↳ Here is my masterlist! I can't say for sure who I'll write for/about because I'm very indecisive and terrorize many fandoms, but if you have an idea just send me a message or drop an ask!
↳ My writing guidelines can be found here!
↳ Click here to join my taglist!
↳ Join my Charmed (1998) community!
↳ I don't write smut, but my writing includes heavy topics (with warnings)
↳ No politics zone
↳ Please let me know if any of the links don't work/are broken
Charmed
A Chris Halliwell Playlist
↳ "If I can't save you, I swear to God I'll stop you."
A Phoebe Halliwell Playlist
↳ "Just because I protect the innocent doesn't mean I have to be innocent all of the time."
A Piper Halliwell Playlist
↳ "Love is a magic between two people that cannot be explained and cannot be conjured."
A Prue Halliwell Playlist
↳ "It's just as natural to be bad as it is to be good. That's how we know what good is."
A Paige Matthews Playlist
↳ "Magic may work in mysterious ways, but it always works."
A Leo Wyatt Playlist
↳ "All I am is yours."
DC
Dick Grayson
↳ Nightwing
Clark Kent
↳ Superman
Fantastic Four
Reed Richards
↳ Mr. Fantastic
Off Campus
A John Logan Playlist
↳ "You're it for me baby."
School Spirits
Wally Clark
↳ Part Boy, Part Golden Retriever
Supernatural
Castiel
↳ Angel of The Lord
Dean Winchester
↳ The Righteous Man
Sam Winchester
↳ The Boy With The Demon Blood
A Jack Kline Playlist
↳ "I'll be in every drop of falling rain."
A Claire Novak Playlist
↳ "I kill monsters. That's who the hell I am."
The Hunger Games
An Everlark Playlist
↳ "You love me. Real or not real?"
The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes
Coriolanus Snow
↳ The Trickster
Lucy Gray Baird
↳ The Performer
Sejanus Plinth
↳ The Rebel
A Snowbaird Playlist
↳ "You're mine and I'm yours. It's written in the stars."
The X-Files
Fox Mulder
↳ Spooky
Dana Scully
↳ Starbuck
Fox Mulder x Dana Scully
↳ MSR
Miscellaneous
Major Arcana
↳ Major Arcana themed multifandom character cards
This is me btw if you even care
General things I'm obsessed over that aren't related to a specific fandom
Now Playing...
Currently Watching
↳ Nothing... for now...
Thanks to @saradika-graphics, @firefly-graphics, and @firstofficerwiggles for the inspo and amazing graphics!
DO NOT PIRATE ANYTHING. NOT SHOWS/MOVIES. NOT GAMES OR SAFER GAMES. AND CERTAINLY NOT BOOKS. AND DO NOT DOWNLOAD YOUTUBE VIDEOS. AND NEVER EVER EVER WATCH MUSICALS WITHOUT GOING TO THEM AND DONT USE ADBLOCKERS/OTHER ADBLOCKER TO AVOID ADS AND VIRUSES PIRATING IS VERY HARMFUL TO THE CORPORATIONS WHO WORKS VERY HARD TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF PEOPLE AND THEIR MONEY. ANYONE WHO PIRATES IS BAD. BAD PIRATING. EVIL. OH AND THIS
A best friend and sometimes lover. A creep at your work. And a very worried John Logan coming to the rescue.
(apologies for the formatting i'm on my phone so will fix when i'm home - no warnings really on this one, but the blog is 18+. masterlists in pinned post!)
Under most circumstances, you love your job.
As one of the only bars on campus, O'Malley's allows you a job that's only a ten minute walk away from your dorm.
They're flexible with hours, pay better than most bartending gigs, and on quiet days you're allowed to get your essays done behind the counter.
Tonight, however? You could run a mile.
Your day had started with a planned 10k, which had promptly been abandoned after you twisted your ankle on a curb.
Rookie mistake.
One you know John would chide you for. He's always telling you to not run with earphones in.
You've gotta be aware of your surroundings. Especially first thing. Don't want you becoming a case.
Grudgingly, under major duress, you can admit that he has a point.
But nothing gets you through a tough run like Hole's Live Through This, so you've elected to ignore all of his advice.
It's nothing he's not used to.
Growing up in the same town, it's really a miracle that you haven't known each other for longer.
But, thanks to your sixth grade teacher and her randomised seating chart, John Logan has been a fixture in your life for a decade.
He is, undoubtedly, your closest friend.
What started with teasing and bickering had quickly grown into deep heart-to-hearts and the kind of support you could only dream of. Neither of you had stellar family lives, but when you were together it didn't matter.
Most people had assumed you'd end up together, but there's never been anything romantic between you both.
Sure, there was that one time.
When you'd just broken up with your long-term high-school boyfriend, and John had come over to comfort you, before ending the night between your legs, licking and sucking at your clit until you cried.
Both of you had agreed to never talk about it again, or do anything to jeopardise your friendship further.
That had lasted a couple of years, until Briar won the League and you'd gotten him off in the showers after everybody else had left.
You've never actually slept together, though. A moot point for most, but you feel like it holds some weight.
You're not going to be John Logan's girlfriend, and that's fine. You've got something better - you're his friend.
God, even saying that in your head sounds pathetic.
You need to get over him.
As soon as possible.
After your entirely unsuccessful run, you'd been treated to your most boring classes, made all the worse by the fact that Logan had bailed, leaving you to conquer them alone.
The apology text had been measly at best.
John. 10:32
woke up with the worst hangover
notes for today's class please??
i owe u big time
whatever you want
You'd be furious with anybody else. Hell, you would normally be furious with John.
But your car had started making weird noises when you pulled into the campus parking lot today, and you figure it's going to need some TLC.
You. 10:31
connie's sick :((( was making a weird creaking noise
Yes, your car has a name. So what?
will forgive all your egregious sins if you come and take a look at her :)
You glance back up at the professor, trying desperately to seem vaguely interested, but she lost you about thirty slides ago. Were it not for John, you would totally be failing statistics.
If he's not here, you may as well both not be.
John. 10:34.
after practice? i could swing by before maxwell's thing
speaking of maxwell's thing
you wanna come? i can drive
In normal circumstances, that would be fine. You like Beau - a lot more than most of the football team. But one of the other waitresses at O'Malleys just transferred to NYU, leaving the rest of you to pick up her slack until they've hired somebody new.
You. 10:35.
can't
working the close tonight
tomorrow morning?
A thumbs up reaction, and then you're left to deal with Statistics by yourself for the rest of the class.
For all intents and purposes, the rest of your day isn't quite as terrible as the start was.
You get one of your Ethics essays done in the library, and your roommate texts to say that she's visiting her boyfriend for the weekend. You have the place entirely to yourself.
It's not that you don't like her - Hayley's great. Mostly. Her cleanliness habits leave something to be desired. But your apartment is tiny, and with her boyfriend over constantly, you feel like a constant third wheel.
Even the start of your shift is pretty good. There are a couple of groups of rowdy guys, but nothing you can't handle. It's just you and Lydia tonight, the newest hire.
You slide three pitchers of draft beer across the sticky bar top, flash a sharp, customer-service smile, and cut off the loudest guy before he can even start speaking.
It's like dealing with toddlers - keep them placated, and they'll leave you be. It's an art you've practiced extensively over the years with Logan's friends.
Especially Dean.
You still remember the first time you met him - he'd spent half the night hitting on you, and then never so much as winked at you again.
Part of you wonders if John had something to do with it.
Besides, it's not like you were ever in danger of hooking up with Dean Di Laurentis. He's not your type.
You prefer your men slightly broodier. Skinnier. Longer hair. First name John, last name Logan.
Lydia, however, is drowning. She stands frozen by the register, fingers darting between options as she tries to work out what to do next. The line is growing, and her uniform is still spotless - a testament to this being her first week.
She'll reach the myriad of stains that litter your apron soon enough.
"Take the shallow end," You murmur, bumping her shoulder gently. She still jumps at the interruption. "Just do bottled beers,and I'll handle the taps."
You pour the stouts and scan the room, eyes settling on a body in the corner. He's around your age - probably another Briar student, though he could be a recent graduate.
In most circumstances, being watched doesn't bother you.
It kind of comes with the territory of being a bartender. Especially a young, female bartender, with a clientele that consists largely of men.
Something about this guy creeps you out, though.
You don't recognise him at all, which is unusual. You're pretty familiar with most of the faces that pass through here.
Maybe he's an exchange student.
It isn't until an hour later that he finally approaches the bar, ordering a gin and tonic.
He pays in cash, is perfectly polite, and insists you keep the change. His eyes also never leave yours. Not once.
"Busy night," He comments, eyes flicking towards the crowds. "You handle it well. The other girl's not doing so great, though."
A flare of annoyance washes over you on Lydia's behalf. "It's her first Friday."
"Girl like you shouldn't have to work the twilight shift on a Friday night - you got a boyfriend waiting at home for you?"
From most of your patrons, you'd accept that question as an innocent, if nosy, attempt to make conversation.
From this guy, you're terrified of the implications.
"Yeah. I do." The lie comes out clumsily, and you're sure it must be entirely unconvincing. "A hockey player."
You hope the extra detail might make the whole thing seem more believable, but you think it might just make you look more like a liar.
He smiles, a slow, knowing expression, but doesn't press it. "Lucky guy."
You fight back a shiver as he heads for his booth.
*****
Since O'Malley's is a college campus bar, it has a strict midnight curfew, even on the weekends. Most people use it as a stepping stone to parties on Greek Row or clubs in the next town over.
But after a six hour shift on top of a full day of classes, you just want to get home. The crowd begins to think, and you're endlessly glad to see that the corner where the guy was sitting is empty now. He must have left during the pre-close rush.
Lydia is leaning against the ice machine, completely wiped out. Her apron is now stained, her mascara is running, and she looks like she might cry if she has to pick up a mop.
"Go ahead and clock out, Lydia," you say, tossing your rag into the dirty linen bin. "It was a long day."
"Are you sure?" She asks, her voice small. "Don't I need to learn how to lock-up?"
You dismiss her with a wave. "We can do it another night. Go home and get some sleep," you tell her, giving her a reassuring nudge towards the back room.
She doesn't need any more convincing, scurrying out the front door. You lock it quickly behind her, one of the first things Sally taught you.
As a student, O'Malley's was once robbed at gunpoint because of an unlocked door. While a layer of glass doesn't do much when your assailant has a gun, you've still lived by her advice anyway.
You get to counting the cash, getting bored about halfway through. You've never liked maths. There's a reason you're pre-law. As your gaze drifts across the windows,your blood runs cold.
The guy from earlier is hanging out on the corner by the bar.
He's looking at you, but his body is turned towards the street, and you try to tell yourself that this is all one horrible coincidence. He's probably just waiting for a cab.
But when you glance outside again, the man is still there. He's moved back from the door, to just across the sidewalk. There's no way you can do the lock-up while he's hovering there.
Not with the way he's been ogling you all night, and the way you'd need to have your back turned for at least thirty seconds.
You also don't trust your ankle to hold for long enough to out-sprint a fully grown man.
It's been fine for walking, but anything faster than a jog makes it ache like there's no tomorrow.
You slip out your phone, trying to keep an eye on the door.
You. 00:04
johnny
are you doing anything rn?
His reply comes immediately, and you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes.
John. 00:04.
is this a booty call?
You swallow. John's been your best friend since you were twelve, and you're still not used to the teasing and flirting.
You. 00:05.
ha ha
but no
some guy's being weird at work and i'm the only one here
can you phone me on my walk home?
A sudden rattle at the door makes you jump. The guy is back, nose practically pressed to the glass. "I left my jacket - can you let me in to pick it up?"
Immediately, your heckles are raised, but when your gaze follows his hand, you see that there is a coat draped across one of the booths. Your heart sinks. "Sorry, sir - we have a policy - you'll have to come by tomorrow."
"Come on, sweetheart. It's right there. Would be so easy for you to get it for me. Be a doll."
"I'm sorry, I can't-"
"You can't? Or you don't want to?"
I want you to leave me the fuck alone. That's what you want to say. Except you have a feeling that would buy you a one-way trip to Murdertown.
So, you plaster a smile on your face, and decide you need back-up. "I really can't. My boss is a dick."
Sorry, Sally. You're not a dick. But I need this guy to back off.
He's trying the handle again, and you type one final message without looking to see Logan's response.
You. 00:06.
pls come
The guy shrugs, and for a single second you think that you've won.
Of course, you'd never be so lucky.
"I won't tell if you won't." There's something about the way his lips are curling into an almost sneer that makes your stomach churn.
"I'm going to be a while," you call back. "Really, it would be easier getting it tomorrow."
Another shrug. Another shiver down your spine. "I can wait. No big deal, sweetheart."
"I'm not allowed to let anybody in without a manager," You reply, trying desperately to keep your voice level. You think it works - the layer of glass between you makes you feel a whole lot better. "We have cameras. I'd get reprimanded."
A total lie.
While yes, the bar does have cameras - one of them hasn't worked since last year, and the other hasn't worked since the mid 2000s.
You're banking on this guy not knowing that.
His brow furrows a little, as he squints through the tinted glass of the window. "Don't cameras normally have a light on when they're recording?"
Your heart hammers as you try and come up with a lie. "Boss wanted them to be covert."
A silence falls, but the man still doesn't move. Part of you wishes he would just speak again - the weight of his eyes is too much.
God, you hope John gets here soon.
"Here's an idea - you can bring it out here when you're done. Then you're not letting me into the bar, and none of your precious rules are broken."
"My boyfriend's on his way!" You squeak out, panic overriding your attempts to be suave and relaxed.
At this point you're too scared to glance away and check your phone, but you can only pray that John's checked his phone.
******
You are undoubtedly the coolest and calmest person that Logan's ever met. Never once have you been phased in all his years of knowing you.
Which is why the final text you send makes his heart drop.
You hadn't even acknowledged his reply.
John. 00:05.
oh shit
want me to come?
let me just tell the guys i'm leaving - i'll come and get you
be there soon
When the 'please come' had pinged against his phone, he'd abandoned all hope of trying to find Dean, Garrett and Tucker in the crowded frat house. Instead, he'd sent a quick text over to Hannah, knowing she'd be the only one sober enough to reliably check her phone.
God, he's glad he's designated driver tonight.
The concept of this amount of worry on top of beer and tequila is not a pleasant thought.
He shoots off another text as he jogs across the street.
u okay? i'm omw rn.
Delivered.
No read receipt.
You always reply.
Even if it's just a heart. A thumbs up. A gimme ten mins, because you inevitably got talking to a regular on your way out.
You hate worrying people.
And John Logan is really fucking worried right now.
His phone stays dark.
The unease triples when he calls you, again and again - each time going straight to voicemail.
Finally, he makes another call, to campus police.
He's not taking any chances.
*****
You realise, with a chilling certainty, that the back-door to the bar is unlocked. Lydia had taken the trash out earlier, and the lock is so fidgety that you're positive she didn't do it right.
Blood running cold, there's a flash of movement from the front. He shifts again, peering through the glass, and you realise you have to get that door shut now.
You turn and run, trainers squeaking against the hardwood as you sprint through the empty bar, weaving between tables you've only just finished wiping down.
There's a dull ache in your ankle, but you have no time to consider it.
Please let it be shut.
Please let Lydia be more competent than she looks.
You shove through the kitchen doors so hard they slam against the wall, and the back entrance comes into view. Very decidedly unlocked.
The handle sits slightly turned, the lock not fully engaged, and a sob catches in your throat.
You grab it with shaking hands, yanking the door closed with every ounce of strength you have.
The lock sticks.
Of course it does.
"No, no, no..." You plead, fingers slipping from the handle as you tug.
You try again, forcing the handle up before twisting the deadbolt. It doesn't work.
Stress levels rising, you hit it with your palm.
Once-
Twice-
It clicks into place, and the latch shuts fully. You don't even get a chance to breathe a sigh of relief.
The handle jerks violently beneath your grip, and you leap back, trembling.
You press both hands over your mouth, trying to dampen any sounds that might escape as the handle twists again.
Harder this time.
Your vision blurs instantly, tears spilling before you can even process what's going on.
You have to get back to your phone. Call the police.
Except by the time you make it back to the front of the bar, he's resumed his vigil at the entrance. "There you are. I was starting to think you were ignoring me."
"Fuck off!" You shout. "I-I have friends coming, and they've called the police." Each word comes out as a choked gasp, barely audible.
"I don't get why you're being so difficult - I just want to be friends." His smile widens, and you think you might be sick. "You can give me my jacket, I can walk you home, and it'll be a happily ever after."
He tilts his head, studying the empty room. "I mean..." He shrugs. "We're practically neighbours anyway. It's the polite thing to do."
On watching your expression crumble, he continues. "You live on North Street, right?"
There's no way.
He couldn't know that. Could he?
Your knees give out beneath you, and you find yourself sliding down the back of the bar until you're curled into yourself. One hand clamps over your mouth to stop the sob escaping, while the other reaches for something - anything - that you could use as a weapon.
A small knife seems to be your best option about now.
Tears blur your vision, and you reach for your phone.
There are some messages from Logan, but you go straight for the phone. You have to call 911.
The signal indicator in the corner flickers.
One bar.
Then none.
No service.
*****
The only noise you can hear are your own sobs. It might have been seconds, or hours, but the fear in your body is too great to try and get signal. Instead, you're trapped on the floor, praying that Logan's last messages are true, and that he's on his way.
A knock at the door has you flinching, fingers curling tighter around the knife. Any attempts to steady your breathing are met with fresh waves of panic, and you can feel tears start to trickle down your cheek.
He can't get you.
The doors are locked.
He doesn't know about the rooftop, and even if he did - there's no way he'd be able to get there without a ladder. Besides, Sally usually locks up there anyway. You're too scared to check.
A familiar voice cuts through the silence, calling your name.
You've never been more relieved to see Logan in your whole life.
"Johnny," You sob, rushing towards the door, fumbling with the keys as you try and open it. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, and your face is buried in his shoulder.
His lips brush against your temple comfortingly, a hand rubbing at your back. "What the hell happened?"
Tearfully, you recount it as quickly as you can, John's brow furrowing with each added bit of information. "He knows where you live?"
You know that he'd like to kill the guy, but you can't imagine anybody being stupid enough to–
There's another bang from the back entrance.
He must be trying it again.
You flinch inadvertently, tucking yourself back into Logan's side. "I think that's him - he must have missed you getting here."
Logan's expression hardens. "Stay behind me."
Your fingers are still intertwined with his, as he leads you both out of the bar and round the back. You don't want Logan to scare him off before you can work out who he is.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
In the moonlight, Logan suddenly seems far taller and scarier than he is.
The guy turns, eyes widening a little when he sees you both. "What?"
He doesn't get another word out. Logan closes the distance in three long strides, grabs a fistful of the man's shirt, and slams him back against the brick wall.
"Does scaring women make you feel good?" Logan taunts, a slap of skin as he forces the guy back into the surface behind him. "Huh? Make you feel like a tough guy?"
"I didn't-"
"You didn't what?" Logan's grip tightens, another shove ricocheting through the quiet street. "You weren't just trying to break in to her place of work?"
"I-I just wanted to talk," He chokes out.
"Bullshit. You knew where she lives."
You wish you could enjoy the twist of terror on the man's face, but you're still so shaken you're not sure how you're still standing.
Logan continues his rant. "If you ever go near her again, I'll-"
He's cut off by sirens, as the campus police officers pull in beside the bar, but he doesn't let go. Instead, he lowers his voice, and leans in just a little further. "I'll fucking kill you."
*****
The police interview feels like it takes days. Recounting the same hour, over and over again until you think you're going crazy.
The only solace is John at your side, hand drawing soft circles onto your palm.
You answer the same questions hundreds of different ways.
When did you first notice him?
Have you seen him before?
Did he touch you?
You shake your head where you can, and nod occasionally. At certain points Logan answers for you, filling in the details that you can't quite string together anymore.
You learn that the intruder is a Jeffrey Collins - a non-Briar student who's earned quite the reputation for stalking girls around campus.
It makes you feel a little better, knowing that there are girls out there who have experienced the same thing.
The officer' expression softens when he notices your hands haven't stopped shaking.
"We'll have an officer contact you tomorrow," He says gently. "Since he made reference to your home address, we'll make sure the local department is informed. Do you have somewhere to stay–"
"Yes," Logan interjects. "She's staying with me."
Finally, you're both allowed to go, and Jeffrey is locked up in the local sheriff's department.
Your body moves on autopilot, allowing Logan to bundle you into the back of his truck, and head towards the house. Thankfully, nobody seems to be around when he leads you upstairs to his room.
You don't have the energy to explain to anybody else tonight.
He's immediately finding you clothes to sleep in, busying himself in a way that's almost overwhelming. You reach out, fingers wrapping around his wrist to slow him to a stop. "Thank you," You whisper. "For coming for me."
"I'd always come for you. Always."
His voice is sincere, and there's no doubt in his tone.
You can't tell who moves first, but suddenly your lips are on his, and your hands are in his hair. Sighing into his mouth, it's the safest you've felt all night.
It's nothing like the kisses you've shared before - this is full of sheer desperation. You could've died tonight, and John would've been none the wiser to how you really feel.
"I love you."
It's a gasp between kisses, murmured into his mouth, and you worry he misses it.
"God, I love you too." It's practically a growl, hands tightening at your waist as he walks you backwards, twisting at the last second so that you drop onto his lap. "Loved you for so long, sweet girl."
His kisses steal the words from your lungs,and all you can focus on is the way he feels against you. The three day stubble against your jaw, the denim of his jeans against your core.
"Was so scared of what I was gonna find tonight," He finally admits, mouth no less frantic as it makes against you. "Scared the shit out of me, darling."
"M'sorry, Johnny." Your hips roll against his instinctively, nails digging into his shoulders for balance.
"Mhm, say my name again," He hums.
"Johnny."
You pout when he eventually pulls back, lips following his movements. "What's wrong?"
Your mind is suddenly clouded with a whole host of insecurities. Maybe he was just feeling bad for you, and now the regret is setting in. He doesn't have the heart to let you down.
Maybe you were stupid to think that this wasn't going to be another one of your half-hook-ups, meant to be forgotten entirely.
You don't know if you can take anything else tonight, so you decide to beat him to the punch. "Shit, I'm sorry - that was so stupid, I just... I wasn't thinking. I can go, and we can forget-"
"Hey, hey, hey," Logan interrupts immediately. "What? Why would I want to forget the best kiss of my life?"
Now you're stumped. "What?"
"Babe, tonight has been awful. Truly, one for the books. You really think I want you to associate us having sex for the first time with that creep?"
Oh. You hadn't considered it like that.
He makes a good point.
"Here's what's going to happen," He continues, thumb reaching out to run over your bottom lip as he watches you intently. "You're staying with me for the weekend - maybe longer. We're gonna watch all those shitty rom-coms you love to take your mind off it, and then tomorrow night I'm taking you out for dinner-"
You can't help the interruption. "Where?"
Logan just laughs. "Augusto's. Your favourite. As if it would be anywhere else."
You linger for a second, the dread from earlier starting to seep from your shoulders. "Johnny, you really don't have to do all this. I'm fine. It was fine. "
He lets out a soft hum, a half-smile tugging at his lips. "Do what? Don't think there's anything wrong with looking after my girl."
