both looked up toward the stairs as you first saw a pair of black boots coming down them. Black boots, old jeans, and a dark red t-shirt.

Peter called back, straightening up a little more at the sight. “Hey, sis. Fun run out upstairs with Mom and Dynasty on the tube or what?”

“Well, it was an Alexis and Dominique Deveraux battle episode, actually.” Wanda answered a little regretfully.

“Aw, your favorite catfight duo! Why the exit then?” Peter questioned in return.

She gave Peter a slight accusatory look. “Well, you got Mom in a mood and she wanted to talk about my school next. She wanted to and I didn’t. Simple as that.”

“Well…actually I thought you’d still be at your dorm too really. Not that I’m complaining. Haven’t seen you in forever. Your classes get cancelled?” He asked.

“Well, when the metal roof got pulled off the main assembly hall, I think they decided to err on the side of caution.” She responded, rather deadpan.

“Understandable. You think you’ll still go back in the fall?” Peter questioned anyway.

“Don’t know. I haven’t really liked anything about that college yet. But I said I didn’t want to talk about it remember?” Her tone wasn’t cold to him, but still rather final.

He clearly wasn’t as intimidated by her as you were though as he didn’t miss a beat. “Well how about a movie with us? Me and (Y/N) were about to pick something.”

How true that statement was on Peter’s part, you weren’t really sure. But you still said nothing as Wanda just moved to sit on the other edge of the bed, almost as far from you as could be you noted. But Peter still between the both of you as she looked unimpressed. “Can it be something a little less bloody than your usual at least?”

He scoffed, teasing back. “Well I don’t keep your Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie box sets down here you know.”

“Oh shut up.” Wanda retorted, but it was the first time you’d seen her really smirk. Though the siblings were clearly very different, that expression was also a brief resemblance you couldn’t miss.

“Wanda’s a bit of a sitcom connoisseur.” Peter commented for your benefit.

You took the chance to make eye contact with her at that, thinking that might be your in to finally start a real conversation. But she only looked away. If Wanda was unfriendly with strangers period, or actually just disliked you specifically, it was hard to know yet.

“Just pick something.” She finally replied to Peter though. “If I go back through the living room to try to go to my room right now, Mom’s just going to try and start an interrogation again.”

—————————

Hours later

“Hey, you keep moving around. Do you want a pillow?” Peter’s voice drifted from above.

You were pretty disoriented, for one strange moment just staring up at him and clueless to where you even were before your senses returned a little.

The sunlight was gone then. The only real light flickering from the television nearby that was now on some movie you didn’t remember the name of as you sat back up a little on his bed. Was this the third movie he’d put in? You hadn’t lasted very long at all had you?

“I can get on the couch,” You offered, awake enough then to at least remember his mother and sister were still around here somewhere. Though, when had Wanda left? You didn’t see her anymore and you didn’t even know what time it was.

“Seems kind of unnecessary,” Peter replied, in a quieter tone that caught your attention as you paused.

Was he inferring that you should just get under the blankets right here? With him? But sharing the bunk on the aircraft carrier wasn’t the same as being in his literal bed. Here in his family’s home where they already seemed to be rather distant with you at best.

They didn’t know you here. You had to remind yourself of that. They couldn’t know you didn’t spend the night at boys’ houses as habit. You didn’t get in their beds with them upon just meeting. Honestly, you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d slept somewhere besides the now destroyed mansion.

“Peter…” You didn’t know how to convey that concern really. You did want Magda and Wanda to like you eventually if you were being honest. You wanted them to understand. But you wanted Peter to understand too. Even though he’d said he was fine taking things as slow as you wanted, you felt it would still be all too easy to make him feel rejected without meaning to if you weren’t careful.

“I mean, we could both fit on my couch down here too,” He added, so close then that you were sure he was waiting for you to cross the rest of the small distance and kiss him.

And how could staring at each other in the dark, with the muffled sounds of some badly dubbed kung fu movie in the background now be bordering on romantic for you? Somewhere in the back of your mind you did think of all those stereotypical movie scenes all of the sudden. Two young people just in their own world, oblivious to all else.

“I don’t know if I’ve made the best impression on your family yet.” You tried to explain. “If I’m still in this bed with you the next time one of them comes down here…there is no way they’re going to believe we only watched movies and slept tonight.”

He tilted his head a little, yet already smiling. “And you assume they think someone like you would be that physically attracted to someone that looks and acts like me?”

“I do…and I am.” You answered though. Not trying to lead him on, but unable to help yourself either then as you did close that small distance to kiss him. You still disliked anytime he made those comments about somehow being underserving. He was far from it.

The little bit of tension you felt in return told you he was surprised too, but that quickly faded of course as he only pressed into it to kiss you back.

You had no intention of going too far or taking advantage of his family’s allowing you to stay here tonight however. It wouldn’t be right.

But you were still young as well, and it’d be a lie to say it didn’t feel good as he touched your face and your own hand moved onto his chest. It was something too how quickly the heat rose inside you. You could feel the outline of his body through his shirt as your hand trailed down.

He was warm, his abdomen firm against your moving hand. You kissed him harder actually as his own hand moved back behind your neck. But you needed to stop soon, either that or he needed to wear thicker clothing as your hand wandered further.

It was him that surprised you to finally pull back first though. Yet smiling at you again as he kept his face close.

Your breathing had already changed a little as you looked back to him before he glanced down. He raised an eyebrow at your hand now resting on the waistband of his shorts.

Realizing what he was looking at, you pulled your hand away, apologizing reflexively. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to…” Your mind fumbled a little. Your hand had just been running down. There was no real intent behind it, despite how it looked.

“You’re so funny. Seriously.” He said in that slight tone of amusement though. “Jumping out a plane one day, ready to sacrifice yourself samurai warrior style for your buddies, brave as shit.” He tilted his head, before then enclosing his hand around yours that you’d just pulled back. “But here you get flustered? I’m just a guy, (Y/N). Total nobody. There’s nothing to apologize for. Though I still don’t get it at all. I mean, why you like me like you do.”

“But you admit it then at least?” You tried to counter back, instead of arguing against his very real point that a new relationship could be more intimidating to you than a battlefield. “You admit that I like you. Instead of just telling me I’m making a mistake?”

“Yeah, I mean I guess even I can’t really make up a story of why you’d choose to drive all the way back to New York by yourself instead of bringing one of your friends here with you…unless you really wanted to be one on one with me.” But he just smirked once more, leaning in again to steal a quick additional kiss before pulling back away. “Guess you’re just that nuts.”

“Thanks.” You joked back.

“Takes one to know one.” He answered tauntingly, then sliding off the bed a little awkwardly as he put his feet back on the floor, albeit trying to only put weight on his good leg.

He didn’t have to go far though to reach a nearby closet, pulling a large blanket from it. He wadded it up a little, then tossing it to you. “Since you’re being modest though, you can sleep with Optimus Prime and Megatron tonight. But here, take one of my pillows too.”

In the dark, you couldn’t really make out what was on the blanket. Some sort of characters. You’d just have to take his word on it being Transformers before you caught the pillow that he threw to you next.

“As far as which couch you sleep on, your call. But Wanda always gets up, classic insomniac. I don’t think you want to tempt her with the opportunity to peek into your head if you stay in the living room. She hasn’t met you for real yet and probably still wants the background deets on you.”

“She’s another psychic?” At first you couldn’t remember if he’d already told you that or not. But no, you definitely would have recalled that. Yet maybe this was better? You wouldn’t have to prove anything if she could just see the truth in your mind of how you felt for her brother.

But Peter waved his hand in a ‘so-so’ type gesture. “I don’t think labels really work well with my sister. Yeah, she can get in people’s heads. But she’s not like your friends. She’s her own deal. It’s different. There’s a lot more that she can do. I’m just saying I wouldn’t advise messing with her is all.”

Whatever concerned look you must have given then was enough for him to quickly continue though, “But I’ll work on her the whole time while you’re back in New York. She just doesn’t know you yet. It’ll be fine!”

“Uh huh.” You said, not so confidently. “Guess I’m sleeping on this couch then.”

“A wise choice I think.”

“Of course, you could just be saying all this to get me scared enough to stay down here.”

“Oh, it’s both of course.” He smiled, watching you lay down on the couch even as he got into his bed. “And if you get cold, babe. I’m just a few feet away you know.”

Even from here, you were pretty sure he winked at you as you wrapped yourself up in that blanket he’d given you and stretched out on his couch. “If I go over there, I’m not coming back over here and I know it.”

“Or I could come over there,” he offered, only half jokingly of course.

But you just laid your head on the pillow, knowing you were trying to do the right thing at least. “Not enough room for your leg. You’d be uncomfortable.”

“If you say so, killjoy.”

You only smiled. “Goodnight, Peter.”

“Night, Glo-Worm.” He responded happily.

“Ugh,” You’d hoped he’d forgotten that by now, but apparently not. “Really have to fix that. There’s got to be a better codename for me.”

“Well we can’t all be Quicksilver. Sorry, I called dibs.”

“And we can’t all choose our nicknames out of a department store display case either.” You retorted.

“Ouch. Touché.”

He didn’t tease you anymore after that, but you could still feel his gaze on you as you closed your eyes again not long after. He was close enough that you also felt safe, even here in this new environment.

It was going to be hard to leave tomorrow, that much was certain. But at least you’d also know what you’d have to look forward to as soon as his cast was off again.

Maybe the next time you two fell asleep under the same roof, it’d be in a more neutral territory where you wouldn’t have to worry about his mother or sister’s judgement. Then you could hold him just like you wanted to. And it would be well worth the wait.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

[treenissanderssidesstuff]

Snippet: Soft Serve

Ship: Intruality

Takes place at the same time as: "Sore"-bet

Close, but not close enough.

Janus had already retired that night. Something about early to bed and early to rise self-care. Logan was the next to follow in the middle of movie three to abide his strict schedule. He side-eyed Patton as he walked away… they still weren’t on speaking terms.

At the end of movie three, Roman and Virgil left together and Patton wasn’t at all jealous of the way they leaned against each other throughout the movies, just like they always were now and he definitely didn’t notice that neither of them reached toward him for a goodnight hug like they used to do every night.

He shouldn’t have expected anything else really.

This was his own fault.

And now he was alone.

Patton wrapped another blanket around his shoulders as movie night tapered off. Everyone had joined tonight and it was… it was nice. To have everyone around, even if… even if no one really forgave him yet. The only person talking to him recently was Janus He apparently didn’t notice or didn’t care about the tension in the room, almost floating above it all with a smile on his face as he sat close to Patton throughout the first two movies as if everything was fine. At least, until the feeling of the couch sinking next to him drew his attention away from the light show.

He had almost forgotten Remus was there. Remus made an appearance with Janus and Patton had both surprised he was in clothes at all and enamored by his kraken onesie with extra pose-able limbs he mainly used that night to poke Virgil or Logan at random increments. Most surprising of all however was how quiet Remus was throughout the whole night, only occasionally throwing in the occasional inappropriate quip that only drew attention for seconds at a time at most. Otherwise he kept to himself, staying at the edge of the group as he sat on the floor next to the couch rather than on it.

“Well Patootie, what’s next?”

“Huh?”

“You’re still up and I’m still up, so how about another one?”

“Uh sure thing-“ Patton said, trying to bite down the pet name that had become turn of phrase. He didn’t have any kiddos. They were all adults and didn’t need him to tell them what to do.

Remus rose an eyebrow when Patton passed him the remote. He had a funny look on his face as he did it too, almost amused, but there was something more in there. Still, he pressed some buttons, flipping through to something and surprised Patton all over again. It wasn’t horror or lewd, just something that looked like a crappy off-brand D grade super hero movie with terrible acting and even worse effects.

Honestly it was exactly the kind of thing Patton would have chosen by himself when the others weren’t around to judge him for it. The pack bonding instinct was strong and Patton felt the need to watch the movies that no one else would. Still, there was something almost charming about things that were such terrible quality, they didn’t take themselves quiet so seriously. It was easy to laugh when the production was laughing at itself.

It was true that night too. For the first time that night, Patton felt light. Giggles and chortles and snorts came freely between them as they mutually commented and cooed at the earnest attempts of the actors and were surprised into laughing fits all over again at the downright awful props and costuming. Their budget must have been mainly rubber bands and chewed bubble gum from the way they pulled things together.

Still, with the atmosphere relaxing, Patton found himself relaxing with it as everything got a little fuzzy.

“Need a cuddle?” Remus asked, surprising Patton for the third time that evening while opening his arms in invitation.

He was beginning to realize that maybe he didn’t know much about the duke at all.

“You give cuddles?”

He shrugged. “Janny gets cold too. We do this all the time.”

“You do?”

“You don’t?”

“I…” Patton let the sentence trail off, not sure how to answer.

It used to be common place to share hugs and cuddles and touches between them, but that had been happening less and less recently as things became more serious. Everyone was angry, everyone was tense. In his own odd way, Remus was a breath of fresh air every time he entered the room. Patton had watched more than once as he made a lewd or dark joke in the middle of the others fighting and completely sidetracked whatever hurtful thing someone was about to say.

“How’d you know I’m still cold?” Patton asked, his fingers playing with the hem of one of his blankets.

“Call it an educated guess,” Remus said with a smirk. “Well?”

Patton hesitated, but only a moment more before he scooted closer and leaned into Remus’ open arms. He was so warm. The duke began to run warm hands up and down Patton’s arms and he found himself melting.

“Careful or I’ll fall asleep,” Patton said, feeling himself lean more and more against the warm body behind him.

“It’s alright Patsy, I gotcha.”

[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

[anotherloganstan]

The Hurt - DRLAMP

Summary: Janus has become to feel a little more left out of the group, it hurts him so much but perhaps he’s hurting himself more than the others are hurting him after all.

A/N: Thanks to @treeni for commissioning this piece and also to @candied-peach who this is written for as well, enjoy! 

Warnings: angst, self-hatred, pining, hurt/comfort, getting together (with the others already in an established relationship)

Word count: 3k

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

Janus is a lot of things, sarcastic, harsh, a liar, a little mean when he needs to be, but also emotional. But those walls were built up so high they even rival Logan’s own, well, before the somewhat recent development that is. And Janus was hurt. Painfully, deeply so. It hurt to see them together. To see them all together. The way Patton pulls each one of them into a hug only to hesitate when it came to Janus, that hurt. The way Virgil would make each and every one their signature drink only to ‘forget’ Janus’, that hurt. The way Roman would ruffle their hair, place the most delicate kiss onto a forehead – aside from his brother who more often than not got an affectionate slap over the head and a laugh – it still hurt. The way Logan will sit curled up close to another, holding hands while he reads, that hurt. And the way Remus, he closest friend, took off and left him for them, perhaps that hurt the most.

But he could not show that, could he? He was strong, a force to be reckoned with, spiteful, petty, and yet still hurt.

Many nights he spent alone, listening to giggles and laughs, loud conversations between the thin walls, sharp tears stinging his eyes and sniffles muffled by his pillows. It really, really hurt. The deep pain in his chest stabbing, aching, irrational, absurd. He was jealous. So very painfully jealous. Not of any of them in particular, no, he was jealous that he wasn’t a part of whatever they had, this closer, more intimate relationship that clearly, he was not worthy of. They did not want him, they did not need him, he was nothing to them, nothing but someone, something, to use, a convenience, to be there whenever they needed him to be of service and nothing else.

He could not help those painful, poisonous thoughts from plaguing his brain, his thoughts, his dreams. It got him down.

*

It’s a movie night, Janus is certain, the loud singing from the twins and Patton, the boisterous giggling, even the undignified screeches of ‘hey!’ from Virgil and Logan every so often. Janus is missing out but then again, he wasn’t invited. It is late anyway, too late to join them. Maybe he should simply go to bed, he won’t sleep but he’s not doing anything else either, other than wallowing in his own self-pity and depressing thoughts.

He gets up, puts on one of his favourite silk robes and decides that he looks decent enough to be seen and walks downstairs, even just to see what’s going on. Even just, for a moment, to feel like he’s involved.

But it is a bad idea. Seeing Roman sat on the floor between Patton’s legs, the other man playing with his hair in a way that must be soothing as Roman’s eyes are closed blissfully, yet a smile on his lips and giggles still slip past. Beside Patton is Logan, leaning against him but talking lowly with Virgil beside him – probably about something that set them all off laughing in the first place. Remus then beside him, well, half atop of Virgil who simply chooses to ignore him and his maniacal laughter for the most part.

“Shh, be quiet, we don’t want to wake Janus up,” Patton scolded the seemingly endless giggles from the others but unable to stop himself from snickering as Remus unceremoniously falls off the couch and onto the floor between his fit of laughter.

“Don’t worry, I’m already awake,” he says, deadpan and serious, if only to mask the slight hurt of once again not being invited nor included to one of their group hangouts.

“Oh, Janus, we’re sorry!” Patton apologises immediately, hand over his mouth to cover the remnants of his laughter. And Virgil at least has the decency to kick at both of the twins to get their attention, giving them ‘a look’ which they must understand as ‘shut the fuck up immediately’ because they fall almost completely silent.

Great, now he’s ruined their fun.

“It’s alright, Patton, I was awake already, continue, it seems like you were all having a good time,” he says, unable to stop the bitterness from seeping into his voice. God, he is such a bitch.

“Ah, we apologise, Janus, we assumed you were having a ‘self-care’ day as we hadn’t seen you all morning and this afternoon,” Logan explains from his position half on Virgil’s lap and half on the couch leaning against Patton.

“Right,” Janus responds, unsure of what else to say, should they not have assumed? Should they have come to him to ask if he was busy? Maybe that would have been nice, but he knows he would have been intruding much like he is now.

So, he lies. Again. Like he always does.

“Quite right, Logan,” he continues, at least attempting to sound somewhat unfazed and confident and content, “I have just come for a glass of water then I think a bubble bath and face mask is in order. Please do enjoy your movie.”

They do. Or at least Janus assumes they do. He gets his unnecessary glass of water from the kitchen and takes it back to his room, listening as they resume their movie, and the giggles start up almost as soon as he leaves. That only stings a little. He tries to brush off the feeling that maybe they are laughing at him. They would not, he knows, but the voice in his head tells him that anyway. He takes a bath regardless to keep up appearances and not to seem like such the filthy liar he actually is. They all hate his lies anyway.

*

He catches them again a few nights later. Perhaps they are not caught, after all this is all their kitchen, but Janus, again, feels as if he is intruding on something intimate. Date night, he presumes. Virgil on his usual place atop the countertop, in a slightly more formal purple jumper and jeans, sticking his fingers into something sweet whenever Patton, in the adorable pink apron, turns his back to scold at Remus for touching the hot trays. Roman sits at the table, poised and as beautiful as ever, clearly dressed up for the event, adding garnish to what must be their starter course. Logan sits beside him, stirring together some sort of dressing for the salad, listening but not participating to the conversation Roman and Virgil are having from across the kitchen.

“Janus, come in,” Logan says, having clocked him the moment he came to be at the doorway.

Janus flushes, unable to stop himself, the hurt and guilt combining, yet the invitation warms him just a little.

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” he responds, almost sheepishly. He feels very underdressed in front of them all, even Logan seems to have made an effort (though he doubts of his own free will).

“You wouldn’t be imposing, we’ve made enough for all six of us,” Logan says, the barest hint of a smile gracing his features and Janus is sure he wants to make Logan smile like that and more in the future.

“I shouldn’t, you all should be able to enjoy your date night without the need to babysit me, I would merely get in the way,” he tries, hoping that his raw emotion is not slithering through his somewhat humorous words.

Logan sighs. And Janus cannot help feeling as though he is the source of this disappointment, this frustration. But he does not say anything.

“What our nerd is trying to say is we want you here,” Roman interrupts, voice as loud as before, bringing the attention of others onto Janus who merely wishes he had not come at this point, “you can’t be imposing if you have an invitation, sorry, you’re not even cool enough to gate crash anyway.”

The good-natured insult makes Janus almost reconsider. Almost. Lost for a moment in thought, barely a smile on his face until it drops suddenly. He shouldn’t let himself feel too comfortable around them, especially on their date night, least he fall victim and break his own heart with false hope.

“I shan’t tonight, boys,” he says after a moment, all eyes on him, and he avoids looking at their faces – hoping to not see a look of disappointment or even more so a look of relief at his departure – “have a lovely night though.”

With that he is gone.

*

It is a few days later that he breaks. All the feelings trapped inside of him, festering inside of his soul and willing to break free. It was the glimpses of kisses, becoming the background for sensual touches and too long hugs, of soft whispers he definitely was not supposed to overhear, to the sounds of shrieked laughter from down the hall and loud conversations he had no part it. Their own little lives he had- has no part in.

*

They are in the living room again, music on low and the bursts of chatter flowing down the corridor and Janus’ curiosity gets the better of him. Sticky notes stuck to all their foreheads and smiles on their faces – that he tries to tell himself they all do not drop when he enters – playing some sort of silly game.

“Janus!” Patton exclaims at the same time Remus shrieks “I’m not a chicken?”

“Sorry for interrupting, I’ll just go.”

“Wait!” Roman raises his voice from between the grumbling amongst Remus and Virgil with Logan as a somewhat bored mediator.

Roman is at his side in an instant, having no issue manhandling Janus to face him, his smile big and infectious, almost making Janus believe he wants him there, but he knows he’s just being polite.

The other goes to say something before his face changes and what comes out instead is, “are you okay?”

And they have not asked that for a while. And Janus is not sure for the real answer. So, he lies. As always.

“I’m fine.”

It came out harsh, clipped, angry.

“You don’t seem it, are you sure?”

“I said I’m fine, leave it at that.”

“Okay,” Roman relents, “I mean, you don’t have to go just because we’re all in here, we do realise that you don’t spend so much time with us anymore, and that’s okay! Just, you don’t have to go because we’re in here too.”

“Yes, Roman, I do. You wouldn’t understand.”

“What wouldn’t I understand?”

“Any of it. I just… I can’t be around you all, it’s too much.”

He stops just short of telling Roman that it hurts. It pains him.

“Janus,” Roman begins, voice soft and gentle, not wanting to spook Janus, “you know you can tell me anything and I’m here for you, right?”

And Janus is sure if Roman held out his arms now that he would merely fall into the hug, cry and collapse against the romantic and let everything out.

Instead, he responds, “of course, Roman,” and takes his leave despite everything telling him to stay.

*

Alone, again, once more. You would think he has become used to the silence and the loneliness, sadly not. He lies on his bed, lights out aside from the small lamp on his bedside table, dressed for bed yet not tired, no, merely exhausted. He considers getting up for a glass of water (and telling himself he definitely will not change his mind and reach for the wine once in the kitchen) but then there is a knock at the door. A sharp, pristine, calculated knock.

Had it been anyone else Janus may not have opened the door, not in the mood for a loud, over exertive interaction. But he knows Logan stands on the other side of the door, perhaps alone, perhaps not. Janus does not know which he would prefer in all honestly.

He gets up and unlocks the door all the same, opening it to reveal Logan as he assumed, in his navy sleep shirt and shorts, and Virgil, looking a tad more tired and sheepish than the other, in a black tank top and joggers.

And Janus does not know what persuades him, but he opens the door further and says, “do come in, it’s not at all late.”

Virgil falters for a moment before trailing behind the seemingly oblivious Logan. And, well, Janus could make a joke about how he never anticipated these boys in his bed, but he decides against it.

“Janus, we are sorry for the late interruption but we thought it best to come and talk to you regarding, uh, the other day and we assumed that you would not appreciate being cornered by all of us so myself and Virgil thought it wise to approach you alone, apologies if this is an uncomfortable subject matter for you but we deem it necessary,” Logan explains, eyes on Janus as Virgil seems to be suddenly very interested in the black silk sheets.

Janus all but forces a casual smirk and wills his tone to remain calm as he closes the door and stays standing as far away from the others as possible, “I understand, my outburst the other day was most certainly uncalled for and will never happen again, forgive me.”

“That is not at all what we mean, Janus,” Logan responds after a beat, “and I think you know that deep down.”

Another pause.

“What exactly do you mean then?” Maybe his tone is too harsh, volatile, defensive. He can tell by the way Virgil flinches ever so slightly.

Logan opens his mouth to say something but clearly thinks best of it and closes it again. And Janus has never been more angry with himself than now.

“What Logan is trying to say is, well, you’ve noticed that we’re all kind of, uh, together-ish, well, mostly and we want to say that… we’d like to, I don’t know, extend the invitation to you too, fuck, that sounds really fucking formal,” Virgil finally grits out, voice quiet and rough, clearly nervous as his fingers pick at the sheets and he meets neither of their gazes, “we like you a lot, Janus, and we realised that we’ve kind of been dicks to you without even realising it and, well, that’s shitty of us and we’re sorry but we want you in this fucked up little relationship of ours too, it’s not the same without you.”

Janus, well, he laughs. He can’t help it, a short, sharp laugh escaping him before he can stop himself. He is sure Virgil is overly anxious especially now and he would not be surprised if Logan got up any moment and punched him in the face.

“Sorry, I just- it is kind of funny how I always thought you all never wanted me, you never needed me, I just assumed that, well, you were all doing just fine without me and you made that all very fucking clear,” he says, voice wavering, “I felt so, so excluded and you all just did nothing. I was so fucking alone, I had no one, you left me Virgil, you left us, and- well, fuck, Remus left and then I had no one. So, excuse me for feeling a little pissed off at you all.”

He sighs, runs a hand through his messy bed-head before coming to sit at the bottom of his bed across from the other two.

“I love you all, I do, individually and in some ways different to others but I loved you all and it hurt me so much to see you all go, it broke my fucking heart, and I don’t know if it’s fixable.”

They’re both looking at him now, softly, gently, beautifully.

“But I was jealous, so very jealous.”

He lets himself cry, silently, wiping away the tear trails with his bare hands. That is until each of his hands in captured by either man on his bed with him. Virgil’s hand is soft and warm, comforting, and familiar. Logan’s is cold, his fingers longer and able to touch more of Janus’ own, it makes him feel secure in a new way.

“We’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

*

They talk. All of them. Sometimes together, sometimes just two or three of them. Janus is slowly opened up to their relationship dynamic that is far more complex than he would have imagined. And he realises he does not want to kiss all of them in that way, only wants to hold some of them, touch some of them more intimately. But he wants all of them in their own special ways. He becomes closer to them all over time.

He kisses Patton on the forehead for the first time and the father figure bursts into tears and does not let him out of a hug for at least an hour when the others find them. He’s fond of holding Virgil’s hand, it is almost how they used to be but different, more open and accepting of their emotions, it is nice in a way Janus would never have thought of before. He enjoys kissing Roman, gently on his mouth, or even just catching his cheek, it is soft and the romantic flushes before offering a sweet kiss in return or, heaven forbid, a kiss on his hand. As for Logan he enjoys his presence, leaning up against one another late at night or early in the morning when the others are still in bed or occupied, reading or listening to music, there is a soft, unspoken love and gentleness between them.

Then there is Remus. For a while, the other does not dare come near him alone out of fear. And Janus understands the same feeling. Regret, guilt, abandonment. But when he finally gets Remus alone, gets his arms around the other’s torso and buries his head into the crook of his neck. He never wants to let him go again.

He never wants to let any of them go.

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

Please reblog if you enjoyed this fic! I am still open for commissions, DM me :)

[zigtheeortega]

incomparable

pairing | logan x mc

word count | 7.4k

warnings | there’s a lot of angst in this one, and it’s definitely an emotional hurt/comfort fic! if you don’t like the idea of logan trying to move on, then this one isn’t for you!

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @senatorraines, @dionneserrano, @blainehayes, @rodappreciationweek

author’s note | a while ago, my sweet friend and fellow mod @/pixeljazzy suggested a fic plot that’s angsty and absolutely demonic, aka logan tries to move on, so i decided to write it! i’d been working on this before the mods decided to create the time capsule challenge, so i’m very content that this fits into the theme well !!! and to clarify, this is an au where my mc raquel writes down her experience with the mpc and ends up publishing it and unintentionally becomes a best selling author! also yes rodaw brought me out of my choices writing break and i’m not mad at it at all

•─────────────────•

She wasn’t Raquel.

That much was obvious – she was taller. Her shoulders were broader. Her hair was short, bluntly cut at her collarbones, and dark brown.

She was tattoo free. The skin of her arm was bare – a clean slate. Untouched.

She seemed more innocent, too. Not in the way that Raquel was when they first met.

This woman was grown with a full time job and a comfy apartment in the heart of the city, but… there was something missing.

She probably had no clue that there was a seedy underbelly to her home. Didn’t have the misfortune of crossing paths with someone like him when he was at his worst.

She was privileged enough to go about her life while a whole microcosm of crime happened right under her nose. And she didn’t want to know. Didn’t need to know.

Logan wasn’t exactly jazzed to shatter another woman’s innocence the way he did with Raquel.

This girl seemed… safe. Level headed, secure, and millions of miles away from the life he’d abandoned.

It kind of happened by accident. Meeting her, that is.

It wasn’t a carefully crafted “accident” like with Raquel. She actually just… caught his eye.

He’d gotten an honest job as a mechanic on the outskirts of L.A., working mostly with the struggling working class that had long been banished to the dingiest corners, despite being the most important cogs in the city’s machine.

The autoshop was family owned, and had been for generations – the owner, Nicandro, had accepted Logan as his own, and Logan had practically become a part of the Alvarez family.

He hadn’t anticipated finding his own home in the same city that’d chewed him up and spat him out time and time again.

A couple months into working there, he was finally settling into his routine. Nine-to-five job on weekdays, community college classes on weekends, and the occasional Saturday mass when he was invited by the Alvarezes.

He was functioning. He had a routine. And then this girl came in and disrupted it all.

The Honda Civic girl.

When the average looking car pulled up outside, he didn’t give it a second glance.

He went back to work, arms deep in the engine, grimy and stained from repairing Miss Anita’s ancient artifact she insisted on saving even though it was less than a thousand miles away from crumbling cartoon-style till only the wheels were left.

(But she was family to the Alvarezes, so Nicandro insisted on repairing the car for free nearly every week when she needed something new tweaked.)

He heard her voice from across the room and still didn’t look up from his hands.

“Hi, this is embarrassing, but my engine light thingy came on and I have no clue what it means,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I’m on my way out of town for a couple of days, so I thought I’d stop and get it checked out before you closed for the night.”

“Aye, Lo, can you help her out real quick? We’ve gotta truck coming in with parts soon and I gotta keep watch,” Nicandro called across the garage, shooting Logan a toothy grin as soon as he looked up.

“Sure,” Logan smiled politely, scrubbing his forearm over his brow, the sweat managing to hold a couple strands of his hair captive against his skin.

He was assuming it’d be a typical oil change, but the second she came into view, the ghost of the last time he left L.A. gripped his heart and squeezed until adrenaline shot through every vein in his body.

Her t-shirt, tucked neatly into her denim shorts, read “Langston”.

It wasn’t the sweatshirt, but it was the same design, same color.

He knew staying in L.A. was a gamble, but he was willing to risk it. Staying away from Raquel was priority for her safety, but… he couldn’t bury the inkling of hope that pushed its way to the surface when he walked into a coffee shop or a bookstore – places he knew she’d love.

Once he saw the shirt and her big brown eyes, he was done for.

She wasn’t Raquel, but something about her lived in this stranger.

Before he could stop himself, he was comparing her to his first love – a disaster waiting to happen.

Their first date was anything but – she insisted on bringing him a vanilla milkshake from his favorite burger place to his work.

“How’d you know I was working?” He asked earnestly, mirroring her soft smile.

“I didn’t. Nicandro told me vanilla milkshakes were your favorite and I didn’t want to ruin the surprise so…” she shrugged, her cheeks flushed. “I’ve, uh, brought milkshakes up here every day this weekend.”

He laughed – a real genuine surprised laugh – and took a sip from the styrofoam cup. “You didn’t let them go to waste, did you?”

“Nah, Nicandro’s been really happy with me.”

“Yum,” he hummed. “I’m happy with you, too.”

She grinned in delight, taking a sip from hers. “I’m glad my hard work paid off.”

She stayed there for his whole lunch break, and they chatted, casual conversation with no substance, and he actually enjoyed himself.

The last time he remembered having casual conversations about nothing with a girl his age, he was curled underneath the sheets with Raquel, tracing the outlines of her sleeve of tattoos. He could’ve listened to her talk for hours.

This girl… she was pretty tolerable – she listened to him (hung on every word, even) and cared about what he had to say, even though it was a laid back, low stakes conversation.

“My name’s Renée, you know. I realized I haven’t told you,” she smiled, resting her cheek on her hand. She was facing him, and they were seated on the same side of the old wooden table out back behind the garage.

“Renée,” he repeated, shaking the styrofoam cup to gather the last bit of milkshake at the bottom before tipping it back to lap it up. “I’m Logan.”

“Logan,” she nodded. “It suits you.”

“S’not my real name,” he shrugged.

He didn’t know why he was telling her that. If he told her too much, it’d end the same.

She tipped her own cup back, tapping the bottom to get little stray ice chunks out. “Fine by me. I still think it suits you.”

She was way too trustworthy of a man she didn’t know, but… wasn’t that what attracted him to Raquel in the first place?

Without a shred of judgement in her eyes, Raquel took everything Logan said as the truth, despite how many times he’d fucked up. Betrayed her.

Renée didn’t look at him like he was a criminal and… well… he wasn’t one anymore. He was still in the criminal mindset, though, since he’d been ostracized for so damn long.

The next couple weeks were uncomfortable – not because Renée made him uncomfortable in the slightest. If anything, she was doing the opposite, and that was the problem.

He’d had to reopen himself to caring about another woman, and to say it was a difficult task was an understatement. The gates were stubborn, rusted shut, so much so that he had to force them apart, ignoring the grating screech of metal and the inevitable pain that came with being vulnerable again.

They went on a few dinner dates. She brought him lunch at work. She invited him to her apartment. They went to a food truck festival together.

Renée disrupted his routine, and it was a breath of fresh air.

He’d gotten so comfortable with his quaint life and his work family that he hadn’t pushed himself to do much more than that.

But the first time she held his hand, he froze.

She casually grabbed his hand to lead him through a crowd and his body reacted like he’d been electrocuted. It wasn’t wrong, but it felt wrong.

“Are you good?”

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, wiping his clammy palm against his jeans before letting her grab his hand again.

It wasn’t wrong, but it was wrong.

He should’ve ended it that moment, but he didn’t. He’d convinced himself that if he could push through the initial weirdness of it all, he’d be happy. Eventually.

So he went through the motions with her, trying his hardest to push his comparisons of her to Raquel to the back of his mind, but every so often it’d bubble to the surface.

It’d manifest in the most random ways.

She liked Coke icees, not cherry.

Oh we watched that rom-com together, and she hated it because it was too corny.

She likes that TV show as background noise because she thinks it’s dumb, and I do, too.

It was unhealthy to think of Raquel that much – to compare Renée to her that much – but he couldn’t help it.

The last time he was happy, safe, loved, was with Raquel. He hadn’t chased that feeling for a long time (because he wasn’t sure he could find it again), but with Renée he was getting closer to what he used to have.

Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted that warmth – that comfort – again.

She wasn’t Raquel, but she’d have to do.

A month into their casual dating, Renée kissed him. Well, she tried.

She’d insisted on driving him to a boujee rooftop bar near her place and was thoroughly buzzed off a couple of cosmopolitans less than an hour into them being there.

The party was in full swing around them, the corny ass cover band on their fourth “tribute” to Billy Joel.

He was out of his element to say the least. 

Just as he was about to lean over to tell her he needed to use the bathroom, she’d wrapped her arms around his neck and smashed her mouth against his, planting sloppy, sugary, open mouthed kisses on his parted lips, frozen in shock.

“Logan,” she breathed, squeezing him tighter, not even registering how tense he was.

“Renée… hey, hey,” he said, gently but firmly pulling her away from him. “I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

Her big brown eyes welled up with tears and his chest twinged with guilt, the distant memory of the first time he’d betrayed Raquel floating around the back of his brain.

“I’m sorry I – I don’t know what came over me –” she turned away from him, dabbing her eyes with the crook of her finger.

“It’s okay. No need to apologize,” he reassured her, rubbing his palm in small circles on her back. “We’re good.”

“I wanted our first kiss to be special and I royally screwed that up,” she sighed, swivelling back till she was facing him again.

“Can’t do worse than me.”

She chewed her lip, trying to hold back a smile. “Oh yeah?” 

“I was a girl’s first kiss… five minutes after we’d outrun the cops.”

Her laugh was a surprised one, her bright smile replacing her disappointed expression almost immediately.

“That’s surprising. I never pegged you as a law breaking type,” she blinked, the alcohol clearly making her a bit more ballsy than she normally was.

It was his turn to laugh – he doubled over, nearly knocking over her half empty glass in the process.

“I used to be quite a troublemaker.”

Despite her not-so-subtle hints over the next few weeks, he couldn’t bring himself to kiss her.

She probably thought he was the prudiest of the prudes, the local catholic church’s golden boy,  the working man’s poster child of abstinence till marriage.

He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Yet.

He was wearing himself down more and more each day – he was on the track to kiss her in… a couple months to a year. Probably.

Two months in, she invited him to a swanky event her job was hosting.

She was one of many accountants working in the financial department for a large publishing company. She had a really cool gig, and she knew it. She never bragged, but she was proud of her accomplishments. 

So why was she dating a mechanic who was making a third of her income? He had no idea.

Either way, he tried to enjoy himself. The car that picked them up was luxurious, and that and the food and booze reflected just how much money their company had made that year.

The venue was huge and packed to the brim with hundreds of people, the standing tables a couple feet apart all throughout the ballroom.

“Damn, they weren’t playing around with this, huh?” He mused, taking a sip from his mug, filled to the brim with locally brewed beer.

“Yep, they’re serious about giving a warm welcome to new authors,” Renée said over the rim of her drink, gesturing vaguely to the room around them.

“Yeah, so is that what they’re doing?”

“Mhmm. Every year we hold a big party to celebrate our deals for that year. It’s really just to pat ourselves on the back and give our new authors a sense of comfort here, you know?”

“Can I get a booklist or something? I might wanna check out some of these books afterwards. I feel guilty as hell eating duck, drinking their expensive ass alcohol, and rolling back home without, ya know, doing anything,” he shrugged, the fabric of his hand me down suit straining with effort at the motion.

“One of the authors insisted on not being included in any of the party promos so… she kinda ruined it for everybody. But she’s our number one best seller for this year, so…” she rolled her eyes, tipping back the last of her cosmo.

“And don’t worry about it. We budgeted for this and we’re good,” Renée nodded, giving Logan’s hand a squeeze over the table.

“So what’s the itinerary for the night?” Logan asked, rolling his mug around by its base, the beer swirling around the edges, just barely kissing the rim, but not quite overflowing.

It was stupid to relate to a fucking mug of beer, but he did.

Anytime he pushed himself to his limit with Renée, he retreated, never breaking past that threshold, that barrier he set in place for himself long before he’d ever met her.

“The President is gonna give some speech – he’s that guy right there –” she said, scooting around the table till her arm was pressed against the sleeve of his jacket, “Then the Vice President – that woman – is gonna introduce the guests of honor, and they’ll give introductions. Then a brief presentation from my boss about how much money we raked in this year, then… yep. We can leave.”

“Sounds painless enough.”

She laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Thanks for coming with me, Lo. I really appreciate it.”

Before he could register what was happening, she’d tipped his chin towards her, pressing a tender, gracious kiss on his lips.

She pulled back, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

He mirrored her smile, but inside he was screaming.

He felt nothing. The kiss elicited absolutely nothing from him.

She kissed him and it felt like he was kissing a friend. Completely platonic.

He’d sunk months into getting comfortable with her just for it to blow up in his face. The second he’d let his guard down so things could progress naturally, it backfired.

He’d taken Raquel for granted. Being with her was so effortless that he didn’t have to think about it, and he let that slip away without trying to get her back.

He thought he was doing the right thing by her, but it was hurting him more than he’d ever anticipated.

It wasn’t that he considered her another notch in the bedpost. It was the opposite – the bedpost didn’t exist anymore.

There was only her. No one else. No matter how many times he tried to remedy his broken heart, it’d just bring him right back to her: the only woman that ever had the privilege of making herself a home there.

“I, uh, need to go to the restroom. Excuse me,” he said, jabbing his thumbs toward the double doors, heading outside before she had a chance to respond.

He pushed his way out of the room, his heart in time with the slap of his shoes against the flooring.

As soon as he was out of the doors, he kept walking, striding past the laggards mingling in the hallway, past the bathrooms, past the security, till he felt the dirty L.A. air coat his lungs.

God, if he could only catch his breath maybe he could go back in there and salvage the night. Maybe even make himself look less like a skittish idiot.

Despite the fact that his brain was wired to unintentionally treat her like a friend, he didn’t want to hurt this girl. 

He didn’t smoke often – just a taste of nicotine when he was drunk or the occasional cigarette when he was stressed.

There was a crumpled pack in his glove box that’d been there for months.

Why didn’t he just drive? He was fucking stranded. He couldn’t run. Couldn’t put distance between him and this situation that he’d willingly put himself in.

None of this was Renée’s fault. There wasn’t a single aspect of the situation that was her fault.

She was a girl who wanted to date a boy because of reciprocated interest.

He felt like the biggest loser in the world. Here she was, a beautiful girl with a lust for life and ambitions that dwarfed anything he’d ever imagined for himself.

And all she wanted to do was love him.

And he wouldn’t let her. Couldn’t let her.

His back slid against the brick wall until he was squatting, arms braced against his knees while he tried to gulp down fresh air as fast as the wind whipped at him.

He’d managed to find the one corner of the building that was completely unoccupied. For once, he was thankful for his gut instinct to lurk in the shadows.

He’d barely gotten a minute of solitude before the door closest to him flew open, a blur of tulle streaking across his peripheral.

The person’s breaths were labored, panicked, as they ran the opposite direction until they were at the edge of the pavement.

They bent down, just like he had, and clasped both hands over their mouth, letting out a small muffled scream.

When she was finished with that, she tilted her chin upwards, her skin illuminated by the light from the parking lot that spilled onto their side of the building.

If he thought breathing was difficult before, it got a whole lot worse when she noticed he was there.

She jumped, yelping like a wounded animal before stumbling back, catching herself with her hands. “Oh my god, I didn’t know anyone was here – I’m sorry –”

Pushing herself back up to stand, she brushed her palms off and shook the tulle skirt clean. “I’m just a little stressed. Sorry again for the outburst.”

That can’t be her. There’s no way, he thought, his mouth drying out when he got a clear view of her face.

“Raquel?” He asked, timidly, voice cracking on the first syllable.

She froze, searching the shadows, her hands white knuckling her skirt.

He didn’t speak, and neither did she. He couldn’t tell how long they’d been quiet when he pushed himself to his full height and took a step towards her.

“No, no, no, there’s no way,” she whispered, stumbling backwards, catching herself on the brick wall.

“It’s – uh, it’s me –” he said, laying his palm flat against his chest. “It’s Logan.”

His voice trembled, the effort of speaking (despite nearly being rendered speechless) was more than he could handle – it was as if he had to manually pick up his words like stones and drop them, and they were heavy, and he was weak.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. She didn’t respond.

“I… uh, what are you doing here?” He asked finally, forcing the question past his lips.

If he didn’t say something he’d be drinking her in all night. It’d been a couple years, but she looked exactly the same.

Yeah, her hair was mid-length, the ombre traded for a black tone, and she’d gotten a few more tattoos that he could see, but she was the same old Raquel.

Same old Raquel, but professionally styled. He wasn’t self conscious of his hand-me-down suit until he noticed how polished she looked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she breathed, a strained tone followed by a struggled breath.

His heart dropped to his stomach. He’d completely forgotten about Renée.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened and closed it again, like a fucking fish out of water. There was no way to beat around it.

“I’m a plus one.”

Her perfectly gelled brows furrowed, and his gut clenched at the motion.

He was scared as hell, but damn did she look exactly like she did when she was hunched over a textbook, scrawling notes as quick as her brain summarized the words on the page.

“You didn’t… deliberately come here to see me?” She asked, searching his face for something (the truth, probably).

He ran a hand through his unruly hair, an inch or so shorter than she’d last seen it.

Why’d he have to run into her after he’d gotten a trim? He’d imagined this moment going so many different ways, and every scenario he’d pictured them looking like they did the moment they parted – if he had it his way, every detail would be exactly the same as the day he disappeared into the night, from his head down to his shoes.

“I, uh… No, I didn’t,” he stammered, taking another step her way, and that time she didn’t move back.

Shaking her head, she watched him, expression incredulous. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Just because I didn’t come here for you doesn’t mean I’m not happy to see you,” he said, reaching out towards her.

He thought she’d flinch away, but she stayed planted in place, her eyelids fluttering shut when he stroked the pad of his thumb against her jaw, revelling in how soft her skin was. Just like he remembered.

“So beautiful,” he murmured. “The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

She turned her head just enough till she could kiss his palm, leaving a streak of lipgloss on his calloused skin. “This doesn’t feel real.”

“It is, baby,” he reassured her, before testing her even further by tugging her into a hug. “This isn’t a dream, but it sure feels like one.”

She ran her hands across his back, like she was refamiliarizing herself with his frame, before squeezing him tight, her arms shaking with effort. “You smell exactly the same.”

He laughed, burying his nose into her crown, pressing a kiss there. “You do, too. Like lavender’n’heaven.”

Raquel was in front of him, just as warm and pretty as she was the last time he’d seen her. She even felt the same in his arms, molding to his shape like no time had passed.

Adrenaline surged in his veins, and he took advantage of his momentary courage by tipping her chin upward to get a good look at her.

God, she was so fucking pretty.

Nothing else mattered to him anymore. His mechanic job, his car, his friendships, his home in L.A. –

He’d made a home in those dark brown eyes, and he was willing to drop everything and follow her to the ends of the earth if that meant he’d be back in the one home he’d ever known.

She blinked away a few tears, her bottom lip trembling, dimpling her chin.

He cupped her face between his palms, cradling her face as gently as he would with something breakable, soaking in the moment for as long as he could.

He could’ve held her like that and re-committed every inch of her face to memory, but she broke first, closing the gap by pressing her lips against his and Christ did she taste sweet.

Their mouths, arms, bodies, slotted together perfectly, not an inch of space between them.

Just as he parted his lips for her, she stiffened, retreating from him immediately.

“You taste like cherry. I hate cherry.”

Her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. “You hate cherry.”

He went rigid, the details from a few minutes before flooding back to him. Renée was wearing cherry gloss.

“Oh my god… you’re here with someone?” She asked, but she said it with such conviction, because she knew it was true, and she was begging for it not to be.

His mouth popped open and shut again. “I’m sorry –” “You don’t have to apologize. You’ve moved on and that’s okay. I’m happy for you.” Her voice was trembling with each word – the stones were heavy, and she was struggling, and he could tell.

“No, Raquel, it’s not like that. I promise –”

“Please don’t make me any promises, Lo. I don’t know if my heart can take it,” she said, palms up in surrender.

And she said his nickname. It sounded wrong coming from anyone but her.

“I’m serious, baby, I didn’t think I’d see you again, especially at a schmooze fest like this.”

She blinked, once, twice, processing what he’d said. “So… not only did you insult me by showing up with another woman, but you’re insulting this event that I’ve worked so hard to attend, and you’re insulting me.”

“Raquel… I never meant it that way, I… I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

He dug the heel of his palms into his eyes, groaning in frustration. “I stayed in L.A. in case I ever saw you again, but I didn’t think it’d be this soon, and I dreamed up lots of scenarios but none of them went like this. I fucked it up majorly and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t fucking know.”

She didn’t say anything for a while, her arms folded across her chest while she mulled over his words. “I never tried moving on.”

It hit him like a gut punch, grabbing his organs and twisting till pain shot throughout his body. “You didn’t?” Was all he could manage.

“No, I couldn’t. There’s no way I could when I’m still in love with you.”

She screwed her eyes shut, a sob leaving her before she could contain it.

“Raquel, please believe me –” Logan pleaded, stepping towards her. “If I woulda known you were gonna be here, trust me, I’d be dressed better and you’d be my date and I’d be showing you off to the world –”

Her watch buzzed, startling the both of them. “I… have to go. We can talk after, if you want.”

“Yes, please. That’s all I want,” he laced his fingers with hers, gently tugging her hand towards his lips to press a soft kiss on her knuckles. “I’ll find you after. I promise.”

Giving him one last once over, drinking him in, like she was second guessing if he was real, she stepped back through the doors.

He took a few deep breaths to compose himself before heading in – explaining his outburst to Renée hadn’t crossed his mind till he walked back inside.

He made his way back to the table, running over how he was going to apologize, but nothing stuck. He couldn’t think of anything but Raquel.

Renée was sipping on her second drink of the night, and his beer looked like it’d been dipped into as well.

“Are you okay?” She asked immediately. “I’m sorry about kissing you like that I just – I just thought you were comfortable enough. I screwed up again, Lo, and I’m so sorry.”

“Renée…” He couldn’t get over how unnatural “Lo” sounded coming from her. “The way I’ve been acting has nothing to do with you, okay? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Kinda sounds like you’re breaking up with me,” she laughed once, rolling her eyes. They widened as soon as it dawned on her. “Wait… are you?”

“Can we talk outside? I really want you to hear me out –” “Logan, if you’re gonna dump me, at least respect me enough to not do it in the parking lot,” she sighed, chugging the rest of her drink.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed, sliding his half empty mug of beer her way. “I do respect you, though. A lot. You’re an amazing person.”

Sighing, she tipped back the beer, gulping until he could see her eyes through the transparent bottom of the glass. “I’ve definitely heard this spiel before.”

“I’m gonna tell you this story, and you’re probably not gonna believe it, but it’s true, and it was my life – it is my life,” he started, leaning against the table so she could hear his low tone.

“Years ago, I met the woman of my dreams, and she was innocent and way too fucking good for me. I was breaking the law daily by doing jobs with crews of criminals like me, living off the grid, making money in ways I’m not too proud of.

“She was a part of one of my last jobs before I left L.A. to lay low and I, uh, I fell in love with her. I’m still in love with her. I don’t know what my life would look like if I wasn’t in love with her, you know?”

Her face screwed up in disgust, and she all but slammed the mug down, whispering furiously. “Are you mocking me? Did you seriously just regurgitate the plot of Ride or Die to me? That’s the story you’re going with? One that isn’t even your own?”

“Huh, what? What are you –”

The speakers crackled and a mic squeaked as who Logan assumed to be President tapped the surface of it, cutting off his response.

“Hello everyone, I hope you’re all having a wonderful night so far. As most of you may know, my name is Arnie Harris, and I’m the President of Harris Publishing. When my grandfather founded Harris Publishing back in 1901, he only did so because he wanted to be able to publish a few of his wife’s poems as a gift. Publishers refused to register it under her name, so he made his own company so my grandma could achieve her dream of being a published author, and throughout the years, we’ve been committed to giving voices to women and minorities alike.

“This year’s been one of our best yet, and I’m so thankful to our new authors for seeing something in us and our mission statement. A big thank you to everyone here tonight – Editing, Marketing, Finance, all the staff and employees, hell, the caterers here tonight, valets, everyone. Tonight wouldn’t be possible without you.”

He droned on for a bit longer before the Vice President took the stage, and she began introducing the newest authors that they’d signed that year.

They’d copped quite a few best sellers, which was impressive. Each author took the stage briefly to thank Harris Publishing and give a brief summary of their goals for the next few years.

Renée was ignoring him at that point, refusing to even look his way. He’d be more upset about that if he wasn’t scanning every inch of the room for Raquel, trying desperately to spot the rose colored tulle and midnight hair in the crowd.

“– and the last author of the night, the number one young adult New York Times’ Best Seller for five months and counting, Raquel Olvera with Ride or Die!”

His head snapped towards the stage, his eyes wide. “What the fuck –”

“Renée, she… who…”

“She’s our top seller. The one I said didn’t wanna be in the promos?” She answered flatly, still staring straight ahead.

“Renée, that’s – that’s her, that’s the girl I’m in love with –”

“Oh, please –” She stopped when she saw how genuinely caught off guard he was. “Oh my god, you’re not lying.”

“No, that’s her – I didn’t think – I ran into her outside and she said we’d talk later, but I – I didn’t think she was coming back inside for this –”

“You’re who she wrote about,” Renée whispered, her eyes as wide as Logan’s were, words beginning to slur just a bit. “Holy shit, I just thought the names were a coincidence, but no, you’re him.”

“What… huh?”

“Oh, Logan…” Her eyes filled with tears. “Ride or Die is about you, your old crew, and how she fell in love with you.”

His heart sank. “About me?”

She nodded. “She changed most of the names but kept some, including yours. The ending… you really had to leave L.A. to flee the cops?”

He nodded. “The feds were on our tails.”

“My god… she’s so in love with you. You have to go to her,” Renée shook her head, her hair swaying around her. “No hard feelings at all. You can’t let her go – I’m serious.” 

She’d taken the stage, and had begun thanking people while Logan and Renée whispered furiously at each other. By the time they looked up, she was beginning her speech.

“I never really set out to become a writer. Even though I’m a published author, I don’t really feel like one. Every time I step back to assess the response I’ve gotten to ‘Ride or Die’, I’m rendered speechless without fail. I just wanted an outlet to get my story out, and surprisingly – thankfully – the lovely staff of Harris Publishing decided to take a chance on me. I never thought this level of success was possible, and I’m so grateful for everyone here.”

She held for applause, smiling as though she was grateful for each clap.

“But beneath the positivity and praise I’ve received, I’m still healing. I’m still hurting. Most people know that ‘Ride or Die’ is somewhat of a true story. And yes, I know there’ve been discussions on whether this is a fake autobiography and that I wrote this for attention. Honestly, for the first year after they left, I wished that it was fake, because I was in a lot of pain. Emotionally, I was in shambles.

“I’ve loved telling my story as a form of therapy, but I wouldn’t wish this pain on anyone. The love of my life vanished into the night and I couldn’t do a single thing about it. No closure, no healing, no moving on.

“Stagnancy’s been the norm for me for so long that I forgot what life was like when I was smiling every day. I’m still getting used to happiness being an everyday feeling for me.”

Raquel shook her head, taking a deep breath and dabbing at the corner of her eyes. The audience took this cue to clap again, encouraging her to continue.

Logan watched the monitor on the wall, which zoomed into her face, catching her dazzling brown eyes. He was in awe. She was tough as nails with a heart of gold and he still didn’t deserve her.

“I thought that a life without love was bleak, and that I was doomed to suffer because I didn’t know if I’d ever see Logan again.”

She took another deep breath, squaring her shoulders.

“I’ve realized that I’m surrounded by more love than I know what to do with. By those who love my story, who resonate with my story, and who want or already have a Logan of their own. I get to experience love every day through that affirmation, and I took it for granted till… well, tonight, honestly.

“The end of the story wasn’t really the end of the story for me. I thought that ‘Ride or Die’ was the first and final book, and I’ve been terrified for a while that by the time the hype for this book died down, so would my hope, and I’d have to move on… but like I’ve said, the closure I’ve craved is in everyone that carries my story with them. You’re all healing me by making me feel seen and heard and loved.

“This might be a lot for a speech at a fancy event at the publishing company that signed me, but through all of you who’ve made this possible, I feel like the version of me from years ago when I hopped in a sports car with a stranger who later turned out to be the love of my life.

“The adrenaline, the lust for life, feeling alive – I owe it all to you. Thank you.”

The cheers were raucous by the time she stepped off stage.

Logan’s throat was tight – she still loved him no matter how much it hurt.

Jesus fucking Christ, he would never deserve her.

Renée was sniffling next to him, hand over her mouth. “Logan, you seriously need to go to her. You can’t let her get away again.”

He pulled her in for a quick hug, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart. You really do deserve so much better than me.”

She grinned and patted his cheek lightly. “You’ve never been more right.”

He turned, darting towards the doors, shoving past anyone and everyone to get outside.

When he made it out of the doors, he ran smack into Raquel.

Thankfully, the only people outside of the room were the security guards, who’s attention was focused on the front door.

Raquel pulled him down the hallway and stopped at the last door on the left, a sign with her name on it taped to the outside of the door.

She fumbled with the keycard, her hands trembling.

“Shit –” she cursed, the card tumbling from her hands and onto the tile floor.

He snatched it off the ground and scanned it in one swoop. Within seconds, she’d shoved the door open and slammed it behind them.

His heart was racing. The last time she’d been this hasty was their final kiss, and he couldn’t fathom going through that again.

She stood in front of him, his back to the door, her gaze trained on his chest.

From his height he can see that her face is contorted, but she buries her face in her hands before he can get a good look.

“She looks just like me.” Her voice was a mere whisper, like she couldn’t manage anything more than that.

His heart sank to his feet. “Raquel –” “You say you didn’t know I was going to be here, but then why’d you date someone that works at the same company my book’s being published at?”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I didn’t come here with the intention of hurting you,” he started, gently resting a palm on her shoulder. “Especially knowing how hard it’s been for you, I –”

He broke his sentence off, cursing himself. “Shit, I didn’t know you were having just as hard a time as me. I figured you’d go to college and meet someone better than me. I don’t know.”

“You can’t just say you expected me to move on because you clearly haven’t. What, is her name Rachel or something?” She pulled back, putting a step of space between them. 

He shook his head. “Renée.”

“It even starts with the same letter,” she shook her head, biting her lip. “You thought I’d move on so you started dating the first person that reminded you of me?”

“I – I’m –” He stuttered, dumbfounded that she’d gotten it in one try, as much as he didn’t want to admit it out loud.

“I want you to understand why I’m upset, Lo. You came back to L.A. because you thought there was a possibility that you’d see me again, but you ‘figured I’d move on’. You’re seeing a girl that looks like she could be related to me, yet you’re avoiding discussing that. “I’m mad because while I’ve been trying to heal, you’ve been making yourself suffer, and that’s not fair to Renée. You had no idea if you were gonna see me again so you tried to get the next best thing. You have to see why that’s fucked up, Lo.”

“Even if I was dating Renée because she reminded me of you, none of that matters now.”

“You can’t just dump Renée because you took one look at the girl you dated for a month years ago and decided you wanted her instead –”

“Stop. Don’t try to downplay your role in my life, Raquel. You’re not ‘just the girl I dated’, alright? I loved you then and I love you now.” 

“You can’t love me and string her along at the same time, Logan,” she furiously whispered, her voice nearing hysterics.

He blinked, shaking his head. “Did… you think I was coming here to show you that I’d moved on? And wanted to rub it in your face?”

She chewed the inside of her lip, her dark brown eyes downcast. “Maybe.”

“Renée ended things first. Just now, actually. The minute she realized that I’m the Logan from your book, she told me I needed to go to you,” he reassured her, reaching out to tip her chin up with a crooked finger, forcing her to meet his eye.

“Raquel, I had no fucking clue you’d written about us and the old crew. All these years, I’ve always known how much I love you but… goddamn, I didn’t know you loved me the way I loved you.”

Her eyes glistened, her surprised laugh coming out as a soft sob.

“So… you really do love me? It wasn’t just circumstance?” She asked, leaning into his palm when he slid his hand up to cup her cheek.

“It doesn’t matter how we felt back then, baby. None of that matters now because we fell for each other while we were apart,” he smiled softly, leaning in to press a soft kiss on her lips.

“God, I love you,” she whispered against his lips, deepening the kiss.

“Say it again,” he murmured. “I need to hear it again.”

“I love you,” she repeated, louder, more confident this time. “I’ll say it as many times as you want, as long as you say it back.”

“I love you,” he said, no hesitation, tangling his fingers through her hair and pulling her in again.

The only time they came up for air was to whisper sweet affirmations against each other’s skin before delving back into silently relearning what they could about each other.

Logan had never been the best with words, and he was at peace with that. He knew that when it mattered, he’d show it. And in the dim lighting of Raquel’s green room, he showed her over and over just how much she meant to him.

Kiss by kiss, they adhered themselves to each other, undoubtedly deciding they’d never let each other go again.

She wasn’t Raquel. That much was obvious. She’d grown into much more than the timid girl he’d met on her 18th birthday, and even more than the headstrong driver he’d left behind. 

And he loved her this way and that way – any way he could get her. His love for every version of her was boundless, incomparable to anything he’d ever felt before.

[fakeloveaskblog]

aw, sweet loceit in the evening sun. logan is actually super good at explaining healthy relationships and boundaries and stuff actually, i betcha he could recognize abuse no problem

…aye remy! REMY!! HAve you thought about going to that gay bar more often? who knows, maybe you'll encounter someone nice, make friends with like-minded people, hear some disco, the full nine yards. janus might be there, remus might be there. (just look around for the guy with the blue tie, he's a great guy, if he's not wearing it he'll look like he has that blue tie kinda energy! you could totally just get drunk and unload your grievances on him and i bet he won't even mind!)

(Mentions of U!Virgil but I say beforehand when that happens so those who don’t like U!Virgil can enjoy the rest of the fic up until then)

(Words: 4100)

Remy wiped away a tear while looking at your message. The cold light from their phone was the only thing brightening up the room. Virgil was sleeping beside them, his arm was laid around their waist.

"You just like tots gave me the greatest idea! I'm gonna invite Rem out to the bar! It's gonna the funnest thing like ever! Thanks girl!!"

--

2 days later Remus was dangerously close to eating the moss straight from the gay bar's wall. He had been left without supervision for over 15 minutes while he sat outside waiting for his friend to show up, what else was he supposed to do?!

"SSSSUUUP BABE!!!"

Remy came towards him as fast as they could. They had on a short leather skirt, a neon mesh crop top and a leather jacket over it.

They did a little turn "I just like felt a bit glamorous today!" 

Remus choked on his own spit "The world must be a dark place when you aren't feeling glamorous"

"Awwww babbbe"

He sent them a big grin. He'd just put on his usual oversized dysphoria hoodie and matching oversized (:O) sweatpants.

Remus' smile disappeared in an instant as he noticed dark bruises all around Remy's neck. Shades of purple and green collided against each other.

"Ehm did a vampire come and attack you last night? Seriously are you alri-"

"JUst a reminder that it will be loud in there" Remy interrupted.

"Oh. Right!"

He fumbled around in his bag after his headphones. After putting it and a chew necklace on he did a thumbs up. Remy took off their sunglasses and leaned down so they were face to face.

Their face was so close he could feel their breathe against his lips. They put the sunglasses onto him and sent him a soft smile.

“There’s like lots of bright lights too” They explained.

Remus’ heart fluttered. He didn’t understand why “T-thanks”

They moved their arm around his shoulders as they went into the bar. It was past 12 am so some of the daytime furniture had been moved to make place for a dancefloor. There was indeed lots of neon lights flickering all around the bar and fast pop music was blasting through the speakers.

It was hard to see any details of anyone around him so Remus quickly forgot about the bruise. In this lighting it just looked like a weird choker anyway.

A guy with a see through shirt bumped into Remus. He had top surgery scars. For a moment they looked at each other in the most knowing way. The stranger looked away and continued talking with whoever he was with.

Remus whole body seemed to vibrate. There were so many butterflies in his stomach it felt like he was going to puke, in a good way.

Remy sat him down on one of the tall barstools and slumped down right next to him “So whatcha gonna drink?”

“The squashed down organs of my enemies!!!” He shrugged “Soda?”

They burst out into laughter “What? You catholic or something? Not allowed to drink alcohol?”

He slumped in on himself and started fiddling with his necklace “I-I dunno-”

“No. No babe I was just like joking. Like a stupid bitch. It’s okay” They waved at the waiter “Your most alcoholic fruit mix and your finest coca cola please!”

Remus leaned in to whisper “With salt”

“With salt? Please!”

He kept vibrating like an overexcited weasel. After getting their drinks he kept tapping the glass to stim some of the happiness out.

“Honestly I’ve never been to a gay bar before. I’m digging it. Just like how I’m digging graves”

They playfully hit his shoulder “Then I’m tots gonna try my best to make this the  ultimate first gay bar experience! I can’t think of any other lil fucked up gremlin buddy I would wanna have by my side!”

"Muhahah!! I am officially assigned ultimate gremlin buddy-”

“Greetings” A voice suddenly came from behind them.

Both of them flinched away. Remy let out a short yell and Remus was close to throwing his drink in the person’s face when he saw it was just Logan.

He had on jeans and a black button up with the top button unbottoned. He had with him iced coffee from starbucks because he had to drive home later.

“LOGIE!!!” Remy threw their arms around his neck to pull him closer “Babe this is the Log-legend. Once he was like sooo drunk so when he like tried to kiss me puked on my shoes instead!”

Logan grimaced “I am still very sorry about that”

“Oh I already know him through Janus” Remus replied. 

“Oh my gawd babe” Remy looked between them all “So like we all know Janny?! Wig! Sad he isn’t here then��

Remus held up his cola “Cheers to J-anus!” The other two held up their glasses in agreement.

“Cheers”

“Cheerio!”

“He is very pretty and charming and cute” Logan dreamily sighed. He stopped himself from continuing to say compliments.

“Yeah” The other two sighed back in unison.

Logan sat down on a chair next to them. Remy looked around the bar before squinting at him “No Patty?”

He instantly started looking like a Very sad seal “Sadly my wife is away on a convention with her magical girl anime fanclub this whole week. I estimated that going to the bar would make me feel less lonely”

“You have a WIFe??? Like a real one???” Remus exclaimed, his eyeballs were close to popping out from surprise.

“Yes. This may be a controversial opinion but when I marry someone I prefer them to be physically real” He replied druly.

He got a smug grin on his lips “Does she peg you?”

“She does far more than just peg me”

“Nice!” His eyes went even wider “IS That a stim toy??!”

He pointed at the tangle Logan kept between his fingers “Correct. If I do not have something to relieve my focus onto I can easily go into senso- OH a chewie?”

Remus nodded while showing of his chew necklace. The two of them started rambling about their favorite stim toy. Until they went off into special interests (star trek/astronomy and art/animal biology respectively).

Soon enough Remus was showing pictures of the animal bones he’d found. Logan ooeh and ahhed at all of them before asking the most nerdy of questions (where he’d found them, their bone density, if any damage had been done to them) which only made Rem infodump which made Lo infodump which made them both happy stim.

Meanwhile Remy sat beside them completely zoned out. They got time to drink 2 more of those fruit mixes and a few shots. The room was starting to spin.

The loud music wasn’t keeping out the yelling. They dunked their forehead against the bar table and covered their ears to try and get it out. The music was supposed to keep it out! Why was nothing working! The bruise ached. Their throat closed in on itself until they couldn’t breathe. 

“Remus” They gasped out. They looked over to their friend with a desperate look in their eyes. They just needed a distraction.

“So my theory for why you keep finding bones in specifically that part of the woods is because of the kind of dirt making it take longer for them to deco-” Logan was explaining while Remus nodded along.

“Rem! L-let’s like go up and dance or something. Please” 

This time it caught Remus’ attention. He looked over to them “Sure- are you feeling alright? Did you drink too much? You’re looking like a mummy”

“Yes. No. I just like- Like- They’re playing Charli xcx of course we gotta like dance!!”

“I will protect your belongings then” Logan added.

Remy stumbled up on shaky legs. Remus sent them a warm smile that made them want to cry before taking their hand. He let them lead him out to the dancefloor. Honestly he was pretty nervous about it, but being with them always made some of the anxiety melt away.

They stumbled on their own feet and fell forward. Their friend took ahold of their wrists and pulled them close to his chest. Their faces were so close to each other. So so close.

He didn’t let go. They couldn't remember him ever letting them hold him this close. Their chests pressed against each other. Their arms around his shoulders. His hands on their back. 

"You’re right. It is a good song. Good to crash a car too" Remus said absentmindedly.

Remy let up into shaky giggles from how sudden he’d said it “Yeah. Yeah I guess” 

They kept giggling. He chuckled back. He started spinning around on the dancefloor. They moved with him. His arms wrapped closer around their waist. Their cheek leaned against the slope of his neck (even though they had to lean down to get on his height level).

Remy quietly sang along to the music which made Remus start yelling along to it. The enby threw their head back from laughter. They took his hand and intertwined their fingers.

Remus moved his hand out and spun them around before pulling them close again. Their cheeks were flushed red, his was as well. He playfully dipped them down when the song ended.

It continued on into a song neither of them knew but they kept dancing anyway. They didn’t stay as pressed close to each other but they always had some contact. Holding hands. An arm around a waist. A head leaning against a chest.

When they finally got back to the bar table they were both panting. Remy was completely leaning on Remus since their body had started to hurt, but even through the pain they were both bubbling over with so much happiness they kept breaking out into bouts of giggling.

To their surprise Logan wasn’t sitting alone. A tall person with long dark hair sat on the chair beside him. Xir hand was on his thigh. The nerd had a soft smile on his face as they leant close to talk.

“Uh Lo?” Remus had to wave his arms around to get his attention.

His head shot around to look at them “Hello” He glanced to the person “These are the ones I was protecting belongings for” He stood up and held out his hand “Shall we?” Xir took it. Logan waved at his friends before going off to the dancefloor with the stranger.

“Huh. Good for him” 

“I guess”

Remy ordered another high alcohol fruit mix. Remus happily chewed on his necklace while humming along to the music. Between their chairs their hands hang with their fingers intertwined. Holding their hand had started to make Remus feel all funny in the head for some reason.

The enby watched on as Logan and the stranger danced for a bit before moving to a corner to make out. When the stranger started to lead him towards the bar’s bathrooms Remy turned to their friend.

“Yeah okay he’s not coming back for like a while. Smoke break?”

“Of course!”

They finished their drink before leaving the bar. The pair stopped right outside. Remus sat down on the side of the pavement. Remy tried to sit down but they stumbled over themself and fell flat on the ground.

Remus got up to help “Are you okay? Are you sure you haven’t drank too much?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine” They laughed out.

He sat them down on the pavement while dusting off their clothes. He patted them on the head while pouting “You should get some water”

“Naaaah babe. I’m good”

In the moonlight the bruise was visible again. That horrible dark purple bruise around their neck. It looked like it hurt.

Remus put his hand on their shoulder “Beanie are you alright? I do know it wasn’t some halloween monster that got you that bruise”

For a moment their whole body tensed, they forced a smile “It’s fine. me and my boyf just tried like some new kinky shit in the bedroom y’know. Nothing more” They lied.

They took out a cigarette pack and a lighter from their bag. They traced their thumb over Remus’ lower lip and opened his mouth just slightly. Remy leaned closer while putting a cigerette between his lips. They lit it.

Remus took a deep breathe. It’d been a while since he’d last smoked. He leaned so close the cigarette nearly touched Remy’s skin. They parced their lips as he breathed out the smoke right into their mouth.

A smile spread on their lips. He held the cigarette over to them but they shook their head. They looked around in their bag again and took out a small poppers bottle.

“Should you really take that. Won’t your brain melt out of your ears?” Remus asked “I really don’t wanna have to slorp up your brain juice...yet”

“Relax babe. It’s like not dangerous as long as I don’t like take too much and I only take when partying” It took a moment before they quietly added “And I only party when I need to get out of the apartement”

“What?”

They forced on a bigger smile “What?”

Remy moved the popper up to their nose and inhaled as much of it as they could. It took a few seconds before they let up into a giggle. It was in a higher tone than their usual bubbly laugh, it almost sounded like cackling. They could see stars.

(U!Virgil mentions from here on out)

“Y’know my boyfriend gave me like a flashback or whatever last night” They giggled while swaying from side to side.

Remus gently grabbed their shoulders and moved them to lean against him so they wouldn’t fall over “Uhu. Did you stab him?”

“No silly. He just. He’d been soooo sweet all weeek and I just I just ruined it ‘cause i like overeacted to some joke he made while like we were washing the dishes” They were barely even aware they were speaking “And like it just kept going until we were like screaming at each other”

Remy was still smiling and giggling between every word but tears started to form in their eyes. Their fingers felt numb. Bile was rising in their throat.

“And he just like threw the plate he was holding down on the ground. And it like didn’t hit me. He wasn’t even aiming at me. He was just throwing it at the ground. But it shattered and it was so stupid and overemotional and stupid and pathetic but I just I just curled up on the floor and like had a panic attack like a stupid baby”

They smeared their hand across their face to try and get the tears away. They felt sick. Remus quickly put out his cigarette, it didn’t feel like the right time to smoke.

“And I just like- Is that normal? Is that fine? Like throwing stutff like that? I-I- he’s never done it before. Or I mean like not plates” They looked up at Remus “Is it fine?”

He gulped while fiddling with his hoodie sleeve “Well uh did he apologize?”

“Mhmm. He like- like for some minutes he like kept yelling ‘cause he thought I was just like faking a panic attack to like I dunno manipulate him but then he like comforted me and like calmed me down and like held me and cuddled all night until I fell asleep and- and he said sorry a bunch of times and like he said it would never happen again. He uh usually doesn’t lie”

“Well ehm then it should be fine right? Right?” They both shrugged at each other “I mean everyone can make mistakes! And it was during an argument! Everyone does drastic things during an arguments! So it’s fine. I think”

A shaking breathe of relief left Remy’s lips. They stretched themself over his lap and he moved his arms around them. “Thanks babe. I was like tots worried for a bit but y’know i was thinking like that too. So it’s fine”

“Yeah” He combed his fingers through their hair “You do know you can vent to me whenever right? I promise I won’t gross you out with details about how to pull out rabbit teeth ever again so if I can hold that back then I can also listen to stuff! I can super listen!!”

They closed their eyes. They felt so tired. So tired and sick and horrible. “Mhm. I know babe. I know”

Remy sent him a soft smile before suddenly puking. Some of it came on his pants but mostly on the ground. Remus stood up and carefully moved them down to a sitting position.

He rubbed up and down their back with one hand and held their hair back with his other. Their shoulders were shaking and they were taking in shallow breathes between every sudden throw up.

“It’s okay beanie-boo. Breathe. Breathe. You got all the time in the world. Until the sun blows up at least”

“I-I took- too much- too much” They slurred out before lurching forward again. It seemed to stop for now.

“I’m aware” He carefully wiped away some of the puke left around their mouth with his hoodie sleeve.

They leaned back against his chest. They closed their eyes and focused on breathing. He held them so so gently. As if they would break like glass otherwise. He pressed a kiss to the top of their head.

“There you are!” Logan said as came through the bar entrance “What a relief. I assumed you had left without me because you thought my actions were unacceptable” He noticed how pale and shaky Remy looked and got a worried look on his face “Is everything alright?”

“They feel like someone has slammed a fish into their stomach. Not good” Remus replied.

“I see. I suppose it woud be best to get them home”

Logan picked Remy up with ease to carry them to his car. He was quite sure he’d carried dogs that weighted more than them. Remus anxiously followed along.

He sat them in the passenger seat. He shook their shoulders until they opened their eyes. They let out a quiet whine.

He held up 4 fingers “Remy how many fingers am I holding up?”

“Fuck yourself”

“Noted”

They moved to the side and seemed to pass out again. Logan closed the door before turning to Remus.

“Did they take anything?” He whispered.

“Only a popper”

“Good. Do you need a ri-”

“Bus”

“Okay” Logan was about to go but stopped midstep and lowered his voice even more “Oh and Rem...Could you please not ask Janus to hang out next weekend? I am planning a surprise...I hope it will make him happy”

“Good luck comrade....Please text me once Remy is home safe. Please?”

“Of course”

He did a little nod before leaving. Logan got into the car. He couldn’t stop looking at the bruise around their neck. Remy continued to sleep for most of the ride until they they were 5 minutes or so away from their apartment. They suddenly flinched awake.

“Stop the car!” They gasped out. 

“Are you still feeling the same?”

“Logan stop the fucking car!” There was fear in their eyes. 

Logan stopped by the side of the road. The road was barren and dark. It had to be past 3 am at least. Remy crawled back into the backseats while their whole body shook.

“Don’t. Look. At. Me”

“Sure” He stared down into the steering wheel to not accidentally see their reflection in the glass.

“I just. I just have to change clothes. I just. I don’t want Virigl to call me a whore again. I mean. He won’t. But what if. What if he gets mad. I just. I just have to change” They slurred out.

They stumbled out of the car after changing into a pair of long pants and closing their leather jacket. A cold chill went up Logan’s spine. He quickly stepped out of the car as well.

“Okay bye bye Logie!!”

They tried to move but Logan grabbed onto their shoulders. He forced back a choking feeling in his throat “What do you mean by your boyfriend getting mad?”

“Pff! It’s nothing! I’m drunk!! Byyyeeeeee”

They started to stumble away but Logan easily followed along “It did not sound like he called you a whor-...you know what...with your consent. I am simply going to remind you that calling a partner things like that is not okay. Not in any circumstance”

Remy’s expression turned cold. They walked faster “I don’t like what you’re implying”

“I’m not implying anything”

“Yes you Fucking are!”

“Exscuse me for being worried about your wellbeing. What you just said sounded like a very bad sign”

“Yeah exactly it only SOUnded bad! My boyfriend isn’t bad!” Remy snarled out.

“I am not saying he is. He doesn’t have to be bad to say awful things, as long as he changes”

They shoved their hands into their pockets. Their hands moved into fists “You don’t know a fucking thing about me. You tried to kiss me once when you were drunk and that’s all. We don’t know each other”

Logan took a deep breathe “I don’t need to know you to see red flags. Remy-” He searched for words “Remy you’re bruised. How- you can’t expect me to not get worried”

Remy suddenly stopped and turned around to meet his eyes. “MY BOYFRIEND ISN’T ABUSIVE! I-”

“I’m not necessarily saying he is. I just wan’t to talk-” His voice started to sound desperate.

They looked like a cornered animal. Tears were brimming at the edges of their eyes “YOU DON’T KNOW A THING!”

“Remy-”

“I DID THIS TO MYSELF!” Their hand went up to the bruise “I DESERVED IT! VIRGIL DIDN’T DO A FUCKING THING! I DID! I TOOK A BELT AND HURT MYSELF! OKAY?! VIRGIL CARES ABOUT ME!”

He tried to sound soothing “Remy please take a deep breathe-”

“NO! NO! YOU KNOW WHAT LOGAN?! THERE IS STILL CUM ON YOUR FUCKING LIPS FROM YOU SUCKING OFF SOME STRANGER IN A DIRTY BATHROOM! SO NO! I AM NOT TAKING LOVE ADVICE FROM SOMEONE WHO IS CHEATING ON HIS GODDAMN WIFE!”

They stormed away. For a moment Logan was frozen in place before he forced himself to run after them to try and make sure they would be okay.

“I am not-”

Remy looked at him for one last time. The look in their eyes made him feel cold. It was pure hatred.

“Logan get the fuck away from me! I am drunk and high and alone on a street with no one but you who is sure as hell fucking stronger than me and all you’re doing is spouting bullshit! So please get why I want you to leave. And why I don’t ever want you to talk to me again!”

He stopped dead in his tracks “...Right....Yes....I am so sorry”

Remy didn’t even respond. They simply turned and walked away. Logan stayed and watched to make sure they got home to the apartment safe before going back to his car.

He slumped down in the seat. His heart was racing and his thoughts were for once an illogical flurry. He sat motionless for several minutes before finally getting some semblence of an idea.

He took out his phone and dialed one of his usual numbers. It took several signals before Emile Picani picked up.

“Mhm? Logie bear? I can’t today I have clients in the morning” He yawned out.

“This is about one of your patients. I am fearing that they are in danger”

In an instant all of the sleepyness in Emile’s voice disappeared “In danger? Physical? Is it urgent? Do I need to call someone? Which patient are you even referring to?”

Logan hesitated. If Remy had reacted that strongly to him just attempting to ask about his boyfriend it was very likely that they would stop going to therapy if Emile brought it up. His throat tightened, he didn’t want to put them in any more danger.

“I....Nevermind Emile....This was just a far too gone joke...Someone dared me to call you. I am sorry. Have a good night”

He ended the call. He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel and let out a long sigh. His hands held onto the wheel so hard his knuckles whitened.

Logan had no idea what to do. No idea at all. All he knew was fear. Fear for Remy’s safety. Fear for their well being. Fear that anything he did would only make their situation worse.

[edupunkn00b]

The Uses of Adversity, Ch. 13: Two Days Later

Prev - Two Days Later - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Two weeks and two days later is Star Wars Day, May the Fourth. Logan's Birthday. Guaranteed to be a day to remember.

When we, spoke we, knew it wasn't over When I, spoke I, know it tortured us both Two days later, two days later and calm - Two Days Later, by Fink

Logan’s very obvious panic attack seemed to have awoken some sort of friendly protectiveness in Roman and he’d reached out every day since it had happened. Even during his week-long trip back to London, Roman hadn't let a day go by without reaching out in some way.

Typically, it was simple texts in the morning, Logan's morning. But sometimes, well after dinner but before Logan was asleep, Roman would call, as well. Logan knew it wasn’t necessary, he was fine but… he found it impossible to force himself to discourage the calls and messages. He was now more sure than ever that his earlier musings on what Roman might have been about to say that lovely evening was nothing like he’d thought. Hoped for? Still, Logan couldn't help but look forward to starting his day with their little chats over his morning coffee.

Good morning, Lo! May the Fourth be with you!

Setting down his mug, Logan chuckled and typed back.

And also with you. 🌟 

He paused for a moment, thumb hovering over the send button. Finally, he quickly tapped out another line and sent the message before he could think too much about it.

Do you have any plans tonight? Virgil and Remy came down and we’re going to have a Star Wars Marathon. We’d love it if you joined us.

Three little bubbles popped on the screen for a long time and Logan took a slow draw of his coffee, bracing himself for a thoughtful, gentle rejection. He shook his head, frowning at his own thoughts. It wouldn’t be a rejection, he’d simply asked a friend to join him and his sons for a movie night. It wasn’t a… a date.

I’m sorry, I have plans. Maybe next time? 🤞

The phone didn’t at all tremble in his hands as he tapped out a response. He merely typed too quickly to hold it steady.

Yes, of course. I did not intend to put you on the spot. Another time would be wonderful.

Logan waited, sipping his coffee, but though his message flipped to ‘read’ immediately, Roman didn’t respond. The cold certainty that he’d made a mistake crackled, blooming in his belly and growing through his chest with each tick of the kitchen clock. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You don’t invite people to a social gathering the morning of. Let alone on a Friday night! What, you seriously thought Roman Prince didn't have a date and would just be sitting at home waiting for you to—  Logan took a deep, shaky breath and slowly let it out. He would do better. Roman was forgiving. Desperate not to end their conversation on such an awkward note, he finally tapped out another message.

I hope you have a great day!

He locked the screen to stop himself from staring and waiting for a response that wasn’t coming. Slow steps shuffled down the stairs and he shoved the phone into his pocket and refilled his coffee. Remy entered the kitchen, still in pajamas and tapping at his own phone. He and Virgil had gotten in late last night and it looked like he’d had trouble falling asleep after the adrenaline of a long drive. “Good morning, Remy,” he called and Remy stood still, thumbs bouncing against his phone. “Would you like some coffee?” Finally, he stopped and looked at him.

“Morning, Dad! Happy Birthday!” He pocketed his phone and nodded before hugging him. “Yes, please! I'll always say yes to coffee!”

~~~

At the sound of footsteps down the carpeted hall, Janus frowned at the clock, then looked up from his desk. He should have had at least another hour before the office grew to its usual frenzied pace, starting the never-ending stream of people at his door. His frown softened when he caught sight of carefully polished shoes and razor-sharp creased pants.

“Logan?” Said shoes froze mid-stride outside his office door and Logan turned to face him. “Would you come in here, please?” 

“Oh, J—Janus,” he sputtered, clutching a thick redwell of case files close to his chest. “I—I did—didn’t realize you were in yet.” He adjusted his glasses. “I—I mean, n—not to say—”

“It’s alright, Logan.” Janus attempted a smile. The man’s nervousness was contagious and recent… developments had left Janus doubting his assumptions about him. “It’s safe to admit your observation that I’m typically not the first one in the office each day. Leadership has its privileges, after all,” he deadpanned. Logan didn't crack a smile.

Janus gestured toward the chairs across from his desk. “Please, Logan, sit down.”

Nodding once, Logan stepped inside, spine straight and face carefully masked with his all-too-familiar ‘approach the bench’ expression. “At ease, Logan,” he said, closing the folder in front of him and steepling his hands as he sat back in his chair. He waited until Logan sat down, hands folded primly over the casefiles in his lap.

“You are correct that I’m breaking character a bit here,” Janus began. “Devin’s recent… behavior—”

“You mean assault?” Logan raised an eyebrow, still sitting arrow-straight even as he frowned back at his boss. 

Janus fought a smile. There’s the lawyer. He nodded, “Devin’s assault showed me I have had a few blindspots around here.” Janus fucking hated admitting he was wrong but he had to concede to himself, if no-one else, that Logan had tried to warn him, had advised him to pay more attention to Devin’s actions.

After everything he’d learned, fucker had been right to take the deal.

Licking dry lips, Janus fished around in his pockets for mints and reached for his water. He rapped his fingers against the bottle, relishing the cold burn of the water and peppermint down his throat. It wasn’t what he really wanted. But it helped.

“I’ve spent the past three months reviewing everyone’s caseload and docket history.”

“Everyone’s cases?” Logan asked. His expression didn’t change but his eyes jumped down to the stack of files on Janus' desk.

“Everyone’s,” he confirmed. “Both for paying clients and pro bono cases.” Janus frowned. The deafening silence pouring in from Devin’s empty office on his left and Marge’s empty office on the right had grown distracting over the weeks and months since he’d introduced Roman and Devin, ever since his former best friend had revealed just how slimy he really was. Their emptied offices were a constant reminder of how easy it had been to let ‘just a little’ favoritism snowball into blinding him to their poor performance, as well. 

Logan’s eyes followed his gaze but he didn’t ask for details on his former colleagues' sudden—and vocal—departures. He’d been the only one in the office who hadn’t. He’d just kept his head down and picked up more than his fair share of their abandoned cases. “The rumors are true,” Janus confirmed. “I’ve let several people go.”

He waited, but Logan only nodded, still listening. Janus sighed. He almost wished he’d smirk, say ‘I told you so,’ dance on their graves, anything… human. He just sat there like the fucking robot Devin—

Janus blew out a sharp breath, stamping out the thought before it could fully bloom. “When I was reviewing your docket, I came across the old petition records of that anti-equality initiative.” Logan nodded, brow furrowed. “A name leapt off the page.” He blinked again, lips twitching at the corners like he was forcing himself not to speak. They both knew Logan knew exactly which name he was referring to. “Your old last name,” he finally said. Janus crossed his arms, a flash of his original anger seeping out.

He’d been fucking livid when he’d spotted Kelly Jessica Croft signed in big, looping letters on the first page of the signature list. Fortunately, he’d been alone in the office, so no-one had overheard when he’d called his husband to complain.

“I can’t fucking believe it!” He’d paced the office, Remus on speaker phone so he wouldn’t shout into his ear. “I just can’t fucking believe it! This motherfucker simps and nods, all respectful with his fucking creased pants and he turned around and had his own wife run a goddamned petition against the law! Our law!”

Remus didn’t speak, and the only sound coming over the phone was the ratatatat of his brushes beating against the side of his easel.

“I can’t figure out what his angle was. Why fight his own fucking law? He wrote the damn thing! Was it the money?” Fuck knows they’d all had to pull overtime when the Save Our Families initiative had gathered enough signatures to be taken seriously. Ultimately they’d prevailed, but…

“It just doesn’t make any sense. He’s named as the primary author of the legislation. He didn’t need to fuck around. If he’d wanted more money, more attention, a better office, he could just write his own goddamn check! There were firms across the country battering down the door to meet with him. He didn’t need to do this he—Oh!” Janus' voice dropped to a whisper. “Oh, fuck.”

He stopped pacing, both hands coming up to his temples. Yep, that was a migraine coming on. He fumbled in his pocket and popped three Altoids into his mouth and crunched hard. “You don’t think he was feeding information to the Eyman group, do you?”

“Okay, Jannie,” Remus finally said, and the little shk shk of his mustache brushing against the mouthpiece yanked Janus’ attention back to the present. “Take a breath. Let’s think this through, together, okay?”

He waited, probably with that infuriatingly adorable smirk, until Janus took three slow breaths.

“Okay. When the law passed, he coulda strut around that office, right? Gotten any new title he wanted and just rode those laurels until it was time to retire, couldn’t he?” Remus’ voice was low and quiet, and Janus deflated, sinking down into an armchair near the window. He nodded silently and Remus continued as if he saw him.

“But he didn’t do any of that, did he?”

Janus sighed. “No,” he said, still frowning.

“What did he do?”

Scoffing, Janus got up and checked the 2012 docket list. “After the initiative was struck down, he requested three new pro bono D.V. cases, claiming with Marriage Equality complete, he had time to pick up ‘his slack.’” He swallowed against the sour taste in his throat and popped another handful of peppermints into his mouth. 

“Jannie,” Remus cooed. He felt like he was the one being cross-examined, the noose slowly tightening.

He sat back in his chair, eyes falling shut. “What, Muse?” The throbbing in his head slowly eased.

“So his wife’s name—now ex-wife’s name—was on the petition…”

“Her name’s on the fucking presentation page." He sat up again, rage energizing him. "She had to be one of the organizers. The whole thing was probably bankrolled with his Q-Law salary!” Janus sat up, stabbing a finger down the hall toward Logan’s office. “He probably signed it, too!”

“And how long did you spend pouring over the old paper documents searching for his name before you gave up?”

“Two—”

He could practically hear his husband’s eyebrow raise over the phone. 

“Two and three quarter hours,” Janus murmured.

“And had he signed it?”

“No. But I might’ve missed something.”

“Jannie…” Remus purred and Janus leaned back against his chair, arms crossed in front of his chest. He knew he looked like a petulant child but he was too angry to give a fuck. “So, if all signs are pointing to him not signing the damn thing, and when he could, he didn’t take an easy opportunity to gain fame and wealth and, frankly, a fucking target on his back…” Silence poured over the phone line. 

“So why didn’t he?” Remus asked, gentler than he probably deserved.

Janus picked up the file. He’d spent hours re-reading Logan’s case notes, checking the filings… there was nothing suspicious save for his fucking wife’s name on the petition. Had Logan had some grand scheme? Had Janus somehow stopped him from taking the next steps in whatever the fuck he was trying to accomplish here? Or was Logan completely incompetent and couldn’t recognize when to strike?

“Maybe it's the other way around.” Remus’ voice cut through his wandering thoughts.

“What do you mean, ‘other way?’”

“So this guy used to be married to some Karen—”

“Kelly,” Janus smirked.

“Even better,” Remus cackled, the unexpected sound pulling a chuckle from Janus, as well. “So he’s married to this bitch Kelly who runs a campaign against her own husband’s work…” Janus dumped the last of his mints in his palm and popped them into his mouth. “The same ex-wife who watched over him like a fucking warden at the Q-Law parties, right?”

“The few he’d bothered to attend,” Janus had muttered. Something itched at the back of his mind but he couldn’t quite scratch it.

“Maybe ask him about it before you accuse him of legal espionage, huh?”

It had taken Janus three days to calm down enough to decide what to do. And another three days to call him in to discuss it. He hadn't been delaying the conversation, he’d… he’d just had a very busy calendar.

Finally sitting across from Logan in his office, he watched the man's guarded eyes, the way they bounced back and forth from the case files and his face. Anxiety sizzled through every movement. Worry. Maybe even a little fear in there.

But no guilt.

“What can you tell me about this?” he asked, setting down the file, open to his ex-wife’s signature. Janus spun it around so he could read. “You were still married when she signed this.” Logan touched her signature and for one sickening moment, Janus thought he might cry. “Did you sign it, too?”

“No, of course not!” Logan looked up at him, mouth hanging open in shock. It only lasted a second and was quickly papered over with a more controlled expression. “Janus, I—” He sat up a little straighter, lips pressed together into a thin, shaky line. “D—did you c—call me in here to fire me, as well?”

“Should I have?” Janus challenged, leaning over his desk and staring into Logan’s eyes.

Logan gripped the case files in his lap before straightening his glasses. “If you can’t trust me enough to believe I wouldn’t sabotage my own work, then perhaps you should.”

Balls of fucking steel. The wobble in his chin and the wetness he couldn’t really hide behind his glasses told Janus he was probably going to go cry as soon as he left the office, but that still didn’t stop the guy from standing up to him.

Janus nodded once. “Actually, I called you in here to offer you the office next to mine,” he looked pointedly at the wall to his right.

“Wh—what?” He almost dropped the files as he scooted closer in his chair. “But tha—that’s the office for the Assistant Attorney in Charge.”

Unflappable my ass. “Exactly.” Janus couldn’t hold back a little smirk. “You want it?”

~~~

The office slowly came to life around them as they discussed—negotiated—Logan’s new salary and a 30-60-90-day plan. Janus listened when he leapt up and taped sheets of legal paper to the wall, sketching out a plan to coordinate with firms across the country to battle the flurry of anti-trans and anti-LGBTQ laws popcorning up in even moderately purple regions. Janus laughed when Logan grabbed a highlighter from his desk without asking, but quickly sobered when he drew lines between them, noting which states were also in the middle of proposing bans on no-fault divorce and obliterating reproductive rights. It wasn’t something they’d been watching very closely at the firm, but the commonalities revealed a chilling strategy.

Again, there was that little itch at the back of Janus’ mind but he shook it away.

“Draft this up,” he nodded, clapping Logan on the shoulder. “Let’s see if it has wings.”

“Thank you, Janus,” Logan smiled. It was small, and shaky and didn’t quite wipe out the worry in his eyes every time he looked over the boxes and arrows he’d mapped out, but it wasn’t that papier mâché grimace of his, either.

Beatrice chose that moment to slip into the office, towering over both of them. “Oh, good, Logan, you’re in here. You have a flower delivery at reception.”

“Oh?” he blinked. Janus could’ve sworn he was blushing as he followed her out to the lobby. 

“Go, on,” Janus nodded. “It’s time for a coffee break, anyway. C’mon," he said, grabbing his blazer from behind the door. "My treat.”

“Yes, silly,” Beatrice patted Logan’s cheek as he passed. “Why didn’t you tell us it’s your birthday?”

Plastering on a grin, Janus crossed his arms and tried not to think about how, just a couple hours ago, he’d let Logan think he’d been about to fire him on his fucking birthday.

A delivery guy stood in front of Beatrice’s desk, arm wrapped around a giant vase filled with pansies and baby breath. An enormous heart-shaped balloon emblazoned with ‘Happy Birthday, Logan’ floated above it. He held a beat-up clipboard in his other arm. Yeah, Logan was definitely blushing.

“Are you Logan Sanders?” the delivery guy asked, holding out the flowers.

“Yes,” he smiled, accepting the bouquet.

“Sign here, please,” he said, watching as Logan signed. He took back the clipboard and left a manila folder in his hand. “You’ve been served.”

Logan looked up at him, brow furrowed in confusion as he held a bouquet in one hand and a thick envelope in the other. “It’s really your birthday?” the guy asked, a twinge of guilt passing over his features. Logan nodded silently and turned over the envelope. He paled at the name of the firm on the front. “Sorry, man,” he shrugged and hurried down the stairs. He didn’t bother to wait for the elevator.

Beatrice nudged Janus forward with a pointed look, then moved down the hall, shooing away the little knot of interns who’d heard the word ‘birthday’ and had gathered to watch. Janus held out his hands. “Would you like me to take those?” he asked, leaving open which he’d prefer Janus held for him.

Logan nodded and passed him the flowers. “Is there a card?” he asked without looking up from the envelope. Hands shaking, he tore off the sealed tab and pulled out a blue-backed petition.

Janus found the card and turned it around to read. A little growl bubbled up from the back of his throat and Logan looked up at him.

“What does it say?” he asked, defeated.

“Happy Birthday,” Janus answered, only half-lying.

Apparently Logan’s bullshit detector was just as finely tuned as his and he reached for the card to read it for himself. “Happy Birthday. Pansy.”

Gritting his teeth, he shoved the card into the envelope and took the flowers, dropping the bouquet of pink and yellow pansies into the trash.

“I think I could use that coffee, Janus, if you’re still offering,” he said, jaw set despite his shaking hands.

“You bet your ass I am.”

~~~

Together, Logan and Janus read through Kelly’s petition to the court. His boss’ muttered curses grew louder with each page.

“What fucking century does she think this is?” he finally spat, shaking his head and signaling a server for another refill. “Dammit, Logan, this is…”

“I have to fight this,” Logan whispered, staring at her proposed parenting plan. Full custody of Patton with no requirement to stay within the school district or even within the state. Monthly, supervised visitation with Logan. A continued residential requirement attached to any future college payments for any of the boys after they turned eighteen.

“Of course you have to fight this,” Janus insisted, looking up from where he jotted notes in the margin. “Fuck that, we have to fight this.” Logan stared at him, the blend of shock and hope on his face twisting uncomfortably in Janus' gut. “Hey, I thought you were smart," he said, trying to deflect. "A man who represents himself is a fool.”

"A man who is his own lawyer has a fool for a client," he corrected automatically, the barest hint of a smile softening his face. “Are you seriously offering to represent me in this? It’s… it’s a personal matter.”

Janus shrugged and smiled over his coffee. “You can get me back when Remus sues me for custody of our lemurs.”

“You have pet lemurs?”

“That’s the part you find unbelievable, Sanders?”

Logan bit back a chuckle and, by the look in Janus’ eyes, that had been the point. “I have zero doubts about the longevity of you and your husband’s relationship,” he bowed his head, clinking their newly refilled coffees together. “I… I appreciate your help. I…” He blew out a sharp breath and straightened his eyeglasses, an embarrassing lump growing in his throat. “I—I don’t know what I’d do if she took my boys from me.”

Janus clinked back and smiled. “You won’t ever have to find out.” 

After drafting their plan of attack, Logan crossed out the section marked The respondent forfeits his or her right to contest and signed the petition with a flourish. Janus would first enter himself as attorney of record representing him in the proceedings, file a stay, and then submit a claim for discovery. “That’ll take a while, so in the meantime, I’ll need to deposition you. I need all the facts.”

Nodding, Logan looked away. “Yes, of course.”

Janus patted his hand. “Attorney client privilege will be in effect. I won’t share what you tell me with anyone you don’t wish.”

“Of—of course, Janus. I trust you and your integrity. I…” Janus seemed to misunderstand his hesitation and gripped his shoulder.

“I think you’ve probably had enough for one day, let alone your birthday. Take the afternoon off.” Logan opened his mouth to protest but Janus was quicker. “I insist. I’ll draft the papers and we’ll start the deposition… is Monday too soon?”

“Monday would be good,” Logan nodded. Get it over with.

“Monday, then,” he smiled. “Now, I will take all of this back to the office.” Janus picked up his case files, their notes, and the petition from Kelly’s attorney. “You will go home and enjoy your birthday.”

—-

Taglist: @crossiantgay

Ask and ye shall be added

[lumosinlove]

Coast To Coast

(basically just smut with lots of feelings. Be warned.)

part vi

Leo was on the couch, scrolling through his phone with his air pods in, when he heard a key in the lock. Finn was back from his run, Logan would get home from the airport soon. Leo and Finn had probably sent Logan way too many dirty Snapchats and, now, maybe Leo could squeeze in one more. Pin a sweaty, flushed Finn to the couch and—

The door opened and Logan walked through. Leo pushed himself up onto one elbow, taking his earbuds out.

“Tremz?”

Logan saw him and grinned, sliding his beat headphones around his neck. Leo swallowed at the sight of him in his plane rumpled suit. It was probably just that this was all new, that Leo suddenly had everything he had ever wanted—that was why all he could think about was sliding Logan out of his clothes, like he hadn’t gotten to that first night, all too caught up in the intense, euphoric but exhausting rolling emotions of everything. They had fallen asleep, tangled in Finn’s bed. Leo had never slept so soundly.

Logan dropped his bag with a groan and closed his eyes. “I am home, that was so much, and I need a drink and a kiss.”

Leo laughed, snapping his air pod case shut and tossing it on the ground with his phone. “I can provide those things,” he let his thighs splay, just a little, inviting.

Logan zeroed in on the minute motion and tugged his headphones free, dropping them with his wallet and keys on the kitchen island before walking the few strides to the couch and more or less flopping down on top of Leo.

Leo let out an oof and a laugh, and then Logan’s mouth was on his.

“Where’s Harzy?” Logan asked between kisses, so unwilling to stop that they were barely words at all.

“Run,” Leo said. “You’re early.”

“Plane was early. Merde, Peanut, you and your fucking videos,” Logan breathed.

Leo grinned. “You liked them?”

“I think all I did was jack off when I was alone.”

Leo nipped at his lower lip gently. “You know, we haven’t been alone yet.”

Logan’s breath stuttered in his chest. Leo could feel it, against his own. Leo wanted to feel it again but, looking in Logan’s eyes, shadowed from unrest, Leo wanted something else more right then.

“Go put something comfy on, sweetheart,” Leo pressed a kiss to the corner of Logan’s soft mouth. “I’ll start dinner, okay?”

Logan’s smile was slow and sleepy. “We have all night, don’t we.”

“And tomorrow,” Leo whispered. “And the day after that, and after that…”

They were kissing again, and Leo was warm all over. He was already beginning to pick out his favorite things about kissing Logan, about kissing Finn, and how they were different. Finn liked to take more control. He liked Leo’s neck, used his teeth a little, he liked making Leo laugh and then kissing it right out of his mouth. Logan didn’t seem to mind either way, who was aiming the kiss. Logan liked to find skin, bare and warm, to touch and kiss. Leo’s breathing hitched as Logan’s cool fingers pressed under his sweatshirt to his bare back. His calloused hands touched Leo like a favorite sweater. Leo felt his cock stir, thinking about where Logan’s fingers could roam.

“D’accord,” Logan sighed, and Leo closed his eyes when he pressed a kiss to each of his cheeks. “I’m going, I’m going.”

Leo felt cool all over when Logan got up, disappearing into Leo’s room, but he smiled to himself as he stretched out on the couch, cracking his back before walking into the kitchen. He thrummed with Logan’s touch.

He thought briefly about texting Finn as he put water on to boil and got out some ingredients for a salad, but he liked the idea of him walking in on a complete surprise. He turned on the bluetooth speakers Finn had set up around the house and turned on some low music. The apartment felt more settled than it ever had with Logan’s bags by the door, Finn due back any second, himself getting ready to make them all dinner.

“What are you making?”

Leo turned at Logan’s voice. “I was thinking some sort of pasta…” He trailed off, staring.

Logan raised an eyebrow, but his own smile showed that he knew exactly what was happening.

“What?” he said anyway.

Leo looked him over. “Nice outfit.”

Logan gathered the sleeves of Leo’s sweatshirt, falling to his thighs, into his hands and shrugged. It was an old one from one of Leo’s training camps, warn and soft from so many washes. Seeing Logan in it was something else. The camp name, a place where Leo had worked so hard to hide who he really was, stitched across the chest of the boy he had just spent twenty minutes kissing, a boy who had said he couldn’t wait to come home to Leo...

It was a horrible forever coming to an end and exchanged with a perfect one.

Logan shuffled over, adidas sweatpants fitted around his strong thighs, and stepped onto Leo’s socked feet with his own, stretching to wrap his arms around Leo’s neck.

“Tu l’aime?” Logan asked.

“Oui,” Leo said, smiling. “Is this the start of a new era? Am I going to lose all of my sweatshirts now?”

“Yes,” Logan pressed a light kiss to Leo’s mouth.

Leo really couldn’t believe this was his life now.

“Good,” he said.

“Hey,” Logan reached behind Leo and flicked the stove off. The water bubbled, and then quieted. “I’m not hungry yet.”

Leo’s entire body spiked with heat. “No?”

“We haven’t been alone together, yet,” Logan repeated Leo’s words, smiling hard into their next kiss.

Leo laughed and walked them backwards, Logan’s feet still on his, until Leo could whisper a soft, jump, and hoisted a flushed Logan up to sit on the kitchen island. Logan spread his thighs for him, heels pressing behind his knees. “What could we be doing when Finn walks in?”

“So many things,” Logan sighed, and pushed his hands under the hem of Leo’s sweatshirt. “Take this off, c’mon.”

Leo reached behind his head and tugged his sweatshirt off. Immediately, Logan’s lips were on his chest, his fingers pressing in between Leo’s ribs, sinking in when he breathed.

“Leo,” Logan breathed and tilted his head back up to kiss him hard, tongue pushing into his mouth.

Leo could feel himself getting hard at the mere thought that this would be their first time, the first time with both of them. Logan’s hands were warm and creeping down to his waistband now, fingertips wedging lightly beneath the elastic of his sweatpants.

Leo tugged at Logan’s sweatshirt—well, his. “Even though you look incredibly sweet…”

Logan put his hands up so Leo could lift the thick material off of him. The second it was discarded, Logan was hooking his ankles around Leo more securely and pulling them against each other. None of them had been touched in the way they wanted to be in so long.

“Missed you,” Leo said, and leaned down to kiss Logan’s neck. “It wasn’t fair that we got, what, fifteen hours together?”

Logan laughed. “Believe me, I got to the hotel and regretted not staying up all night with you two. Especially when Finn sent me you…”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “Sucking his cock?”

Logan bit his lip. “Yeah…” He smiled. “How does it feel to be Harzy’s first blowjob from a boy?”

“Good,” Leo splayed his palms against Logan’s thighs, thumbs creeping towards the bulge in his sweatpants. “If I can be yours, too.”

Logan made a low sound in his throat, his eyes closing. Leo smiled and leaned into bite gently at his jaw.

“What do you think?” Leo said softly. “Is that something Finn could walk in on?”

The words were barely out of Leo’s mouth before they heard a key in the lock to their right.

Finn was looking down as he entered, headphones in.

“Nutty,” he shouted much too loudly. “I’m ho—oh.”

Finn stopped. His red hair was sticking up with sweat in the front, cheeks flushed a dark red from exertion, and his mouth was already parted from his pants, but it stayed that way with the sight in front of him. Leo saw Logan smile from the corner of his eye, resting his head on Leo’s bare shoulder.

“Hi, Fish,” Logan said softly. “I’m home, too.”

Finn just slowly took his air pods out. One, then the other. He set his phone down. He stripped off his sweaty jacket, a thin Nike thing that clung to his lean chest. It dropped to the floor, leaving him in only his shorts with his thermal leggings beneath them, and his white clinging t-shirt. His chest was heaving as he stared, eyebrows drawn together.

“I…” he began, and shook his head slowly. “I love my life.”

Leo laughed. “I really didn’t know what you were going to say.”

Finn just smiled and walked forward, toeing out of his sneakers. Logan reached for him and Leo wrapped an arm around Finn’s waist.

“Tremz,” Finn said after Logan pulled him in for a kiss. “You were amazing, baby. At the game. You should’ve won hardest shot. But maybe you’ll win tonight, eh?”

“You’re so sweaty,” Logan mumbled against Finn’s talking mouth.

“Sorry. I thought you weren’t coming home until—”

“No, it’s good,” Logan said, and kissed him again, fisting the back of his shirt. “It’s good.”

“Gross,” Leo said, and then laughed at the offended noise Finn made into the kiss.

“I was running—”

“I’m kissing you, stop talking,” Logan said.

“Sorry,” Finn said and captured Logan’s lip between his teeth, pulling it before letting go. “What are we doing?”

Logan’s stomach made a loud hunger noise and Leo looked at him.

“You are hungry.”

“I wanted to make out.”

“Well,” Leo turned around with a little squeeze to Logan’s thighs. “Now I’m making dinner first.”

“Can I watch?” Logan said, eyes looking over Leo’s bare back. He leaned back on his hands on the counter. Leo just smiled and flicked the water back on, taking up a knife.

“Then, I’ll take a shower real quick,” Finn said, then took Leo’s place between Logan’s legs. The interchange felt like the most natural thing in the world. Finn’s hands cradled Logan’s hips, hands cold from the wind on his bare skin. His grin was playful, something as familiar to Logan as the puck on his stick. “Hey, like our sex tapes?”

“Those were not sex tapes, Harz,” Leo said as he chopped celery.

Finn shrugged, busy pressing slow kiss after slow kiss to Logan’s mouth.

“You’re literally dripping on me,” Logan said.

“I’m proud of you. We’re proud of you.”

Logan lost some of his fire at that, eyes going a little foggy as he stared at Finn’s mouth. Finn smiled and retreated, giving Leo’s butt a hard tap as he went.

“I’ll be back in ten, gents.”

“Twenty,” Leo and Logan rolled their eyes at the same time, and then looked at each other. Leo felt yet another slow curl of warmth weave its way into the others currently stemming from his fingertips to his chest.

Dinner wasn’t a huge affair. Pasta in cream sauce with sausage, a salad. There was wine and beer but none of them went for it. Leo left the dishes for the morning, and soon they were all in the living room with their bowls, Leo sprawled on the couch with his feet in Finn’s lap—a position they had pretended was purely platonic for a long time, even when Finn’s hand would drop to rub gently at Leo’s ankle in a way that made it impossible to focus on any movie (and lead to a few awkward hard-ons). Logan was sitting sideways in one of the large leather chairs, nearly wolfing down the food.

“Can you explain Regulus to us, I mean…dude,” Finn shook his head, red hair darker from his shower and sticking up in all directions from the towel. “Fist bump? Their mom?”

“Baby Black’s in Gryffindor. He came back with us.”

“What?” Leo said. “He flew back with you? Doesn’t he have a game in like—”

Logan shook his head. “I don’t know if he’s even playing anymore. I’m not one hundred percent on what went down, but Cap looked…well, really fucking happy, actually. But also spooked as hell. I don’t know.”

“Fuck,” Finn said, tapping his fork against his bowl. “That’s…”

Logan stretched to put his empty bowl on the coffee table, giving Leo and Finn a nice view of his broad chest and shoulders, before leaning back with a sigh. “It was an intense couple days. But…worth it. I think it went pretty well all things considered.”

“Loops seemed okay by the end of it, too,” Leo nodded. “I mean, yeah, all things considered.”

“You guys are great for going over to his,” Logan smiled with a tilt of his head. “I mean, we owe him a lot.”

“Oh, we told him,” Finn patted Leo’s knee. “Worked better than your make out plan, no offense.”

“Non? Tu n’aime pas se rouler des pelles, Harzy?”

Finn scoffed, setting his bowl down, too, with a clatter. “Non, non, non. Nom nom nom.”

Leo laughed. He poked his toe into Finn’s stomach. “You might want a translation of that one before you answer like that.”

Finn looked up, face going a little more serious, if not suspicious. “Why? What?” he looked at Logan. “What, Lo?”

Leo set his own bowl down lastly, and sat up so he could get his hands on Finn’s hips, pulling and coaxing him until he was straddling Leo’s thighs on the couch and Leo could guide him down into a kiss.

“You don’t like making out?” Logan said from the chair. “C’est un dommage.”

“Oui, a shame,” Leo mumbled as Finn made a low noise into Leo’s mouth and kissed him harder.

Leo heard a shaky breath come from Logan’s direction, blood spiking as he realized Logan was watching them. He was right there, all three of them, they had all night. He had to look. He urged Finn down to his neck, damp hair cool on his skin, and turned his head. Logan was sprawled frontward in the chair now, a strong hand resting just beside where Leo could see he was hard again in his sweatpants, cock beginning to press up against the fabric. His fingers twitched like he wanted to touch himself, but didn’t want to do it alone. Leo’s heart thrummed at the sight, at the fact that he could feel Finn fattening up against his hip.

“Bed,” Finn said. “Let’s go somewhere where we can be closer.” Finn looked over at Logan, too, after a last kiss to Leo, and Leo watched his eyes zero in on Logan’s hand and bulge, too. He cursed, and stood. “Bed.”

“Whose?” Leo asked, standing too. His own cock felt hot and needy already between his thighs.

“Mine,” Finn called as he ran down the hall. "I want memories in that thing.”

Leo laughed and walked over to offer a hand to Logan. He took it and stood.

“Good?” Leo said.

Logan just looked at him, one hand pressing to Leo’s bare chest, while the other hooked itself into Leo’s sweatpants band. A question. Leo nodded without hesitation.

He expected Logan to pull the material away, but instead Logan just reached out and cupped him through his pants, palm pressing on Leo’s semi with an easy pressure. Leo let out a shaky sigh, hand curling around Logan’s hip to steady himself. Logan was just touching him, watching his own hand palm Leo’s cock gently, feeling it stiffen, and then looking up at Leo’s face.

“How long?” Leo whispered.

Logan huffed out a quiet laugh. “With a boy? With someone I actually wanted? Finn. His senior year.”

Leo leaned down and kissed Logan hard, hips stuttering within Logan’s gentle fingers.

“All night,” Leo reminded him.

“Guys,” Finn’s voice came from down the hall, and Leo and Logan laughed into each other’s mouths. Logan gave Leo a last playful squeeze before they followed Finn.

Finn, who was sprawled out on his bed completely naked, jacking his cock lazily with his head tilted back. His skin was miles of hard muscle. He freckles were the thickest on the tops of his shoulders and cheekbones, but the rest of his was pale marble, smooth and begging to be touched, marked. Leo heard Logan practically moan from beside him, and then Logan was crawling onto the bed and right over Finn’s bare body while Leo watched. Logan straddled Finn’s thighs, clothed cock brushing Finn’s erection. The playfulness fell out of Finn’s expression as he watched Logan settle himself over him. Leo sat on the edge of the bed beside them, and remembered what Finn had said. They’d never even undressed, Logan had never been anything but rushed—

“Lo,” Finn said softly, reaching up and smoothing his hands down Logan’s sides. “Can I?”

Logan nodded hurriedly, seemingly unable to speak, and Finn let out a breath as he rolled them over, gently pressing Logan back into the mattress with his mouth and hips. Finn’s hands found the band of Logan’s sweatpants and pulled back from the kiss, sitting back on his heels. His cock was a pink against his skin, gone a little softer now in the moment. Logan lifted his hips up so that Finn could, finally, pull away Logan’s clothes. He did it almost reverently, bending to kiss his exposed hip bone. What he had done for Finn, Leo realized with a wonderful ache. Logan’s mouth dropped open as his own cock sprang free, fully hard and glistening at the tip. Leo had to press a hand down on himself, just to relieve some pressure. It was mesmerizing, watching Finn lean forward again and press their hips together, his pale skin a marbled contrast against Logan’s tan. Leo could remember sitting, alone in his childhood bed, allowing himself a few guilty nights where he could think about whatever he wanted. Usually, it had been more of a faceless boy. Just someone who wanted him, who’d kiss him, fuck him. This, though. Those faceless nights didn’t even compare.

Finn gasped as their cocks brushed together and Leo felt his own straining against his sweatpants.

When Finn looked back at Leo, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright. “Think it’s time we show him, Nut?”

“Yes,” Leo sighed out and made to kick his sweatpants away when Logan’s hand around his wrist stopped him.

“Je veux,” Logan began, breathless. His dark hair was splayed across the pillows, one of his heels wrapped around the back of Finn’s thigh. “I want to, let me.”

“Fuck,” Finn breathed out, and rolled to the side, still pressed against Logan.

Leo walked forward on the bed on his knees and reached out to wrap a hand around Logan’s cock. It was hot in his hand, and Logan all but whined into it, back pressing up. Finn bent to kiss his neck, his own hand reaching down to cup Logan’s balls. Logan cursed and planted his heels against the bed, pressing up into their touch. He reached out, searching for Leo. Leo caught his hand and guided it back where Logan wanted—where Leo wanted Logan. Logan’s warm fingers tugged the band down below his balls, freeking Leo’s cock, sticky with precome.

“Oh god,” Logan groaned.

“Right?” Finn said, eyes on Leo.

Leo blushed. He knew he was big, but he was tall. It seemed proportionate, he thought, nothing special. It wasn’t like he’d really had anyone to say anything about it before. To him, Finn and Logan were better. Finn was long and Leo now knew he came a lot, in heavy strips that nearly made Leo dizzy. Logan, if not as big, was thick, just like the rest of him. It made Leo yearn at the thought of having him inside of him, made his cock drool. Logan stared at the beaded tip and then reached out, brushing his fingertips over it before smoothing the slickness down Leo’s shaft.

“Fuck, Tremz, let me just—” Leo kicked his pants away as quickly as he could before mirroring Finn’s position, pressing up against Logan’s side and turning his head for a kiss while his hand went back to his cock.

It was them. The three of them. Pressed against one another, alone, together. The All-Star game had lasted years. Leo wanted. He wanted dinner, every night in this apartment. He wanted to make them laugh and happy and—love. He wanted to take them to bed, and make them sigh and moan and cling to him. He wanted to cling to them, he wanted them inside. Leo gasped into Logan’s mouth and pressed his heavy cock against Logan’s hip. He gripped Logan’s, giving it tight, slow pulls.

“Finn, do you have—”

“Yeah,” Finn said, and rolled away onto his back, stretching to reach his beside table. Logan didn’t seem to like the loss of contact, and mumbled as he pulled Leo on top of him, using his heels to press him down. It startled a sound out of Leo and he gripped the pillow by Logan’s head. Leo looked down at where their cocks nudged together and took them in his hand. Logan’s head was dropped back onto the pillow like he was already half-way there, small, panting breaths leaving his mouth.

“Jesus, Tremz,” Finn said as he returned with a small bottle. “I mean I know you were loud in every other situation, but—”

He was cut off when Logan groaned brokenly at a well-aimed grind by Leo. Finn flushed all the way down to his chest, but that was the last thing Leo saw before he was ducking to kiss Logan’s exposed throat.

Finn watched them, barely breathing. Leo got his knees beneath him, splayed wide as he released their cocks and ground his hips down instead. It was fucking obscene, and Finn was probably going to lose his mind. Finn rested back on the bed for a minute, reaching down to touch himself. The tendons in Logan’s throat were bared as Leo rutted against him while sucking a bruise into his neck.

“Leo,” Logan all but moaned in, voice raspy and low.

Finn groaned, and it drew Logan’s eyes to him. They were a hazy green, and trained from Finn’s face, to his working arm, and finally to his cock, pink in his fist. He looked mesmerized.

Finn felt shaky-limbed as he pushed himself up to kneel, swiping the lube up from the sheets and squeezing a generous amount into his palm. With his dry hand, he lightly touched the small of Leo’s back.

“Peanut,” Finn said, bending to kiss just above the swell of his ass. “Can I?”

He asked because Leo had said he wanted it, but he wanted to make sure. That was probably something they should all talk about. Finn would tell them he didn’t know how he felt about getting fucked, but he sure as hell knew he wanted to make them feel good that way.

Leo seemed equally enthusiastic. He lifted his head, cheeks red, and looked back at Finn.

“Yes, yes—” he said, pushing back against Finn’s palm. “Yeah, Harzy.”

“What,” Logan panted, straining his head up to look. He saw how Fin was poised, where his wet fingers were trailing to. Logan’s smile was a little delirious, brows knit in pleasure. “Fuck. Oh fuck, me next, okay?”

Finn reached down to grip himself hard, resting his forehead against Leo’s warm skin. He was throbbing at even the thought, the image of them splayed out for him, both of them, waiting—

“Or…” Leo said. “I could fuck you. While Harzy fucks me.”

The idea sent goosebumps over Finn’s neck.

“Yes,” Logan said firmly. “Allez.”

“Do we…need condoms?” Finn asked hesitantly. Secretly, he’d been thinking about it. The idea of it being just them. “We all just got tested this month for check ups and I haven’t been with anyone in like…a long fucking time.”

“Me too,” Leo said.

Logan bit his lip against a smile. “Same.”

“Okay…” Finn’s heart pounded and he squeezed Leo’s hip. “Everyone cool with that?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m cool with that,” Leo said, and Finn laughed.

Logan hesitated, and then said, “I’ve never actually done this before. I mean, I’ve fingered myself but I’ve never had anyone else to…”

“We just gotta go slow,” Leo said. “Talk to each other. We’ll figure out what feels good, you know? I…I trust you guys with, well, everything.”

“Aw, Nut, baby,” Finn smiled. “Of course, we’ll talk to each other. We all know Logan’s good at that.”

“Look who’s talking,” Logan said, then, “me first,” and he spread his muscular thighs apart.

Finn snorted. “Jesus, Lo.”

Leo laughed and sat up, Finn behind him to suck on his neck and hand him the lube. Finn tried to watch Leo as much as possible. Having never thought much of fingering, he’d never tried it on himself. Leo was gentle, so gentle, and Logan—he really did love it. He pushed back on Leo’s fingers while Leo soothed his palm over his hip, occasionally rubbing his thumb over the base of Logan’s leaking cock.

“Fuck, Nutty, do that more, he likes it,” Finn said lowly in Leo’s ear as Logan thrashed.

“So fucking hot,” Leo said shakily.

“Allez,” Logan said, kicking one heel against Leo’s thigh. “Allez, Leo, Leo.”

“D’accord,” Leo hushed him. “Harzy’s gotta do me.”

“I—okay, you have to tell me if I’m doing bad or good,” Finn said with a deep breath, taking the lube.

Leo looked over his shoulder with a smile—a feat that really should be illegal—and leaned back for a kiss.

“Trust you,” Leo said, and then promptly bent over Logan for a kiss, baring himself to Finn.

Finn wanted to be as gentle as Leo. He felt shaky with anticipation and—and love, he thought. The feeling caught his breath and stole it, ready to be released. But he focused on the task at hand, cherishing the full cup of it in his chest instead of spilling it over without a thought. Love, love, love. He poured it into his slow work, drawing the most perfect sounds from Leo.

“Baby,” Finn whispered, pressing kiss after kiss to Leo’s spine. “Tell me.”

“—so good,” Leo’s voice caught in an ah—“Finn.”

Finn felt like he was melting from the inside out at the feeling of Leo clenching around his fingers. He took it as the cue it was and hauled Leo up from where Logan had been kissing the noises out of his mouth.

“You first, Peanut,” Finn grinned. He tucked his chin over Leo’s shoulder, hands stroking his sides.

“Okay, Tremz?” Leo said softly, and Logan scoffed, kicking him again and making Leo pinch his side playfully.

Leo stroked himself a few times before slowly lining himself up and pressing in. Finn’s eyes flicked up to Logan’s face, which opened up completely, eyes going unfocused, his breathing hard.

“Ah—You’re so—” Logan gasped as Leo sunk into his heat. “Leo.”

Leo had his chin tilted down, watching his hips inch closer to Logan’s. Finn could feel him breathing against his chest.

“Fuck,” Finn whispered. “You two…”

Leo was careful and slow, stopping a few times to catch his breath, but finally, he and Logan were pressed together. Logan’s cock was leaking and red against his stomach.

“Logan,” Leo said.

Logan made an incoherent sound, and then lifted his hips to push back against Leo’s. Both of them sighed, and then Leo put his hands on Logan’s hips and pulled out about half way before pressing in again.

Logan whined low in his throat, cock pulsing. “Yeah, fuck yeah…” he brought a hand below his balls, feeling where Leo was moving inside of him. Leo fucked him in slow, long drags that Finn could practically feel with every brush of Leo’s ass against his own cock.

“Leo,” Finn began urgently.

Leo nodded. “Please, Harz.”

Finn’s hands were definitely shaking as he finally touched himself. He was solid and warm in his own hand, had never seen himself this fucking turned on before, besides for being with Logan. But, after that, sex had always been accompanied by a twinge of sadness.

There was no room for that sadness now, not with his boys with him.

Finn spread some more lube onto himself for good measure and groaned at the slippery feeling before tentatively pressing the crown of his dick against Leo’s entrance.

“Knutty,” Finn said.

“It’s okay,” Leo breathed. He was deep in Logan and still as he waited for Finn. “I’m ready, Harzy, I’ll tell you how to go.”

Finn put a hand on Leo’s shoulder, lining up again and pressing forward this time. He only got his head in before he had to stop, mouth open at the impossible heat.

“Huh,” Finn gasped, forehead dropping to Leo’s shoulder. He clenched his jaw, willing himself not to come on the spot. “Fuck, baby, you feel…”

“So good,” Logan whispered, arms flung over his head on the bed.

Finn pressed his hips forward again, and it was a smooth glide until he was plastered along Leo’s back. Without pulling out, he fucked in, and both boys below him moaned.

“Harzy,” Logan said, eyes flashing open.

It was not good for Finn’s stamina to realize that whatever he did to Leo, Logan felt also. To realize that this could happen again a million and one times, that he would wake up tomorrow with them, kiss them good morning, play hockey beside them, go out to dinner with them, spend the summer with them, win the cup with them. Every fucking day was theirs.

Finn rested his lips between Leo’s shoulder blades and pulled out before pushing back in with more force. He set the pace quick, punching sounds out of Leo as he did which Logan responded to. They panted his name, kissed each other. Leo grabbed for his hip, pulling him in harder. Finn already knew he was deliriously addicted to this feeling. To them.

Logan, taking the blunt weight of both of their thrusts, had gone silent. His back was arched up against the bed, nails digging into Leo’s broad back, muscles strained. Finn wasn’t sure he was even breathing. Finn reached around him to grip Logan’s hips instead and pushed forward sloppily now. He flicked his hair out of his eyes, damp with sweat now. Every part of him was on fire, and he was so hard it hurt, but he wasn’t ready for it to be over yet. He fucked into Leo one more time and held there, covering himself over Leo’s back.

“Finn,” Leo cried hoarsely when Finn started circling his hips. “Ah—”

Finn pressed in a few more times before leaning back with a last kiss to Leo’s spine.

“Shift change, boys,” he panted, and sat up, pulling carefully out of Leo with a moan. “Logan, be center.”

“No hockey metaphors,” Leo groaned, still pliant and buried in Logan, who looked fucking blissed out against the sheets. “Not in bed.”

Leo’s shot voice warmed Finn all over, and he pushed his hair back and stared down at his red cock, shiny with lube and drooling a sticky string of precome onto his bedspread. He wanted to touch himself so bad that his palms itched with it, but he didn’t dare.

“I want to fuck both my boys,” Finn smoothed his hands over Leo’s ass appreciatively.

“I’m—” Logan’s voice cracked. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

Finn huffed out a laugh, pressing a trail of kisses over Leo’s spine. “Believe me, I’m gonna lose it soon, too.” There was just so much to be kissed. Of both of them.

Logan finally cracked his eyes open. His pupils were blown wide. “I don’t know if soon is the word for me.”

Finn tilted his head, Leo seeming too, also. Leo sat up, back into Finn’s chest, and Finn’s mouth went dry. Logan was a mess, a pool of come tacky on his stomach, chest breathing hard.

“Oh, Lo. Baby,” Finn pressed his hand forward, cock wedged between himself and Leo, and trailed a finger in the mess. “You already…?”

“Twice,” Logan mumbled. His cock was soft and spent on his stomach. “I think. It feels like forever. Fuck.”

“God,” Leo moaned, his cock big and hanging between his thighs. “Just silently having a good time down there, huh?”

Logan groaned, sounding more pained now. He reached down and pressed a palm over himself. “I’m still so fucking horny—” he didn’t finish, but as Finn watched, Logan’s cock twitched against his stomach.

“You fucking magician,” Finn said. “It’s been what, twenty? Fifteen?”

Leo shook his head. Finn reached around and cradled Leo’s cock against his stomach and Leo’s hips jerked like he could help it. “No idea.”

Finn felt like it was the three of them in the entire world.

“Let’s do it,” Leo sighed happily and turned to the side to press a sloppy kiss to Finn’s mouth before flopping on his back beside Logan.

Finn stared. “You really are just…a fucking giant.” He glanced at Logan’s smaller frame, and his entire body warmed. Finn briefly contemplated asking to just watch them get off, before he remembered Logan was waiting for him.

“I can’t move,” Logan groaned, even as he pushed himself up and right into Finn’s lap for a sloppy, hot kiss.

Finn gathered him against his chest, cock nudging against Logan’s hole, smearing the wetness. He was going to come so fucking hard.

“Hi, Lo, baby,” Finn said softly.

Logan just wrapped his arms around Finn’s neck while Leo sat up and pressed up against Logan’s back. Leo and Finn smiled at each other over Logan’s shoulder and kissed lazily while Logan rutted against Finn’s abs, cock beginning to fatten up again.

Logan was only partially hard when he gave Finn’s cheek a little pat. “I’m gonna fuck Nut now.” He tangled his hands in Finn’s sweaty hair. The kiss was messy, more biting teeth than not. Logan’s fire simmered under Finn’s skin.

“This is so good,” Leo groaned and flopped back against the bed again. “What the hell, it’s like—sixteen year old me’s wet dream.”

Finn blinked at that image. A younger Leo, looking up to them, and— “Oh.”

Logan laughed and turned out of Finn’s arms to clamber over Leo’s long, lean body.

“Es-tu prêt, mon coeur?” Logan mumbled, as he pressed gentle kisses to Leo’s mouth, his cheeks. “Je suis très exité pour toi…”

Leo reached between them with a sigh, letting his legs spread obscenely for Logan.

“Get hard,” Leo said. “Get hard inside me.”

“Jesus,” Finn said.

“Finn,” Logan’s voice was breathy, and Finn was there in a moment, pulling Logan up to lean back against his chest and taking his still mostly soft, sensitive member in his hand. The skin was incredibly soft, and there was something vulnerable and gentle about holding Logan when he was like this. Finn couldn’t resist kissing his shoulder blade, and pressing his palm over Logan’s pounding heart. He loved him. Wildly.

“Okay?” Finn asked. He snagged the lube again, even though Logan was pretty slick, and squeezed a bit onto his fingers before stroking Logan’s cock gently.

“Yeah,” Logan gasped, and let Finn guide his hips forward, nudging against Leo’s entrance.

Leo was watching, too, propped on Finn’s many pillows, his heels pressing into the mattress and his hands cupping his cock, one working the shaft while the other thumbed down over his balls near where Logan’s cock was pushing in.

Finn traced his thumb there, too, his own cock throbbing with ever brush against Logan’s back. Logan was breathing hard, his hips working in circles against Leo’s.

“How is it, peanut butter?” Finn asked.

Leo’s mouth was open, chin tilted up against the pillows. His hands had stilled. “Fuck, he’s getting hard. Yeah, Tremz…”

Logan moaned and pushed forward, hands on either side of Leo’s chest so that he could rut into him harder, muscles flexing. Leo’s long arms wrapped around his broad shoulders and Finn could only watch, hands smoothing over Logan’s back. His cock was tight against his stomach, and he wanted them both so badly, he could hardly think. He pressed his thumb against Logan’s entrance, already prepped and waiting. He lined himself up and pushed the swollen head of his cock inside. He clutched at Logan’s hip, breathing in. Logan had stilled as Finn pushed in, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt. Finn hung his head, breathing hard, and then pulled back slowly to snap his hips forward again. It punched a glorious sound out of Logan, and then Leo, who absorbed the thrust, too. Finn picked up a pace, faster than he had been with Leo, getting used to this, to loving a partner so much he was dizzy with it. He watched Leo’s face, screwed up in pleasure, as Logan mumbling to him in French, the soft syllables running together with his uneven breathing as he was caught between sinking his cock into Leo, and pressing back against Finn’s. Finn looked down at Logan’s broad back, every muscle taught, and thought about how long they’d been waiting for this. How long he’d wanted Logan. How he hadn’t even thought to start waiting for Leo until he was there, with his kind eyes and sharp wit, pressing their shoulders together on the couch and then, while Logan was away, sucking Finn’s cock down into the wet heat of his mouth.

Finn moaned, fucking in harder. Logan cried out as it pressed him deeper into Leo.

Logan was fully hard now, cock sensitive and aching. He’d never come this much in his life, except maybe when he first discovered that it was a thing. He felt pinned, delirious with the heat of the two boys on either side of him. Leo was a vice around him, Finn a hard weight behind him, within him. He didn’t know what he wanted more, to fuck shamelessly into Leo, or fuck himself on Finn.

“Closer, Harz,” he gasped.

Leo cried out, one hand flying back to grip the headboard with Logan’s thrusts, and with the new leverage, Logan had that much more control. Nothing filled the room except the sound of skin slapping on skin and their breathing. Logan, despite feeling like he was half out of his mind with pleasure, had never felt so at peace. He felt safe with his lips against Leo’s throat, Finn’s at the back of his neck. Finn and Leo had their hands laced together, and the sight of them all connected made Logan feel like he was going to come all over again.

“I’m gonna—” Logan gasped, and pressed his forehead against Leo’s chest, pumping his cock into Leo faster.

Finn pressed closer behind Logan, so close that soon Logan could only pant, open mouthed, and grind into Leo with the small space he had as Finn fucked him in hard, deep strokes. Finn grabbed his hips, hitching himself closer, and the angle changed and—

“Ah,” Logan’s voice broke, his cock pulsing against Leo’s tight walls as Finn grazed his prostate. “Finn. Finn.”

“Yeah, baby? There?”

Logan wanted to find that spot for Leo. He wanted to do everything for both of them. Both of Leo’s hands were curled around the headboard now, long torso arching upward as he pressed himself onto Logan’s cock. Logan angled upwards, and Leo stilled, mouth falling open.

“Lo—” Leo’s voice was strained, forearm muscles straining out. “Please.”

“I’m gonna come,” Finn half mumbled into Logan’s skin. “Lo—”

“Yeah, Harzy,” Logan gasped as he felt Finn grow heavier inside him.

Finn’s breathing turned harsh, his thrusts uneven and short, until he shoved all the way inside and stilled. Logan could feel him, pulsing, coming. It was warm and Logan could barely breathe with how hard he was. It trapped him inside Leo. Finn kept coming and coming.

“Finn, oh god, mon—“ Logan gasped as Finn whined, long and low as his cock pulsed inside of Logan. My love my love my love.

Finally, Finn seemed to breathe again, and Logan blinked down at Leo, who looked dazed with Logan’s hard cock, unmoving and aching inside of him still. Leo’s own cock was weeping, a vein tracing up one side, head fat, balls heavy. Logan wanted to have that in his mouth some time.

Finn pulled out shakily. He sighed, and stretched out beside them, pressing along Leo’s leg and side. He had a lazy smile on his face, hair sweaty. He was sort of glowing, and Logan and Leo couldn’t look away.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he breathed and pressed a warm palm over the soft skin of Leo’s inner thigh. “You two…”

Logan cursed and hauled his knees up beneath him, wrapping his hands around Leo’s hips and fucking forward again. Leo was pliant with it, knuckles white against the dark headboard. Logan fucked him once, twice, and Leo’s cock bobbed against his stomach before come streamed out of it across his chest, untouched.

“Oh,” Finn said, and reached forward for him, fingers pale and long around Leo as he stroked him through his orgasm. Leo was loud, grinding himself against Logan’s cock which felt so close to the edge it nearly hurt with how good it was. Logan felt like he had been coming forever, but he still needed—

“Yes, yes,” Leo was chanting, their names spilling out as Finn didn’t let up and Logan let him grind down. When he stilled, he was flushed from his cheeks to his lovely collarbones, a gorgeous mess. His blond curls were dark on his forehead and he opened his eyes sleepily. Logan was doing everything he could not to move, he was probably sensitive, and focused on stroking his hands over Leo’s hips instead, trying to sooth the tight muscles. He pulled out haltingly, cock streaming steadily.

“Lo,” Finn groaned, and reached down to palm his cock which was stiffening again. “Fuck, are you like this all the time? I’m going to die? Tell us what we can do.”

“I know what we can do.”

Leo grinned and leaned forward for a kiss, before pushing Logan onto his back. “I promised him something earlier.”

Logan barely had time to breathe before Leo’s mouth was swallowing him down. Logan’s hands flew to Leo’s hair, he arched up into the heat.

“Leo, Leo, Leo, I’m—coming—“

Logan could feel an almost unbearable, sensitive pressure building, his toes curling against Leo’s thighs, Finn’s hand in his hair, before it broke. It seemed to drain everything from him, he didn’t know what sounds he made, didn’t know which way was up. Leo sucked him through it, insistent and soft, down to the hilt until Logan whined at the pressure, until it was too much.

Logan opened his eyes, and a moan from his left drew his eyes just in time to see Finn come again from Leo’s hand and collapse back against the mattress. It was quiet, after everything, the three of them in a tangle of limbs, breathing.

Logan huffed out a laugh. “Fuck.”

Leo smiled, too, settling himself down over Logan and tucking his face into his neck. Logan loved it, he loved the weight of them in bed with him. Finn rolled until he was pressed against their sides, a leg thrown over Leo’s calves.

“Boys,” Finn’s voice cracked horribly and they snorted, the feeling of each other laughing only making them laugh harder.

Logan ran a hand up Finn’s back, turning his head to press his lips to his temple.

“I was just going to say that I…” Finn trailed off. “You’re my…”

None of them really needed him to finish though. Leo felt heavier against Logan, like he was falling asleep.

“We should clean up,” Logan said half-heartedly, although he really didn’t want to move. He was pleasantly sore, pleasantly floaty, with Leo weighing him down and Finn’s mouth trailing along his neck, kissing along the leather band of his necklace.

“I’ll go,” Finn said hurriedly, and all but trotted to the restroom.

“I could have done that, Harz,” Leo mumbled when he returned, then added, with a smile, “You did do most of the work.”

Finn bit his lip as he carefully rolled Leo onto his back beside Logan, washcloth soft against their stomachs and cocks. He shrugged a shoulder.

“No, I…I like this part. I like working, I like…” he flushed and cleared his throat. “I like giving you guys what you want, you know? What you deserve. You deserve to feel good. It makes me happy.”

Logan’s heart gave a painful tug at that. Finn. It made sense. Finn, even in his own chaotic way, had always done things like that for Logan. Coffee pick-ups, giving him his sweatshirt when it was cold on the bus and he had packed his. Coming to every call of Logan’s, even when Logan had been less than thankless for it.

Finn sent him a lopsided smile as he finished and tossed the washcloth, but evidently saw something in Logan’s expression because he tilted his head.

“You deserve that, too,” Logan said.

“Yeah,” Leo nodded, and Logan rolled onto his side to tuck himself along Leo’s lean body, smiling at Finn. Leo fingers drew absentmindedly on Logan’s bare back and Logan propped himself on his elbow, looking down at him. He smiled into a quick kiss, and brushed the white-gray tuft of hair back from Leo’s temple.

“Oh, yeah, Leo’s gonna take us on his boat,” Finn said, his hands caressing one thigh each.

Leo laughed loudly, and Finn climbed over him, peppering kisses up his chest before reaching his mouth.

“Right, peanut?”

Leo’s face grew thoughtful for a second, maybe even a little wistful. “Yeah, I’d…I’d love to take you guys home.”

“Summer,” Logan said, fingers moving to the back of Finn’s neck, just touching. Both of them leaned into it, wherever his hands were, and he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of the feeling.

“Not too soon,” Leo grinned.

“Knock on wood,” Finn reached up and knocked on Logan’s head. Logan shoved him, and Finn just laughed, lunging forward to tackle Logan back against the bed.

“Whoa, whoa,” Logan gasped, laughing and clinging to Finn’s back. “We’re gonna fall—”

Finn grabbed at the blankets, his other hand keeping Logan close, and Leo grabbed both of them, rolling them away from the edge.

“Jesus Christ,” Leo laughed, staring at the two of them before rolling away to stand. Logan watched, knowing Finn was doing the same from where his cheek was on his chest, as Leo stretched up, his back popping, everything on display from his long torso, to his soft cock. “I’m gonna get us some water, okay? Try not to fall off the bed.”

“No promises,” Logan said, as Leo disappeared down the hall, but not before brushing his fingers through Logan’s hair. Logan was looking after him when a gentle kiss against his throat pulled his attention to Finn.

“I love it when you laugh like that,” Finn whispered, brushing their noses together. He was pressed against Logan’s chest, arms doing nothing to support his weight. Logan never wanted him to move.

Logan touched his fingers to a few of Finn’s more prominent freckles across his cheeks.

“I love you,” Logan whispered back.

Finn’s smile was the one Logan saw in his sleep, the one that his mind conjured up with every thought of him. “Love you.”

“We’re gonna love him, aren’t we,” Logan said. It was no question.

Finn nodded. “Yeah, we are.”

Leo woke up slowly, feeling like he had sunk away from the world. It was like the feeling of sun beating down on his back while he lay out on the dock at home. Except it covered his entire being, and didn’t fade with the wind. Two suns were cradling him between them.

Leo opened his eyes and brought his hand up slowly beneath the covers to cradle the back of Finn’s head. Finn’s even breathing was hot against his neck, Logan’s between his shoulder blades. He felt more than a little groggy, like he had been sleeping for years and years, so deeply that it washed away slowly. He wondered if he’d always sleep this well with these two.

Leo smiled to himself, eyes closing again. They had no where to be today. They could stay like this, if they wanted to, but Leo also liked the idea of going out to brunch, maybe squeezed into a booth at the cute pancake place down the street. Or he could make them pancakes. Logan liked ham, Finn liked sausage, he could just run to Whole Foods and be back—

Leo heard Finn take a long breath in, and the freeze. He felt the light tickle of him blinking his eyes open, and grinned. Leo pet his fingers through Finn’s hair a few times before turning his head down to press a kiss to his forehead. Finn looked up at him, one eye closed still, before his face relaxed and he closed his eyes again, smiling.

Leo laughed softly and leaned down to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Good morning,” he whispered.

“Hm,” Finn said, leaning up into the kiss. “Morning.”

Leo smiled. Finn picked his head up a little, peaking over Leo’s shoulder at Logan.

“You’re covered in drool, just so you know,” he whispered.

Leo laughed, and the motion drew a sound out of Logan, whose head appeared a second later over Leo’s shoulder, hair an absolute mess.

“Wha’s wrong?” Logan said, voice low from sleep.

“Nothing, babe,” Finn said. “We’re just talking about your drool.”

Logan grumbled before promptly starting to crawl over Leo.

“Hey,” Finn began to protest.

“I’m the shortest, I get to be in the middle.”

Leo laughed. “Did you just admit—”

Logan shushed him as he wedged his body between them.

“C’est chaud ici,” Logan sighed contently, burrowing farther beneath the quilt and pushing his cold nose into Leo’s chest. “Fish, closer.”

Finn snorted but complied, all but squeezing Logan between them with a leg over their hips. Logan didn’t seem to mind.

They rested like that, quiet and dozing. Leo sort of wanted breakfast, but he also sort of never wanted to leave. Logan was asleep again, lips parted and chin tilted up between them. Finn looked halfway there, cheek in Logan’s curls. Leo let himself sink back into the pillows, the sunlight heat of the two boys holding him close, and closed his eyes. They had time.