this is a mess.

18+ y/o | part of way too many fandoms. sometimes i write stuff but there's no actual theme to this whole thing. like i said, a mess | masterlist | anime masterlist

[sp1ritb0x]

Theyre cute ….

[coltlandgentry]

bakugo always had a . . . creative nickname for everyone ( see pinky, shitty hair, and dunce face ), and mina being the detective she is, couldn't help but notice when he started calling you by your name.

so of course she brought attention to this to all the others.

and they noticed the small things.

the way bakugo would hold the door open for you ( bare minimum but he let it shut in everyone else's faces ), how he quieted his voice. the edge dropping, the sharpness dulling.

how his shoulders seemed more relaxed when around you, how the faint start of a smile played at his lips whenever talking to you.

he was just . . . calm. in a way so non-bakugo that it was eerily off putting for everyone else watching.

and he wasn't stupid. he saw their staring, noticed the way mina's eyes flicked in his direction whenever he talked to you.

but he couldn't really bring himself to care. not when you were smiling right in front of him.

[candytoothed]

ngghhh bumping into hot neighbor bakugou on your morning jog in your cute pink gym co-ord, watching him mow his lawn.

you pull out your earplug, standing across the street watching shamelessly. his abs were glistening, the perfect glow under the early morning sun. he was to die for, biceps bulging as he pushed around his lawnmower, wiping sweat from his forehead with an arm.

you blink, a little quirk of your lips at the sight. you’ve been trying to plot—or better put, figure out ways to talk to your new neighbor. you’d greeted him a handful of times, having introduced yourself on his doorstep with a flirty smile and home baked cookies you re-gifted from an old lady down the block.

but even still, he never looked your way. instead focusing on his plumbing work and minding his own business, bless his heart.

however, you were a persistent woman. anytime you saw something you liked, you had to have it.

you inhale slowly, wiping sweat from your brow before jogging across the empty road.

katsuki looks up at the sight of you, pausing his work. you’ve pulled off your other earplug, your fingers curled over his fence, twirling the wires in your other hand.

“well good morning, katsuki.” you drawl, a flirty purr to your voice, eyeing the blond up and down. it’s disguised as playful, when you’d really like to eat him up.

it’s one of your best tricks. subtle so that it doesn’t come off too headstrong, but intriguing enough to make the men want more. you like to do that a lot, up until when they decide playtimes over, and they need you.

he hums, resting his big arms atop the lawnmower with a small nod. “morning.” he rumbles, a little miffed at being interrupted. though he does glance at your outfit. it’s quick, but you catch it.

“i was just out on my morning jog,” you say, still playing with your headphone wires, spinning them around. “you being out at this time is like fate.”

you could’ve done better than that. fate? but he takes the bait anyway.

“oh?” he gruffs, quirking a brow. he readjusts himself, leaning on only one arm instead, turning his body more toward you. he scoffs, “and how’s that?”

feisty. it makes you grin.

you like that about bakugou, he’s simple. keeps to himself like a grumpy old man with a huge, gorgeous physique.

you shrug with a small hum, “you’re great eye candy.”

katsuki clears his throat, nodding like he doesn’t know how to reply.

you laugh in that perfect pitch where no one could tell you’re putting on a show. you put your earbuds back in. “sorry to bother you.” you croon, a smile on your lips as though you don’t really mean what you say.

he shakes his head, “it’s fine. have a good day.”

you grin, toothy and cocky. “you too.”

[cringe--is--dead]

Steam and Steel, Pt. 3

Hoshina x Reader (Barista!Reader, Kafkas Little Sister!Reader)

Pt. 1 Pt. 2

"—and I'm telling you, he's out for me! Sometimes it feels like everyone there just picks on me 'cause I'm older than them. Did we as a society forget we're supposed to respect our elders? Well, I'm not elderly— I'm not! But c'mon, I don't need to be treated as if I'm the bottom of the barrel. And that brings me to my final thought, which is— why is my baby sister so distracted she can't listen to me?"

The question, much like the rest of your brother's story, fell on deaf ears. You continued to nod absentmindedly, jumping as Kafka's hands came down on your shoulders, snapping you out of your thoughts. You blinked, baffled by the annoyed look on his face, "What?"

"I have been talking for ten minutes, and you haven't been listening at all, have you?"

You huffed, trying to shrug his hands off of you, "I was! At the beginning," You admitted, but crossed your arms with a glare, "You complain about the same stuff every time! I get it— you're old and sad and can't make friends to save your life."

"You little shit," You couldn't help but laugh as you dodged his hands coming to smack at your head, "That is not what's happening!"

"Then what is, huh? You're upset that they're not respecting their elders, but you're not an elder."

He was quiet in response, narrowing his eyes at you. He had nothing to say in response; that much was clear, so he opted for silence. You normally listened to him vent, let him complain, and patted his back as he cried faux, dramatic tears. After he got it out of his system, you two would order takeout and play some video games; it was the least you felt like you could do for him. You were proud of your older brother for being able to, finally, make it into the kaiju defense force. But you were beyond distracted today.

It was all his fault.

"What's on your mind today? You're super out of it."

Kafka was over his annoyance, lying back on your couch and tilting his head to look over at you. You paused, debating your options. Was this something you confided in him with? On one hand, your brother had been a rock for you during your heartbroken teen years, but on the other hand, the guy in question was his direct higher-up.

And the main person Kafka complained about.

So you shook your head at him, "Just didn't sleep well last night, so I'm super tired," He didn't look convinced, and you sat down on the floor in front of your couch, elbowing him, "Too tired to listen to an old man's story, anyways."

That did the trick of distracting him, and he sputtered, claiming that you, of all people, should show him respect, especially when he's already suffering. You mentally pat your back— he was so easy to distract. In your pocket, you felt your phone buzz, and you panicked and cleared your throat, shifting in hopes he didn't notice it. You had no doubt who was texting you, and the second and third buzz confirmed your thought.

Kafka noticed your face and sat up with a blink, "Hey, what's—"

"Have you ordered the food yet?" You stood quickly, pulling your phone out of your pocket as you started to wander to your kitchen, "I'll order it today. As a treat since you've been bullied this week."

"I wasn't bullied this week— hey, wait!"

You sent him a quick smile, stepping into your kitchen with your phone in hand. You opened the messages, seeing Hoshina had responded, sending three consecutive messages. This man was ridiculous, sure, but you felt like your brother was being dramatic when he said Hoshina was always on his case. You felt like a schoolgirl again, smiling at your phone, and you felt a rush of warmth burn your cheeks.

Your voice came out more tentative than you would have preferred, pressing your phone to your ear hesitantly, "…Hello?"

"Hey! So what are you doing this weekend?"

You blinked, staring forward as you processed the question. You shifted, moving so your phone held between your shoulder and cheek as you continued to scrub at the cup in your hand, "Why do you ask?"

He laughed, sharp and quick, "My— why sound so suspicious?"

You huffed, "I'm not suspicious."

"So then you'll have an answer for my question!"

You weren't doing anything this weekend; you had the days off, and your only plans were to rot in bed and doomscroll until the new week started. However, you weren't about to admit that to him. Nor were you about to admit anything until you had an idea as to why he was calling you, rather than texting.

"Answer my question first— why'd you call me instead of text?"

"I wanted to hear your voice," You felt your cheeks burn, almost dropping the cup in your hands at the blunt confession, "Plus, I'm trying to get some paperwork done, so my hands are busy. There, you have your answer, now where's mine?"

You were glad he couldn't see how flustered you were, taking a breath before answering, "Nothing."

"No plans at all?" His tone held a teasing lilt, and you could practically hear the smirk in his tone, "Would you like to have plans?"

"Can you just get to the point!" You couldn't help but snap his way, almost annoyed as he laughed at the pitch your words came out in.

"Do you want to go into town with me? I have to pick a few things up, and I figured we could hang out and grab some lunch together."

"Hey, can you order a drink with mine?"

You jumped, spinning around as your brother popped his head in the kitchen, continuing as he hadn't noticed he had startled you, "I've been good with my sugar intake, but I feel like I deserve, as you all say, a sweet treat."

You just stared at him, the fluster slipping away as you sent him a look, "I'll order you a diet soda."

His face dropped, and he slumped over dramatically, "You're so cruel."

"Go sit down," He turned, and you closed your texts, pulling up the usual website, "And never say sweet treat again." You could hear him grumble as he went back to your couch, and you were grateful he was unaware of how fast your heart was beating.

It didn't take long to put the order in; you two ordered the same thing every time, with a diet soda in tow this go-round. When you were sure he was distracted by his own stuff, you reopened your messages, having to put in effort to keep your face neutral. You could just imagine the look on Hoshina's face if he knew how flustered you were over texting. That thought had you pausing for a moment— maybe Kafka wasn't being dramatic when he complained about his vice-captain.

"Hey," He called from the living room, though thankfully he remained seated, "I'm off this weekend— you have any plans?"

"What?" The word left your mouth in a far more panicked tone than you had wanted it to, and you cleared your throat, pocketing your phone and making your way back into the living room, "Yes. Why?"

He gaped at you, "You have plans? Seriously?"

"Okay, first of all, fuck you," You ignored the offended look on his face, flicking him off at the mutter of 'Language', continuing, "You're friends with that one guy, yeah? Reno, right? Ask him to hang out, a lot less lame than hanging out with your baby sister."

Kafka looked like he was still reeling from your comment, a small pout evident on his face, but he sighed. "I guess I could ask Reno if he wants to hang out… oh!" The storm cloud that had been present over him seemed to vanish, and his eyes were wide as he looked up with a large grin, "I think the two of you should meet— he's a stand-up guy! If you ended up interested in him, you two would have my blessing!" He threw in a thumbs-up as he spoke, a cheesy grin on his face.

"No," You cleared your throat, itching to do nothing more than kick your brother out of your apartment, "No. Thank you, Kafka. I'm fine."

"Nonsense! I love you, but you have shit taste in men," You winced— up until this point that much was true, "And I've known Reno for a while now! He's a hard-working guy, he's nice, a bit blunt sometimes, plus he's strong and great at keeping secrets."

Your eyes narrowed at the way he spoke, "Are you sure you're not in love with him?"

"You're hilarious," He stuck his tongue out at you, "Come on— let me introduce the two of you!"

"Kafka, no. Like I said, I'm fine," More than fine, really, but he didn't need to know that. Yet.

"Yeah, yeah," He slumped against your couch, arms crossed over his chest, "I'll get you two to meet eventually."

[lunarlighxt]

katsuki who LOVESS when he gets people to laugh—more specifically, his wife. and okay, his friends also but like, whatever.

he's spent a lifetime either (evilly) laughing at people or being (playfully) laughed at and he never really cared for making people laugh much bc it never occurred to him until the first time he (unintentionally) made his girl laugh and ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, he was gone. a goner. red in the face and heart in a race. he will NEVER admit it, but he lives for that high all the time.

he's horrible at being intentionally comedic—evident by the way most of the laughs he gets are from the things he does unintentionally—but if he learned that something he did or said made his girl laugh, he'd spam it a little a few times just to get u to really laugh ur heart out w a wide ass grin on his face. would he embarrass himself or throw away his ego and self-worth just to make you laugh? sometimes. depending on the time and place. he'll be rude if it makes you laugh, he'll play dumb and go with ur antics, he'll wear stupid clothes red-faced if it meant helping with ur bad day.

but also if u think abt it, this mf could also probably be a good comedian anyway because i think when he gets in the flow he would ride that wave hard. he doesn't give a fuck about public speaking so he would probably be pretty good at it in his own style bc he's naturally witty, he's smart, he's observant and intuitive so he'd probably know how to get the hang of the unintentionally funny thing—he's annoying i hate him why is he good at everything.

also katsuki is A GIGGLER !!! i love the way he laughs in the sub for the mr. smiley ova bc he sounds like he's being tickled n that's exactly how he laughs at things he genuinely finds funny: hands on his tummy, head thrown back, turning away as laughter rakes through his body bc he doesn't want to be exposed to more of the funny—but unlike the louder cackles from the ova or from his fight w afo, i think he'd be a little quieter? like a helpless giggler; it's too funny and he's so weak n breathless he can't help but laugh. idt he'd wheeze, he's just soo tickled i think he is sooooo cute. he also snickers but i think that's obvious. i think the louder laughter is only when he's tweaking over something (fighting afo in pain) bc i genuinely can't see him cackling over a joke as much as i can see him do a spittake.

☾ — katsuki giggles,,,,,,, ok null time for bed. no one say anything abt how this was written bc i'm sleepy n idrgaf rn but yes ik it's bad shush pls. this is also just how i imagine papatsuki in his married life btw hehe. gn everyone i will now go snooze ♡

© lunarlighxt on tumblr — do not repost or translate without my permission. i do not consent to my works being fed into ai or used for its training. if you do that, i will break my ‘no kill’ rule.

[folkloure]

⭑.ᐟ vogue, vogue!

john logan x fashion design major!reader

summary: you're facing the trials and tribulations of final's week as a fashion design major. luckily, your boyfriend logan is a sweetheart. requested!

Logan stands behind the glass doors, watching chaos unfold as he ponders if he really has to walk inside. Maybe his mere presence will be enough to disturb the energy, he considers, or maybe they can smell the fear. 

He checks his phone again, in hopes that you’ll see his texts and meet him at the door, but he knows how you get once you’re too deep into a project: unaware of the rest of the world, completely locked in, no matter how much your phone buzzes. He drops his head a little, letting out a sigh as he faces reality. It’s time to face his own personal shark tank, best known as the fashion department studio. 

It’s not always like that, really. Logan enjoys watching you work there most times, bringing coffee to the studio when you’re cutting garments, making you take a seat for the first time in hours to show him how every cut is done and how they’ll look, your sketches pretty and clean on your beloved journal. It can be a nice, peaceful place too. But right now, with the entire department working on their final assignments, Logan knows that the studio becomes a mined camp and every misstep of his will be reprimanded, because when deadlines are on the way, fashion people seem to get particularly insane over it — his girlfriend included, of course.

And still, he has to go in. 

It takes roughly five seconds for someone to notice him and call for you across the packed room, “Babe, your knight in jock armor is here!”

Logan watches you snap your head up, face lit up. He almost feels the desperate need to let everyone know that he’s not being obnoxious, storming into the studio for no reason in the middle of final’s week when everyone has a million deadlines and no time to spare. No, he’s here on a mission. 

Thankfully, you make sure of that, “You are an angel,” you say, heading in his direction as your eyes drop to his hands holding your journals, “You have no idea how fucked I’d be without these for my tech pack.”

“I think I have an idea,” he says through a chuckle. 

You look a little manic as you approach him, and Logan wonders if you had a good night of sleep even though the answer is probably no. He moves to offer you a quick hug before handing you the journals, but you outright snatch it from his hands, holding it closer to your chest, “Ah, my babies,” you coo, your eyes closed as you rock left and right.

Logan clears his throat, “You’re welcome.”

You giggle, arms moving around his neck, “Thank you so much, my love,” you press a quick peck to his lips, backing off as soon as you feel his hand on your cheek, “You gotta go, though.” 

He would’ve taken offence if he didn’t know it came from a place of genuine rush. His hands stay in the same spot in your face, thumb moving back and forth, “You look tired, baby.”

You are tired, you think. You haven’t slept at all, and you’re pretty sure (because you stopped counting them after the third one) you’re running on six caffeinated drinks, a stolen Liquid IV from Logan’s closet and a single breakfast muffin so far, having spent the night writing your paper on historical context behind your clothing choices, pages upon pages on French Revolution and how it led to Marie Antoinette becoming a fashion icon. Fun theme, but hours of research and typing needed, and among making sure you have all you need for your presentation — all the fabric you had used, every single pattern named right, the correct measurements and a proper paper, hell fucking yeah you’re tired. 

“And you don’t usually leave your tech pack behind,” Logan adds, his doe eyes running over your face. Fuck, that too, “I knew you were acting weird when you texted me to go get it. This thing’s like– It’s your bible.” 

You chuckle, “Yeah, I know. I didn’t get much sleep,” you watch as Logan’s mouth twinges up a little, not the reaction you are expecting, “What?”

“Sorry, it’s just– I literally just thought that.” 

“Eh, you know me well,” you shrug.

“I do,” he smiles, “And you got the Liquid IV from my things.”

You shake your head in embarrassment, “I did.”

Logan lets out a laugh, “It’s fine. You need food, though, and I’d love to take you for lunch. But I suspect the answer is gonna be a resounding no.”

You give him a forced smile, “Sorry…” you murmur, raising your journals in explanation, “I gotta get the digital sketches done now that I have all the info.”

Logan gently pinches your cheek, dropping his hand and letting you go, “It’s okay. I’ll let you get back to work.” He gives you a final kiss on the forehead, “But I’ll bring you something to eat, how do you feel about Tucker’s pasta salad?”

You feel your stomach rumbling before you can answer, “Yes, thank you. Hey–” He turns to you, and your hand latches to his upper arm, squeezing it, “Thank you so much. Really.”

Logan shrugs, “Just being a dutiful boyfriend,” he says.

“And how does my lovely, dutiful boyfriend feel about staying the night tomorrow?” You say, getting a bit closer as you offer, “We can order take-out and you can help me rehearse for my presentation.”

Logan pretends to dwell on it, laughing as you tug on his arm, “C’mon, even Madonna is mentioned in this one. She wears this gorgeous gown in her Vogue performance—”

“Oh, if we’re talking Madonna,” he says, a twinge of sarcasm in his voice, but you know him just as much as he knows you. Logan likes your presentations, likes the way your mind works, and he always makes sure you know this.

“You say that now, but you’re gonna like it,” you say.

“Of course I am,” he says, “I always do.” 

“And you like Vivienne Westwood,” you say through giggles, knowing exactly how he'll react.

You watch as he turns to you, eyes widened, “Baby, I fucking love Vivienne Westwood. Oh, this is gonna be good.” He says, suddenly invested, “No, forget take out— I’m making you dinner. I’m all in now.” 

You pull him in for a kiss, “Knew it. Now move, I have work to do.”

Logan takes your face between his hands, his face stoney and solemn, “You go and make our girl Viv proud, yeah?” 

notes: thank you for reading! if you're interested in what i had in mind for reader's project as i was writing this, please look up vivienne westwood's 1995 fall/winter collection. likes, reblogs and thoughts are much appreciated! <3

john logan masterlist

[raedisconova]

DEAN DI LAURENTIS TEXTS → HOCKEY PLAYER BF X HOCKEY PLAYER GF

'who dis?: offcampus!dean di laurentis x afab!reader

summary: you and dean are dating and both play on briars male and female hockey team

warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol, sexual flirting

note: okay i know this isn’t the series continuation but i thought of this and thought i’d be cute to do ❤️ let me know what you guys think!

join my off campus taglist

taglist: @sarahinhersundaybest @simp4f1 @lillrry @madufw @bookluver114 @satellitestompers23 @wiishies @afterhoursangell @marleyaugustinevadaquinnbroccoli @jinxedstarla @laceyvt3 @jihyos-wifey @sarcasm-ismy-onlydefense @prisciliamunoz @jocelynlovesharrystyles

[deeversuswords]

[rhi-blogging]

big dog energy

pairing – john logan x fem!reader

wc: 1.1k

synopsis – Logan learns very quick to not make assumptions when you ask him to dog sit for you

based on this request!

warnings – language, established/new relationship, reader is described as small/petite

note – obsessed with this idea, if you want to request something, you can submit it by clicking the ‘♡’ button on my page or commenting under this post! enjoy ♡

masterlist

✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧

“Yeah, no I totally understand, thanks anyway,” you say, hanging up the phone before rolling your eyes, sighing at yet another person being unavailable when you needed them. Your options kept getting slimmer and slimmer, trying to find a dog sitter for the week you’d be out of town. Family, close friends, everyone you could possibly think of not available.

Except your boyfriend.

You haven’t been dating for too long and Logan had never met your dog, the timing always working out where someone was watching your dog while you guys hung out at your place. You definitely weren’t hiding it either – food and water bowls in your kitchen, a leash hanging on the hook by your front door and the dog bed in the living room all being dead giveaways.

Logan never questioned it, just chalking it up to your family and friends loving your baby just as much as you do and you wanting no distractions while you hung out. But you knew you couldn’t keep your dog from him for forever. Just because the relationship was new doesn’t mean he should be deprived of the cuteness that is your dog.

Still, you find yourself hesitating, not wanting your dog to scare him off. Looking at you, one would assume you’d have a cute little dog – a chihuahua, a mini schnauzer, a dachshund – something small and demure, like you.

But everyone knows, when you assume, you make an ass out of you and me.

A phone call shakes you out of your thoughts, pulling your phone out of your pocket, a smile growing on your face seeing Logan calling you. ‘Practice must’ve ended early,’ you thought before answering the phone.

“Hey babe,” you say, running a hand through your hand, trying not to sound stressed.

“Hey gorgeous, how are you?” he asks, as you can hear his truck running in the background. You chuckle, shaking your head knowing you can’t ever hide your emotions from him.

“Little stressed,” you start, “I’ve called like five people and no one can watch my dog this week. I leave in two days Logan, I gotta find someone,” you finish, sighing again.

The other line goes quiet for a few moments, you pull the phone away from your ear, checking to make sure the call didn’t disconnect before putting it back up to your ear. The silence lasts a few seconds longer before you hear a soft chuckle over the other line.

“You do know you could’ve asked me, right? Between practice and classes, I wouldn’t be gone for more than three hours at a time,” he says, trying not to laugh at the fact that him being an option flew right over your head. Unbeknownst to him, he was your top choice, but you still were worried about him changing his mind or not being able to handle it.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna burden you, or the guys” you say, a timidness hinting in your voice.

“You’re never a burden to me, with or without your dog, so get that out of your head. The guys won’t care either, I’m sure they’d love having a little ball of energy running around for a bit,” he says.

There it is. Little ball of energy.

“I’m sure I can handle it,” he reassures, the words making your heart warm.

You smile softly, “If you insist,” you give in, knowing his kind and caring nature wouldn’t end this phone call until he helped you come up with a solution.

“I do,” he says intently.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you sooner, I just… worry,” you trail off.

“About…?”

“You. With my dog,” you say, another few seconds of silence occurring, feeling very loud.

“What, you think your dog’s gonna scare me?” he asks, chuckling.

“You’ll see,” the teasing tone in your voice making Logan laugh, you half joking, half being serious.

“You can even bring ‘em by tonight so you can take tomorrow to finish packing and chill before you leave,” he offers, your heart warming once again at his kindness and consideration.

“Really?” you ask once more.

“I got you, baby,” he affirms. You smile, wiping a hand over your face, looking around your place.

“Okay, I’ll text when I’m on the way,” you reply.

“See you soon, gorgeous,” he says before he hangs up. You chuckle to yourself at his confidence, him clearly having no clue what he was getting himself into.

After gathering all of your dog’s favorite toys and treats, food and any other important essentials, you began to load your car up with the bags, followed by your dog and then you. Starting the car, you send a quick text to Logan before heading over to the hockey house.

Logan meets you outside, your bright headlights making it impossible for him to see anything inside the car. You put the car in park, stepping out, greeting him with a quick kiss before walking around to the passenger side back seat. Before opening the door, you glance at Logan, him meeting your eyes with raised eyebrows. 

You say nothing, fighting back a smile, opening the door, a ‘come on baby’ leaving your lips as your dog hops out of the car. You shut the door as Logan’s nearly eyes bulge out of his head.

“That’s a big ass dog,” he says, the words leaving his lips before he can stop them.

Laughing at him, you say, “Now you see why I was hesitant,” with an ‘I told you so’ tone in your voice.

“I mean, I guess…but look at this cutie, harmless and adorable as ever,” he says, crouching down as your dog runs up to him, kissing him all over his face and panting with excitement, tail wagging a mile a minute. "I don't know why, I expected your dog to be... smaller I guess," he trails off.

“You know what they say about assuming?” you say, a grin on your face.

“What?” he looks up at you.

“Nevermind,” you chuckle.

He stands up as your dog explores the yard of the hockey house. You hand him your spare key, “Just in case you run out of food, there’s extra in the pantry,” you say.

“Thank you so much for this, really,” you sincerely say, leaning in for a hug, wrapping your arms around his torso as his arms wrap around your small frame, hugging you tight.

“I’d do anything for you,” he replies, a smile growing on your face, you both looking over, watching your dog roll around in the grass, soaking up the new environment. The moment was so calm, you holding each other, the sun setting, watching your dog roam around, before Dean’s voice echoes down the block.

“Holy shit, is that a dog??!”

✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧

note – had to put a mini schnauzer in there as a reference to my sweet girl who passed away a few years ago, love you my baby🩷

[rhi-blogging]

what's your love language again?

pairing – john logan x fem!reader

wc: 1.3k

synopsis – meeting Logan’s friend group is definitely nerve-wracking, but nothing says 'nice to meet you' like gift giving

based on this request!

warnings – none, just wholesome interactions between reader and the girls/hockey boys

note – my first request omg🥹 if you want to request something, you can submit it by clicking the ‘♡’ button on my page or commenting under this post! enjoy ♡

masterlist

✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧

You and Logan were relaxing, his head on your chest as he cuddles up to you in bed. You run your hands through his hair, soaking up the moment while you both watched your favorite movie.

Your relationship has been blossoming, almost feeling too good to be true. You both were continuing to fall for each other as time passed, quite literally becoming two peas in a pod. Although, there's one thing that hasn't happened yet.

You haven't met his friends.

Logan talks about his friends all the time and your heart warms, knowing that he's got a good circle of friends around him. You feel like you know them personally, without even meeting them. An idea sparked in your head about a week ago, shopping around until you had everything you needed.

"I had an idea," you say, Logan's head lifting from your chest, smiling at you before you continue. 

"I thought, since it's the first time I'm meeting all your friends that I should bring gifts. Nothing too crazy, just little things," you smile at the end of your sentence, Logan staring at you with so much admiration at your kind nature. He sits up, you doing the same before he smiles at you.

"Yeah I think it's a great idea," he replies, "I can tell you a little bit about them-"

"Oh no need," you cut him off, pulling a gift bag out from what looked like thin air. Logan looks at you with bewilderment. 

"How did you-"

"You love your friends, you talk about your friends, I pay attention," you reply, riffling through the tissue paper, “Although, I do need you to make sure they’re gonna like all their gifts,” you say, getting a chuckle out of Logan. He laughs, insisting you keep everything in the bag, saying how they'll appreciate the gesture, no matter what you ended up getting them.

“What’s your love language again?” he sarcastically asks. You playfully shove his shoulder, grinning back, trying to look ‘mad’.

“Fine, then I guess you don’t want your gift,” you tease. He raises his eyebrows at you as you reach in the bag and pull out a box that has a 'J.L.' written on it.

“What’s this?” He asks, looking down at the box.

“You think I wasn’t gonna get you something too?” you ask, holding out the box for him.

"You didn't have to do that, baby", he says before taking the box and looking up, seeing you give him a look that screams 'really, have you met me’.

He chuckles, opening the box, his smile fading slightly in shock. You watch him as he lifts the silver chain out of the box, the light catching it as it sparkles.

“I noticed a few spots on your current one that are starting to tarnish, so I wanted to get you an upgrade,” you say, gauging his reaction.

He looks at the chain, then you, overwhelmed by your attentiveness. He places the chain down on the bed next to him, before leaning in, giving you a kiss, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. You smile into the kiss before he pulls away.

“Thank you, it’s perfect,” he says, as you smile at each other. “Tomorrow’s gonna be great, everyone’s gonna love you. The girls are dying to have another girl to hang out with too,” he says, you smiling at him.

“I’m excited to meet them,” you reply, grabbing his hand, interlocking your fingers.

✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧

After spending the night with you, Logan drives you both over to the hockey house. Nerves sink in your stomach and it’s almost as if Logan can sense it. He reaches over the center console, grabbing your hand, rubbing small circles on your hand with his thumb.

“Everything’s gonna be great. Tuck’s making lunch and we’re just gonna chill. You’re gonna fit right in, I promise,” he reassures you, glancing over to you and smiling before moving his focus back to the road.

You rub his arm with your free hand, exhaling trying to calm your nervous system.

Within minutes, you pull up to the hockey house. Logan honks his horn twice, making you jump at the unexpected action. The front door opens moments later, as two guys walk out, you knowing it’s Garrett and Dean, having seen their faces in pictures on social media with Logan.

You both get out of the car, you grabbing your bag that has all of the gifts in it before walking over to where the guys were standing. The guys all dap each other up before Logan introduces you to them, you smiling at them, shaking their hands.

“So, you’re the girl that’s got John Logan all head over heels in looove, huh?” Dean says, looking between you too.

“Guilty as charged” you reply confidently, holding your free hand up, making the guys laugh.

“Well, let’s head inside, it’s cold as fuck out here,” Garrett says, letting you walk first before the guys follow behind you. You don’t see the guys elbowing Logan, them teasing him about how the hell he managed to score someone like you.

Walking inside, you’re greeted by the smell of something incredible, as a girl’s squeal grabs your attention. The guys head into the kitchen as you chat with the girls.

“Oh my gosh!!!” Allie yells, getting off the couch and immediately pulling you in for a hug. You chuckle as you hug her back, Hannah getting up to join you.

“It's so nice to meet you, we’ve heard so much about you, I’m Allie!” she exclaims, her smile wide. You return the smile, introducing yourself to her and Hannah as she walks up to join you both.

“Hi, I’m Hannah, we’re so happy we finally get to meet you!” she says, the nerves already leaving your body. “Are you hungry? Food’s almost ready,” she says.

“I could definitely eat” you say, making the girls laugh. You put down your bag before joining everyone in the kitchen.

Logan’s eyes meet yours as he wraps his arm around Tucker’s shoulders, him focusing intently on plating the dishes. He introduces the two of you, you waving at him from a distance, not wanting to interrupt his cooking.

“Nice to meet you! Food is almost done,” he says, smiling at you.

Soon enough, everyone is sitting on the couch or in the lounge chairs, hanging out in the living room, eating and chatting. You didn't feel any bit of awkwardness or discomfort, everyone in the room giving off an inviting energy. Tucker makes his rounds, grabbing the dirty dishes before heading to the kitchen and putting them in the dishwasher before returning to the couch.

“So…” you say, grabbing everyone’s attention. “I know I literally just met you all but I have a thing for gift giving, so with Logan’s help, I thought I would get little gifts for you all”, you say, pulling your bag in your lap.

“What?!” Allie asks.

“No way!” Hannah says.

“Oh, I like her even more now,” Dean says, laughing.

You pull out the labeled gifts for everyone, passing them around, as it feels like Christmas, the joy on your face watching everyone open their gifts.

“Oh, sick,” Garrett says, staring down at the new set of hockey mouth guards, “I’ve been needing to replace mine for a while now, thanks,” he says, smiling at you.

Hannah gasps, seeing the guitar pick with a tiny ‘H.W.’ engraved into it, “This is so amazing, wow thank you so much,” she says, her radiant smile filling up the room.

Tucker opens up the box, grinning wide as he pulls out a meat thermometer.

“Oh shit!” he says, “The last one blew up at Thanksgiving, I’ve needed a new one, thank you,” he says, flashing his smile at you.

Allie beams, seeing a pair of chunky gold hoops sitting inside the jewelry box, 

“Ahhh I love them!!!” she says, holding the box up and grinning.

Attention turns to Dean, who’s sitting next to you as he pulls out what looks like a mini figurine of a roller coaster. His eyes slowly look up at you, hoping not to offend you by his confusion.

“Logan said Allie had mentioned something about you liking Six Flags…?” you trail off, your eyes slowly making their way to Logan, who was sat on the other side of you.

Allie presses her lips together, trying to stop herself from laughing, mumbling a, 'more like being Six Flags' as Dean laughs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, "Oh, I really like her Logan,” he grins, holding the figurine up, laughing at something you clearly don’t have the full story of yet.

Your eyes meet Logan’s again, the love for you beaming from his face. You smile back, knowing you feel right at home here.

✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧

[matt-murdockk]

so high school

pairing: john logan x fem!reader words: 1.3k summary: based on this request; you loved books, Logan loved hockey, and you both loved each other very, very much. warnings: none, this is all fluff babyyy <3, maybe a couple swear words idk

Truth, dare, spin the bottle. It was right out of a book how you met Logan.

Picture this. It's raining heavily. Cats and dogs. And it's late at night. Everyone is running to find shelter from the pouring rain, holding their valuables close to their chest. Guy is running into a bus stop; he's not paying attention, bumps into a girl. Girl drops her book into the growing puddle of water and groans.

"Dude! I bought that like twenty minutes ago," she mourns.

"Oh my god, I am so, so, sorry, I wasn't looking, I—" he looks now.

The street light makes her glow, and she's dewy from the rain. She's frowning, she's angry, and she is not ready to put up with his bullshit. She looks radiant. He completely loses his train of thought. He's just staring at her now, mouth slightly ajar but finding nothing to say. She snaps him back to reality.

"Hey! Earth to Captain Splash."

"What? Oh, yeah, right, I'm— uh, I'm sorry," he manages, but he's not quite concentrating yet. He is positively smitten. And he feels awful because he just soaked this poor girl's brand-new book in a puddle of rainwater.

"Thank you for the apology; my book is completely dry now," she deadpans, bending to pick up what used to be the book. A laugh escapes him despite himself. He can feel her glaring at him.

She grimaces the moment her hands touch the item. That is not a fun sensory experience. She is holding it up with her index and thumb in front of her face, assessing the damage. Yeah, that book is done for.

"Again, I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'll get you the exact same book, from the exact same place, and I'll throw in a cup of coffee as reparations."

"As long as you don't throw it at my book..." she trails off.

"Logan. John Logan."

And the rest was history.

Every day, at least once, Logan swore that you were the best thing that ever happened to him.

"You are literally the captain of the hockey team."

"Baby, I could be the president, and my point would still stand."

And that would make you blush and bury your face into his chest every single time.

You and Logan were the best part of each other's day. He'd come back from an emotionally and physically exhausting practice day, climb up your fire escape (because you didn't want to tell anyone yet), and collapse on your bed like a thirsty man who finally found a river.

You'd let him lie down on your lap and stroke his hair as he'd tell you all about his day. Sometimes you'd just let him sleep for a while, and you'd read your book, a moment of peace for both of you.

A lot of times, when he woke up, he'd be annoyed that he wasn't getting enough attention and would try every single trick in the book to get you to focus on him instead. He would whine, complain, pout, and feign heartbreak while you promised one more page.

"Logan, I swear, it's getting so good I can't stop now, but give me five minu—"

He'd bury his face into a pillow and scream.

Eventually, he'd snatch your book from your hand, put the bookmark in and toss it on the table, despite your protests, and pin you to the mattress, knocking the wind out of you.

"Baby," he'd say, in that breathy voice he knew did things to you, "I've been patient, and I think it's my turn to do some reading now." You would nod slowly, breathless, and he'd laugh before grazing your jaw with his lips, and trailing further and further down. His hands would test the waters, sliding under the hem of his your T-shirt. He'd leave marks in places only you'll know about, and you'd go crazy thinking about it all day.

It was never either of your intentions to hide each other from your friends. God, no, but what you had, it was just... yours. Just him and you. To the entire world, he was John Logan, captain of the Briar U Hawks, playboy on sabbatical, charming handyman straight out of a dirty movie, the John Logan.

But to you, he was John Logan, golden retriever in disguise, supplier of endless hoodies, brings you coffee the way you like, memorises your convoluted and frankly concerning subway orders, best kisser in the entire world (among other things), John Logan. A version of him that no one will ever know, not like you did.

To him, you were the only aspect of normalcy in his entire life. Everywhere he went, he had to be somebody. A captain, a student, a friend, a brother, a son. But with you, he didn't have to put up a front. He didn't have to pretend. Because being your boyfriend was not something he had to learn or actively do. He just... did.

You were the one place in his life where he felt like he belonged. It was like he always knew how to be in love with you; he just hadn't found you yet. Now that he had, it was like he had found purpose. That's who he was now. John Logan, man in love.

The privacy, you thought, was what made the entire ordeal special. This was beautiful, and just yours. And you both wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.

And then there was that part of Logan that wanted to parade you around the campus, show you off, kiss you in front of everyone, and declare his undying love for you, god and all of Briar U as his witness.

He would unapologetically carry your stack of books whenever you were at the bookstore, and, ever the gentleman, never let you pay. Your bag was his by proxy at this point, the way he would always let it hang over his shoulder whenever you walked with him, halfway through some tangent about your latest book. And if you ever carry your own bag, god forbid, he'd look at you like you had an extra head before taking it from you.

You were deeply in love with each other.

It was a mundane day at the hockey house. Garrett had his feet up on the coffee table, controller in hand, losing spectacularly to Dean, who wasn't even looking at the screen half the time and still winning.

Tucker came through the front door, shaking rain out of his hair, and didn't bother with hello.

"Where's Logan?"

"Room," Garrett said, not looking up. "Don't bother him; dude went up like ages ago. Hasn't come out since"

Tucker paused halfway through unlacing his boots. "Let me guess. She climbed up the fire escape again?"

"Uh-huh," Dean said, eyes still on the TV, thumb working the controller. "Only tripped once this time. Progress."

"How do you even know that?"

"Window's right above the kitchen. You can hear everything. Heard her go 'shit—' real quiet, heard him go 'you good?' even quieter, and then I heard her go 'yeah, I'm fine, your stupid fire escape is a death trap,' and then nothing for like... an hour," he explained, his voice going an entire octave higher when he imitated you.

Tucker dropped onto the arm of the couch. Garrett looked up toward the ceiling like he could see straight through it to Logan's room, and he just smiled.

"Does he know we know?" Tucker asked.

"Nah," Dean said, easy, unbothered, like it wasn't even a question. "Nah, man. Let him have this."

Tucker nodded slowly, settling back, already reaching for the third controller. "Yeah. Okay. Yeah."

Upstairs, muffled through the floor, came the unmistakable sound of Logan laughing— the real laugh, the one none of them had heard much before this year, and nobody downstairs said another word about it.

[sp1ritb0x]

Camera roll

[sp1ritb0x]

Bkkr for the soul

[petertingle-yipyip]

WHY ARE YOU HERE - JOHN LOGAN

//song was more for the title than the vibes.// tags: @fallingfavourites //

Pairing: John Logan x Reader // Word Count: 4,577

Summary: Having a class with John Logan was best case scenario when the guy who couldn’t take a hint still doesn’t take a hint. It’s worth a shot to see if Logan can help.

“It’s Block Party! You have to go!” Allie insisted, dragging you to your closet. You huffed an argument but she pretended not to hear it. “If Hannah’s coming, so are you.”

“Hannah doesn’t want to go either!” You reasoned, to which Hannah tried to offer an agreement.

“Hannah does want to go because it’s a chance to talk to Justin.” Allie cut in. “You are going because you never go out with us anymore. It’s one night, Y/N/N. It won’t kill you.”

“It might.” You mumbled but sighed in defeat. “Alright, fine. Go on then. Pick my outfit.”

Allie clapped in triumph and focused back on your clothes, flipping through hangers and voicing her internal monologue regarding the selection.

“You definitely need more going out tops.” Allie shook her head. “Remind me to take you shopping this weekend.”

“I don’t need going out tops if I don’t go out.” You countered.

“Or you don’t go out because you don’t have going out tops.”

“Whatever works, Al.”

After a few more minutes of her rummaging in your closet and drawers, she finally found an outfit she approved of. You changed and she insisted on doing your hair and makeup as well. You knew better than to fight her at that point.

When you and your friends got to the block party, it was in full swing. You had pre-gamed at your apartment so there was a light buzz in your head. You still didn’t want to be out but it wasn’t as bad as you were anticipating.

After a while of dancing with your friends, you needed to sit for a bit. You loved Allie and her sense of style, but she managed to pick the most uncomfortable shoes in your closet. They were definitely meant for sitting events, but you had to agree when Allie said they made your legs look nice and long.

“Any man would be lucky to be wrapped up in those legs.” She had commented when she saw your whole look put together.

You were looking around for an open table when your caught sight of the one person at Briar that you didn’t want to see.

“Fuck.” You whispered, quickly turning so your back was to him.

“What is it?” Hannah asked quickly.

“Remember that guy I’ve been complaining about?” You answered, trying to mask the instant annoyance that came from seeing him. “Behind me.”

You watched as Hannah looked over your shoulder, searching for a moment, then nodded in understanding.

“We can go if you want.” She offered.

“No.” You shook your head a little. “We came for you to finally make a move, so we’re not leaving until you do… I’m gonna get something else to drink cause I’m too sober to deal with this. If I get in trouble, I’ll call you.”

“Don’t hesitate, okay?” Hannah urged.

“Never do.” You flashed a smile before separating from your group.

You snuck through the crowd, keeping your eyes forward. You doubted he would recognize you just from the back of your head so you could at least make it to the drinks. Getting back to your friends would be a separate issue, but at least you’d have some more liquor in your system.

Once you got your drink, you swallowed a mouthful. It burned slightly and you sucked a breath in through your teeth.

“I thought that was you.” A grossly familiar voice came from behind you and you jumped.

“Hello, Eli.” You said tightly, eyes scanning the crowd for an out.

You didn’t care who it was. Allie, Hannah, you’d even settle for Justin.

“I thought you said in class that you weren’t going to come.” He continued.

“I didn’t talk to you about tonight in class.”

“I know. I heard you talking to-”

“You were eavesdropping.”

“A little, yeah.” He laughed, trying to appear embarrassed about it. You looked over at him, a slight curl in your lip. “You look great. Beautiful, even.”

You rolled your eyes and looked back to the crowd.

“Yeah…” You mumbled, not really paying attention.

Where were your friends?

“I uh, assume this outfit is courtesy of one, Miss Allie Hayes.” He continued. Without looking, you could feel he had taken a step closer.

“No, they’re my clothes.”

“I’ve never seen you wear anything like this.”

“Yeah, cause I don’t need a mini skirt for class. T-shirt and jeans work just fine…”

“And your ‘boyfriend’. He doesn’t mind you dressing like this?”

Your head snapped his way and he feigned innocence.

“You did say you were seeing someone. Didn’t you? Why are you here and not with him? Why isn’t he getting your drink?”

You shook your head and turned away again. Something about that man made your skin crawl.

Across the party, you saw a different group of familiar faces. Dean Di Laurentis, Garrett Graham, John Tucker, and John Logan. You stood a little straighter at the realization. You had the same class with Eli as you did with Logan. You had talked to him a few times, worked on projects and assignments before. He had even invited you to parties before. Not that you ever went.

You smiled slightly to yourself, mumbled a polite goodbye, then ducked away. You slipped through the crowd, narrowing avoiding spilling your drink as you ducked and dodged couples dancing.

Finally, you popped out on the other side and made it to the guys.

“Logan!” You called for his attention. He looked your way and smiled.

“Hey! I thought you weren’t coming.” He greeted.

“The girls dragged me out.” You nodded. “I hate to do this but I actually came over here for a favor.”

“Pause.” Dean cut in, pointing to you as his eyes raked up and down. Lingering on your legs. “Logan. Who is this?”

“Right, sorry. Guys, this is Y/N. We have Consumer Behavior together.” Logan introduced. “Her work has saved my ass on more than one occasion.”

“Dean Di Laurentis.” Dean bowed slightly and you had to laugh a little. “Nice to meet you.”

“I know who you are.” You shook your head with a laugh. “Everyone knows who you are, all four of you guys.”

“Which also means she knows what you’re up to.” Garrett told Dean, who was offering you a freshly poured shot.

“I’m not up to anything.”

Your eyes flicked to Logan in question and he gave a small shrug. Dean poured another and Logan took both small cups, holding the other one out to you. You accepted it, nodded in thanks, and tapped the two together in a toast before downing the liquor. You winced slightly and coughed, which earned a laugh from Logan beside you.

“Dude.” Tucker added. “You’re always up to something.”

“I resent that. Just because she-”

“I’m sorry but can this-” You gestured vaguely to Dean, handing the now empty cup back to him. “-wait? I need to borrow Logan.”

“Shit, yeah, my bad.” Logan laughed and gestured for you to go with him. You two walked a few feet away and then he faced you again. One hand in his pocket, the other holding his original drink. “What’s going on?”

“You know Eli from class?” You began, inching a bit closer as if you were telling a secret. You were a little convinced that Eli would pop up as soon as you said his name like some freaky version of Beetlejuice. Well, freakier version.

“Uh, yeah, a little. The guy’s a little…”

“Weird.” You filled in. “He’s fucking weird, Logan.”

“He bothering you?”

“I’ve tried being nice about it. He DMs my Instagram every other day. He likes my old posts. He comments on old posts. I’ve had to delete his comments and restrict his account. He won’t leave me alone. It’s like he thinks I’m playing hard to get or something.”

“You didn’t just block him?”

“I don’t trust that I can block him and he’ll let it go, not when we have a class together.” You confessed. “I’ve even tried telling him I’m seeing someone.”

“And he doesn’t care?”

“He doesn’t believe me! He said that I don’t have anyone posted, that I don’t go out, I’m never walking with a guy, and that none of my friends have posted anything either.”

“That is a bit much.” Logan nodded, looking over your head for a moment.

“He found me when I was getting a drink a few minutes ago. I don’t know what else to do so I just thought…”

“That I could get him to back off?”

“Yeah, maybe.” You shrugged a little. “Sounds a little pathetic now that you say it.”

“So what do you need? Just to hang out and put on a show?”

“Maybe?” You laughed nervously. “I hadn’t really thought that far ahead, and I wasn’t even sure you would say yes.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s not like we talk much outside of class.”

“Yeah, but that’s cause you never come to anything I invite you to.”

“Oh, come on. You guys invite everyone.”

“I don’t.”

“So I’m special?”

“Yeah, maybe…” He flashed a smile but nodded. “Okay, yeah. I’ll help you.”

“Really?” You brightened. “You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”

“But you owe me.” He pointed at you.

“The times I saved your grade isn’t enough?”

“No, not at all.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll do your next Consumers assignment.” You waved him off. “I appreciate you talking to him.”

“Oh, I’m not talking to him. Not unless he comes to us.” He laughed, taking his empty hand out of his pocket. He gestured for your cup and you offered it to him in confusion. “And you’re not drinking that.”

Without explanation, he dropped it in the nearest trashcan. He came back, offering you his now empty hand.

“My drink.” You frowned.

“I’ll get you a new one.” He offered with an amused smile.

“That one was fine.”

“You ever look away from it?”

You nodded slightly.

“You don’t trust to block the guy. You trust to not see your drink?”

“Fair point.”

You took the hand he offered and he gave you a slight tug to follow him. You did, looking back to try and find your friends. They were still lost in the crowd.

They wouldn’t miss you for a little while, right?

“Shit, Logan.” Garrett laughed as the two of you made it back to his friends. “I think Dean owes you an apology.”

“For what?” Dean spun around. “Oh, shit.”

“It’s not-” You tried.

Logan freed his hand from yours and put his arm over your shoulders instead.

“You two sneak off for a chat and come back… What? Dating?” Tucker asked and you just looked up at Logan.

You felt your phone buzzing in your pocket so you checked it.

Hannah was calling.

Maybe they would miss you.

“Shit.” You whispered and answered, turning slightly away from the boys’ conversation and blocking your other ear. “Hey, Han.”

“Y/N/N! What happened to you? We couldn’t find you.” Hannah answered. Even though she was likely yelling, the music was fighting to drown out her voice.

“Yeah, well. Long story short, Eli.”

“Shit.” She breathed. “Where are you? Allie and I will come help.”

“Another long story short, Logan.”

“Lo- Like John Logan from the hockey team?!”

“Yeah… I’ll explain later.”

“Alright… Call if you need a rescue, okay?”

“Absolutely. Thanks, lovey.”

You ended the call and turned back, shifting closer to Logan and unintentionally leaning some of your weight onto him.

“Everything okay?” Logan asked, looking over at you.

“I let Allie pick my shoes and they are not meant for standing.” You laughed.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Logan laughed. 

“Because Allie was so proud of the outfit she put together despite her hating my closet.” You gestured to yourself and you didn’t miss the way his eyes followed the path of your hand. “She said…”

Logan met your eyes with a silent question.

Any man would be lucky to be wrapped up in those legs.

“She said the shoes make my legs look longer.” You filled in.

“She was right.” Logan nodded.

“She also said the skirt distracts from my boring shirt.”

“I see what she means.” Logan laughed and you found yourself smiling in response.

“You’re wearing a plain shirt and a Carhartt.” You tugged on his jacket slightly. “But you’re telling me that my outfit is boring?”

“Not the whole outfit.”

“Oh, so just half of it?”

“Yeah, basically.”

“I am regretting coming over here already. Remind me why I thought this was a good idea.”

He laughed as he guided you to the nearby picnic table his friends had claimed. He sat on the table and left a gap between his legs. Again, he reached for your hand.

You accepted, though the questioning look in your eyes didn’t falter. He just winked and smiled, and that was enough for you to go along with whatever plan he had. You took your seat, crossing one leg under yourself and adjusting your skirt accordingly. You leaned back against Logan’s leg and looked over at the stage, watching the band perform. Logan was laughing and joking with his friends. Whatever was so funny, you didn’t know or didn’t really care.

You did realize you liked hearing him laugh.

“Oh, wait. You know her.” Garrett said suddenly, then he showed you his phone screen. “The waitress from Malone’s.”

“Hannah.” You corrected, glancing at the photo of her on his screen. “What about her?”

“What’s her deal?”

You leaned forward, crossing your arms over Logan’s leg. His hand found its way to your back, fingers tracing slight patterns between your shoulder blades that almost made you shiver.

“What do you mean?”

“Like… Okay, I have a class with her and she was the only one to ace a paper.”

“Not surprising.” You shook your head. “She knows her stuff.”

“So I try to get her to help me out so I don’t fail again and she said no.” Garrett lifted his hands for a dramatic shrug.

“Well it could have something to do with you not knowing her name.” You offered. “Or she just doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“No? You sure? Can’t blame her if it is.”

“Couldn’t possibly be that.” Logan joked.

“If it’s not personal, she is usually pretty busy.” You explained. “I think she has three jobs, and then her classes and her music.”

You felt a hand tap your arm and you turned to face Logan.

“I think he’s coming over here.” Logan warned and you frowned, deflating a little.

Logan chuckled, tapping his fingers under your chin. “Trust me, okay?”

“What other choice do I have?” You gave a small shrug.

“Yo, Dean!” Logan called and the blond came over, a slight wobble in his step from too much to drink too fast. “You see that guy coming over?” Logan shamelessly pointed at Eli. That seemed to make him hesitate and change course. “Would you think he has a shot with Y/N?”

“Fuck no.” Dean answered with a laugh and no hesitation. “Logan, you barely have a shot with her. No offense.”

You scoffed in offense and whacked at Dean’s arm, earning a laugh from him and Logan.

“Does he seriously try?” Dean asked you.

“Relentlessly.” You nodded. “I can show you the DMs. It’s at least twice a week.”

“Please do.” Dean laughed and sat near you on the bench.

“Once, he commented ‘be my waifu’ on an Instagram post from two years ago.”

You pulled your phone, seeing a series of texts from Allie.

WTF!?!?!

LOOK UP!!!!

YOURE KIDDING ME

!!?!?!??!?!

You swiped the messages away before opening the one sided thread in your Instagram DMs. You passed Dean your phone before looking towards the last place you saw your friends. Allie had found something to stand on and was waving frantically towards you. You smiled and offered an awkward wave. She looked down for a moment, head moving as she was likely typing an aggressive message, then she looked back up. Her eyes were wide and her hands were swinging wildly still when you felt Dean tap you with your phone.

“That’s sad, actually.” Dean said, fake empathy in his voice. “Oh, also Allie is very confused.”

“You read my text!?” You snatched your phone and saw it was open to yours and Allie’s messages.

IS THAT JOHN FUCKING LOGAN!?

YOURE DATING JOHN LOGAN?????

WHEN DID THIS START!?!?

Y/N Y/L/N STOP IGNORING ME

“She’s gonna kill me.” You sighed.

“She’ll get over it.” Logan answered.

“No.” You shook your head as you thumbed your response.

don’t make this a thing. i’ll explain later… call if hannah goes to make a move tho and i will come RUNNING

“This is gonna be her go-to for quite literally anything. ‘Remember when you didn’t tell me about you and John Logan?’ Allie will definitely hold a grudge over this.”

“Yeah, but is it something?”

You shifted to look up at him. His head was cocked slightly, his cup abandoned beside him and both hands bracing the way he leaned back on the table.

“Just a favor...” You answered after a hesitation. That was the truth, but it still felt suddenly wrong.

Before either of you could say anything else, there was a new presence beside you. You expected to turn and see Allie had stomped her way over to demand answers or Hannah had come with some excuse to whisk you away. Instead, you turned and saw Eli standing there.

Immediately, you tugged the hem of your skirt down and shifted to be facing straight. Logan leaned forward, an arm coming across your chest and pulling you slightly closer. You reached up and put one hand on his arm, the other going for his hand. His thumb ran gently back and forth over your knuckles. A heat raced up your neck as your cheeks burned but you tried not to acknowledge it. Prior to the last few minutes, you hadn’t considered anything with Logan but now that the thought had been planted…

Now that you knew how easy it was to be around him…

“This’ll be good.” Dean mumbled.

“Hey, man.” Logan said casually. “You’re in our Consumers class, right? Elliot.”

“Eli.” Eli corrected sharply. “I just wanted to talk to Y/N about something.”

“Up to her.”

“Can’t we talk here?” You asked politely, offering an easy and comfortable smile. “It’s not like we’re telling secrets or anything.” You laughed a little.

“I was hoping to save some embarrassment.”

“For who?”

“Fine… I just wanted to see why you lied to me.” He said sharply, as if you had offended him.

“I didn’t.”

“Yeah, you said you weren’t looking for anything.”

“Wasn’t.” You shrugged. “But I did also say I was already seeing someone.”

“Why are you here, Y/N?” He asked, nearly desperate. You tried to keep your face neutral. “You talk and you tempt me but then you leave.”

“I’ve never given you that idea.” You had to laugh.

“You expect me to believe you, a beautiful and innocent and sweet and kind and smart woman, would date him?”

“Have you been bothering her outside of class?” Logan cut in, a new edge to his voice.

“No.” Eli said quickly.

“No, I've seen the way you try to corner her.”

“Yeah and I’ve seen the messages.” Dean added with a small, almost pitiful laugh. “You bother the fuck outta her. She’s just too nice to tell you to fuck off. We, on the other hand, aren’t. So fuck off.”

“Who was talking to you, blondie?” Eli turned on Dean. 

“Wrong fucking answer, buddy.”

“Don’t you have some other girl to make question her morals?”

Dean went to stand but Logan grabbed his friend’s arm.

“Blondie here can still kick your ass. I wouldn’t pick a fight with hockey players.” You commented, squeezing Logan’s hand slightly. “You won’t win.”

“I like her.” Dean smiled to Logan, who gave a small chuckle in return.

Garrett and Tucker had now come closer, as if recognizing the tension. Eli took a step back.

“Just leave her alone, alright?” Logan said calmly. “She doesn’t want shit to do with you.”

“But she suddenly wants you?” Eli snapped.

You didn’t bother trying to keep your expression neutral. Your brows raised and you let out a quiet “wow”.

“Why are you here, Eli?” You asked plainly. “You don’t respect anything I tell you. You don’t believe I’m seeing someone. You literally see me with him. But you come over here and… What? Think I’ll run off into the sunset with you? I see your DMs. I see the comments. You ever think that maybe there’s a reason I ignore all of them?”

“You’re better than this, my darling.”

“Alright.” Logan announced. You felt him lean forward, his chest against your back. “You heard her. It’s time for you to go.”

“Or what?” Eli lifted his chin, almost trying to challenge Logan.

Part of you wondered if Logan would’ve moved differently had you not been sitting in front of him, tucked under his arm. Would he have been more like Dean, ready to fight? Would he have been like Garrett and Tucker, a quiet but strong presence? Or would he be the same he was, tense but in control?

“What more proof do you need that I don’t want anything to do with you?” You said sharply. You moved Logan’s arm and stood, coming nearly eye to eye with Eli thanks to the lift of your heels.

“It won’t last. He will break your precious heart and toss you aside like you’re worthless.” Eli nearly pleaded. “I will treat you like a princess. Like a queen. You deserve so much better.”

You looked over at Logan, at Dean, then Tucker. Garrett had disappeared.

“I like where I am.” You gave a small, nonchalant shrug. “Take a fucking hint and-”

You were cut off by your phone buzzing. You looked down at it, ignoring the pleas from Eli.

It was Allie.

“No fucking way.” You said when you answered. “Is she really?!”

“Yes, get your cute ass down here now!”

“Okay, yes, coming!”

“You’re not off the hook for whatever that is with Logan.”

You laughed and hung up the phone. Still ignoring Eli, you turned and grabbed Logan’s hand. You didn’t need to bring Logan with you. Surely, if Eli still tried to follow and talk to you, the boys would block him, but you just wanted to bring him along.

“Come with me!” You said in excitement and gave a slight tug.

He laughed, said something you weren’t listening to, but gave in to your efforts. He stood, waved to his friends, and followed you back towards the main party. As you reached the crowd, you had to slow down.

Logan was close behind you, one hand still in yours and the other was now on your hip. You glanced down at it and felt the heat on your cheeks again. With the people around you, there was no way Eli could see much. He didn’t have to put on a show for anyone, yet he still went out of his way to keep hold of you.

You liked it.

When you finally got through the crowds, you found Allie and Dexter already watching Hannah.

“Girl. I thought you were kidding.” Dexter told Allie, offering a double take as you approached with Logan in tow.

“John Logan, this is Allie and Dexter. Allie and Dexter, John Logan.” You introduced quickly, though it was likely they knew who he was. “We have Consumer Behavior together and he is my savior tonight.”

“Okay.” Dexter gave a nod of approval.

“Shut up! We can talk about that later.” Allie insisted, smacking yours and Dexter’s arms. “She’s doing it.”

You turned and saw Hannah making her way to Justin. Her attempt was cut short by someone knocking into her and spilling their drink. You turned and dropped your head against Logan’s arm, huffing in defeat. He laughed a little and patted your back.

“Oh, hell no!” Allie said firmly and you looked back up. Dexter pulled her back and when you followed their focus, you saw Garrett Graham offering Hannah his jacket.

You turned back to Logan.

“What the hell is he doing?” You asked in shock.

“I have no idea.” He laughed a little, though his expression was just as confused. “Guess that’s why he was asking about her.”

“Huh…” You nodded slowly. “I guess rejection is the way to Graham’s heart.”

“Or he just really wants help with that next paper.” Logan joked.

You smacked his chest slightly but laughed a little bit.

“The things we do for our grades, huh?” You teased.

“Hey, I’m doing this for more than a grade.” He put his hands up in surrender.

“Are you?” You cocked your head.

The sun had fully set by now and there was a slight chill in the air. A chill ran down your spine, making you regret agreeing to the skirt. As cute as it was, it was not weather appropriate.

“Oh, shit. Here.” Logan noticed, quickly taking off his jacket. He offered it to you, but you tried to push his hands away.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t think I’ll stick around much longer anyway.” You tried.

“Shut up and take it.” He urged gently, pushing the jacket back at you.

With a sigh, you did. It was already warm and you could smell his cologne on it.

“Thank you.” You said, shoving your hands in the pockets. “For all of it, tonight.”

You felt a tap on your shoulder and looked over to see Dexter pointing between him and Allie. He took her wrist and began to pull her away, despite Allie’s protests. Dexter gave you a pointed look, to which you rolled your eyes, then they blended into the crowd.

“They are gonna have a field day with this.” You laughed.

Logan took hold of the front of his jacket and pulled you closer, flush against his chest. You let out a small noise of surprise at the action and he just smiled at you.

He had a very pretty smile. How had you not noticed it earlier?

“Can I tell you something?” Logan asked, his voice low as if he was telling you a secret.

“Sure.” You nodded.

“I’m glad you came up to me tonight.”

“I’m glad you agreed. Otherwise, I would’ve had to sick Allie on him and that would not have been pretty.”

“You still can, I mean…” He shrugged and you laughed. You drew your hands out of the pockets and rested one on his arm while the other fiddled with the chain around his neck. “Y/N…”

“John.” You titled your head back to meet his eyes.

“Let me take you to dinner tomorrow.” He nodded slightly.

“Seriously?” Your brows raised. “Shit, not- Not that I don’t want to, just… It’s kinda out of nowhere.”

“Yeah, a little, but…” He smiled but he almost seemed nervous.

“John Logan, am I making you nervous?” You laughed.

“Do you want to go or not?” He laughed, ignoring your question.

“Well, we’ve gone this far. We might as well give it a shot.” You tugged lightly on his chain, pulling him the smallest bit forward. “Besides, you still owe me a drink.”

[noralniart]

napping on their way to sabaody

[junezsq]

he leaves for ten minutes

beau maxwell x fem!reader

summary: a night out takes an uncomfortable turn when beau is away for a moment, leaving dean to step in and protect his best friend’s girlfriend

established relationship

warnings: misogynist trying to flirt with/intimidate the reader, reader feels trapped, confrontations, beau and dean are sweethearts though

word count: 5.7k

a/n: based on this request!! i hope this is wat you had in mind :) also, i love protective dean and beau sm

── ᵎᵎ ✦

you should’ve known the night was going too well, though there had been absolutely no reason to think that at the time.

getting the four of you to malone’s had been surprisingly easy. dean and allie had met you and beau there. there had been no argument over where to go, no waiting forty minutes for somebody who claimed they were already on their way, and no last-minute debate about whether malone’s would be too crowded on a friday night.

it was, of course, far too crowded.

by the time you made it through the door, the place was already warm with the press of too many bodies and loud enough that you had to lean close to hear each other properly. music played from somewhere toward the back, nearly swallowed by the noise of overlapping conversations and laughter, while people stood two and three deep around the bar waiting for drinks. every time the front door opened behind you, a brief rush of cold air slipped inside before disappearing almost immediately.

beau’s hand settled against the small of your back before you’d taken more than a few steps.

you hardly noticed it anymore. not because you didn’t like it, but because beau touched you so often that his hand finding you had become as familiar as anything else about him. in crowded places, it was almost guaranteed. his fingers would find yours, or his palm would settle against your back, or he’d hook an arm loosely around your waist while he talked to someone else. sometimes you thought it was less about keeping track of you and more about reassuring himself that you were still there.

you’d never asked him about it. you liked the habit too much to risk making him self-conscious about something he probably didn’t even realize he was doing.

he guided you through the crowd with his hand resting lightly at your waist, glancing back every few steps as though there were any possibility you could’ve disappeared from beneath his palm without him noticing.

“i’m still here,” you said eventually.

beau turned his head toward you, eyebrows pulling together because he hadn’t heard. you leaned closer and repeated yourself, nodding toward the hand at your waist, “you keep checking.”

his expression cleared with understanding. his gaze dropped briefly toward where his palm rested against your side before returning to your face, and for a moment he looked almost sheepish, “people keep pushing past.”

“and?”

“and you’re—” he stopped himself at your raised brows. his mouth opened, then closed again as he apparently reconsidered whatever answer had first occurred to him, “easier to lose in a crowd than me.”

you stared at him for a moment. “that was almost offensive.”

“but it wasn’t.”

“debatable.”

his mouth twitched, but he continued walking, keeping his hand exactly where it had been before. you tried not to smile.

the four of you managed to find a booth tucked against one of the walls near the back of malone’s. it was one of the larger ones, curved around a rectangular table, and for once there was enough space that nobody had to sit half on top of anyone else. allie slid into one side first, dean following her, while you took the opposite side with beau beside you.

you ended up near the wall, which suited you perfectly. beau settled in, stretching one arm along the back of the booth while his knee rested against yours beneath the table. across from you, allie was already shrugging off her jacket while dean attempted to flag down someone for drinks.

the first hour passed easily as conversation wandered without direction. allie told you about something that had happened in one of her classes, dean interrupted often enough that she eventually started ignoring him, and beau spent several minutes pretending not to be interested in the fries someone had ordered before eating more of them than anyone else.

the booth became increasingly cluttered as the night went on, glasses leaving rings of condensation across the table and discarded napkins collecting near the empty basket that had once contained food.

you liked nights like this.

there was something easy about being with the three of them. beau had known dean for so long that half their conversations seemed to rely on context neither you nor allie possessed, while you and allie had become increasingly good at communicating your shared confusion through increasingly expressive looks across the table.

beau stole the lime from your drink and you stared at him as he ate it without the slightest trace of remorse, “that was mine.”

“you were taking too long,” he shrugged.

“i was holding it.”

“exactly.”

you narrowed your eyes before reaching for his drink and taking a deliberately long sip. beau watched you over the rim of the glass, eyebrows slowly lifting, “you have your own.”

you copied his shrug as you took another sip while maintaining eye contact, then set the glass back in front of him.

his mouth twitched, “thief.”

“prove it.”

something warm and amused settled into his expression as he looked at you, and for a second the crowded bar seemed to disappear from his awareness completely. you knew that look. it usually preceded either a kiss or an extremely annoying comment, and judging by the way his gaze briefly dropped to your mouth, you suspected it would be the first.

before he could do either, someone called his name from across the room.

beau glanced over his shoulder, recognition immediately crossing his face. he looked back at you as though considering whether whoever had called him was worth leaving the booth for.

“go,” you said, laughing softly.

“i’ll be right back.”

you nodded, but before he could move away, you caught the front of his shirt and pulled him down far enough to press a quick kiss to his lips.

the smile that appeared was smaller than his usual grin. softer, almost private, despite the fact that you were surrounded by people. his hand briefly squeezed the back of your neck before he straightened and disappeared into the crowd.

you watched him go for a few seconds, following the back of his head until the crowd swallowed him from view. when you turned around again, dean was looking at you from across the table.

you narrowed your eyes. “what?”

“nothing.”

allie glanced at him before looking at you, “he’s judging you.”

“i’m not judging anyone.”

“you have a very judgmental face.”

dean frowned at her, “what does that even mean?”

allie took a sip of her drink rather than answering, and you laughed softly as dean began arguing his case to a girlfriend who had already stopped listening.

the conversation moved on easily after that. you stopped thinking about where beau had gone, knowing he was somewhere nearby and would eventually find his way back to you. he always did.

you were listening to allie tell you something when someone stopped beside the booth.

at first, you assumed he was waiting for somebody to pass. people had been squeezing between the booths and the bar all night, and you barely looked up until a voice interrupted allie halfway through her sentence.

“hey.” the guy standing at the end of the booth looked vaguely familiar, though you couldn’t remember where you’d seen him before. maybe another party, or somewhere on campus. his face was one of those you recognized without being able to attach a name or memory to it.

you gave him a polite smile, “hi.”

he didn’t move. you waited for a moment before turning back toward allie, assuming that was the end of the interaction.

“i know you, don’t i?”

you looked at him again, “i don’t think so.”

“i’ve seen you somewhere.”

you gave a small shrug, “probably around campus.”

he nodded as though that proved something, and the pause that followed lasted a little too long. you became aware of allie watching him from across the table while dean’s attention remained, at least outwardly, on something happening near the bar.

“can i buy you a drink?” the guy asked.

you glanced at beau’s half empty glass sitting in front of you, “i’m good, thanks.”

he followed your gaze. “when you finish that one.”

“still good,” you smiled politely again before turning back toward allie. this time, neither of you immediately resumed your conversation.

the guy remained there, and you could feel it without looking. there was a particular kind of awareness that came with knowing someone was watching you, an uncomfortable pressure between your shoulder blades that made it impossible to return your attention fully to whatever allie had been saying.

after a few seconds, he spoke again, “you got a boyfriend?”

you exhaled quietly through your nose. “yeah.”

“where is he?”

the question irritated you more than it should have. you turned toward him again, one hand still resting around the condensation-slick glass in front of you, “somewhere over there.”

the guy glanced toward the crowded room before looking back at you, “he left you here by yourself?”

you stared at him before looking deliberately across the table at allie and dean, “clearly.”

allie’s mouth twitched, though she quickly hid it behind her glass. the guy didn’t seem to notice, but dean did.

you caught the briefest shift in his expression before he looked away again, and you knew him well enough by now to understand what it meant. he was listening.

that realization didn’t bother you. if anything, it gave you the strange comfort of knowing somebody else had noticed without the annoyance of having them immediately take over.

dean knew you could handle yourself.

you and he had argued enough over the years for him to know that better than most. he had seen you annoyed, furious, stubborn and unreasonable. he had also been on the receiving end of all four often enough to know that stepping into an argument you were perfectly capable of handling would only earn him your irritation as well.

so he stayed where he was, but he listened.

“what’s your name?” the guy asked.

“does it matter?”

his smile faltered slightly, “i’m trying to be friendly.”

“and i’m trying to talk to my friend.” the words came out more sharply than you’d intended, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret them.

something in the guy’s posture changed, “you always this rude?”

you stared at him for a second, “i said no to a drink.”

“i heard you.”

“then i’m not sure what we’re still talking about.”

a silence settled around the booth that had nothing to do with the noise of malone’s. the rest of the bar continued around you, music playing and people laughing only a foot away, but your attention had narrowed to the man standing at the edge of the table.

he looked irritated now. not embarrassed or disappointed, but genuinely irritated, as though you’d broken some unspoken rule by refusing to participate in a conversation you had never asked to have, “you don’t have to be a bitch about it.”

allie’s expression changed immediately. you felt your temper flare before common sense had a chance to catch up, “and you don’t have to still be standing here.”

across the table, dean went very still. he hadn’t said anything, and he wasn’t even looking directly at the guy yet, but the awareness between them was immediate, “you got something to say?” the guy asked.

dean finally looked at him, “no.”

the answer was so simple that the guy seemed almost disappointed by it. you looked back at him, “great. are we done now?”

his attention returned to you, “you think you’re funny?”

“no.”

“could’ve fooled me.”

you frowned, your patience almost entirely gone by then, “what do you want?”

“nothing now.”

“then go.”

that was when something changed.

you saw it before he moved, though later you wouldn’t have been able to explain exactly what you had noticed. maybe it was the tightening of his jaw, or the way his shoulders shifted forward, or the sudden disappearance of whatever thin layer of friendliness he’d been pretending to have.

he stepped closer to the booth and the irritation inside you vanished so quickly it left you cold.

until that moment, you’d been angry and annoyed. completely certain that, however unpleasant the interaction was, it was still only an argument. you’d dealt with men like him before, the kind who treated rejection as the opening of a negotiation rather than the end of a conversation, and you had never particularly struggled to tell them exactly what you thought.

suddenly, you weren’t so sure that was all this was.

you became acutely aware of where you were sitting. against the wall, with the table in front of you and the stranger standing at the only open end of your side of the booth.

for the first time since he’d walked over, you felt trapped.

the realization must have shown on your face. you didn’t know how. maybe your eyes widened slightly, or your shoulders tensed, or you simply stopped arguing. whatever it was, dean saw it.

his reaction was immediate, because he was out of the booth before you fully registered that he’d moved, crossing around the end of the table and stepping directly between the stranger and your side of the booth, “back up.”

his voice was calm, and something about that calmness changed the atmosphere immediately. you’d seen dean loud before. everyone had. he was loud when he was annoyed, competitive, amused, or losing an argument he insisted he was winning.

this was different.

allie knew it too. you could tell from the way she had gone still across the booth, watching him carefully without attempting to interfere. there was no alarm in her expression, only attention. she knew him well enough to recognize that the absence of his usual theatrics meant he was genuinely angry.

the guy scoffed, “we were talking.”

“she’s done talking.”

“she can tell me that.”

dean was silent for a second, “she did.”

there was nothing clever in the response and no attempt to make the moment into something it wasn’t. dean simply stood there, broad shoulders blocking your view of the man almost entirely.

the guy tried to look past him, but dean shifted so he covered you.

“move.”

dean didn’t, “you need to leave.”

the guy laughed under his breath, “or what?”

dean watched him for a moment, his expression unreadable from where you were sitting. the silence stretched for several seconds, though it probably felt longer than it actually was.

“you were comfortable enough when it was her sitting there,” he said eventually, his voice still quiet. “now somebody your own size is standing here and you want to make it a fight.”

the guy’s jaw tightened. dean tilted his head slightly, “doesn’t look great.”

the words weren’t particularly threatening. that was probably what made them land. the guy glanced around at the people at nearby booths who had begun to notice, and the attention seemed to drain some of the confidence from his posture.

he muttered something you couldn’t hear before finally stepping away.

dean watched him disappear into the crowd. he waited longer than necessary, eyes fixed in the direction the stranger had gone, before finally turning back toward you.

the change in his expression was immediate. whatever coldness had been there disappeared, “you good?”

you nodded automatically, “yeah.”

dean looked at you for a long moment.

“i’m fine.”

he didn’t call you a liar, though you suspected he wanted to. instead, he looked toward allie, and something passed silently between them, the kind of easy communication that came from knowing someone well enough not to need words for everything.

allie gave a small nod before dean slid into your side of the booth.

you moved closer to the wall to make room, and he settled beside you in the space beau had left behind. across the table, allie stayed where she was, though her attention remained on the two of you for a few seconds longer.

dean didn’t crowd you. he didn’t put an arm around you or ask again whether you were all right. he simply sat beside you, close enough that his shoulder rested lightly against yours, his presence creating a solid barrier between you and the rest of the room.

across the table, allie picked up her drink and looked at you with deliberate casualness, “do you remember what i was saying before?”

you blinked, “something about your professor?”

“close enough,” she continued her story anyway.

you loved her for that. she spoke normally, picking up somewhere in the middle of whatever she’d been telling you before, and after a moment dean added a quiet comment that made her roll her eyes.

neither of them looked at you too closely. neither of them asked if you wanted to leave. they simply gave you time to stop feeling like your heart was beating somewhere in your throat.

you leaned back against the booth and let their voices wash over you. dean’s shoulder remained against yours, the occasional movement reminding you that he was still there without forcing you to acknowledge why.

you’d known him through beau first.

for a long time, that was how you’d thought of him. beau’s friend. beau’s teammate. one of the people who occupied so much space in the stories beau told you that you’d felt like you knew him before the two of you had ever had a proper conversation.

somewhere along the way, that had changed, because dean had become your friend too.

he annoyed you. frequently. he stole food off your plate without asking and disagreed with you on principle whenever he was bored. but he also remembered your coffee order after hearing it once and texted you whenever beau left his phone somewhere stupid. he treated you like someone who belonged in his life rather than somebody he tolerated because you were dating his friend.

you hadn’t really thought about what that meant until now.

dean had known you could handle yourself. he’d waited because he respected that. and then, the second you couldn’t, he’d been there.

a few minutes later, you saw allie’s attention move toward the crowd. her expression softened slightly as her eyes settled on something, “beau’s coming back.”

your stomach tightened.

dean looked toward the crowd, then at you, and you knew from the brief pause that he was waiting to see what you wanted to do. he didn’t ask, though. he simply remained beside you, his shoulder still resting lightly against yours, while allie watched beau make his way through the crowd.

you didn’t have time to decide what expression to put on your face before he reached the booth.

at first, beau looked relaxed. there was still a faint smile on his face from whatever conversation had kept him away for so long. then his eyes found you, moved to dean sitting beside you, and returned immediately to your face.

the smile disappeared and you saw the exact moment he understood that something was wrong, “what happened?” his voice was quiet, but the question came without hesitation. you shook your head almost instinctively, “i’m fine.”

beau’s gaze remained on you for another second before shifting toward dean.

dean didn’t answer for you. instead, he stood. the movement was unhurried, and his hand touched your shoulder briefly as he moved away, an absent gesture you doubted he had consciously thought about. he walked around the table and slid back into the booth beside allie, who shifted closer to the wall to make room for him.

the space beside you was empty again. beau looked at it, then at you, before sliding into the booth.

the moment he sat down, his body angled toward yours as much as the table allowed. one knee pressed against yours beneath it, and his hand settled lightly against your thigh, warm even through the fabric of your clothes.

he didn’t look across the table again, “tell me.”

there was nothing demanding in the words. if anything, the quietness of his voice made the knot in your chest pull tighter.

you looked down at his hand for a moment, gathering your thoughts. the whole interaction had lasted only a few minutes, but trying to explain it now made it feel strangely complicated.

“this guy came over while you were gone,” you began. “he was trying to buy me a drink, and i told him i wasn’t interested.”

beau’s thumb moved once against your thigh, but otherwise he remained completely still.

“he kept talking to me after that. asking where you were and things like that.” you paused, suddenly uncomfortable beneath the weight of beau’s attention, “i told him to leave. he got annoyed.”

you could see beau trying very hard not to interrupt, the effort was written across his face, “how annoyed?”

you hesitated, “he called me a bitch.”

beau’s jaw tightened. you felt the change beneath your hand where it had come to rest over his. the tension that moved through him was subtle, but immediate. across the table, dean leaned back against the booth, watching the two of you without saying anything.

“that’s when dean got up,” you continued. “he made him leave.”

beau’s eyes moved across the table. dean gave a slight shrug, as though the entire thing had been considerably less important than it actually had. “she’s skipping a bit,” he said.

you frowned, “i’m not skipping anything.”

dean looked at you, “you are.”

“i told him what happened.”

“you gave him the edited version.”

you felt beau’s attention shift back to you, “there’s an edited version?”

“no.”

“yes,” dean said at the same time.

you looked across the table at him, “whose side are you on?”

dean’s eyebrows lifted slightly, “not really a sides thing.”

allie rested her chin against her hand, watching the exchange. she had been quiet since beau returned, but you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth.

you turned back toward beau and found him waiting. a sigh escaped your lips, “i got a little scared. that’s all.”

beau’s expression changed. the anger didn’t disappear, but something else moved over it. concern, quieter and heavier, settling into the crease between his eyebrows.

before he could say anything, dean spoke again, “she couldn’t get out.”

you looked at him, but his expression was no longer teasing, “he was standing at the end of the booth,” he explained, looking at beau now. “table in front of her, wall behind her. when he moved closer, she was boxed in.”

the words made your stomach tighten all over again. hearing it described that plainly was different from remembering it. you had known, in the moment, that there was nowhere for you to go, but you hadn’t put it into words even inside your own head.

beau’s hand stilled beneath yours, “did he touch you?”

“no,” you said immediately, “he didn’t. dean got there before he could,” you added.

something passed across beau’s face at that, too quick for you to identify. his eyes moved toward dean again.

“he wasn’t going to,” dean said, his voice matter-of-fact, “not after i got over there.”

beau looked at him for a moment, before his attention returned to you. his expression softened slightly, though the tension hadn’t left his shoulders.

“it was just for a second, babe,” you tried to reassure him, but you knew he didn’t believe that was the entire truth.

his hand moved from beneath yours. for half a second, you thought he was going to try and find the guy. instead, he reached beneath the table and took your hand properly, threading his fingers through yours. the familiarity of the movement made something inside your chest loosen before you could stop it.

“i’m here now,” he said quietly.

there was anger in his face. you could see it in the tension around his mouth and the way his jaw tightened every few seconds, but he wasn’t making it yours to deal with. he wasn’t demanding a description of the guy or asking why you hadn’t come to find him. he wasn’t telling you what you should have done differently or turning what had happened into a reason for you to comfort him.

he simply held your hand, and as his thumb moved slowly across your knuckles, you found you hadn’t realized how badly you’d wanted him back until then.

your shoulders loosened slightly and beau noticed. of course he did.

he let go of your hand to move his arm along the back of the booth behind you, and you shifted toward him before he even had to ask. the moment you leaned into his side, his arm settled around your shoulders and drew you closer.

you rested your head against him, letting yourself sink into the familiar warmth of his side. beau’s arm tightened around your shoulders almost immediately, drawing you closer until there was barely any space left between you, while beneath the table, his other hand remained wrapped around yours.

for a while, nobody spoke. across the table, dean had settled back beside allie, one arm resting behind her while she leaned into the corner of the booth. beau looked up, and his eyes met dean’s over the table.

the exchange lasted only a few seconds. beau gave a small nod, something quiet and serious passing over his expression, and dean returned it just as subtly. neither of them said anything, but you understood enough anyway.

beau knew exactly what dean had done. and dean, apparently, didn’t think it required discussion.

you closed your eyes briefly as beau’s fingers moved against your shoulder in slow, absent strokes. the adrenaline that had been sitting beneath your skin was beginning to fade now, leaving you tired in its place, and you let yourself concentrate on the small things instead: the warmth of his body beside yours, the weight of his arm around you, the familiar movement of his thumb brushing over your hand beneath the table.

you hadn’t realized how tense you still were until you felt yourself slowly beginning to relax.

after a while, beau lowered his head and pressed his lips to the top of yours. the kiss lingered for a second before he spoke, his voice quiet enough that the words stayed between the two of you despite dean and allie sitting only a few feet away, “i leave for ten minutes.”

the comment was so characteristically him that a soft laugh escaped you before you could stop it. you turned your face slightly into his chest, hiding the small smile that had finally begun to appear, “it was longer than ten minutes.”

you felt him shift beside you, “was it?”

you lifted your head enough to look at him, “mhmm.”

beau seemed to consider that for a moment before his mouth twisted, “shit.”

another laugh slipped out of you, quieter than the first but easier this time. something in beau’s expression softened at the sound, though the concern hadn’t entirely disappeared from his face. it was still there in the slight crease between his eyebrows and the careful way his eyes moved over yours, as though he were checking for something you might not be telling him.

you knew that look, “i’m fine,” you told him.

“i know,” his answer came easily, but his thumb continued moving over the back of your hand.

you studied him for a moment, “really.”

he nodded again, but you didn’t believe him. or, more accurately, you believed that he believed you were fine now. that didn’t mean he had stopped thinking about what had happened before he came back.

the tension in his jaw gave him away. you narrowed your eyes slightly, “you look like you want to kill someone.”

beau’s eyebrows lifted, “i don’t.”

you continued looking at him and he lasted approximately three seconds before sighing, “fine. i’m annoyed.”

“annoyed,” you repeated, unconvinced.

“very annoyed.”

you waited with raised brows. beau looked at your expression and amended, “extremely annoyed.”

“better.” you smiled before you could stop yourself, and some of the remaining tension in his expression finally eased when he saw it. his eyes stayed on your face for another moment before he shook his head slightly and pulled you closer again.

you settled back against his side, and this time the movement came more easily. some of the last tension in your chest went with it.

you though back to the quiet exchange between beau and dean. it was something that made warmth press unexpectedly against the lingering discomfort in your chest.

beau trusted dean.

not just with football or parties or whatever other stupid things they’d gotten into together over the years. with you.

and dean had treated that trust like the most natural thing in the world. not as an obligation, or a favor he would need thanking for. it was just something he did because beau loved you and, somewhere along the way, dean had decided that meant you were his person too.

beau’s thumb continued its slow movement over your shoulder, and you let yourself sit there for another minute before he spoke again. his voice was quieter this time, all traces of humor gone, “do you want to leave?”

you thought about it; you were still shaken. you could admit that to yourself now. every so often, the memory of the stranger stepping closer returned without warning, bringing that same cold feeling into your stomach. but the thought of leaving made the whole thing feel bigger somehow, as though one unpleasant stranger had managed to take the entire night from you.

you shook your head, “not yet.”

beau nodded, his expression giving away nothing but acceptance, “then we’ll stay.”

there was no hesitation and no attempt to change your mind. he simply settled back into the booth and kept his arm around you.

across the table, allie seemed to sense that the moment had passed. she waited another few seconds before starting her story over from the beginning, apparently deciding that none of you had been paying enough attention the first time.

dean frowned, “didn’t you just just tell this story?”

allie looked at him, “nobody was listening.”

“i was.”

“what was i talking about?”

dean opened his mouth, then closed it again.

allie nodded, “exactly.”

a quiet laugh escaped you, and beau’s attention immediately dropped toward you. the corner of his mouth lifted, and his softly squeezed your shoulder once before he turned his attention back to the conversation, though his arm remained securely around you.

you still felt the remnants of adrenaline beneath your skin, and every so often your attention flicked toward the crowd without permission. you caught yourself searching faces you didn’t recognize, checking the spaces between groups of people before you could stop yourself.

each time, beau’s thumb moved gently against your shoulder. you weren’t sure if he noticed you doing it, but you suspected he did.

after a while, dean caught your eye from across the table. you held his gaze for a second, then mouthed a quiet, thank you.

his expression tightened with immediate discomfort, causing you to almost smile. dean had never seemed like somebody who enjoyed sincere emotion being directed at him.

he gave you a brief nod though, and immediately reached for allie’s drink. she moved it out of reach without even looking at him, “no.”

“i didn’t do anything.”

“you were going to.”

“you don’t know that.”

allie finally looked at him, “i absolutely do.”

dean leaned back in the booth, looking unfairly accused.

you looked at beau. he was already looking at you. something passed between you, a flicker of shared amusement that needed no explanation.

the four of you stayed at malone’s for another hour. conversation never returned entirely to what it had been before, but it came close. allie eventually finished her story, dean continued to insist that he had been listening the first time, and beau absentmindedly pushed his glass towards you so you could finish what you’d started.

when you finally left, the cold air outside hit your face hard enough to make you inhale sharply. after the warmth of malone’s, the night felt almost startlingly clear, the sounds of the bar dulling as the door closed behind you.

beau immediately wrapped his arm around your shoulders as the four of you started down the sidewalk. dean and allie walked a few steps ahead. allie slipped her hand into his, and he glanced down at her before adjusting his pace to match hers.

after a minute, dean looked back. his eyes moved over you, then beau. apparently satisfied, he turned forward again and you smiled to yourself.

the night hadn’t gone the way any of you had expected. your heart still beat a little faster when you thought about the moment the stranger’s expression had changed, and you suspected it would take a while before the memory stopped making something unpleasant twist in your stomach.

but beau was beside you, warm and solid, his arm wrapped around you.

a few steps ahead, dean was listening to allie talk, occasionally turning his head toward her as she spoke. she said something that made him laugh, then shoved his shoulder when he apparently responded with the wrong thing.

a couple minutes later, dean glanced back at you one more time. it was only briefly, but you understood then, perhaps more clearly than you had before, why beau loved him like a brother.

it wasn’t because dean was particularly good at saying the right thing. he usually wasn’t. it wasn’t because he made grand gestures or turned friendship into something that needed to be announced.

it was knowing when to stay out of the way and when to step in. it was sitting beside someone without demanding they explain how they felt. it was looking back over your shoulder once, then again, just to make sure the people you cared about were still there.

beau’s thumb moved across your shoulder and when you looked up at him he was already watching you. his eyebrows lifted slightly in a silent question, and this time you didn’t tell him it was nothing. you only moved a little closer and something in his expression softened.

you knew then, that you weren’t alone; you’d never been, and you never would be.

[seafoammm]

earned it!

*⁀➷john logan x fem!reader

➷ summary: after plowing down john logan during one of your volleyball games, you catch the man’s eye. and, to be totally honest, he caught yours, too. but you know you can’t give in that easily; you’ve got to make him earn it, and during that process, you discover that through getting to know and understand john logan, you’ve unlocked a whole new chapter of your life that you didn’t even know was possible to exist.

pt.2 of plowed down

➷ word count: 5919

➷ warnings: cursing, little bit angsty during one part (just about family stuff, nothing to do with their relationship so don’t worry), you’re the main character (sure me, idc), definitely inaccurate volleyball references. also, i know that with ncaa championships, they’re typically like a few days after the semifinals BUT FOR THE PLOT, we’re gonna pretend it’s like two weeks after (again, sorry, just bear with me).

omg also guys thank you so fucking much for the love that i received on plowed down!!! like it was genuinely bonkers waking up to all those notifications, so thank you so much!!!!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You weren’t exactly sure what you had going on with John Logan.

It had been two weeks since you plowed the man down– two weeks since you made out against your apartment door, since you told him you didn’t do casual; that you didn’t do hook-ups.

Two weeks since the guy started practically worshipping the ground you walked on.

You aren’t sure what you did to warrant this; you had quite honestly been playing hard to get after making out with him. Partly because you were maybe a little bit embarrassed by how easily you gave into his charm, but also partly because you knew how guys like John Logan worked. They were athletes who had sex with different girls every few days, who were texting multiple girls at once. Guys like John Logan were players, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing when they were honest about it. 

But you didn’t like to engage with players more than once, because, again, casual didn’t work for you. It was just something you swore off on in your sophomore year of college because for you, flings and hook-ups came with too much emotional baggage.

It was your own fault, quite honestly.

To you, intimacy was much more than a quick fuck. It always meant more to you. It had to be with someone you trusted, someone you had gotten to know over a certain amount of time. You learned that through a messy situationship, which is what created your personal rules.

That is why you tried to let John Logan down the easy way. With a playful grin, you had whispered the words, “I don’t do hook-ups. Or casual.”

And John Logan had fucking grinned.

Like he understood– like he was on the same page, which you knew he wasn’t.

Or, at least, you thought you knew.

But apparently you didn’t, because after you had said those words, he backed off you, his fingers lingering on your hips. He had still been smiling as he looked at you with gentle eyes and nodded, “Okay. Nothing casual, no hooking up. I can do that.”

“What?”

You blurted out the question, and you’re positive your face revealed how fucking shocked and baffled you were, because John had laughed, the sound warming your chest in the scariest way for a man you had only known for a few hours. He was dangerous, and yet you still felt the urge to dip your fingers into his flames.

He shrugged, and then said, “I can do that.”

“Okay, no.”

“No?”

“No! Isn't it your thing, to like, hook up with girls at parties?”

“I haven’t done that for weeks now–”

“Oh, how tragic,” you drawl, but you’re still smiling despite yourself. You let your hands trail up his arms and to his shoulders. You give them a quick squeeze, and then nod, “Well, this was fun.”

Now he looks baffled.

“So we’re done?”

“I don’t do hook-ups.”

“I won’t either.”

“That’s a lot of commitment for a girl you just met.”

He sighs, and he looks down at you, as if he’s searching your eyes for something, anything– and, you don’t know how, but the motherfucker seems to find what he’s looking for, because he nods, grins, and says, “Can I get your number, then? You should get to know me before you decide to get rid of me completely.”

“We’re following each other on Instagram now.”

“This is different.”

You’re slightly shocked by his words, but you’re watching his face, and you can’t help the way your lips quirk up. But you don’t nod, and you don’t give in. You smile and watch as his eyes glimmer when you respond.

“You’ve gotta earn it, Logan.”

As you said those words, you figured he’d get bored of you within a couple days. Forget about you completely, be a failed sexual encounter in the back of his mind, who he would forget about in a few months time.

Yeah, that absolutely did not happen.

Not even two days later the man somehow found your practice schedule– you had deep suspicion Jade was his source– where he had waited outside for you to finish up, standing on the cold with not even an ounce of exasperation.

“... You waited for me to finish practice?” You question, your practice bag slung over your shoulder. You stared at John Logan, dumbfounded. He was standing outside of the Briar gymnasium where your practice was held, hands shoved in the pockets of his Carhartt jacket, a happy smile on his face.

“You said if I wanted your number, I’d need to earn it. Here I am, earning it.”

“You’re being serious?” You question, and you look back to your teammates, all of whom had stopped in their tracks, watching the scene with a mixture of expressions. Some shocked, some giddy. The only part of the expressions that stayed consistent was how everyone was smiling from ear to ear.

“Yes.”

You falter– stammer, quite honestly– and you feel like your head is about to explode, because you never expected that John Logan would take you to your word. You stand there for about thirty seconds, baffled into silence, when Louisa finally nudges you in the ribs, knocking your thoughts back into your head. 

“I mean, a deal’s a deal,” you say after leaving the poor guy standing in silence for far longer than necessary. You don’t miss the way his face lights up, and you watch as he hurries over to you, digging out his phone from his pocket. 

He unlocks it, passing you the phone, and you go to his contacts, creating your own. 

You look back up at him, face held with faux seriousness, “What number should I be? Girl thirty-five? Thirty-six?”

“Number one works.”

You snort, “Number one? Be serious.”

“I am,” he says with a playful grin. “I’m not a total player. Anymore, at least.”

“Mhm,” you nod. “Well, you’re number fourty-seven in my phone, so–”

He snorts at that, a loud laugh escaping him, and his smile is still wide on his face as you hand him his phone back. He looks down at the screen, clicking onto your contact. You’ve written your name and put a little volleyball emoji next to it, which has him looking up at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Just so I won’t get lost in your sea of girls,” you elaborate.

“It’s more like a plastic fair bag now, but okay.”

For whatever reason, that had you seeing hearts because holy shit he was funny. But you compose yourself enough to not tackle him to the floor with a frenzied kiss. 

In fact, ever since that encounter, you’ve learned to compose yourself in many ways. Basically whenever you guys hang out. Because, despite wanting to kiss the ever-loving shit out of him every time you guys were together, you had composed yourself with major difficulty. In the two weeks he’d had your number– the two weeks that you guys had been doing random, stupid shit together– you had only made out with John Logan three times. And each time, it had only been making out. Nothing more.

As it turned out, John Logan really was a man of his word. He had no expectations for whatever the fuck was going on between you two. During the three times you two had made out, it had caught him by surprise each time. Not that he wasn’t into it; he was extremely into it. He just hadn’t been expecting any kissing. 

You had been the one to initiate it each time, and he was there to happily oblige. 

Which, unfortunately for you, only made him hotter.

Still, most of your hangouts would be what many would deem as boring. He’d pick you up from your practice most nights, and then you guys would get food; always your choice, even when you tried to make him choose. You’d sit in his car and talk about whatever– you had even gone on a rant one time on how a block of cheese was technically a loaf of milk, and the guy had nodded along with full seriousness as if you had just said the most logical thing he’d ever heard.

You’d also gone over to his house a few times, gotten to know the teammates that he lives with (his best friends). And their girlfriends, of course. As it turn outs, Allie and Hannah were fun as fuck. The number of times you guys had played Just Dance on the guys’ TV was astronomical for the limited amount of time you’d known the group; you had become fluent with the Rasputin dance. And, God, you didn’t even want to calculate the number of late nights you had stayed at the house, beating the absolute shit out of Tucker and Dean in Mario Kart with Allie. 

You swore sometimes you had more fun with John’s friends than him. 

You had even told John that to his face once; his response was to give you the most dramatic pout he could muster, which, in turn, caused you to make out with him for the third time. He was smiling after that.

Out of all your hangouts, though, most of them were dedicated to you doing something of importance while he just sat beside you and watched.

Such as right now.

You were in the Briar U library, flipping through one of your textbooks as you took notes for an upcoming midterm. You weren’t all that worried about it since the class was relatively easy, but you still wanted to study. Just in case.

You would’ve been nearly done with studying had a little leech not been bothering you the entire time.

You side-eyed Logan as he flipped through your stack of notecards, watching as he let out a bored breath of air. He then reached over, grabbing your pencil pouch, where he opened it, grabbing an orange sparkly pen from inside. 

Instantly, you snatch it from his grip.

“Absolutely not.”

“What?” He asks, eyes wide in a playful manner. His boredom was swept away in a matter of seconds, and he straightened up, leaning closer to you.

“That’s my lucky pen, and I swear to everything if you took away its luck with your grubby hands–”

“Grubby?”

“– I will kill you.”

He smiles, something he can’t seem to stop doing around you, and sinks back into his chair. “Fine.”

“Good,” you say, returning to your notes. But not before you lift your eyes to look at him, where you mutter, “Just sit there and look pretty.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Why else would I have kept you around?”

He laughs quietly, “So my looks are all I’m good for?”

“That and your friends.”

“Wow.”

This time it’s you who smiles and you can’t stop yourself as you lean over, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. 

You’re quick to get back to the task at hand– studying– because if you don’t, you know you’ll see the dopey expression on John’s face. If you see that, you know that three make-out sessions will immediately turn into four. And you know that can’t happen in the middle of a fucking library where people are studying, so you distract yourself instantly, flipping back through the pages of your textbook.

It’s silent for a couple minutes as he watches you, completely content with where he’s at. But he sits up suddenly, seemingly remembering something, and then he says, “You should come over tonight.” His fingers were tapping against the wood of the table as he spoke, his eyes watching your hands as you paused on a page, a flash of confusion corrupting your expression. His eyes soften as a result, “Tucker said he’s trying out a new dish. You’d like it.”

“I can’t,” you respond without much thought, furrowing your brows as you flip back a few pages in your textbooks, and then in your notes. You’re trying to find a specific concept that you remember reading, but for some reason, you can’t find it anywhere; it’s the pure source of your confusion and it will stay that way until you find what you’re looking for. “The fuck?” You mumble, and then you look at John when he lets out a little snort, “Sorry– what’d you say?”

“You should come over,” he repeated, this time with a soft grin as he watched you. His eyes flickered over your face, scanning. It was something he always did when you spoke, like even the tiniest change in your facial expression was a portal to something holy.

“Oh, right,” you nod. You shake your head immediately after. “Can’t.”

“I heard.”

“Sorry,” you apologize, but your tone isn’t very sincere. Not as you flip a few more pages in your textbook, looking for the concept that seems to have vanished off the face of the earth. John doesn’t seem to care, his pretty smile still on full display.

“Why can’t you?”

“Late practice tonight,” you say, and then you turn to look at him, finally smiling at the softness in his eyes. “Y’know, for the championship in a couple days.”

“After, then. Come over. I’ll pick you up.”

“I won’t get out of practice until after 9. I’ve been sloppy with my saves these past few practices, and Coach Peters is really getting worried, so–”

“God, I love it when you talk volleyball to me,” he interrupts, to which you lose your smile and shoot him a harsh look because he knows what that does to you. 

It was the reason for the other two times you had made out with him. And, fuck, it was about to be the fourth, because the man was unreasonably hot. You shake your head, deciding to scoot your chair away from his. Your self-restraint is quickly wavering, especially after you glance him over, allowing you to really absorb how good he looks in the sweatshirt he’s wearing. And, watching as you scoot away from him, he lets out a small sigh, scooting his chair closer. You give him a look, and he grins, scooting even closer, the side of his knee pressing against yours. Your eyes turn annoyed, and he innocently asks, “What?”

“You’re distracting me, and you know it,” you answer. “You do this on purpose.”

He hums, “So you’ll come over?”

“Yeah,” you say, as if it was the most obvious answer. When he smiles, you quickly add on, “only for the meal, though.”

“Obviously,” he nods with fake seriousness. “Why else would you?”

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“No ideas are coming to mind.”

“Good. Because I’m just coming over to eat.”

“Yep.”

“So no kissing.”

“No kissing?” He whines, completely dramatic and not at all serious. You can see him fighting to keep the smile from his face, “Why not?”

“Keep it in your pants, Logan.”

“Oh, it hasn’t left my pants. My pants have remained perfectly intact, thank you.”

You laugh, covering your mouth with your hand before you piss off the librarian. You shake your head, and you look at him with a level of affection that is far stronger than it should be with how little time you have known the hockey boy.

“You’re insufferable,” you whisper with a big smile.

“I think you love it.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You get out of practice at 9:34 p.m.

It’s later than you had been expecting, and you’re absolutely exhausted as you trudge over to John’s truck. You pull open the passenger side door, and he looks up from his phone with a soft smile as you toss your back to the floor, pulling yourself into your seat with a long sigh.

“You okay?”

“Sleepy,” you mumble, rubbing your eyes before turning your head to look over at him.

“You want me to take you back to your apartment?” He asks, his tone gentle as he watches you buckle your seatbelt. “You don’t need to come back to mine if you’re too tired. We can hang out another time–”

You shake your head, “No, I’m starving, and all I’ve been imagining for the past two hours is Tucker’s food.”

He laughs softly and nods, “Okay.”

When you finally get to the house that’s situated off campus, John cuts his engine, exits the vehicle, and walks around the front of his truck. He opens the passenger side door before you can even unbuckle, and you smile softly as he reaches over you, unbuckling the seatbelt for you.

“I could’ve done that myself, y’know?” You say, taking the hand that he held out for you. “I’m perfectly capable.”

He gave your hand a short squeeze as you hopped out of his truck, and he nodded, “I know. But you’re tired.”

Your eyes follow as he grabs your practice bag and slings it over his shoulder, using his foot to shut the passenger. His hand remains threaded with yours, and you him softly, “You’re playing gentleman tonight?”

“I’m always a gentleman. Get it straight.”

You laugh softly, giving him a slight nudge with your shoulder as you guys reach the front door. John opens it, and you walk in alongside him, instantly greeted with the delicious smell of whatever the hell Tucker cooked. Your stomach growled as a result, and your hand– still linked with John’s– squeezed his as you tugged him along to the kitchen, where his entire friend group was gathered, hanging out casually as they usually did.

Hannah notices you first, and she smiles softly, “How was practice?”

“Tiring,” you respond, finally releasing John’s hand. You slip into one of the island chairs next to Allie, and you thank Tucker quietly as he slips a bowl of fancy looking pasta in front of you. You grab your fork, twirl some pasta onto the prongs, and bite into it with a satisfied hum, “This is so fucking good, Tuck.”

He grins happily, “Logan said you would like it. It has parsley!”

“It’s delicious,” you nod, taking another bite. And as you do, you feel Logan come up behind you, his arms snaking around your front, his chin resting on the top of your head. You promptly ignore the warm feeling that flutters in your chest, eating more of the amazing pasta dish. 

After finishing up the food, you and the rest of the group somehow migrate to the living room. You’re sitting on the couch beside Logan, tucked beneath his arm, your head resting against the crook of his shoulder as you watch Dean and Garrett play the worst game of silent charades that you had ever seen. Allie seemed borderline aggravated as she yelled out words that she thought aligned with the movements of the men only to then be pissed off because ‘Dean, what the fuck even was that?’.  

You had to admit, it had been the funniest thing you’d witnessed in awhile.

And, you’re not sure when you fall asleep, all you know is that you’re woken sometime later in the evening by the soft touch of Logan, his eyes gentle as he carefully shifts you awake. You blink your eyes open, only to realize that all the others are heading to bed, and reach over Logan, grabbing his phone from his lap. You tap on the screen, checking the time; 12:17 a.m.

“Want me to drive you home?” He asks, using his thumb to swipe an eyelash from your cheek. 

You groan in response.

“No?” He laughs, the hand that’s around your shoulders rubbing up and down your arm. 

“Can I just stay here tonight?”

“Absolutely.”

He says the words immediately, and you’re caught entirely off guard as he stands from the couch, scooping you up in his arms with a scary amount of ease. Your eyes widen, arms scrambling to latch around his shoulders as you let out a quiet sound of panic, voice rushed as you breathe out, “John, what the fuck–”

“You’re tired.”

“Yeah, but I can still walk, you idiot. Oh my God, put me down–”

“We’re half way up the stairs and you want me to drop you?”

“If you drop me I’m never speaking to you again.”

He laughs again, this time filled with pure amusement as he continues scaling the stairs with you in his arms. Your arms stay hooked around his shoulders as he walks in the direction of his room, and carefully opens the door, stepping inside. Still, he doesn’t bother to put you down just yet. He holds you as he shuts the door behind him, his grip on you steady while he walks over to his desk, switching on the lamp.

When he finally sets you down, he plops you onto his mattress, not giving you much time before he’s draping himself over you with a satisfied sigh, and you can’t help the smallest giggle that leaves your chest, your hands pressing against his front.

“You’re crushing me.”

“Whoops.”

He makes no attempt to move, and again, you push against his shoulders, “You’re comfy, but I’m still in my volleyball clothes, and I want to change–” You stop suddenly, groaning with dismay. 

Instantly, he pushes himself off you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“I have no clothes to change into.”

“Just wear my stuff,” he says, pulling himself from you completely. He stands with a stretch, and you watch as the bottom of his sweatshirt rises just enough for you to see a sliver of his stomach. Fuck, you were going to go feral.

You clear your throat, and clap your hands once, “Then chop chop, hockey boy.”

It only takes him a few seconds to grab you something to wear; he comes up with a pair of plaid boxer shorts and a Briar hockey sweatshirt with the number 22 on the back. As you take the clothing, you raise your eyebrow, “No other sweatshirts?”

“Nope, that’s my only clean one. Sorry.”

And the man’s a fucking liar because behind him, where is closet is just partially open, you can see at least four more regular sweatshirts hanging, completely clean.

“Huh,” you mutter. “You must be blind.”

“That’s the only clean one,” he repeats. “So, better go ahead and change into it.”

You laugh, shaking your head. Standing, you clutch the clothing in your hands, and as you pass him, you press a soft kiss to his lips– which, holy shit, it’s the first time you’ve ever done that as if it were second nature– and you mumble, “You really are insufferable, Logan.”

He hums against your lips, his hand going to your jaw as he presses a couple more soft kisses to you. You can’t help but smile, and you lean back, gazing up at him. You don’t say anything, just run a hand through his hair, and your smile turns giddy as you pull back fully, your bottom lip tucking beneath your teeth as you try to bite back your grin.

You point to the bathroom that’s connected to his room, “I’m gonna go change.”

He nods with a happy smile, responding in that soft voice that you realized he only uses with you, “Okay.”

Once changed, you exit the bathroom, finding John already in his bed, wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt. You walk over to his bed, not saying a thing as you plop down on his mattress, stretching out across his mattress.

“Cozy?” He asks as he turns on his side to face you.

“Yeah. It’d be better if we were cuddling, though.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Not that I expect you to do that, though,” you say the words playfully. “I mean, I’ve never watched you play, but I assume you’re the same on and off the ice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re not good at taking the shot, if you get what I mean–”

“Shut up,” he laughs, and he grabs your arm, gently tugging you to him. You grin, getting situated against his body, one of your legs draped across his while your arm rests over his torso, your head settled comfortably on his chest with your ear pressed right over the beating of his heart.

And you stay like this for a while, just until you’re on the brink of falling asleep. But before you can slip into that peaceful state of bliss, a question you had been meaning to ask– a question you had been too nervous to ask– comes to mind.

You’re not able to stop yourself from asking it.

“You wanna come to the championship and watch me play?” You question from where your head is still tucked against his chest, your voice whispers into the fabric of his sweatshirt and against his skin that lies beneath it. “It’s a three hour drive away.”

You feel him let out a soft breath of air, his fingers dancing gently along the fabric of his sweatshirt that covers the dip of your back. His voice is low and gravelly as he speaks, coated with a layer of sleepiness, “I want to, and I tried to find tickets, but they’re all sold out. Even Allie tried to find some and she couldn’t, which means I’m shit out of luck.”

“I’ve got tickets,” you say. “My teammates and I each got six tickets. Thought you might want them. You and your friends can go. They’re good seats.”

You can practically feel the frown in John’s expression as he asks quietly, “You’re not gonna give them to your family?”

“No,” You swallow thickly and do your best to keep your eyes shut because you know John’s looking at you now. His fingers stopped trailing along your spine as a result of the change in your tone and your body language, and you sigh against him. Might as well get it out of the way. “I just– I did everything I could to get out of my house as a teenager. To get away from my parents and the rest of my family. I don’t really feel like giving them a straight ticket back into my life, y’know?”

He’s quiet for a second before he nods, speaking softly, “Yeah, I know. I get it.”

“I’ve never had anyone in any of the seats during my games,” you continue. “I just thought it would be kinda nice to have that for once. You don’t need to, though. I know it’s really last minute, and–”

“No, I’ll go,” John interrupts you before you can finish. “We all will. Me and the guys. And Hannah and Allie. The six of us will go.”

“You sure?”

He laughs softly, tiredly, and nods, “Yeah, baby, I’m sure.”

Oh my God, you were going to fucking implode. But you hold in the desperate need to squeal like a dumbass, and instead bite the inside of your cheek to fight against the wide grin that wants to break out on your face. 

After composing yourself enough to not make a complete and utter fool of yourself, you nod, and tilt your head up, pressing the softest kiss to his jaw. 

He smiles as a result, the smallest shade of pink flushing his cheeks.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’m excited.”

“Me too.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

John Logan was your goodluck charm.

The guy had to be, because this was the best fucking game you had ever played in your life. Sure, the first set wasn’t the best for Briar U, but that was okay given you guys were playing against Penn State. The team had won every single game so far this season, so, in short words, they were good as hell. They’d also won the NCAA Championship for the past five years, which was devastatingly nerve wracking knowing you were against the best team D1 volleyball currently had.

Still, tonight, you and your teammates came with a mission; you were going to win.

And, fuck, was it looking promising.

Despite Penn State winning the first set, Briar U had won the other two.

They weren’t wipeouts, but that didn’t matter, because you had won them.

That meant that if you and your teammates somehow managed to win this fourth set, you’d place Briar as the fucking NCAA Women’s Volleyball Champions for the first time in over ten years. It’d be an insane feat, and you had to fight from getting too excited about the possibility, especially because right now, it was looking very likely.

So far, you’ve saved every stray ball, hitting it back to your teammates or over the net with ease. As you played, your smile never left your face. Not even as you dove for the ball, saving it as you slid across the polished wood floor.

That didn’t mean Penn wasn’t doing good, though. Because they absolutely were.

They were playing with a fierceness of a team who wanted this win just as badly as you did; it felt like an even playing field, and while that could be fun, tonight it was terrifying.

Right now, the score was 22 to 23. The set was almost over, and it was in Briar’s favor. If you guys got two more points, you were winning the match. If you won, you’d be the first captain in over ten years to lead Briar to a volleyball victory and that’s exactly what you were planning on doing. 

No way did you fight this hard only to lose.

You were hovering near the back of the court, watching as Jade surged forward, tapping the ball over to the right of the court. Instantly, your teammates rallied toward the ball, leaving the left side of the court completely unguarded, and your eyes lingered on the ball, watching as Louisa sprinted forward, feet fast as she jumped up, spiking it over the net.

The middle hitter on the Penn State team hurried forward, blocking the spike with a bump of her arms, and you watched as the ball practically hovered over the net.

Right to the spot that was unguarded.

You’re not sure how you moved as fast as you did– one second, you were at the back right of the court, and the next, you were flying in the upper left, body in the air as you threw yourself forward, your right hand bumping the ball back to your teammates just before it hit the ground on your side of the net.

Your body hit the floor with a thud, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, because the moment you had successfully executed the move, your side of the room erupted in loud cheers. It shook the floor as you stood up, and you didn’t waste any time as you sprinted back to the center of the court.

Just in time, too, because the setter of Penn State sent a lethal spike in your direction, and you dropped to a knee, forearms out as the ball bounced from your skin and back over the net. Two saves in a matter of seconds, and you could literally see your coaches losing it from pure happiness in the corner.

You probably looked like a cocky motherfucker, your lips upturned in the smallest of smiles as you shuffled backward, and then dove sideways, saving yet another ball from being spiked into the ground.

And yeah, you were definitely right– John Logan was totally your lucky charm tonight because holy fuck, you were even impressing yourself.

More cheers sounded throughout your side of the room, increasing tenfold as Liliana jumped, spiking the ball down to the back corner of Penn State’s side, earning Briar U their 24th point of the fourth set.

It was an exhilarating sound, and you laughed with pure joy as you ran over to Liliana, the rest of the girls on your side of the court meeting halfway. You huddled with pure glee; one more point, and you guys were winning. 

All you needed was one more point.

Leaving the huddle, you guys got back into your positions. You watched as Macey served the ball, starting what would hopefully be the final round of the night.

The Penn girls were quick to rally on the ball; they moved it over the net with ease, and you watched as Jade ran, hitting it back over the net. It went back and forth for a bit, the round intense. It felt like it was purely silent save for the cheers from supporters that erupted when either side had a good save or hit.

You watched as the libero for Penn bump the ball with her wrist, causing it to go over the net. And then you see as the entire team moves away, going near the back of the court, like they knew what the next play was going to be; a spike ball.

Except it wasn’t that at all.

No, it’s the complete opposite, because you’re in the exact spot that you’re meant to be in for this current play. You’re close enough that the ball clearly belongs to you at this moment, and you run up, arms carefully bumping the ball over the net.

It barely catches the top before it topples over to Penn State’s side.

The girls hadn’t been expecting it; they’re unable to move fast enough from where they had migrated to the back of the court with the expectation that Liliana or Louisa were going to spike the ball over the net, a move that had earned you guys many wins this season.

They hadn’t been expecting you to run up and hit the ball with your forearms in such a way that it only just made it over the net.

You watched as the volleyball hit the floor on Penn’s side.

Holy fuck.

You’d scored the winning point.

You can’t even process the fucking thing, because you’re instantly bombarded by your teammates– ones both on and off the court– as they swarm into a pile around you, the deafening cheers of the crowd blocking out the cheers from your own teammates who stood around you. 

You guys are jumping up and down, and you’re not even sure when you stop, because one moment you’re celebrating with your teammates and coaches, and the next you’re following after your teammates, running towards the people who had come to watch you in the stands.

And you find him instantly.

John Logan is standing in the front row– because, yes, the seats were great– with his friends next to him, all of them grinning ear to ear as they cheered for you. 

Your feet moved like they had a mind of their own; you’re sprinting to John like he’s the only thing you’re even capable of thinking about at the moment, and that’s because he is.

When you finally reach him, you practically leap into John’s arms, your hands threading around the back of his neck with a tight grip, and you have the widest smile on your face as you press your lips firmly against his. 

He reciprocates the kiss instantly, hands clutching your waste as he leans down to match your lips.

It’s soft, not anything over the top, but fuck does it have you wanting more.

As you pull away, you stare up at John with an excited spark in your eye.

“So kissing’s a thing we do regularly now?” He asked, the happiest grin you’d ever seen on his face. “That’s okay now?”

“Yeah,” you nod, your grin matching his. “I’d say so.”

“Yeah?”

You laugh gleefully.

“I think you’ve earned it.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷