This is literally the journal of a self proclaimed trainwreck. Harry, Niall and Shawn are my idols. Proud feminist. Supporting all things good. Only commiting to fanfiction, dogs and the idea that I'll be Harry's future wife/ I'll get to go to Hogwarts. https://thetrainwreckjournals.tumblr.com/masterlist
𐙚 Currently writing and taking requests for: Off Campus characters
Off Campus
John Logan:
“Five Times Logan Almost Said I Love You” (And the One Time He Finally Did)
five moments where Logan nearly confesses his feelings — and the one time he finally does.
Fake Lies, Real Feelings
convincing John Logan to fake date you is apparently much easier then admitting you have feelings for the one guy you can't have.
↪ Part 2
Briar House Party
At a chaotic Briar hockey house party thrown by Dean Di Laurentis, the night spirals into nonstop chaos involving drinking games, bad decisions, and too many opinions from Garrett, Allie, and Hannah. Amid the noise and disaster, Logan stays quietly protective of Y/N, and the two end up closer than ever despite the madness around them.
Hockey Jackets Lead To Bad Decisions
John Logan can flirt with anyone for fun, but the second y/n ties his hockey jacket around her waist, it starts feeling dangerously less casual. Between stolen touches, teasing confessions, and a growing inability to keep their eyes—or hands—off each other, one night at Malone’s turns into the beginning of something neither of them is prepared for.
"Cherry Pie & Mixed Signals"
John Logan thought he understood exactly what his feelings for Hannah meant—right up until Hannah’s intimidating, sharp-tongued roommate walked into the Briar house and flipped his entire world sideways in a single afternoon. What starts as teasing banter and an unexpected walk across campus quickly turns into something far more dangerous: the realization that the easiest connection Logan’s ever had might be with the one girl he absolutely didn’t expect.
Dean Di Laurentis:
The Captain’s Rule
Dean falls for his teammate’s (Garrett Graham) ex — the girl who swore she’d never date another hockey player again. Keeping it secret becomes impossible once the team starts noticing the tension.
↪ Part 2
The Girlfriend Clause
Dean’s father threatens to cut him off after another scandal hits the hockey team, so Dean lies and says he’s in a serious relationship. The problem? The girl he asks to pretend-date him is the one person on campus who genuinely can’t stand him.
↪ Part 2, Part 3
Crossing the Line
Dean hooks up with Garrett Graham’s younger sister after a party and fully expects it to be a one-time thing. Then she transfers to Briar and ends up living directly across from him.
Off Limits
Garrett makes it very clear that his sister is not to be touched, dated, or even breathed near. Dean agrees immediately. Then she starts showing up everywhere he is—study groups, hockey parties, even his recovery sessions after practice. Not on purpose… allegedly. The problem? Dean is starting to think Garrett might be the only thing standing between him and something real.
What We Don't Say
Dean and the reader are friends-with-benefits who never discuss feelings. Then she starts dating someone else, and Dean realizes way too late that he’s completely in love with her.
Summary: John Logan can flirt with anyone for fun, but the second y/n ties his hockey jacket around her waist, it starts feeling dangerously less casual. Between stolen touches, teasing confessions, and a growing inability to keep their eyes—or hands—off each other, one night at Malone’s turns into the beginning of something neither of them is prepared for.
wc: 2870
Pairing: John Logan x Reader
A/N: I was going to split this into two parts but then changed my mind. Formatting is kind of everywhere. Not edited.
Masterlist
The bass at Malone’s was loud enough to vibrate through the floorboards.
Every surface in the place felt sticky, humid from too many students packed together under flashing lights, and the air smelled like cheap beer, perfume, sweat, and something aggressively fried from the kitchen. Which normally would have been my cue to leave after thirty minutes.
But Hannah and Allie had cornered me before I could escape.
So now I’m trapped in the middle of the dance floor while Allie screamed the lyrics to a JLo directly into my ear.
“If you elbow me one more time, I’m reporting you to the authorities,” I yelled over the music.
“You look too hot to complain!” she shouted back immediately.
“That’s because this dress is cutting off circulation to my legs!”
Hannah burst out laughing beside us, dark curls bouncing as she danced. “Worth it!”
Easy for her to say.
The black dress looked incredible in my bedroom mirror two hours ago. Sleek. Tiny. Dangerous in a fun way.
Now?
Now it had decided it couldn't stay down on my thighs and kept trying to ride up. Every thirty seconds I had to yank the hem back down while trying to preserve what little dignity I had left.
“I swear to God,” I muttered, tugging at the fabric again, “this dress is one wrong move away from becoming a crop top.”
Allie nearly choked laughing.
“You’re so dramatic.”
“I’m fighting for my life.”
“You’re winning, though,” Hannah assured me. “Half the bar has been staring at you since we got here.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“It should be.”
Unfortunately, Hannah wasn’t wrong. I could feel eyes following us every time we moved through the crowd. And one pair in particular was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
Because leaning against the bar in a fitted grey Henley—with sleeves pushed up to his forearms like he personally wanted to ruin my mental stability—was John Logan.
He was currently talking to Garrett Graham. Laughing at something Dean said. Looking unfairly good doing literally nothing. I made the mistake of glancing over again. Big mistake. Huge.
Because Logan happened to look up at the exact same moment. Our eyes locked across the crowded bar. Then he smiled, not a polite smile, not a casual hey-I-know-you smile either. A slow, knowing smile like he’d caught me doing something I shouldn’t be. Heat immediately crawled up my neck.
“Oh my God,” Hannah said beside me. “You’re staring again.”
I immediately started moving again out of pure embarrassment, nearly sloshing my drink onto the stranger beside me.
“I hate both of you.”
“You wanna know the worst part?” Hannah asked.
“No.”
“He keeps looking over here too.”
I nearly choke on air. “Excuse me?”
But before Hannah could answer, the dress betrayed me again. Aggressively. I gasped, grabbing the hem before disaster struck. “That’s it. I’m taking this thing out back and setting it on fire.”
Allie doubled over laughing. “You brought extra clothes though, right?”
“Yes,” I said obviously. “Because unlike you two, I believe in preparation.”
Honestly, being roommates with Hannah and Allie meant always carrying backup options.
Backup makeup, shoes, advil, dignity.
“My bag’s at the table,” I said, pointing toward the back booth where Tucker and Dean sat.
Hannah nodded sympathetically. “Go change before you accidentally traumatize the hockey team.”
“Excellent idea.”
I shoved my way through the crowd, muttering apologies. Heat clung to my skin from dancing, and by the time I reached the booth, I was already annoyed enough to change into sweatpants and never speak again.
Tucker looked up first. “There she is,” he announced dramatically. “The only responsible person at this school.”
Dean snorted into his drink. “That’s a low bar.”
I laughed softly and bent down to grab my tote bag from beside the booth—Only for another hand to reach it first. Long fingers wrapped loosely around the strap. My stomach immediately did something humiliating. Slowly, I looked up.
Logan sat sprawled comfortably against the booth seat, one arm stretched along the back behind Dean. Up close he somehow looked even broader than he had across the room, shoulders straining the soft grey fabric of his Henley. His hair looked slightly damp at the ends and his eyes were absolutely full of amusement.
“You leaving already?” he asked. His voice was rough from the noise in the bar, low enough that I felt my heart skip.
“No,” I replied. “My dress is trying to humiliate me.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I noticed.”
My entire body heated instantly. “You noticed?”
Dean made a choking sound into his beer while Tucker physically covered his face.
Logan looked completely unashamed. “It’s hard not to,” he said. “You’ve been fighting with that thing since you got here.”
I pointed accusingly at him. “You are a terrible person.”
“Nah.” He stood up from the booth in one smooth movement. “Just observant.”
Standing this close to him felt unfair. He was tall enough that I had to tilt my head slightly to keep eye contact. Then Logan glanced down toward my legs again. A slow grin spread across his face. “You know,” he drawled, already shrugging off his hockey jacket, “there’s a pretty obvious solution here.”
Before I could answer, he held the jacket out toward me. Navy blue with ‘Briar Hockey’ stitched across the chest. It was still warm from his body.
“You’re offering me your jacket?”
Logan lifted one shoulder casually. “Seems safer for the general public.”
Tucker laughed so hard he almost dropped a fry.
I should’ve said something smooth. Something flirtier than standing there staring at him like an idiot. But of course my brain had become occupied by the sight of Logan holding the jacket. Dear God. “You okay there, y/n?” he asked, clearly entertained now.
“Yes,” I lied immediately. “I am perfectly fine.”
His grin widened. “That’s good news for me.”
I blinked. “Why?”
“Because I’ve been flirting with you for the last ten minutes.”
My heart nearly stopped.
Dean made a loud gagging noise. “Jesus Christ, Logan. Buy us dinner before you start confessing feelings.”
“Shut up,” Logan muttered automatically. But he never looked away from me once.
And suddenly the noise of Malone’s felt farther away somehow., like the entire bar had blurred around us. Then Logan stepped closer, close enough that my pulse jumped stupidly hard.
“C’mere,” he said softly.
My brain short-circuited again.
Before I could respond, he took the jacket gently from my hands and moved behind me.
Every nerve ending in my body immediately became aware of the fact that John Logan was standing directly behind me.
I could feel heat radiating off him.
Could smell his cologne more clearly now—clean and warm and dangerously comforting.
Then his fingers brushed lightly against my hips as he wrapped the sleeves around my waist.
Not lingering.
Barely there.
Still enough to make my stomach flip violently.
“You’re freezing,” he murmured near my ear.
I swallowed hard. “It’s winter.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Oh.
Oh, that was flirting flirting.
His knuckles skimmed my waist one last time as he tied the sleeves securely in front.
“There,” Logan said quietly behind me. “Problem solved.”
I turned around slowly.
Big mistake.
Because now he was even closer.
Close enough that I could see the tiny scar near his eyebrow.
Close enough that I noticed his eyes weren’t just brown—they had these stupid gold flecks in them under the bar lights.
Close enough that my brain started making deeply unhelpful observations about how nice his mouth looked.
“You’re very smug for someone lending me a jacket,” I managed.
“Can you blame me?” His gaze dragged slowly over me, entirely unapologetic. “You look really good in my clothes, y/n.”
That should not have affected me that much.
And yet.
I crossed my arms mostly to give myself something to do. “Do you flirt with every girl like this?”
“Nah.”
His eyes held mine steadily.
“Only the ones who stare at me from the dance floor like they wanna climb me.”
My jaw dropped open.
Dean lost it completely beside us.
“Oh my God,” I laughed, horrified. “You saw that?”
I groaned and covered my face instantly while Tucker cackled loud enough to attract attention from nearby tables.
“This is my villain origin story.”
Logan laughed too then.
Not the cocky teasing laugh from before.
A real one.
Warm and low and ridiculously attractive.
Then his hand closed gently around my wrist.
The touch surprised me enough that I looked up immediately.
“Don’t hide now,” he murmured, tugging my hand away from my face.
The teasing edge in his voice softened just slightly.
And somehow that felt even more dangerous.
“I kinda like when you look at me.”
My stomach flipped so hard it was honestly concerning.
For one suspended second neither of us moved.
The lights flashed blue and gold across his face. Music pounded through the floor beneath our feet. Around us, Dean was still laughing at something Tucker said, people shouted over drinks, glasses clinked behind the bar—
But Logan’s attention stayed completely, entirely on me.
Like I was the only interesting thing in the room.
Then his gaze flicked briefly to the jacket tied around my waist before returning to my face.
“Plus,” he added casually, “now everybody knows you’re wearing my jacket.”
I blinked. “And why exactly does that matter?”
His grin turned lazy again.
“No reason.”
Liar.
And judging by the look in his eyes—
he knew I knew it too.
By the time I realized John Logan was still holding my wrist, it was already becoming a problem.
Not a real problem.
A dangerous problem.
Because his hand was warm, his thumb rested lazily against the inside of my wrist, and the look in his eyes was doing deeply irresponsible things to my nervous system.
Around us, Malone’s was still loud and chaotic—music blasting, people yelling over each other, glasses clinking behind the bar—but somehow the space directly around us felt weirdly smaller.
Focused.
Like the rest of the room had blurred at the edges.
Logan tilted his head slightly, watching me with obvious amusement. “You always get this quiet when a guy flirts with you?”
I narrowed my eyes immediately. “I’m not quiet.”
“You were staring at me like you forgot your own name two seconds ago.”
“That’s a medical condition.”
Dean nearly fell out of the booth laughing.
Tucker pointed a fry at me. “Honestly, y/n? Respect.”
“Thank you,” I said with dignity. “At least someone here supports women.”
Logan’s mouth twitched.
Still holding my wrist.
Still entirely too close.
“You okay there, hockey boy?” I asked sweetly. “You seem attached.”
His gaze dropped briefly to where our hands were touching before lifting back to my face.
“Nah,” he said easily. “Just making sure you don’t run away.”
My stomach flipped.
Which was ridiculous.
Absolutely ridiculous.
Because John Logan flirted with everyone. That was practically part of his personality. He was charming and hot and knew exactly how to look at someone like they were the center of the universe for five minutes at a time.
I knew that.
Unfortunately, knowing it did absolutely nothing for me when he smiled like that.
“You think I’d run away?” I asked.
“I think,” Logan said slowly, “you’ve been pretending not to notice me staring at you all night.”
Heat crawled up my neck instantly.
“Oh my God,” I muttered.
“That’s not a denial.”
“Please stop being observant. It’s ruining my life.”
He laughed softly, finally letting go of my wrist.
I immediately missed the warmth.
Which felt pathetic.
Before I could spiral about that too much, Logan leaned one hip against the edge of the booth beside me.
“So what’s in the emergency backup bag?” he asked.
“Gym shorts. Oversized T-shirt. Snacks.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Snacks?”
“I’m a woman in STEM. Survival is important.”
Dean pointed at me dramatically. “See? This is why she’s my favorite.”
“You told Hannah last week I looked like I’d poison someone for fun.”
“You do.”
“That’s just the eyeliner.”
Logan laughed again, shaking his head.
God, he laughed a lot around me.
That felt… nice.
Dangerously nice.
“What kind of snacks?” he asked.
I stared at him. “Are you flirting with me or trying to rob me?”
“Can’t it be both?”
I snorted despite myself and finally crouched to dig through my tote bag. “Goldfish crackers. Granola bars. Sour candy.”
“y/n,” Tucker said solemnly, “marry me.”
“No.”
“That’s fair.”
I pulled out the folded pair of black athletic shorts I planned on changing into and tossed the bag onto the booth seat.
Logan looked personally offended.
“You’re replacing the dress?”
“The dress betrayed me.”
“But the dress is winning.”
“That sounds fake.”
“No seriously.” His eyes dragged over me again, slower this time. “It’s a really good dress.”
My brain fully malfunctioned for half a second.
The confidence in his voice was what got me.
Not teasing now.
Not joking.
Just honest.
And somehow that was worse.
“You are aggressively good at this,” I informed him.
“At flirting?”
“At making people forget basic motor functions.”
A grin spread slowly across his face. “Yeah?”
“Unfortunately.”
Dean groaned loudly. “I can literally feel the sexual tension from here.”
“Then leave,” Logan said without looking away from me.
Tucker clutched his chest dramatically. “He’s in deep already.”
“I’m not in deep,” Logan shot back automatically.
I raised an eyebrow. “Interesting choice of wording.”
He looked at me for a second.
Then smirked.
“You catch everything, huh?”
“Occupational hazard.”
“What occupation?”
“Judging people.”
“Damn,” he said. “And here I thought it was pharmacy.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
And Logan’s expression shifted immediately when he heard it.
Softer somehow.
Like he liked making me laugh.
That realization hit me right in the chest.
“You know what’s weird?” he asked suddenly.
“What?”
“You’re way less scary than Hannah made you sound.”
I gasped dramatically. “Excuse me. I worked very hard on my terrifying reputation.”
“She told Garrett you once made Dean reconsider his entire personality.”
“I did.”
Dean pointed at me. “She looked me dead in the eyes and asked if I had hobbies besides being loud.”
Logan barked out a laugh.
“To be fair,” I said, “you didn’t have an answer.”
“That’s not the point.”
The music switched songs, bass vibrating through the floor harder now as more people crowded onto the dance floor.
Across the room, Hannah spotted me and wiggled her eyebrows obnoxiously.
I immediately flipped her off.
She looked delighted.
Logan followed my gaze toward the dance floor. “You gonna keep dancing?”
“Eventually.”
“You were having fun before your dress declared war.”
“I was having fun until somebody noticed.”
“y/n,” he said, looking genuinely amused, “you were staring at me like you were conducting scientific research.”
“In my defense, your arms are upsetting.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then Tucker made a strangled noise.
Dean physically bent over laughing.
And Logan—
Logan looked so pleased with himself it was unbearable.
“My arms?” he repeated carefully.
I immediately realized my mistake.
“Oh my God.”
“y/n likes my arms,” he announced to the table.
“I actually need everyone here to die.”
He laughed outright now, head tipping back slightly, and the sight hit me with embarrassing force.
Because Logan was pretty.
Like offensively pretty.
Especially when he laughed.
“You know,” he said casually, flexing one arm against the table edge just enough to be annoying, “most people compliment my face first.”
“You don’t need compliments about your face. You already know about your face.”
“That’s true.”
“Horrific answer.”
He grinned.
Then leaned closer suddenly, voice dropping lower.
“But for the record,” he murmured, “I noticed your legs first too.”
My entire train of thought derailed.
Completely.
Gone.
Dean slapped the table hard enough to rattle the drinks. “Jesus Christ, just kiss already.”
“Dean,” I said weakly, still staring at Logan, “I’m trying to have a nervous breakdown in peace.”
Logan’s eyes flicked down briefly to my mouth.
Just for a second.
Still enough to make my pulse jump.
Then he looked back up slowly.
“Would it help,” he asked softly, “if I told you I’ve been trying not to kiss you since you walked in?”
I forgot how breathing worked.
Actually forgot.
Logan noticed immediately too, because his grin turned lazy and unbearably smug.
“There she goes again,” he murmured.
“Shut up.”
“You get all wide-eyed every time I flirt with you.”
“Maybe because you flirt like you’re trying to cause structural damage.”
That earned me another low laugh.
And before I could recover from that either, Logan reached out and adjusted the collar of his hockey jacket where it sat tied around my waist.
His fingers brushed bare skin just above my thigh.
It all started out as an itch that begged to be scratched. The Winter Soldier's basic primal urges weren't wiped away with his memories. When he saw you, those urges resurfaced and you were willing, nay happy, to stroke the beast. But these urges and actions inevitably lead to more and HYDRA doesn’t allow feelings to interfere with their agenda.
Pairing: Winter Soldier x HYDRA!reader, Bucky Barnes x HYDRA!reader
Word count: 47.5k in 12 parts.
Warning: 18+ MINOR DNI. Smut... lots of it, with hint of a plot. Guided masturbation, hand job, oral sex (f), unprotected sex, creampie, PinV/penetrative sex, sex pollen, choking, multiple orgasms, oral sex (m), voyeurism, somnophilia, breeding kink, dirty talk, body worship, mutual masturbation, physical violence, fugitive situation, loss, death. Some poorly translated Russian. If you see anything you think I should add to the warnings, please let me know! FYI, I love a good happy ending.
Posting schedule will be Mondays and Fridays around 7.30am ACT / 4.30pm EST / 1.30pm PST / 9.30pm BST
A/N: Constructive feedback is appreciated, comments and reblogs are life giving! Please be kind to me, I have a very fragile ego!
the idea of standing in between a man’s legs who’s just been in a fight and is all bruised and battered while tending to his wounds …. all while his hand (a hand that is usually rough and malicious) is gently placed on the back of your thigh, just below your ass …. he’s looking at you as if you’ve hung the moon in the sky ……….. it gets me going
burying your face in his neck while you ride him on the couch. feeling his head turn and his lips glide a wet path over your jaw before he nips at it, breathing something about how good you’re making him feel — or maybe something with more of a teasing edge. getting tired? need me to do it for you? his hands cupping under your ass, getting a good handful before moving up to grip and guide your movements. maybe a light smack for encouragement. there you go, don’t stop now. ride that dick. you do it so well, baby. so well that i don’t think i can pull out.
pairing: austin butler x fem!reader (reader uses she/her pronouns)
wc: 1.4k
warnings: smut, pwp, slight dom/sub dynamics but nothing extreme, oral (female receiving), teasing, manhandling, bad dirty talk, allusions to breeding kink, established relationship, no use of y/n, reader was written as plus size but really you can interpret however you please, austin calling reader honey is pure self-indulgence sorry
“Did you miss me?”
The question goes unanswered as you struggle to unbutton his shirt, cursing under your breath when the third button down refuses to cooperate with your shaking fingertips. Austin can’t help but grin at your blatant urgency to get him out of his clothes and through your bedroom door.
hi i had to redo my masterlist :) here you can find all my chaptered/ofc fics. ordered newest to oldest - click on the title for masterlist. there are also some 1dff challenge oneshots here!
A/N: This is one last idea (for now) that I had for the anxious!reader universe. Lots of smut, but it’s very soft and sweet and full of love :)
***
His hands. Y/N can’t stop staring at his hands.
There are a lot of things she finds attractive about Harry. Too many. It’s actually maddening how one person can have so many attractive qualities. Lately, her brain has decided to fixate on his hands. They’re pretty and elegant, strong and masculine.
His long fingers are often decorated with an ornate collection of rings. Sometimes his nails are painted with vibrant colours; other times, they’re unpainted but still clean and neatly trimmed. She can often see the veins that travel up the backs of his hands into his toned arms. He moisturizes them well too, so they rarely look dry.
Pairing: NHL!Chris Evans x Athletic Trainer!Reader (female character)
Summary: When you graduated from Northeastern University, you had your sights set on the West Coast. And then you were offered a position with the Boston Bruins Athletic Training Department. And then you met Chris. A 6′3″, ruggedly handsome hockey player dead set on making your life a living hell by pushing every button and getting on every nerve. Despite your obvious disdain for each other and the ‘No Fraternization’ clause in your employee contract, you’re drawn together in a passionate, fiery love affair that seems to burn everything in its wake.
A/N: This series has smut, this is an 18+ blog. Minors, DNI. The drabbles for this series are placed under the corresponding parts :)
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All players and scenarios are made up completely. This story does not reflect things that actually happen in the NHL or with its players.
I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤
Smut = 🔥
I no longer have a taglist! Please head over to @time-for-a-library and turn on notifications!
Part 1 - Mr. Evans (w/c = 7k)
Part 2 - Sweden Sounds Nice (w/c = 8k)
Part 3 - The First Game (w/c = 7.8k)
Part 4 - What Are You Doing In My House? (w/c = 9.1k)
Part 5 - I Should’ve Known (w/c = 8k) 🔥
Part 6 - Don’t Give Up On Me (w/c = 9.8k)
Part 7 - Maleficent (w/c = 7.7k)
Part 8 - Baby Steps (w/c = 7.1k)
Part 9 - Baby Steps Be Damned (w/c = 6.6k) 🔥
Drabble: Texts with Chris and Marlowe While You’re Sick
Part 10 - The Haunted Hollywood Gala (w/c = 12.8k) 🔥
