fictional men supremacy

"the actors cute but he's like thirty three"

[letumakemejuno]

Party 4 U - John Logan

Pairings: John Logan x Reader (no use of y/n)

Genre/Warning: Reader Pining for John, Hurt, & Implied Smut

Summary: She's so down bad for John Logan she throws a whole birthday party just to hopefully see him again.

Words: 1.5k

It's funny how she could convince herself of the reasons for wanting something.

It all started with an idea on her actual birthday. The middle of June, surrounded by her hometown friends and family. It was honestly a pretty good birthday. Her parents made her favorite meal, and her Nana made her famous red velvet cake, which was her favorite. Her two nieces sat in her lap while everyone sang "Happy Birthday," and she so graciously let them blow out her candles. Her best friends stayed until way past midnight while they all drank wine on the back porch and beat all of their dead horses. It was great, but she couldn't shake the lingering thought of wanting her college friends there too. Maybe it also wouldn't have hurt if a certain right wing hockey hunk had been there.

So here she was. It was late August, and she had convinced her best friends, Allie and Hannah, that she wanted to celebrate turning twenty one in her college town. She was lucky because she had the most amazing and supportive girls in her circle, and they immediately loved the idea.

"Oh my gosh, this idea is amazing! I wish we would've come up with it so you didn't have to!" Allie exclaimed excitedly, with Hannah nodding beside her.

"Yes, yes, yes! This is going to be so fun! Let's get to planning."

But if she were being one hundred percent honest with herself, this party wasn't really for her.

No. This was all about him. Embarrassingly so.

She and John Logan had shared an undeniable, unspoken attraction ever since they met. Ironically, it had been at a party. She spotted him first, and immediately she felt chills run up her spine. He had a softness about him. He exuded confidence and charm, but it was also obvious he wasn't cocky. He was nonchalant in a way that didn't make him an asshole, either.

To her surprise, he looked up and made eye contact with her. Her breath hitched, and she didn't dare look away. She slowly sipped her drink while holding his intense gaze. He smirked at her before casually turning back to his friends to continue their conversation.

She desperately wanted to walk up to him, but she held herself back. He didn't need to know just yet how badly she wanted him. Instead, she wanted to give him a reason to approach her.

She made her way to the dance floor with Allie, who was as carefree as ever. She wasn't surprised when she glanced his way and caught him staring at her. He swallowed hard when he realized she'd caught him looking. She bit her lip, trying to hide the smile threatening to grow too wide. Then she went back to looking completely unbothered, soaking in the moment with Allie while feeling the adrenaline rush through her veins.

After a while of dancing, she was in need of another drink and made her way over for a refill.

Wouldn't you know it, her brown-eyed hottie was in need of another drink too.

She smirked as her heart started beating faster in her chest.

"I'm Logan, and you mystery girl are?"

She shook her head, laughing.

"Wouldn't you love to know."

He looked at her, stunned into silence, then agonizingly slowly made his way over to her.

"Well, that's not very fair, is it?" he whispered in her ear.

"You'll live."

His lips found hers with a fiery passion she had never felt before. She breathlessly kissed him back with so much want and need that she couldn't even imagine what it might have looked like to everyone else.After that fateful night, her midnight party rendezvous with John Logan only intensified in frequency, along with the things they would do together.

Now here she was, surrounded by what seemed like a thousand pink balloons, a million people, and enough alcohol for everyone at Briar University to get drunk off of. She had even made a playlist of songs she knew he would enjoy, or songs that simply made her think of him.

Yet he was nowhere in sight.

She felt crazy. She should've been enjoying her night with her friends and all the people who had made Briar feel like home. But all she could think about was why he wasn't there.

Literally the only damn reason she'd thrown this stupid party was for him. For him to show up, and for them to have another moment together. She kept drinking to calm her nerves. Someone poured champagne straight into her mouth. She downed Jell-O shot after Jell-O shot while also chugging vodka sodas like water. She searched every room, trying to meet his gaze somewhere. She could always feel when his eyes were on her. It was magnetic, and her body felt like it was on fire every time he so much as looked at her. She grew so desperate that she even called him a couple of times, but every call went straight to voicemail.

She wished she knew what he was thinking. Why, out of all nights, had he chosen this one not to go to a party?

She distracted herself by hitting the dance floor, but it was just another painful reminder that he wasn't there. She had made that goddamn playlist practically dedicated to Logan. She might as well have worn a shirt that said, "I <3 #22." God, it was pathetic at this point, and she hoped more than anything that people weren't aware of the all-consuming crush she had on Logan.

She couldn't help but think about how crazy all of this was. She had thrown a party just for him. A party that was supposed to be about her had really become all about wanting him.

She stumbled into the bathroom, thinking she was going to be sick.

Allie knocked on the door.

"Are you okay, babe? Can I come in?"

She opened the door and sat down on the bathroom floor. Allie followed suit and patiently waited for her to explain what was wrong.

"Allie... I only threw this party for him."

At first, Allie looked confused, but then she realized she was talking about the hockey player who had had her heart since last year.

"Oh, babe, forget him. This is your night! Please celebrate, you deserve it! C'mon."

Allie helped her stand and wiped the stray tears falling down her face.

"Let's go get you another drink or maybe some water. Yeah, let's do that."

Allie led her to the kitchen and handed her a bottle of water and, like the amazing friend Allie was, another Jell-O shot.

She laughed, downed the shot, and started sipping on the water.

"You are so much more important than a guy, especially one who only seems interested in you at parties. Please promise me you'll enjoy your night."

She nodded and gave Allie a hug, reassuring her that she would be okay and that she could stop worrying. Allie looked at her one last time before giving her some space.

But, of course, the thoughts of Logan only intensified. She thought about how, if he were there, he would've already had her alone by now. If he walked in and saw her crying, would he kiss her and confess his feelings? Would he tell her he was sorry? Did he even care? Why was he treating her like someone he didn't care about?

All of those thoughts swirled through her head, and she had the urgent need to get out of her own mind.

So she made her way back to where everyone was dancing, found Allie and Hannah, and pulled them into dancing with her. It was really starting to work, and she thought maybe the night didn't have to be about him. This should be about her, her friends, and having a good fucking time.

The thoughts lingered.

"You only threw this party for him."

But she successfully pushed every single one of them down.

Just when she started letting loose and forgetting about the brown-eyed hockey player, all hell broke loose.

He walked into her party with someone else.

She froze in shock and disbelief.

He came to her party with another girl.

Her head immediately started to ache, and the room began to spin. She rushed back to the bathroom, desperate for some sort of relief. She tried splashing water on her face, she tried counting to ten, she even tried the five senses method. But nothing worked to soothe the racing thoughts in her head. It was like a symphony of disappointment and regret, and all she could do was sit there in silence until she could get her bearings. But still, all she could think about was him, hoping he would come knock on the door.

All that nervous energy bubbled up inside her, and somehow her heart beat even faster. She thought, If only he would come in here and kiss me. But instead, he was with another girl, doing God knows what. She wondered if he realized this was all for him that she desperately wanted to be more than whatever the hell the two of them were.

Why would he do this? At her party?

Eventually, she picked herself up with the little courage she could muster and opened the door.

Standing in front of her was John Logan himself.

[b6rntosdiee]

[letumakemejuno]

Last Night's Mascara

Pairings: Dean Di Laurentis x Reader

Genre/Warnings: One Night Stand & Implied Smut

Summary: y/n spends a night with the fuck boy of Briar University. Not normally a hookup girl finds herself in a situation the morning after their encounter.

Words: 1,749

You thought you knew better than to get involved with a fuck boy. Let alone the fuck boy of Briar University; Dean Sebastian Kendrick Heyward-Di Laurentis. He’s almost as ridiculous as he sounds confident, cocky, nonchalant, and has the disturbing ability to make you feel like putty in his hands. But God, did he mess you up. Of course, you knew his reputation, but could you really help yourself? You wish now maybe you could have practiced some self-restraint, but you’re way past that.

It all started at one of the hockey house’s infamous parties. You were not new to these occasions, but for some reason, the energy was charged. You were with your two coworkers turned best friends, Allie and Hannah, drinking and dancing when Hannah turned to both of you to say, “Is it just me, or is Dean Di Laurentis staring at us?”

You looked in his direction and, sure enough, he was looking your way with an intent gaze. Allie shook her head. “I think you mean he is staring at Y/N.”

No, you immediately thought. You have been around him in so many capacities before, and he’s never so much as batted an eye at you.

“I don’t know what he is doing, but surely this has nothing to do with me,” you replied.

“Babe, you’re hot! Why would he not stare?”

You think for a second, trying to find the self-assurance to maybe believe Allie, but you can’t. Why would Dean notice you? Why would he notice you now?

You shake your head, almost laughing to cover up your disappointment. “Girls, I need another drink! Who wants a refill?”

Allie and Hannah side-eye each other, knowing you’re trying to change the subject. They look back at you and see your silent plea to move on. They both grab one of your hands, and you all make your way to the kitchen.

“I think we should do shots!” Allie announces to you and Hannah.

You both groan, knowing this will be a mistake in the morning, but neither of you seems to care. Allie grabs the Pink Whitney and shakes it around like it’s a precious artifact. You laugh, knowing she picked that particular liquor for you.

One shot turned to two, two turned to three, and three turned into something you don’t even know anymore. The three of you made your way back to where the music was the loudest and everyone was dancing. You felt so free and alive, not wanting this feeling to ever go away.

All of a sudden, hands found your waist and started dancing in sync with you. You kept the suspense up for a little while and reached behind you, grabbing the back of the person’s neck and pulling him closer. Your body felt like it was on fire, and your stomach felt like it would drop out of your body at any second.

You quite literally felt electrified, and everyone and everything faded into the background.

You turned your body to face your handsome stranger, and low and behold, it was number sixty-six himself. Your breath hitched when you realized he had been staring at you earlier in the night.

He looked down at you with the devilish grin he is known for. “Been waiting to get my hands on you all night.” Your cheeks flushed, and you looked away from him to hide the hugely embarrassing grin that was taking over your entire face. He laughed at your reaction and pulled you closer. “Don't hide from me, sweetheart. I want to see you.” You looked back.

Gosh, was he beautiful. His arms snaked around your waist, your hands behind his neck, and that smirk that said a thousand words. You were absolutely fucked, truly. His eyes were taking you in completely and mapping every inch of you. Normally this would make you squirm from the attention and feel self-conscious. But not with him. The way he looked at you made you feel like a piece of art, something to be treasured. He looked at your lips and then met your eyes again. You gave a nod, giving the go-ahead. He leaned in, but just before he went for the kill, he whispered, “I want to hear you say it.” Your breath hitched, and goosebumps fired over your whole body. “Please kiss me. Now,” you whispered out.

He wasted no time, lips colliding with yours. Your hands found the back of his neck and tangled into his hair. His hands explored your body, and you gasped from the touch. He took the opportunity to slide his tongue into the kiss. No one had ever kissed you like this before, with such want and need. You were so used to hiding from guys, never feeling good enough, but here you were kissing a campus-certified hottie.

Your whole body was on fire, and you didn’t care who saw. All you could think about was him. It was all-consuming. He broke away quickly, leaving you absolutely breathless. “We might need to take this somewhere else, sweetheart. What do you say?” Without even thinking, you nodded. You felt like, at this rate, you would follow him anywhere. He smiled and took your hand, gently rubbing reassuring circles. You looked around, trying to make eye contact with Allie and Hannah. You found them quite quickly. They were looking at you with so much pride and obnoxiously hyping you up with their whole bodies.

You smiled silently, feeling like you were floating. Maybe it was the alcohol, but mostly because the 6'2 hockey defenseman was leading you upstairs to presumably his bedroom. He looked back at you with that smile that made you weak in the knees. He led you into his room, and immediately his lips found yours again. This time, tender and deep, like he was savoring this exact moment. Both of your hands were all over each other, like if you let go, both of you would fade away. But you were both right here and full of need like never before.

He picked you up and lowered you onto his bed. The kisses went from your lips to all over your body, trailing from your neck, collarbones, and then finally you were undressed and so was he. He looked at you again. “God, you're so beautiful. Where have you been?” You laughed a little and said, “We have literally crossed paths so many times.” He looked shocked. “Well, trust me when I say if I wasn't an absolute idiot, sweetheart, this would have happened a long time ago.” You smiled, feeling wanted for the first time in a very long time. “You want this, sweetheart?” Without a second thought, you said, “I want all of you.” He kissed you again.

The morning came early. Your head was pounding, and you felt disoriented at first, trying to recount the events of the night prior. Heat spread to your cheeks when the memories flashed before you. The staring, the kiss, the praise, and of course, the fact that you slept with the blonde hockey heartthrob. You smiled, giddy with the realization. You looked around the room, and the man himself was nowhere to be found. You quickly grabbed your things to head downstairs. Maybe he was making breakfast, or just waiting downstairs for you.

But the scene downstairs was even worse. No one was down there. You didn’t know what to believe at first, but the more you looked around for signs of people, the more obvious it became that no one was home. You picked up your phone to call an Uber with shaky hands. Great. Twenty minutes out. You sat on the hockey house front steps, genuinely not knowing how to feel. You knew he technically didn’t owe you anything, but damn, did it sting that he couldn’t even tell you he was leaving. I mean, you don’t do this. Sex isn't something that is easy for you. You trusted him in a way that you don't let happen often, and you curse yourself for allowing it to happen because now you're hurt.

You checked your texts, and Allie and Hannah had blown up your group chat several different times asking for an update.

Allie: How was it?

Allie: Is he big?

Hannah: Oh my God, Allie, wtf. Y/N, we need updates!

Allie: I feel like that is a fair question.

Allie: BITCH please answer

You almost cried reading the texts. You wanted to be able to talk to them about how wonderful the experience was, but that was ruined now. You knew the rumors, you knew his reputation, and still you made that decision. But he made you feel like maybe you were different, special. But maybe that is just how he treats all the girls he is with.

Your Uber arrived, and you hopped in and suffered through the ride listening to "Orinoco Flow" that the Uber driver had weirdly chosen for his morning jam. You would have jumped out of that car if you could, just willing yourself to be home as fast as possible.

Finally, you arrived and thanked the driver quickly, then you booked it and ran to your apartment door, feeling the emotions bubble in your chest. You stepped inside, and when you were finally alone in your space, you allowed the tears to flow. Part of you understood your feelings, but you also knew that he did not owe you anything past what happened. It just sucked. You felt so far from that girl who was at the party last night.

Confident, carefree, chosen, wanted. Things you hadn't felt in a long time, and it was all right there. It was intoxicating. You walked into the bathroom, almost laughing at how ridiculous you looked. His T-shirt hanging loosely over your dress, hair an absolute mess, and black streaks running down your face. It almost looked pretty, your eyeshadow mixed into the streaks making it sparkle. You grabbed a makeup wipe from your drawer, starting to rub the makeup off. Sunday scaries had a new meaning with this makeup look going on. Line by line, it started to disappear, almost like rubbing it off was washing the memory of him and his touch off of you. If only last night you could see you now. Maybe you would have chosen differently, but at least for those moments, you felt worthy, and honestly, you would do anything to feel that way again.