warnings: mentions of blood, a small argument, cursing, kissing, slight jealously. straight fluff, pet names, reader has a fear of blood
a/n: i love beau so much. like thats my baby. a quick blurb xx
wc: ~0.9k
“Beau.”
Silence aside from the hum of gossip leaving the T.V of some random reality show you left on when you were eating pizza.
You roll his eyes at his dramatics.
“Beau,” You repeated. “It was just a follow request.”
He lets out some pathetic noise, some sort of grumble mixed with a huff. You raise an eyebrow as your eyes catch the faint shape of pouted lips from his turned head.
A few beats of silence pass by and it was quiet enough that you could hear Dean upstairs on the phone with Allie, someone in the bathroom and outside.
You finally speak.
“Are you seriously pouting?” You comment bluntly.
“No.”
You snort, “So now he speaks.”
He whirls his head towards you, eyes narrowed. “I could always speak.”
You hum, leaning away and settling into the couch.
“You could’ve fooled me,” You murmur, fingers mindlessly fidgeting with a piece of your hair. “My boyfriend, star Quarter-back, not answering me.. Ignoring me..”
“I wasn’t.”
You continue on playfully, “Ignoring me all because some guy followed me on Instagram.”
He goes quiet again.
You smirk, throwing a pillow at him. “See? I was right, babe.”
You expect him to answer but you get the response of him grabbing his phone and leaving the couch. Leaving the off-campus house in general.
You sit up, blinking. “Hey! You can’t just leave! You’re the one that invited me here!”
You got zero verbal answers.
With a huff, you lean back on the couch and increase the volume of the show.
“Whatever, you do whatever you want to do. Not my problem,” You mutter to yourself, too annoyed with the whole situation to notice the footsteps heading in your direction.
“Not my problem at all. I’m not in the wrong, tell yourself that,” You continue, “I—“
A loud clang and a scream of pain.
“What the fuck, Tucker!” You shout, your hand shooting out instantly to the back of your head.
Tucker gasps, dropping the metal frying pan. “Oh my god, I am sorry! I thought— Oh my god, there’s blood. Don’t move—Garrett! Call Beau— Or Hannah!— Oh my god, I’m a murderer.”
You squint your eyes. “Blood? I’m bleeding?—“ You slur out, blinking as your vision swims. “Tucker, I swear if I have a concussion..”
He smiles sheepishly, guiding you so you lay on the couch again. “You don’t! I’ll make you some pasta, yeah? Just—“
The scent of iron hits your nose.
Yup.
That’s blood.
And you hate blood.
Growing queasy, you swallow as you feel yourself tune out. “Tuck, I’m going to pass out. Call—“
But then you’re out.
Tucker curses as Garrett finally arrives downstairs and blinks.
“I’ll call Beau.” He states matter-of-factly.
-
When you gain consciousness, you feel a pair of lips against your face. You groan, moving away. “Get off..”
“No.”
You groan again, finally moving away. “Yes. I’m annoyed at you.”
He rolls his eyes, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I think it’s the other way around, baby.”
You feel a cool sensation on the back of your head and you remember the frying pan.
“Is Tucker dead yet?”
In the background, you hear him chuckle nervously.
“Nope. He’s still standing.” Beau points out before sitting up. “You okay though?”
You hum, shifting. “I guess.”
He cocks an eyebrow at you. “You guess?”
“Well, considering my boyfriend got up and left without a reason, I have every right to be ‘okay’ after being hit by a pan.”
“That was in the spur of a moment thing.”
“For not a big deal.”
“It was.”
“It wasn’t.”
“It was?”
“Wasn’t,” You sing song. “And for your information, I declined the request.”
Beau instantly melts. “You did?” He looks up at you expectantly.
You smirk. “I was lying.”
He whines, falling back and flopping around.
You giggle, reaching over to grab his jaw. “I’m joking, Beau-Peep.”
“You’re going to kill me one day, girl.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Since you called me a ‘girl’, maybe you shouldn’t get a kiss.”
Oh, he’s quick to react to that.
“What? No. I’m sorry, baby. Gotta give me a kiss after the day I had.”
“Did you get hit by a pan by a hockey player?”
He looks sheepish.
“No.. But my girlfriend almost got stolen from me.”
You smile softly, leaning in. He does at the same time, your lips locking gently. It was always so gentle and sweet with him.
“I love you, Beau.” You murmur softly against his lips, brushing your fingers along the back of his neck. You try to get up.
Beau murmurs a tired “Love you more” back to you. He makes a soft noise, already latching his arms around you. “No. Don’t leave me.”
Your body twisted in your bedsheets as you reached over to grab your air-pods. The case clicks open, cold in your hands. The sound of your breaths filling the room, matched with the sound of your roommate, arguing on the phone.
You grab one, place it in and then the other in your ear.
Spotify.
Play.
Now playing: what’s wrong with me by Olivia Rodrigo and Robert Smith.
You remain in your spot on the bed, preferably the left side instead of your designated right, with Mr. Plum resting half-hazardly off of the edge.
You’re on your back now. Your eyes drown into the popcorn material-made ceiling of your dorm room, the dull drum of your heart faintly beating as you ruin your hearing with maxed-out volume.
its been a while… still working on first fic which will have multiple parts or just be one long fic! im facing writers block but anyways, i graduated!!
anyways, long fic or multi-part 👀👀 im also in the makes of a playlist for this fic, half way down 🥹❤️ very sad songs, so be aware my loves
ALSO. i lost the malcolm todd ticketmaster war 💔💔 but i actually got to see audrey hobert over the weekend , how fun!
a/n: part 2 of peter pan got drunk is now here after someone requested part two! please lmk if u liked it or not, thank u ❤️
warnings: cursing, slight smut scene, getting caught, physical fight, reader goes by Prada, mention of a bra, ooc tucker?, i think that’s all!
! no proof read !
pairing: john logan x fem! john tucker’s sister reader
word count: 1.03k
part one part two
————————————————————————
You freeze, blinking as you see Logan curse under his breath. He runs a hand through his hair as he turns around to face the door.
“Logan? You in there?” Dean’s voice continued behind the door, the door knob still rattling.
Then he looks back at you.
“What do we do?” He whisper-yells.
You scrunch your nose. “I don’t know! Figure something out!”
“Are you with someone, Logan? Dude—open the door.” Dean persisted.
Logan groaned.
“Give me a minute!” That response made Dean mutter, or grumble instead, and stomp away.
You rolled you eyes, continuing to take your tank top. "I think we need longer than that, babe.” You quip, stepping closer to Logan.
He blinks, lips parting as he was going to say something but you were quick to press your lips to his.
The kiss started off slow. Slow and deep. And the way Logan kissed was intoxicating, leaving you wanting for more when the both of you pulled your lips away for air.
In a matter of seconds, the kiss became heated. Hands started to roam, moans left each mouth and heavy, shallow breaths.
Your hands slipped under his shirt, fingertips brushing his toned abs which makes a him exhale a sharp breath. The corner of your lips curve up into a soft, cheeky grin at his reaction.
One by one, pieces of clothing began to fall off. First, his shirt came off. Then your bra became unclasped. Your skirt, heels, underwear. Lastly, his shorts, boxers and sneakers.
Now, let’s just say the position you’re now in is very compromising on the bed. Face smushed in the pillow, ass up and back arched.
Logan stood behind you, whispering a small praise into your ear as the skin of meeting skin fills the room with the occasional moan.
To say the least, you were pleasantly tuckered out.
Right as the high was going to come, the door swings open.
“Logan!— HOLY SHIT.” Dean screamed, slapping his hands over his eyes. “What the fuck!”
Shit.
He was with Garrett, Hannah and Tucker.
Double Shit.
Logan instantly pulled away, grabbing a throw blanket and covering his groin area as you scream, hiding under the comforter.
Hannah gasps while Garrett stands beside her, holding in his laughter.
Tucker was the one that was the most distraught.
“You’re fucking my sister?!”
Logan reaches for his boxers and lifts his hands in a surrender gesture. “Woah, okay, hold on!”
Tucker scoffs, “No. No hold on, dude! I literally told you to stay away from her.”
You sit up. “Actually, you didn’t.”
You were met with your brother’s glare which made you go quiet as you pulled Logan’s shirt over your head.
Then Tucker steps up.
“Seriously, Logan? I trusted you! You told me you would never do this!—“
“Okay, I get that your mad but—“
Then a punch is thrown by Tucker, his fist instantly meeting Logan’s nose which a large crack was heard coming from.
Everyone sputtered a series of curses as Logan groaned and fell to the ground due to impact.
Tucker moved closer, intent on fighting him more but Dean and Garrett were quick to hold him back. Meanwhile, Hannah sprinted out to grab medical supplies.
Not believing that your brother actually punched someone, you rushed over to Logan who had a very, very bloody nose.
Swallowing and trying to ignore your intense fear of blood, you cradle his head. “Lo? Are you alright? Shit.”
Logan groans again, nose definitely broken.
His blood was everywhere and seeing it made you queasy. Exhaling a breath, you start to see stars in your vision. You continue to blink and control your breathing.
“Hannah.. she’s going to get some..” Your voice trails off right as you focus on the blood.
You swallow, eventually going out.
Hearing the thud of your body, Tucker snaps his head over. “Great, and she passed out.”
Eventually, you gain consciousness, the bright bathroom light shining into your eyes as you lift up your head from someone’s lap.
“Logan?..” You croak out.
The person lifts a wet rag from your head while shaking their head. “Nope, Prada. It’s Hannah.”
You groan out, slumping back down. “Where is he? What happened?—Is Tucker mad?”
She chuckled at your onslaught of questions before answering. “Logan’s getting his nose checked out at Urgent Care. Let’s just say, you two got caught and Tucker isn’t mad, perchance just a bit disappointed that you two kept your relationship a secret.”
You sigh, closing your eyes. “I’m tired.”
“So go to sleep, I’ll tell Tucker to grab you and put you in an extra room.”
You hum, already half asleep.
The next time you wake up, it’s now morning of. You’re woken up by someone whispering to you, brushing your hair back and the sounds of birds chirping. You’re in a bed.
Your eyes blink sleepily, vision still bleary as you stretch your body with a soft noise.
“Good morning, you.” Logan says.
That sobers you up real quick.
You sit up rather quickly, “Where am I?”
And as you sit up, your forehead bashes into Logan’s noise.
“Awh, shit!”
You gasp, hands flying over Logan’s go where they are cradling his nose. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I forgot your nose is probably broken. It is broken, right? Hannah told me that it was— Wait, did she? I don’t know—“ You ramble.
Logan grins but winces as pain bursts again. “Hey, yeah, I’m okay. Nose is broken but it’s all good. Don’t worry.”
You smile sheepishly, patting his chest. “Okay good.”
Then memories from last night come flooding back and Logan seems to realize this from your expression.
“Okay, don’t panic. But everyone knows about us.”
You gape your mouth at him.
He continues.
“Tucker knows. Jules does too. Everyone does. But, hey, on the good side, we get to make out in public now.” He winks.
You groan, throwing a pillow at him.
“Watch the nose!” He whines, dodging it.
You giggle, hiding your face and smile as you turn to lay back down. Logan follows after you, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder.
A/N: a small blurb but this was originally going to be chapter one of my series that I’m currently working on but i scraped it because it didn’t really stick! reader goes by a nickname of Prada
warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of making out, mentions of sex
pairing: john logan and fem!john tucker’s sister reader
word count: 1.5k
part two here
————————————————————————
“Julesss!” You slurred, stumbling over your stiletto-heeled feet as some random song of Tucker’s Party Time Spotify playlist bumped throughout the Maxwell summer home. You continued to whine out, “Where did you go, the shadow to my Peter Pan?” as you effortlessly dodged some mouth-devouring, horny college couple to go find your shadow.
Maybe you should’ve listened to your brother. No Tito shots tonight, ‘kay, Prada? He had said to your already-drunk-self, using the nickname he gave you after your first gossip-scandal.
His words echoed in your mind. Just the thought of Tucker’s words made you shiver in regret of drinking. But what did he expect? You’re just a woman after all!
Tonight was Beau and Dean’s birthday bash—halloween party? no idea. It had always been great. The two best friends kept the crowd thriving, drinks coming and music pumping! Not to mention, the amount of hunks there.
This year you were matching with Jules, Peter Pan and his shadow. Normally, you would’ve dressed up alone but Jules had persisted and they successfully convinced you to do a matching duo costume with them. At first, you were in denial, mostly because Peter Pan doesn’t give anything sexy or slutty in a way—but you made it work.
Like really well.
A hunter green cropped tank top and mini skirt set, paired with a cute little hat and your go to designer stilettos.
Naturally, this caught the attention of many guys. Including Dean—Wait what?
Clumsily intercepted, a small oof left your lips as you slammed into his hard chest before stumbling back a few steps. And there stood, Dean Di Laurentis in all his blonde, 6 foot 2 glory in front of you. You could smell his cologne mixed with alcohol and his signature hair gel.
"Dean? Heyy" You say, swaying on your feet as you pat his bicep while looking around. "Do you know where Jules went? I want to talk to them real quick."
Dean shrugs, “Last time I checked, Jules was talking to Hannah and G. Do you want another drink?" He replied, already guiding you towards the kitchen with a hand on the small of your back, towards the whole reason why you’re shit-faced drunk.
John Logan.
No one knew about you guys. Yeah, the two of you hooked up a few times sophmore year without anyone knowing. It wasn’t such a big deal back then. But, this year it definitely was.
He stood there, conversing with Beau and Tuck, nursing on some boring drink in a red solo cup. You tried your hardest to plant your feet to not move with Dean, but failed.
“Look who I found,” Dean announced to the group in his loud signature tone of voice, arm slung around your soldier. “Peter Pan!" Beau snorts inside his cup as Tucker shakes his head.
Smiling tipsily, you do jazz hands while leaning your whole body weight on Dean. "The one and only!" You hiccup.
Logan raised an eyebrow, those deep honey eyes staring into yours. “I didn’t know Peter Pan drank.” He quipped, the group annoyingly oohing.
Rolling your eyes, you made your way towards him, fingers teasingly brushing to his chest to his neck, resting on his shoulder. "Well, he—hiccup—does now. Can you make a drink? One of those fruity ones you always make for me when we get alone and make—"
Tucker, ignoring what you were going to say and filing it away to ask about it later to you, clamps a hand over your mouth. “Prada, I think you’ve had enough to drink. And you better thank your amazing brother later for not letting you embarrass yourself.”
Logan swallowed, face flushing up at your unfinished sentence.
You pout, shoving his hand away before turning your attention back to Logan. "You know what I want, Lo." A coy smile plays on your lips as you lean closer to him, your perfume hitting his nostrils instantly, making him take a sharp inhale at your proximity.
"And I know what you want." You said, lips brushing his ear as your fingers toy with the hair on his nape. Pressing a faint kiss to the place behind his ear, you whisper. "Meet me upstairs in twenty." You take a step back.
Then, the familiar bass of On The Floor by Jennifer Laurence started to thump around the house. The boys can hear you squeal as you sprint to the dance floor, muttering about seeing someone dressed as Jlo at the party.
Logan stands there, blinking and fingers slightly crushing the solo cup. A few beats of silence pass by, Beau making sure Tucker is out of ear shot before speaking.
"So.." He drawls out, "You and Prada, huh?" Logan snaps his attention back to Beau, sputtering out an answer.
"What? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Last time I heard, she was screwing around with one of your teammates, Beau."
Beau scoffs, an answer on the tip of his tongue but Dean interrupts him before he got the chance to speak.
"Yo," He nudges his elbow against Beau, jerking his chin towards you and a wavy-haired girl, dancing together. "Who is that?”
Beau looks over, eyes squinting. "Pretty sure, that’s Jlo, bud." Dean just hums, already making his way over.
Spotting Dean heading over to your new friend, Allie, you come up with an excuse to leave her alone with him. Scanning the crowd, you look for Jules, eyes locking on their figure.
And of course, as you start walking, a hand grasps your wrist. "Hey."
You whip your head around, eyes landing on a new figure. You met him in passing, your bandmates know who he is. With a smile, you turn to face him.
"Hey.. Jacob?” You greet but by his wince you can tell you got his name wrong. Swallowing, you place a hand on his chest. "Sorry, my bad. You’re Justin Kohl, right?”
As you two converse, Logan leans against a wall, eyes trained on the both of you as he sipped—(more like angrily chug)—on his drink.
Jules whistles casually as they slide up beside their brother, raising an eyebrow as they look at what Logan’s looking at.
"Jealous, my dear brother?" They taunt, watching as you do your usual routine of flirting.
Brushing of an arm, leaning closer, batting your eyelashes, pressing your chest closer to theirs.
Logan finishes his drink, eyes locked on your form and analyzing your performance. He ignores their question. "Hey, Jules." He starts, continuing after they gave him a small hum.
He finally looks away, now looking down towards his sister. "Do you think Prada is capable of settling down?”
Jules snorts at Logan’s bluntness, shaking their head before tilting their head to the side as the sibling duo watch you move with grace with Justin on the dance floor now.
They think about it for a moment. "I mean, maybe? I don’t see Prada as a woman to settle down and find a husband one day. I just see her as this succubus who wants to get laid everyday. But hey, I admire her work and her hustle with guys."
Logan hums, shrugging. "..’kay. Thanks, Jules." And just like that, he walks towards you and Justin. Jules huffs, already knowing what her brother is up to.
He moves through the crowd like a shark piercing through the ocean, chasing prey. He eventually clears his throat, eyes on just you even if you’re making out with Justin.
You break apart from the kiss, looking up and breaking into a selfish grin. "Hi, Lo." You purr.
Logan smiles tightly. "Twenty minutes, Prada." He reminds, hand reaching for yours to tug you away.
You blink, completely unaware that Justin is shocked at the sudden interruption, "Oh. Um." You turn to Justin. "Sorry, Jacob. Gots to go, don’t miss me too much."
Justin nods, lips parting as if he was going to say something but the look that Logan shoots him leaves the boy clamping his mouth shut and standing there as Logan steers you away.
You look up, eyes tracing his face. "You mad?" You blurt, letting him lead you upstairs.
"No." He’s quick to respond. His hand tightening on your hip tells you otherwise. "I’m not. Just—"
"Just momentarily jealous? Disappointed?”
"No. What? I’m just thinking about something else."
That makes you smile.
"So.. you’re not mad at me for flirting with Jacob?" You hum, grabbing his hand and pulling the both of you into a room.
"No. I’m pretty sure it’s Justin, not Jacob."
You roll your eyes, hands already reaching to slide your top off. "Well, I don’t care enough for that."
Right as your top met the bottom wire of your bra, his hand flies out.
"Prada."
You blink. "What?”
Logan remains silent, shifting on his feet. "We need to talk."
"We do?”
“Yes.”
“About what? I thought you only took me up here to have sex? I told you to meet me up here in twenty for that.”
Logan exhales a breath, hand running through his curls. “Look—“
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