flo

masterlist

[f4ll-for-you]

profile picture by the wonderful @azperja & dividers by @anitalenia

Links marked with an asterisk contain smut (18+)

Aegon Targaryen II Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

Aaron Warner Masterlist

Off Campus Masterlist

[andy-15-07]

could you do a birthday fic for john logan???

Birthday Boy

Pairing: John Logan  x Reader

Word Count: 761

Request open!

Off campus masterlist

John did not like a lot of attention.

Which was unfortunate, because the second you walked into the kitchen with a too-bright smile and a paper crown you had absolutely no business carrying, he realized this was going to be a problem.

He looked up from the couch, hair messy, one leg stretched out in front of him, and immediately narrowed his eyes. “What is that?”

You held up the crown. “Your birthday.”

He stared. “That is not an answer.”

“It is if you’re smart.”

John gave you a flat look, but there was already a smile tugging at his mouth. “Why are you holding party supplies like you’re about to ambush me?”

“Because I am.”

The crown was gold and very cheap and ridiculous.

John stood slowly. “You’re not putting that on me.”

You gasped. “You do not get a choice.”

He looked at the crown, then at you, and seemed to realize that fighting would make this worse. Which was true.

“Y/N.”

“John.”

He sighed like a man accepting his fate. “You are a menace.”

You grinned and stepped closer. “Happy birthday.”

For one second, his expression softened into something almost shy.

Then you reached up and set the crown on his head.

He stared at you.

You stared back.

And then the kitchen door flew open and Garrett came in yelling, “Where’s the birthday boy,”

He stopped dead.

“Wow,” Garrett said, pointing at John. “That’s humiliating.”

Dean walked in behind him, took one look, and immediately started laughing so hard he had to brace a hand on the wall. “No, no, that’s perfect.”

John pointed at both of them. “Say one word and I’m leaving.”

“Not before cake,” you said.

John turned to you in disbelief. “You made cake?”

Your smile turned proud. “I made cake.”

He looked at you for a long second, and then that expression showed up again,the one that made your chest feel warm and dangerous at the same time.

“You made cake,” he repeated, quieter now.

You nodded.

He stepped closer and kissed your forehead before anybody could make a joke about it. “You’re the best part of this birthday.”

Garrett immediately made a gagging sound.

Dean looked like he wanted to ruin the moment on principle.

You ignored them both and smiled up at John. “You’re supposed to be surprised.”

“I am,” he said.

“Good.”

He looked down at the crown again, then at you, then gave in with a resigned sigh. “How bad is it?”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. “Very.”

He closed his eyes briefly. “I hate all of you.”

“No, you don’t,” you said.

John opened one eye and looked at you. “Unfortunately, you’re correct.”

Dinner was loud and messy and exactly what it should have been. Garrett told embarrassing stories. Dean kept trying to steal frosting. Tucker was the only one with any self-control, which meant he got assigned to cutting cake.

John sat beside you at the table with one hand resting at the small of your back and the other under the table finding yours whenever he wanted to.

At some point, you leaned into him and whispered, “Are you having a good birthday?”

He looked at you and smiled in that quiet way that always meant more than he said out loud.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I am.”

Then he kissed your forehead again, because apparently that was going to be his new thing for the night.

Garrett groaned. “You two are disgusting.”

John didn’t even look at him. “You’re jealous.”

“I am not.”

Dean snorted. “You absolutely are.”

You laughed into John’s shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around you like he was content to stay there all night.

Later, after the others had made themselves scarce and the kitchen had gone quiet, you brought out the real surprise: a small, wrapped gift with his name on it.

John stared at it for a second. “You got me a present too?”

You nodded. “Open it.”

Inside was a framed photo of the two of you from a random late-night pizza run, both of you laughing with grease-stained fingers and stupid happy expressions.

John looked down at it and then at you.

For a second he didn’t say anything.

Then he pulled you into his arms and held on like he had been saving that reaction for later and had finally decided not to bother pretending he was okay.

You smiled against his chest. “Happy birthday, John.”

He kissed the top of your head. “Yeah,” he murmured. “This was a very good one.”

[rgntthragg]

Cupid's Bow

☄︎ Warnings: None ☄︎ Pairing: F!Reader x John Logan ☄︎ Rating: PG ☄︎ Words: 1000 ☄︎ AN: written for this request and i incorporated this comment too. gave myself a good little giggle writing this so i hope everyone thinks i am as funny as i think i am. hope you enjoy, comments and feedback are always appreciated xoxo ☄︎ Summary: Logan retells the story of your meet cute (a lil follow up to Falling for You (Literally) and the guys think Logan has lost his mind.

It takes Logan 20 minutes longer to get home than it should. His tailbone is still sore from hitting the ice, and he’s doesn’t want to make the injury worse. He has to be able to play on Friday, you said you’d consider coming.  

Despite the ache radiating from his lower back, he limps home with a wide grin on his face, replaying the images of you that he had committed to his memory. Every now and then, he hears the sound of your laughter ringing in his ears. He doesn’t even notice the extra time that it takes to get back to the house.

Logan swings the front door open and goes straight for the sofa, collapsing on top of Tucker’s bare legs. Tucker, who was mindlessly scrolling on his phone, immediately yelps. “Ew! Logan, what the fuck man. Why are you wet?”

Tucker pulls his legs out from under the wet fabric of Logan’s jeans. Garrett, who is sitting at the kitchen island with his laptop open, and Dean, who’s raiding the fridge with a girl on his arm, both look over to see what the commotion is.

Logan turns to look over at them, a dazed, loopy, smile plastered across his face. “I met her,” he grins, completely ignoring Tucker’s protest. “The love of my life.”

Over by the fridge, Dean turns to exchange a look with Garrett who just shrugs and mouths, ‘No idea.’

Garrett shuts his laptop halfway and turns to Logan. “Okay, sure...” he says slowly.

“Seriously, why are you wet!” Tucker demands again, wiping his legs with his hands.

“Oh. I was chasing after her and I slipped on some black ice,” Logan says, his smile never fading.

Everyone in the room pauses to look at Logan. Dean is the first one to speak. “You were chasing after a girl... at midnight... in the dark?”

Logan sits up, wincing and rubbing his aching tailbone. “It wasn’t like that. It was romantic.” Dean snorts and Logan ignores him. “I hit the ground so hard I thought I died. But when I opened my eyes, she was leaning over me. She literally had a golden halo around her head. The snow was falling in slow motion. I thought she was an angel and asked her if I was in heaven.”

Dean full on belly laughs now. “You did not use that line on her, did you?”

“I mean it worked, so whatever. You can’t ruin this for me, bro.”

That makes Dean laugh harder.

Tucker looks at Logan, squinting at him with deep concern. “Logan,” he says slowly, “Did you hit your head on the ice?”

“No! Well, maybe a little, but that’s not the point.”

Tucker turns his head to look at Garrett, who turns to look at Dean.

“Well, I wish you and your imaginary girlfriend many years of happiness. I’ve got business with a real girl to attend to,” Dean chuckles as he pulls his girl back up the stairs.

Logan looks over and watches Dean disappear around the corner of the staircase, scowling. “She is not imaginary. She’s real. And she’s witty. And she’s beautiful. And real.”

Garrett bursts out laughing, shutting his laptop completely. “The more you say she’s real, the less real she sounds.”

“No,” Logan whines. He can’t understand why the existence of your perfectly realistic meet-cute is being denied.

“She’s real, she took my hand.” He raises the hand that you held to help him stand in the snow, as if that proves your existence. “And she said she’ll consider coming to the game on Friday.”

Garrett and Tucker look at Logan’s outstretched hand.

“Look, if she actually comes to the game on Friday, I’ll pay for your first date,” Garrett laughs. “In the meantime, go get some ice for your head... and ass.”

Logan drops his hand, glaring at them both.

“You’ll see,” he mutters, wincing as he stands and limps down the hallway to his room. The dazed, loopy, smile returns the second his door is closed. He doesn’t care what they say. He knows you’re real.

⋆꙳⛸❅*‧⛸‧*❆₊⛸⋆❆⋆꙳⛸❅*‧⛸‧*❆₊⛸⋆❆⋆꙳⛸❅*‧⛸‧*❆₊⛸⋆❆

As usual, the arena is completely packed and the energy is electric as they take to the ice. Logan plays like a man possessed, every time he has a free moment, his eyes scan the rows of the crowd, searching for you.

By the third period, he still hasn’t found you and the boys are giving him shit for it.

“See your imaginary girlfriend yet, Logan?” Dean teases, squirting water into his mouth.

Logan ignores him, hopping over the boards as the whistle blows. He still has time to spot you, he knows you’re in the room. That “I’ll consider it.” was basically a promise.

With two minutes left on the clock, Logan scores a blinder and the crowd erupts. He lets out a triumphant shout, skating towards the corner to celebrate. But, as he nears the boards, his eyes lock onto a face in the second row.

It’s you.

You’re in the crowd, clapping and cheering as the fans around you go wild. Your eyes meet his through the glass and you give him a little wave.

He slows his skate towards you, lifting up his right knee and balancing on one leg, he mimics shooting off an invisible arrow aimed right at your heart.  

Just as he puts his leg back down, Dean and Tucker crash into him, wrapping him into a tight hug. They slap his pads and helmet, celebrating the game winning shot, but Logan completely ignores them, his gaze still locked on to you.

He breaks away from their grip just enough to shoot you a wave. Dean looks confused and follows the direction of Logan’s wave.

In the second row of the stands, you’re blushing as you laugh and wave back again.

“No fucking way,” Dean mutters, his jaw dropping as he looks between you and Logan. “Is that...?”

Tucker looks over too, eyes wide. “Holy shit. Halo girl is actually real.”

Off Campus Masterlist

[loveyoubunchies]

Bitch to Me Briar Masterlist

John Logan x fem!reader

Summary: You were a normal college student. You hang out with friends, went to class, studied during the week and partied at night. The only thing was that on the side you ran the infamous advice social media page ‘Bitch to me Briar’. There you listened and offered wisdom to the students who complained about classes, teachers, food, friendships, but most of all relationships. John Logan is struggling, at least off the ice, having a crush on your best friend’s girlfriend is not for the week. So he takes some desperate measures and sends a message to a certain Instagram account not knowing the owner is someone a lot closer than he thinks.

Warnings/Notes: slight angst, fluff, anonymous messaging, lots of miscommunication, idiots in love,

A/N: It’s kinda like A Cinderella Story but way sillier? Realizing that this was literally a scene in The Mistake but I’m making it my own. This is kinda the first series I'm trying to flush out so please stuck with me. I'm really excited for this and I hope you are all too!

Part 1: I gotta tell you something (posted 6.13)

Part 2: Coming soon

Part 3: Coming soon

Part 4: Coming soon

[puckbunnywrites]

by choice | john logan

john logan x reader!single mom

summary: as a single mom, you’re used to rejection. still, you put yourself out there. so when john logan turns you down, you’re not surprised.

what surprises you is when he comes back.

word count: 4,5k

warning: kissing, language, mentions of drinking, single mom

authors note: yes this is yet another john logan fic, are we suprised? on a real though guys i actually love writing for him. also i love the single mom trope it’s like my guilty pleasure, a lot of people don’t but that’s okay. i got this image of logan being a girl dad and wow i just had to write something.

it was dean and beaus dynamic duo party.

you and beau were surprisingly extremely close, not only was he one of the most respectful guys you know in briar but your baby girl adored him. not everyone knew you had a baby but you never hid it. some just knew, some just didn’t.

your baby girls name was sienna and she was absolutely perfect, her dad was not in the picture and you planned to keep it that way she was almost 2 years old.

you needed a night out after all the diapers and late night cries, you loved being a mom but moms need breaks too.

you made it to the party, you could hear the music thumping from outside. you were matching with your friend kendall, you guys had decided on serena and blair from gossip girls.

you made your way inside being greeted by beau

“hey beautiful” he said giving you a kiss on your forehead

“hey goose” you said with a smile looking at the name tag on his costume

“where’s your partner” he said looking around

“right here”

you and beau turned around to see kendall holding two drinks

“hey s” you said taking the drink from her

“hey b” she said back sending you a wink

“okay whats going on here” beau said looking between you and kendall

“we’re serena and blair from gossip girl” you said looking at him with a duh expression

“um sure” he said

you heard someone calling for beau, you give him a look letting him know he can go, he gives you another kiss on your cheek this time

“i’ll catch you later”

as soon as beau leaves kendall turns to you

“i wish you and beau would just get together”

you sigh

“it’s not like that and you know that”

“well anyways, enough chitchat i plan on getting shit faced”

you giggled while kendall grabbed your hand to pull you to the dance floor, while dancing you felt eyes on you, you look up seeing john logan staring at you from across the room, his eyes raking down your body, the second your eyes met one corner of his lip lifted.

not a smile.

a smirk like he’d been caught.

this was quite a common occurrence, you and logan had done this quite often at parties, especially beaus.

always exchanging stares, never talking because it felt as if your eyes did all the talking.

finishing up your drink you decide to get a new one while kendall made her way to her guy of the night, you made your way to the kitchen to get a drink as you go you see garret graham and john logan whispering over by the drinks. you see logan hand garret a can and garret walks over to a girl which you notice as hannah wells.

“so that’s happening” you say to logan while grabbing a drink

“apparently” he said slowly diverting his gaze from hannah and garret to you

you reached for a drink. “I didn’t think graham had it in him.”

“oh, he’s got it bad.”

you snorted.

“poor guy.”

logan glanced at you. “pretty sure he’s winning in that situation.”

you followed his gaze to Hannah Wells.

“fair point.”

“how have you been?” he asked turning his body to full face you

“i’ve been okay, i know you’ve been busy, been seeing your interviews”

“yeah?” he said while his eyes flicker to your lips and back to your eyes.

“yeah” you said not feeling yourself slightly lean in.

“you look good, really good” he said slightly leaning in aswell

“you’re not looking bad yourself”

a comfortable silence settled between you.

you could say your guys could be friends, you were definitely not strangers. beau had quite a strict rule when it came to yourself and his friends.

this being one of the reasons why looks were always exchanged and never words.

“you know,” he said, leaning against the counter, “I don’t think we’ve ever actually had a conversation.”

you raised an eyebrow.

“pretty sure we just did.”

a grin spread across his face.

“well, look at that.”

you rolled your eyes, fighting a smile.

“you’re impossible.”

“and yet you’re still talking to me.” he raked his eyes taking in your appearance

“so let me guess sexy school girl?”

“not quite i’m blair from gossip girls, and im guessing you’re a bird”

“yeah me and tucker are the birds and bees” he said while rubbing the back of his neck

“oh i see” you said while bring your drink to your lips

“so-“ just before he could get a word out you see dean calling logan over to take a shot, dean sees you with logan and starts to call you over aswell

“come on y/l/n i see you”

you make your way over, taking the shot, throat burning as you do so, after you guys take the shot, everyone starts making their way back to where they previously were, you had left to find kendall, after you had made sure she was all good you had began to mingle with some friends from classes. feeling your social battery draining slightly you decided to take a breather, standing in a part of the house where you could still see the party and enjoy the music while being slightly away from the dancing and the small crowd beside it.

“hey, y/n right?”

you look up seeing sean, allies boyfriend

“oh hey, sean right? allies boyfriend?”

“yeah yeah, you good?”

“oh yes, sorry i just came out for a breather”

“ofcource, i recognised you and allie would actually kill me if i left her friend here without checking on her”

“yeah she probably would” you say with a giggle

he then began to ramble about some coffee cup and something about jlo but you weren’t focused on that.

behind sean you could see logan staring at you, without even hiding it.

his eyes slightly lit seeing you finally look up at him, smirking if as if he was patiently waiting for your attention.

you saw a girl make her way to him, her hand on his shoulder but his eyes never left yours.

you raised your eyebrows as if you were reminding him about the girl that was beside.

his eyes remained on yours.

not smirking anymore.

just focused, with a look.

the kind of look that made it feel as if the space between you was shrinking.

sean had something but all you heard was have a good one, you waved him off and as soon as he disappeared logan made his way towards you.

no hesitation now.

no distractions.

just purpose cutting through the space between you like he’d decided there was nothing else worth looking at.

he stopped close,closer than before.

not touching you.

but close enough that you had to tilt your head slightly to meet his eyes properly.

for a second, neither of you spoke.

his gaze dropped briefly to your mouth again, then back up, slower this time.

“you do that a lot,” he said quietly.

“do what?” you asked, though you already knew.

he didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he stepped just a fraction closer.

enough that the world around you felt louder just to compensate.

“look at me like that,” he said finally.

before you could say anything beau came and wrapped his arms around both yours and logans shoulders

“guys i know i said it’s a party, but i didn’t mean a tea party” he said dragging you and logan to tucker and dean

logan purposely stood right up against you, you could feel his chest against your back.

you went silent while logan continued speaking with the boys

“who is that” dean says

“i’m pretty sure that’s jlo” beau said

dean makes his way to who you recognise as allie hayes, now understanding why sean kept bringing up jlo,she is such an amazing girl really.

“you know what’s funny?” logan said looking down at you with a smirk

“what?” you said diverting your gaze to him

“the fact we’re not dancing” he said while leaning closer, which you didn’t even know was possible.

“you know how to dance?”

“no but-“ he paused as if he was slightly hesitating, “I’d still rather dance with you than stand here doing nothing.”

you laughed. “wow so romantic.”

“hey,” he said, holding a hand to his chest again, “I’m being vulnerable here.”

“you’re just saying that.”

logan leaned in a little more, close enough that you had to actually focus on him instead of the chaos behind him.

“no,” he said simply. “I want you to dance with me.”

the words landed differently this time. less like a joke. more like a decision he’d already made and was just waiting for you to catch up.

you held his gaze for a second longer than you meant to.

then you tilted your head. “and if I say no?”

his smirk came back instantly, like it never left. “then I’ll keep standing here annoying you until you change your mind.”

“that sounds like harassment.”

“more like persistence.”

you snorted, shaking your head again, but your feet had already shifted slightly toward him without you noticing.

logan noticed.

of course he did.

“there,” he said quietly. “you’re already halfway there.”

“I am not.”

“you are.”

you glanced toward the dance floor again

then back up at logan.

he was still watching you, like the entire party was just background noise.

“fine,” you said finally. “one dance.”

logan’s grin widened, immediate and victorious. “that’s all I needed.”

he held out his hand.

you hesitated for half a second,just enough to pretend you were still in control of the situation, then took it, causing him

to turn you to look at him and walk you towards the dance floor.

“don’t step on me,” you warned.

“no promises,” he said, settling his hand at your waist.

“that’s not reassuring.”

“It’s honest.”

you let out a small laugh, but it caught slightly when he pulled you closer to match the beat.

the music was louder here, the air warmer, people moving all around you, but logan didn’t look anywhere except you.

“okay,” he said quietly, glancing down at your feet for half a second. “I’m just going to admit something.”

“that you can’t dance?”

“I already admitted that.”

“right.”

“I’m admitting I might be staring at you more than I’m focusing on anything else.”

that made you pause mid-step.

“logan.”

“what?” his tone was too calm. too sure of himself. “It’s distracting.”

“you’re supposed to be dancing.”

“I am dancing.”

“you’re just—” you gestured slightly between you, “—holding me and making weird confessions.”

he gave a small shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal at all.

“seems like a fair trade.”

your hand was still in his.

his thumb brushed lightly against your fingers like he didn’t even realise he was doing it.

or maybe he did.

“you’re not even trying to hide it,” you said.

“hide what?”

“that you’re flirting.”

that earned you a look,slow, deliberate, like he was deciding whether to deny it or lean into it.

he chose neither.

Instead, he pulled you just a little closer.

“I think,” logan said, voice lower now, “I stopped trying to hide it the second you said yes to dancing with me.”

your breath caught slightly, but you covered it quickly with a smirk.

“that’s a dangerous mindset.”

“Is it?” he asked.

his hand at your waist tightened just a fraction as he guided you through the movement again, smoother this time, like he was finally getting the rhythm, or like he just didn’t care if he was wrong anymore.

“I think you just like hearing me say yes to things,” you said.

logan’s eyes flicked to yours.

“I think I like hearing you say yes to me.”

that landed differently.

the space between you didn’t really change, but it felt smaller anyway.

“you’re getting confident,” you said quietly.

“I’ve been confident.”

“no,” you said, tilting your head slightly, “you’ve been cocky. This is different.”

a faint smile tugged at his mouth.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

there was a beat where neither of you spoke.

just moved together, slower now without either of you meaning to slow down.

logan leaned in slightly, just enough that his voice dropped into something meant only for you.

“tell me to stop,” he said.

you raised an eyebrow. “stop what?”

his gaze flicked to your mouth for half a second before coming back up.

“flirting with you like this.”

you held his stare.

for a moment, neither of you moved at all except for the music pulling you slightly side to side.

then you smiled.

“why would I do that?”

and just like that, one second you were on the dance floor, with logans hands trailing down your body, the next you were pushed up against a wall away from the crowd, lips trailing down your neck.

“you’re so beautiful” he said

causing your breath to shudder.

“tell me to stop”

you thought for a second and immediately smashed your lips against his, your hands immediately making your way to his hair, gently tugging causing him to let out a groan, his hands on your waist pulling you closer.

he pauses for a second to breathe and immediately pulls you back in, the next kiss is rougher and messier, his hands were everywhere, trailing from his waist to your hips, your thighs and eventually under your skirt.

your mouths crashing together again and again and again, breathless, wild and messy.

you pull away out of breath, your chest moving up and down.

“wait i um-“ you say while trying to form words “i don’t do one nights i’m sorry”

“who said this has to be one night” he said with a smirk

“logan i have a baby im so sorry”

this catching him off guard, making him slightly take a step back

“you have a kid?”

the question hung between them.

you nodded once.

“yeah a daughter.”

logan looked away for a second, rubbing his jaw as he thought.

you’d seen that look before.

the look people got when they realized you came as a package deal.

the look that said this is more than I signed up for.

so when he sighed quietly and shook his head, you weren’t surprised.

“I can’t do that.”

the words landed softly.

not because they didn’t hurt.

because you’d expected them.

you gave a small nod.

“okay.”

his eyes flicked back to yours, almost confused by how calm you were.

“okay?”

you shrugged

“It happens.”

a frown pulled at his brow

“people leave when they find out.”

the room fell silent.

you offered him a small smile,one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“It’s fine.”

but logan could tell it wasn’t.

not because you looked upset.

because you looked practiced.

like you’d had this conversation before.

like you’d already learned how to survive it.

something in his expression shifted.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know.”

you cut him off gently.

“you don’t owe me an explanation.”

he looked uncomfortable.

guilty, almost.

but you weren’t angry.

you were just tired.

tired of watching people look at you one way and then another the second they realized there was a little girl waiting for you at home.

so you moved yourself away, turning to walk down the stairs

“take care of yourself, logan.”

his name sounded strangely final coming from you.

as you walked past him, he reached out like he was going to stop you.

then thought better of it.

as soon as you were out of eye logan was left standing there wondering why the rejection seemed to hurt him more than it had hurt you.

“fuck”

as soon as you left you messaged your mom to let her know you’d be picking sienna up.

as you arrived you unlocked the door with your old house key, walking in seeing sienna and your mom watching her favourite cartoons.

“mama” she said while wobbly walking towards you, you pick her up and give her a kiss on her forehead.

“she missed her mommy so much right sienna” your mom said smiling and walking towards you

“yes yes yes”

“hey mom” you said as she kissed your cheek

“hey babe how was your night?”

“it was good, i didn’t drink much so i thought why not just pick up miss sienna, she’s so busy lately, didn’t want her to stress you too much”

“she was an angel” your mom said which tickling sienna causing her to giggle

“well thank you for looking after her, i’ll try and come by tomorrow?”

“you don’t have to thank me for watching my grandbaby”

“yes mom” you said while heading out the house to buckle sienna in her car seat

“bye cece” your mom said giving her a kiss and closing the car door

she then turned to you

“not that the innocent ears aren’t listening, why’d you come so early?”

“just the usually, scaring guys away after i tell them im a mom” you say with a sigh

“well they’re loss, you’re a beautiful girl with an amazing baby girl they’re missing out”

“it’s college mom, they’re glad to be single with no baby and this guy was different”

she gives you a kiss bye and a hug

“get some sleep, don’t let this get to you”

with that you’re on your way back home, you make sure to switch your playlist to more calm songs to let sienna relax. as you reach your apartment you see her passed out in the car seat, you smile and pull your phone out to take a picture for your mom and beau

you then grab your purse along with her bag and unbuckle her to carry her upstairs. you carried her up wearing heels, but you know what they say, moms are super heroes.

as you make your way to your door you balance her on one arm to unlock the door. making your way inside, tossing your keys on the table. you stayed in a two bedroom apartment and sienna had her own room with a crib but she preferred to sleep in your bed and so did you, you felt so uncomfortable with her being by herself. you made your way to your room putting your bags on your vanity desk, you gently laid her down under the blanket, she was already bathed and dressed in her pyjamas so that was already done.

you decided to take a quick shower, while thinking about the day your thoughts kept drifting back to logan.

the way his hand had rested on your waist, the way his hands felt all over your body. the warmth of his touch.

you closed your eyes, replaying the kiss for what felt like the hundredth time. not just the kiss itself, but everything around it.

it was ridiculous, really.

one kiss.

one moment.

yet somehow it had attached to every thought you had.

his touch lingered in your mind long after it was gone.

the water had washed away the day, but it hadn’t washed away him.

and as much as you tried to focus on literally anything else, your thoughts kept circling back to the same thing, the same kiss, the same touch, everything.

after the shower you got dressed, immediately sitting down to finish up your nightly routine, you felt yourself dissociate for a little, a notification on your phone causing you to snap out of it.

you reach out the pick up your phone, the notification causing you heart to drop.

loganjohn has requested to follow you

skincare immediately off your mind you click on the notification, leading you to his account.

you scrolled through every photo.

the hockey pictures.

the team photos.

the random shots with friends.

you paused on one where he was laughing at something off camera.

you hated that you remembered exactly what his laugh sounded like.

your thumb hovered over another picture.

then another.

then another.

somehow fifteen minutes had passed.

“this is not stalking,” you muttered to yourself .

It was absolutely stalking.

you clicked on a tagged photo and found yourself zooming in on his face.

then a new notification appeared at the top of the screen.

a direct message from Logan.

your breath caught.

suddenly all the harmless scrolling didn’t feel so harmless anymore.

logan: hey.

you stared at the message for a full minute before opening it.

you: hi.

three dots appeared instantly.

disappeared.

reappeared.

you could practically feel him overthinking.

logan: wasn’t sure you’d answer.

you: wasn’t sure I’d answer either.

a few seconds passed.

logan: fair.

you: so why did you follow me?

another pause.

logan: because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.

your stomach dropped.

you: logan…

logan: I know.

logan: I know I don’t get to just show up again after what I said.

logan: I know I hurt you.

you stared at the screen.

you: then why are you here?

the typing bubble appeared immediately this time.

logan: because I made a mistake.

logan: and it’s been driving me insane.

you heart started pounding.

you: you were pretty sure when you rejected me.

you felt yourself waiting for a reply

the typing bubble coming and going, but still nothing

you locked you phone.

and checked again fifteen minutes later.

still nothing.

the next morning, nothing.

the day after that, nothing.

eventually, the embarrassment started to outweigh the disappointment.

you reread the conversation over and over, searching for the thing you said wrong.

there wasn’t anything.

just silence.

and somehow that hurt more.

three weeks had now passed, you had pushed every thought about him to the back of your mind, you couldn’t even do anything about it since you guys were not dating at all, you guys had technically just met.

it was past nine at night, you had laid sienna down past seven, shes been so restless lately so you knew she would be up soon, so you decided to finish up a series you had started halfway through the episode you heard a faint knock on your door, at first you thought it was your mind playing tricks until you heard it again, it was a little firmer this time but still soft. with confusion written on your face you walked towards the door thinking maybe it was beau and he just forgot to call before. when you opened the door you saw someone you least expected

“um-hey” logan said looking nervous

this came to you as a shock, remembering all the confidence radiating off of him the last time you had seen him.

you stood there staring at him, not knowing what to say, you took in his whole appearance, briar u hockey hoodie, damp hair, flushed cheeks, you could see he had came straight from practice.

“beau gave me your address,” he said “you can slam the door in my face if you want. but I need to tell you I made a mistake.”

“you read my message”

“i know”

“and then you ignored me”

guilt flashed across his face

“i know and im sorry”

you scanned his face and saw how his eye brows furrowed, his lip slightly pouting, he looked like a puppy.

“um-“ he patiently waited for you to continue “do you wanna come inside?”

“please” he said without hesitation

you lead him inside to the lounge area and sat down waiting for him to follow.

it was quiet between you guys.

you could see his eyes taking in everything around him, the baby toys scattered around, the bottles on the coffee table, the baby pictures of sienna.

he sighed to himself you couldn’t tell if it was a relaxed and relieved sigh or a what did i just get myself into sigh.

he turned towards you.

eyes instantly connecting.

“i’m sorry”

“you already said that”

“i know and i will continue apologising”

“well you don’t have to, i understand why you took a step back, i’ve been through this before, im a big girl i can take the rejection.”

“well i didn’t come here to reject you, and i didn’t take a step back because of your baby”

as soon as those words left his mouth, you looked at him as if to say bitch please

“okay maybe it took me be back a bit but only because i didn’t know your situation, like are you a single parent, do you secretly have a boyfriend or husband.”

“so now your accusing me of cheating?” you said teasingly

“shit i’m sorry” said as he ran his fingers through his hair, making your mind instantly go back to the kiss, he cut your thoughts off as he continued speaking

“i’m just gonna say what i came to say before i continue to say slightly offensive things but im sorry” you nod to let him know you’re hearing him out

“i was an idiot and i got scared and it wasn’t because you’re a mom it was because of how bad i want this, and i didn’t want to have a conversation like this through a phone because you deserve better than that, you don’t have to forgive me right now, i completely understand because-“

his words are cut off as you smash your lips against his, as you pull away he looks at you for a second and immediately pulls you back in, his hands on your waist pulling you onto his lap not breaking the kiss.

when you finally pulled away, just enough to breathe, his eyes stayed on yours.

wide.

slightly stunned.

like the apology had completely left his system.

you exhaled softly, still close.

“…you talk too much.”

that did it.

a breath of a laugh escaped him, disbelief breaking through whatever nervousness had been there a second ago.

“i was trying to be respectful,” he said.

“you were spiraling.”

“i was explaining.”

“you were rambling.”

his thumb brushed lightly at your side, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to still be touching you.

then you leaned in again,just slightly

and his composure disappeared completely.

he pulled you back in like it was instinct.

like he’d decided over the course of one second that words weren’t necessary anymore.

when he finally broke the kiss again, this time slower, his forehead almost rested against yours.

and for once, logan didn’t look like he had another speech ready.

just you

authors note: so that happened, if you guys loved this as much as i did i’m willing to do more like baby sienna meeting logan, beau finding out about you too and so much more!!! if you’re interested either request if it’s something specific or just leave a comment!!!

taglist: @ethanthequeefqueen

[rgntthragg]

Caught

☄︎ Warnings: NSFW, Oral (f! receiving) ☄︎ Pairing: F!Reader x John Logan ☄︎ Rating: Mature, 18+ ☄︎ Words: 1525 ☄︎ AN: written for this request. my brother in CHRIST antonio cipriano is so fucking fine like wtffffff. this intially started off differently in my head but when i saw this pic i reworked it cause i am a WHORE for handy men🧍🏽‍♀️ xx ☄︎ Summary: You're studying at your boyfriend's house when he decides it's time to fix a leaking pipe.

When you woke up in the morning and headed to the hockey house, you had every intention of this being a serious study session with your boyfriend. You wanted to be overly prepared for your midterms; you didn’t need any nasty surprises coming out of it.

However, every time your mind tries to drive your attention back to the open textbook in front of you, your gaze keeps shifting lower, completely captivated by the view on the floor.

Logan is shoved halfway under the kitchen sink.

He’s wearing a fitted maroon t-shirt that spreads tightly across his shoulders every time he strains against a stubborn pipe. Whenever he lifts his arms, the shirt lifts too, exposing the patch of skin just above where his faded jeans are hugging his waist. You see the patch of hair that leads down his stomach, like an arrow directing you to look at where one of your favourite body parts of him lies.

It's really not your fault. You really did have the best study intentions.

A stray smudge of grease is smudged against his forehead. And his brown curls look messy from rubbing against the bottom of the cabinet. He holds a massive pair of pliers in one hand, propping himself up on one elbow to look up at you with a cocky grin.

“Take a picture, babe. It’ll last longer,” he teases.

You shake your head out of your daydream, pressing your thighs together and shifting in your seat.

“I might just have to,” you reply, leaning your chin on your hand. “I forgot about how handy you were.”

Logan tosses the pliers into the open, rusted red toolbox by his hip.

“Yeah, the P-trap was leaking, and Tucker was complaining about the smell. Figured I’d take care of it. Didn’t realise it would turn you on so much otherwise I’d have done it earlier.” He’s got a stupid cocky grin on his face that he totally deserves to be wearing, you’re practically drooling.

“I never said it turned me on,” you lie.

There’s just something intensely, undeniably, absolutely attractive about seeing him handle tools, the effortless confidence with which he fixes things. You start thinking about all the things in your dorm that you could break, just so you could ask him to come and fix it.

Logan slides out from under the sink, standing up to wash his hands. He turns back to you, leaning against the counter as he dries his hands on a towel.

“You didn’t have to say it.” He sets the towel down beside him. “Come here.”

He curves his index finger, gesturing you over.

“Logan, we’re in the middle of the kitchen,” you protest weakly, even as you slide off of the barstool and walk over to him. “Anyone could walk in.”

“Garrett’s out with Hannah, Tucker’s with Sabrina, and Dean is... well who knows where Dean is but it’s not here,” Logan murmurs. He hooks his fingers into the belt loops of your shorts, tugging you flush against his chest. The faint scent of motor oil and copper mixed with his clean cologne wraps around you like a vice. “We’re fine.”

Before you can argue any further, his mouth crashes into yours. It’s demanding and makes you completely forget what you were even protesting about. You whimper into his mouth, your hands instantly finding their way into his soft hair and tugging at it.

His hands slide down to rest firmly on your ass. He gives it a little squeeze before giving it a slap.

“You have no idea how hard it was to focus on that pipe with you watching me like that,” he murmurs against your lips.

You yelp as Logan’s hands cup under your ass, lifting you up to set you on the kitchen counter. He begins to trail light kisses along the inside of your knee, his hands tightening on your hips.

“Logan,” you breathe out, your head tilting back, “We really shouldn’t. Someone is going to-.”

“I told you,” he interrupts, his breath warm against your skin as he moves his path higher. “Nobody is home.”

Pulling you closer to the edge of the counter, he pulls your shorts and underwear off swifty.

You lay back, your head resting on top of the long-forgotten textbooks and other stationary.

Logan spreads your legs further, appreciating how you’re already clenching without him even really doing anything.

“Logan~,” you breathe, your hand reaching down to try and find his head so you can push him into you.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

He lifts up your shirt, pressing a kiss to your bellybutton before kissing a slow trail down.

When you finally think he’s going to kiss you where you’re aching, he moves to your inner thigh, pressing kisses and sucking on the skin there.

“Logan~~,” you whine, louder this time. You’re becoming desperate for it.

“Say my name again,” he says against your thigh. He’s so close to where you need him, his warm breath fanning over you.

“Logan~, Logan~, Logan pleaseee,” you chant.

You bite back a moan as blows on your throbbing clit. He does that a few more times, each time leaning back to admire how your muscles contract.

Before you can beg him again, he finally takes your clit into his mouth. He’s gentle with it, giving you a soft suck before releasing it. He tongues his way down to your whole, lapping up your arousal.

“Mhmm, you taste so good, baby.” He swipes a finger up between your folds, coating his finger in your arousal. “Have a taste.”

He leans over, putting his finger in your mouth. Keeping your eyes firmly on him, you suck it into your mouth.

“See how good you taste?” He asks, his voice heavy with need.

You hum around him finger and he looks back at you with a proud look on your face.

Pulling his finger out of your mouth, he settles back between your legs. Lewd, wet, sounds fill the large room as he laps at your pussy.

Your back arches and your finders find his hair as he sucks on your clit again.

“You like that, baby?” He asks.

“Yes~ I’m dripping wet,” you respond.

Just as you start to feel the pleasure coiling, the heavy front door swings open, the sound echoing into the kitchen.

“Yo! Anyone home? I brought food.”

It’s Dean.

Panic hits you like a bucket of ice water. You try to scramble back on the counter, your face flushing a deep, vivid red.

“Logan! Move, it’s Dean!” You hiss frantically.

Instead of jumping up, Logan’s grip on your thighs only tightens. You can’t help but moan as he licks at you again.

Dean rounds the corner, a brown paper bag in one hand and half-eaten chip in the other. He stops dead, taking in the entire scene. You, breathless and dishevelled on top of the kitchen island, and Logan, face pinned between your knees.

Logan lifts his head to look at Dean, his chin and lips are glistening and there’s a line of spit connecting his lips to your pussy. You freeze, hiding your face in your hands.

Dean lets out a loud whoop!

“Well, well, well,” Dean sings, leaning casually against the wall. He casts his eyes over the tools on the floor. “I knew you were handy, Logan, but I didn’t know you offered full-service plumbing. I guess when duty calls...”

“Dean, oh my God, go away!” You squeak, face still hidden behind your hands.

“Hey, don’t mind me! You carry on.” Dean laughs, completely unbothered. “In the kitchen? Respect.”

Before Dean’s even gone, Logan face is already buried back between your legs.  

“See ya later, lovebirds!” Dean struts up the stairs, leaving the two of you alone.

You bite down on your forearm as Logan sucks on your clit again.

“Don’t go quiet on me now, let him hear how wet I get you.” There’s a glint in Logan’s eye, he obviously thrives on this.

The tension leaves your shoulders as Logan works two fingers into you. His tongue presses flat against your clit as he shakes it side to side. It doesn’t take long for the pleasure to build up again, his fingers scissoring and curving inside of you.

You’re babbling now, trying to find the words to articulate what you need from him, you’re on the edge, you’re so close. But he knows what you need and with one final flick of his tongue, electricity runs through your body.

You see stars under the force of your orgasm. Your entire body jerking as you scream Logan’s name.

He holds you close until your pulse begins to slow, telling you how beautiful you look when you cum.

He slowly pulls back just enough to look at you, a smug look of satisfaction on his still shiny face. He stands up, smoothing his shirt. The evidence of his excitement is clear.

He wiggles his eyebrows at you. Just before you’re about to speak, a loud shout echoes down the stairs.

“Hell yeah, Logan. Let’s goooo!” Dean yells through his closed bedroom door.

Main Masterlist

[f4ll-for-you]

Its always going to be you | John Logan

warnings: angst

Logan had stopped going to practice. Stopped talking to his friends. Stopped talking to you. He’d hidden himself away at the garage, coming up with continuous excuses to be there that even his brother didn’t believe. 

He stood there covered in grease, tank top clinging to his body, cap turned backwards, dark eyes lost on an engine that didn’t even need fixing anymore. It was easier to take apart a carburetor than to face everything. That his freedom was coming to and end once senior year was over.

You showed up at the garage, wearing his hoodie and hardened eyes, like you’d cried too much to pretend you were okay, full of determination.

“Are you gonna tell me what the fuck is going on or are you going to keep pretending I’m just another thing you can ignore?”

Logan clenched his jaw, tension carved into every line of his face. “Go home, y/n.”

“No!” you raised your voice. He wouldnt look at you.

“Fuck, I’m serious.” He slammed the wrench on the bench, the sound sharp like a punch to the chest, but you didn’t flinch. “You don’t get it, alright? I can’t give you what you want.”

“And who the fuck said I want some perfect bullshit? I just want you.” 

He laughed, it came out bitter, hollow. The kind of laugh that comes right before tears that never fall. “You deserve someone who takes you to dinner without checking their phone every five minutes because they’re either constantly being contacted by NHL scouts or by customers from the garage. Someone without an alcoholic, unreliable dad at home. Someone who’s not stuck in a life he never chose.”

“So that’s it? You’re just gonna disappear, leave everything you worked for behind?” You ask, putting all your strength into keeping yourself together.

Logan looked at you  for the first time in days. His eyes, dark, intense, full of anger at the world and at himself. “I’m not the guy you think I am. I just know how to fix cars. I’m not the hockey player I pretended to be.” You rolled your eyes in response, you knew he was lying to himself.

You gave up on arguing, knowing in this state you couldn’t reason with him. “I fucking love you,” you said it with rage, eyes glassy.

Logan stood frozen. That line hit harder than any hit he’d ever taken on the ice. 

He clenched his fists so tight his knuckles turned white. Not because he wanted to fight, but because it was the only way to keep himself from crossing the garage and pulling you into him.

“Don’t say that, fuck,” he whispered, low, almost a plea. Not because he didn’t love you, he loves you more than anything, but because he’s not the guy you need. 

“You act like I don’t know what I’m letting myself in for, but I do. You keep pretending you have no choices Logan, but you do. Your future isn’t decided. Just because you stopped going to practice, doesn’t mean the scouts stopped. You still have a chance at the NHL. Stop running away for everything you’re scared of, hiding here doesn’t make it go away” you spoke so gently, yet it felt like you were shouting at him, saying everything he didn’t want to hear.

Logan’s breath hitched.

He turned his head slowly, his eyes, those damn beautiful eyes, locking onto yours like you’d just ripped the floor out from under him.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice cracked. Just once. Barely there, but it was enough to notice he was breaking. 

“I get messages every day,” he admitted quietly, kicking at a loose bolt on the concrete. “Scouts asking if I’m skipping practice for injury or some shit.” He scoffed bitterly. 

He took a step toward you then, not fast, not dramatic, but like gravity had finally pulled him in after weeks of resisting.

“And yeah… maybe I could play pro.” A pause. Raw honesty spilling out. “But I made a promise, I got 4 years of freedom, I have to let my brother have his.” 

His jaw tensed, suddenly his voice dropped to something broken and small.

“I can't do both."

You were taken aback, how had he never told you this? “Just let me help you, let me be there for you, I know what I signed up for” you breathed, moving forward to cup his cheek.

Logan froze.

The second your hand touched his cheek warm, soft and real, his breath stopped like he’d been slapped by the universe itself.

Grease smeared on his skin. His probably looked like a mess. He hadn’t shaved in days. Smelled like motor oil and exhaustion. But you didn’t move.

His eyes fluttered shut for just a heartbeat, just long enough to feel the tenderness of someone who actually gave a damn about him, not the hockey star everyone thought he should be.

Then they snapped open again, glassy now and without thinking he leant forward and kissed you.

Harder than intended.

Desperate.

Like oxygen after drowning

The kiss was messy, like he’d been starving for weeks (he had). Like every text left unanswered, every night spent alone in the garage staring at his phone it all poured into this one collision.

His hands slid from your wrist to cradle your face calloused thumbs brushing over soft cheeks and suddenly he wasn’t thinking about scouts or his dad or any promise he’d ever made.

He was here, with you, the person who loved him enough to yell through grease and anger just to get close again.

When you finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed like if he opened them the moment would shatter.

“You shouldn’t love me,” he whispered hoarsely, the same stupid line again but this time? It cracked halfway through because even he couldn't pretend anymore that it wasn't already too late for that.

You loved him.

And worse?

He fucking adored you.

“I’m going to love you whatever you decide. I’ll love you if we stay here and run the garage, I’ll love you if you’re some hot shot NHL player, I love you, John Logan, the person you are, the person I’ve been with since sophomore year. Can you finally get that into your head, please” your tone pleading, exhausted, desperate.

Logan’s throat tightened.

He opened his eyes slowly. Really looked at you, the way your eyelashes were still damp from crying earlier, the small scar above your eyebrow from that time you and Dean decided to try drunk skateboarding junior year. He smiled, he let himself believe you, he ignored the doubt.

He remembered their first kiss outside Malones after karaoke night. Remembered all the times you’d got up and made breakfast for him and his friends before practice so they’d get to sleep in.

Remembered holding your hand during finals week because college stress nearly made them both cry.

You’d been by his side through everything and he'd spent weeks pushing you away because he thought love meant sacrifice? That if you cared about someone… you had to let them go?

“Fuck,” he breathed and then suddenly hugged you so hard they nearly stumbled back against the workbench.

He didn’t speak.

Just arms locked around each other like nothing else existed the shop silent except for their breathing syncing again after days apart. 

“It’s always going to be you.”

Logan’s arms tightened around your body like he could fuse them together through sheer will.

Simple. Final. No conditions, no take-backs, just forever, wrapped in a sentence.

His throat burned again, not from the grease or the oil fumes, this time but because his eyes were doing that stupid thing they do when emotions get too heavy to swallow down.

Instead of words, he kissed you again, softer this time. Slower. Like an apology for all the days he ignored your texts, for acting like love was some luxury he didn’t get.

[dilaurentispuckbunny]

Tiny Librarian {John Logan x reader} Part 12

Masterlist

Summary: You were stranded at the library in the pouring rain, the last shuttle bus had left just as you got there, you text your brother, Garrett Graham, if he could pick you up after practice. You'll never guess who he sends instead.

Warnings: none, just fluff, flirting

For a moment, neither of you moved.

The campus around you remained quiet, wrapped in darkness and the soft glow of streetlamps. Somewhere in the distance, a car passed by. Leaves rustled gently overhead.

But neither of you noticed.

Because suddenly it felt like the entire world had narrowed down to this one conversation.

To this one moment.

To him.

Logan stood in front of you looking more vulnerable than you had ever seen him before.

And somehow that broke your heart a little.

Because he'd spent months taking care of you.

Months making sure you were okay.

Months showing up whenever you needed someone.

And all that time he'd been carrying this by himself.

The thought made your chest ache.

"You know what's funny?" you asked quietly.

A faint crease appeared between Logan's eyebrows.

"What?"

You looked down at your hands for a moment.

Trying to gather your thoughts.

Trying to figure out how to put something so big into words.

Because how were you supposed to explain what he'd become to you?

How were you supposed to explain that somewhere along the way he'd stopped being just Garrett's teammate?

Stopped being your secret?

Stopped being the guy who flirted with you through text messages?

How were you supposed to explain that he'd become part of your life before either of you realized it was happening?

"I think I knew before you did."

The words slipped out before you could stop them.

Logan blinked.

"What?"

A small laugh escaped you.

Not because it was funny.

Because it wasn't.

It was terrifying.

"I think part of me knew."

His eyes remained fixed on yours.

Waiting.

Listening.

Always listening.

You swallowed hard.

"I just didn't want to admit it."

Something softened in his expression.

You took a shaky breath.

"Because admitting it made everything real."

The words hung between you.

Logan didn't interrupt.

Didn't rush you.

Didn't try to fill the silence.

He simply stood there and let you talk.

The way he always did when something mattered.

—

You looked away briefly.

Toward the empty parking lot.

Toward the dark campus buildings.

Anywhere except directly at him.

Because this was harder than you'd expected.

Harder than listening.

Harder than understanding.

Because now it was your turn to be honest.

And honesty was terrifying.

"I got used to you."

The confession came out quietly.

Almost embarrassed.

Logan's expression softened even further.

"I know that sounds bad."

"It doesn't."

"It does."

A smile tugged at his lips.

"It really doesn't."

You rolled your eyes.

Then immediately looked serious again.

"After a while, hearing from you just became part of my day."

Your voice softened.

"If something happened, I wanted to tell you."

Logan's jaw tightened slightly.

You continued.

"If I had a bad day, I wanted to talk to you."

His eyes never left yours.

"And if something good happened..."

A smile appeared despite yourself.

"You were the first person I wanted to text."

Something flickered across his face.

Something emotional.

Something that looked dangerously close to hope.

—

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable.

It felt fragile.

Like both of you were standing on the edge of something important.

Something neither of you wanted to ruin.

"You know that night?" you asked softly.

"The night I sent you that picture of my mom?"

Logan immediately nodded.

Of course he remembered.

He probably remembered every word of that conversation.

"You called me."

His expression grew serious.

You swallowed.

"Nobody does that."

His brow furrowed.

"What?"

"Nobody just..." You laughed shakily. "Shows up."

The words came easier after that.

Because they were true.

Painfully true.

"When Mom died, everyone was there at first."

Your voice caught.

"But then life moved on."

Logan's expression immediately changed.

His eyes softening.

His shoulders tensing.

Listening.

Always listening.

"People stopped asking how I was doing."

You stared at the pavement.

"Garrett never did."

A small smile touched your lips.

"But Garrett's Garrett."

That earned the tiniest huff of laughter from Logan.

You looked back up.

"But you..."

Your chest tightened.

"You kept showing up."

The words settled heavily between you.

"You kept checking on me."

Your eyes burned again.

"You remembered things."

Logan looked like he couldn't breathe.

"And somewhere along the way..."

Your voice cracked.

"...you became the person I trusted most."

The confession hit him like a freight train.

You could see it happen.

See it in the way his expression completely fell apart.

The way his throat worked.

The way he looked away for a second because he suddenly couldn't hide what he was feeling.

—

"Jesus Christ."

The words escaped him quietly.

You laughed through your tears.

"What?"

He shook his head.

Then dragged a hand across his jaw.

"You have no idea what you do to me."

The honesty of it made your stomach flip.

A watery smile appeared on your face.

"You don't exactly make it easy for me either."

For a second, neither of you spoke.

Neither of you looked away.

The space between you felt impossibly small now.

Charged.

But not because of attraction.

Not because of tension.

Because of trust.

Because of affection.

Because of everything neither of you had been brave enough to say until now.

And for the first time since you'd met him, Logan wasn't looking at you like someone with a crush.

Or even someone in love.

He was looking at you like someone who had finally found the thing he'd been searching for.

Something steady.

Something real.

Something worth risking everything for.

His voice was barely above a whisper when he finally spoke.

"Come here."

And this time, when he opened his arms for you...

There wasn't a second of hesitation.

Taglist {open}: @notsosweetcreature @dina2223 @haydee5010 @rexit-mo @kmc1989 @mads-writes-vibes @superbfishhumanoidweasel @brianna28483 @m3lodyxo @antisocialfiore @sunshinevansh @girlidekanymore @nihoshi17 @em1ly57 @jellybaby17 @jamesmackreideswife @ralilda @k3nz13a @wilmonyibo7 @solstice-333 @aajames217 @wintermoonly @f4ll-for-you @ilocuras24 @garrettgrahamssexysnaps

[folkloure]

⭑.ᐟ back to you, always

john logan x reader

summary: you and logan avoid each other after a fight, dean and allie come to the rescue. fluff, requested!

Looking back now, neither of you seem to remember what it was that started this whole mess. All you know is that bad days happen for everyone, each their own private reasons. Sometimes it’s classes, sometimes it’s hockey, sometimes it’s family, and because life happens that way, most times it’s all at once. 

On the rare, yet present occasion of those days colliding for both you and Logan, it’s hard to navigate the weird feelings that come to surface without hurting the other in the process. 

Because you’re both the type to bottle their feelings until something cracks it open, it only takes a little, stupid disagreement for it to pop like a champagne bottle, all sudden and carelessly — you say something you didn’t want to, he says something harsh in return, you act mean out of spite, an ugly back and forth that ends with him giving you a silent treatment that you refuse to take, walking out the door.

And because you’re both stubborn, it’s been like that for two days now. 

Logan throws the puck into the acrylic panel once again, dropping the stick on the ice in frustration.

“You’re playing like shit.” Dean says from the bench, so casually. 

Logan stares at him, eyebrows raised, “Thanks, man. You’re being really helpful.”

“You don’t need my help,” he says, “You need to fix whatever the fuck happened between you and your girl.”

Logan throws another puck, missing it again, “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you acting all broody and annoyed for the past two days.”

“I’m not acting like that.”

“Of course you are,” Dean says like it’s obvious, and Logan rolls his eyes, “You’re acting annoyed now!”

“Because you are annoying me!” Logan walks out the ice, throwing himself on the bench next to Dean.

Dean Di Laurentis has more substance than his blonde hair and blue eyes combo allows the general public to see, Logan knows that. Still, somehow it always comes as a surprise when he is the one to notice something’s wrong with his friends and call it out, usually in the likes of a private, wise pep talk. This time is no different.

“Come on, man. Tell me what’s wrong?” Dean taps Logan’s shoulder, “Daddy Dean is here to help.”

“First of all, never call yourself that again,” Logan says, and Dean only shrugs, “I don’t know, dude. We just— Blew things out of proportion, you know? I don’t even know how to apologize.”

“But you want to?”

“Yes! Yeah, of course. We haven’t talked in three fucking days, man.” Logan says, hands running over his face in frustration, “I miss her so much it’s making me insane.”

“Bad at hockey too.” Dean adds, “If you miss her, then go talk to her.”

Logan shakes his head, “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it fucking is. Logan, stop with the martyr complex. Go find her, yeah?” He says, standing up from the bench. “I’ll see you back at the house later, and you better have a big smile on that pretty face.”

Dean walks out, leaving Logan and his pout staring down at the ice, wondering how he is supposed to make up to you.

—

You hold one of Allie’s bed cushions against your chest as you avoid her gaze. 

“I’m just saying,” she goes on with her speech, which now sounds more and more like a sermon instead of her usual words of encouragement, “I think you should talk to him.”

You sit up, wide eyes staring at her, “You think I’m in the wrong?”

The mere thought of not having Allie on your side of any situation shakes you to your core. If there’s one thing Allie Hayes will always be is a girl’s girl sort of friend — she has, and will again, advocate for your rights and feelings. A good friend, Allie is.

Good enough to give you a good wake up call.

“No,” she moves to the bed, sitting next to where you lay and fingers running through your hair, “But I don’t think he’s wrong either, babe. You said you were having a bad day?”

You nod weakly, “Yeah.”

“Did he know that?” Your face turns into a grimace, lips twisting. Allie knows what that means, “See! You didn’t get to talk.”

“We talked,” you say, voice small, “Just didn’t last much without me acting stupid.”

“Well, there you have it.” She says, moving her hands in that expressive way she does, “Work things out, babe. You’re miserable.”

Your mouth falls open, “I am not!” You are, but Allie shouldn’t be able to see through you so easily. Then again, it’s Allie.

“You went through my entire sad Hot Cheetos stash in four hours last night,” she says, “You’re awful. Get it together.”

“Fine.” You say, huffing. Allie stares at you from the end of the bed, “What, now?”

“Yes, right fucking now!” She yanks the cushion out of your arms, threatening to throw it on you as you scramble to get out of her room, “Move!”

You practically run out of Allie's room, heading out of your shared building to walk over to Logan’s place.

Before you can reach the door, you see a familiar figure standing outside, pacing side to side.

“Hey,” you call for his attention.

Logan’s eyes immediately follow your voice, staring at you like you’re an oasis, and he’s been in the desert for a while now. 

“Hey. I, uh, just wanted to– You know…”

“Do I?” You answer, a teasing grin in your lips. He looks pretty with that crease between his eyebrows, and you missed him.

“Talk to you, I mean.” Logan says, “If you want to. You were heading out?”

You nod, “To yours, actually.” 

He raises his eyebrows, “Oh, yeah?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You joke, then shake your head, “No, sorry. I mean it, I was really walking to yours. I wanted to talk.”

Logan straightens his posture, boyish look suddenly gone, face turning apologetic, “Honey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so rude.”

“No, oh my god, Logan– I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about what I said, I was just–” You cut him off, taking a deep breath, “I was so upset that day. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“Me neither.” Logan says, “And the whole silence thing was just really fucked up. I’m sorry.”

You nod, “Look,” you say, “Can we just– I don’t know, I’m not saying to forget it, but—” Your face twists, a sting behind your eyes, “I really missed you, Logan. I can’t have another two days of not talking to you.”

His face splits into a coy smile, “You missed me?”

You roll your eyes, but a grin appears on your lips, “Of course I have.” You say, stepping a little closer to whisper, “Missed you so much.”

Logan drops his eyes to your lips, moving slowly as to allow you to back up if you want to. Your hands move to his face, pulling him closer. He presses a kiss to your cheek, then another on the corner of your mouth, then another, and another, lips murmuring between every kiss,

“I missed you too, honey.” You place your arms around his neck, pulling him for a hug. His arms curve around you, his face hiding over your shoulder. “Can we never do that again?”

“What, fight?” you giggle, “That’s a bit unrealistic.”

“Avoid each other,” he clarifies through a chuckle, “Can we please always look for each other after we fight?”

“I was on my way to you.” You say, pressing a kiss on the side of his face, then in a softer voice, “And you came here looking for me.”

“Of course I did.” He doesn’t move from your arms, nuzzling against your neck instead, whispering close to your ear, “Always will too.”

You keep your hold onto him, a satisfied thrumming on your chest in knowing that Logan will find his way back to you, always.

notes: thank you for reading! requests are open! likes/reblogs/thoughts are appreciated! <3

john logan masterlist

[minminn22]

Request for John Logan fic based on the song Runaways (by Antonio Cipriano). Essentially Logan talks to reader about running away together. Bonus if it’s a Garret’s Sister Reader. That way her and Logan could be talking about their crappy childhoods and that’s when he suggest running away together.

Seriously love how you have written John Logan so far 💕💕

RUNAWAYS | John Logan

NOTE: this was super fun and lowk heart breaking to freaking write!!! literally started tearing up for no freaking reason 😭. And i know that the lyrics are "leave it all behind with no regrets" but i needed it to be a little angsty... and i hope youre fine with that hehehe. im so glad youre liking my John Logans rn!! HOPE I DID THIS JUSTICEEE 🤭🫶🏼

John Logan x Grahamsister!Reader | word count 1.3k

Warning: she gets a bit angsty in the end, but we all need a little cry here and there

Off Campus Masterlist

The hum of the old refrigerator in the corner of your suite was the only sound cutting through the heavy silence of the bedroom. Outside, the campus was quiet, tucked away under a blanket of New England frost, but inside your room, the air still felt thick with the aftermath of your breakdown.

You were curled up at the foot of your twin XL bed, your knees pulled tightly to your chest, wrapped in one of Logan’s massive, oversized Briar hockey flannels. The overwhelming smell of him gave you comfort.

Logan sat on the hardwood floor, his back leaned against the bedframe right next to you. His fingers were tracing the frayed edge of your sock. Tonight had been bad. It started with a phone call from home—the kind where your brother, Garrett, had to step between your father and the phone, his voice cracking as he yelled at your dad to just leave you alone. You had broken down right there on your bedroom floor, and Logan had been across the quad and up your dorm stairs in three minutes flat.

"Garrett's going to text soon," Logan said softly, breaking the quiet. His voice was a low, gravelly rasp. "He’s gonna want to make sure you're still breathing, he joked.

"I'll text him back later," you whispered, resting your chin on your knees. "I just... I feel like no matter how many miles I put between me and that house, Logan, I’m still suffocating. It still feels like a trap."

He looked up, and the look on his face made your throat tight. He knew that feeling better than anyone. 

"I get it," he murmured, his thumb gently brushing over your ankle. "God, I get it. My old man... you spend your whole life walking on eggshells, waiting for the floorboards to snap, even when you're living in a university dorm, miles away from them. We really hit the jackpot with families, didn't we?"

"We're a matching set of disasters," you tried to joke, but it came out watery as a single tear slipped down your cheek.

Logan shifted in an instant, pulling himself up onto the squeaky mattress beside you. His large, calloused hand cupped your jawline, his thumb wiping away the tear. "Hey," he whispered, his forehead leaning gently against yours. "Don't do that. Don't let them take your peace when you're here with me."

You closed your eyes. "I just want to leave, Logan. Everything. I want to go somewhere where nobody knows us."

Logan stayed silent for a long moment, you could hear his heart hammering against his ribs. When he spoke again, his voice was breathless, struck by a sudden, wild idea. "Then let's go. Let's run away."

You opened your eyes, blinking at him. "What?"

"I’m serious," he said, a soft, boyish smile breaking through his usual brooding demeanor. He grabbed both of your hands, squeezing them tight. "Let's just pack a single bag each. We’ll take my car, drive out of the campus parking lot, and hit the highway. If we ever run away, we're doing it properly."

"Oh? And what’s properly?"

"First," Logan nodded, looking very serious, "we steal one of Garrett's credit cards."

You gasped. "He's going to kill you."

"He already wants to. Necessary sacrifice," he shrugged. "Then, we stop at every terrible roadside attraction we see, and we get matching fake names."

You snorted. "What would your fake name be?"

Logan thought about it. "Thunder."

You stared at him. "Thunder? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

His shoulders shook with laughter, the sound filling the room, warm and familiar. God, you loved him. You loved the way he could drag you out of the darkest moments without even trying.

Eventually, the laughter faded, leaving a soft, lingering warmth. You rested your cheek back against his chest, staring at the faint patterns the desk lamp cast on the wall.

"Logan?" you asked quietly, the joke clearing out enough room for a real, aching curiosity to settle in. "What do you think would actually happen? If we just... left tonight. No credit cards, no fake names. If we just dropped everything and went."

Logan’s chest rose and fell beneath you in a long, slow breath. His fingers didn't stop their gentle tracing on your arm, but his posture quieted. He was really thinking about it.

"Honestly?" he murmured, his voice dropping into that low, late-night register. "I think we’d drive until we hit the coast. Some small town where the ocean takes up the whole horizon. We’d get a tiny place where the floorboards creak, and I'd work some mind-numbing job just to pay the rent while you did whatever the hell you wanted. We'd have a kitchen where the only rule is that no one is allowed to raise their voice."

He paused, his fingers tightening slightly around yours, his chin resting against your hair. "And then... years down the road, maybe we have a kid. A little boy or a girl running around on the beach."

A small, watery smile tugged at your lips at the thought, but it vanished just as quickly as a heavy wave of reality crashed over you. The image was beautiful, but it felt entirely isolated. Cold, even.

"They wouldn't know anyone," you whispered, the realization twisting like a knife in your chest. "If we dropped everything and vanished... our kids would grow up never knowing the people who actually loved us. They’d never get to meet Garrett. They wouldn't have Uncle Dean or Uncle Tucker crashing through the front door, or Hannah and Allie bringing over too many baby clothes. They wouldn't know Beau or any of the guys."

A tear escaped, soaking into his flannel. "We'd be protecting them from our dads, but we'd be robbing them of the only real family we ever had. They'd never know the people who shaped us."

Logan stayed silent, but you felt the sudden tension in his jaw. The romanticized dream of running away suddenly felt like a ghost town.

He looked down at you for a long moment, his eyes swimming with a mixture of fierce love and deep understanding. He reached up, his thumb wiping your cheek, pulling you tightly against his chest as if to anchor you. His expression softened, the desperate urge to flee melting into a quiet, understanding gaze.

"You know we don't actually have to run away, right?"

Your brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." He shrugged, his hand moving to cup the back of your neck. "We already left. We got out. We're here."

The words hit harder than anything else he'd said all night.

"Your dad's there," he pointed vaguely away from us. "My dad's somewhere being an asshole. But we're here. And every day we're a little farther away than we were before."

The tears finally slipped free, and this time you didn't bother hiding them. Logan leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours. No grand speech. Just him—warm and solid and real.

"We're gonna be okay, Y/N."

For once, you believed him. Sitting here with Logan's arms wrapped around you and his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, the future didn't feel impossible anymore.

Outside, the winter wind rattled against the dorm window. Inside, Logan pulled the blanket over both of you and settled back against the headboard. A few minutes later, your phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Garrett. Checking in. Again.

Logan glanced at the screen, then at you, and a slow, wicked grin spread across his face. "Oh my God."

"What?"

He held up the phone. "Want to really commit to the runaway bit?"

You immediately started laughing. "Logan."

"We text him a picture of the parking lot."

"Logan."

"And then we turn our phones off."

"Logan!"

His grin widened, and the first real smile you'd managed all night broke across your face. And just like that, the room didn't feel quite so heavy anymore.

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Taglist: @jewles-chai, @sunshinevansh, @parker-barnes-af, @ilocuras24, @hagarsays, @antisocialfiore, @mirandameaniepants, @flannelshirts-and-fingerguns, @ethanthequeefqueen, @wiishies, @readinf, @wonderpals02, @aeyoshinyships, @nisarelle, @cherryangel-coke, @nihoshi17, @kataleya21200103, @logans-sweet-cherry-pie, @mos4s4rus, @kode,

(NOTE: i do overall fandom master taglists, not seperate ones for individual series/fics! Feel free to send me a message if you'd want to be added or removed)

[puckingcuckbunny]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭™ ✪

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞 : john logan x fem! reader

𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 : none! mention of dicks, walking into changing room full of guys? swearing? dramatic, feral Hannah. Established Hannah X Garrett, Allie X Dean, crackfic!

𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : If a small, angry music major student were to a) be one of your best friends and b) insist on going to hunt down her boyfriend to shove her phone up his ass. would you argue, even if it meant bursting into the locker room after practice?

or

When you, Allie and Hannah walk into the changing rooms, omitting the fact that they'd just finished practice.

𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐜𝐞 : 4.5k words

𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲’𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 : something to tide ya'll over as I work through my big bertha fics for yall, and yes, I will start planning the first part of my series... when I feel like it! She's a slow grower ykwim? grower not a shower? whatever helps me sleep at night. Hope you like this little piece! Thank you @mndvx for the gif and @somebitchprobably-graphicdump for the dividers !

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 : I would really appreciate if you could send in an ask to be on my taglist, it's easier for me to manage and make sure everyone is added!! here is the post of my current taglist. Also, if your user is bolded, I'm going on a prayer that youve been tagged but Tumblr wouldn't let me properly do so. I would recommend checking your privacy settings to allow other people to tag you.

One thing you learnt about Hannah Wells, being one of her best friends and all, was that she was normally- a very reasonable person. She was the one to keep electrolyte sachet’s in her bag during a night out, the one to book the uber a day in advance and the one to always text check-ins on the group chat during finals week. 

That was her, normally. 

Unfortunately, ever since she decided to become the first hockey WAG in the group, the captain she shared a bed with had spent their entire relationship testing that theory. The relationship was undoubtedly adorable, some may say to a disgusting, how-to-lose-a-guy-in-10-days level, but sometimes Garrett would feel the need to use Hannah's tightly strung mental stability as a pair of chopsticks.

“Just, tell me again why we’re doing this?” You watched Hannah with a concerned expression, she was aggressively highlighting a sentence that had absolutely nothing to do with the paragraph she'd just read.

The yellow highlighter squeaked angrily across the page,"You know why," She gritted out. 

"No, I know why you're angry,” You pointed at the highlighter.

"I'm asking why that textbook is suffering for it."

The answer never came, but that was attributed to the fact that Hannah was still busy glaring at her notes like they had personally offended her. Beethoven was a bitch. 

The study room had fallen suspiciously quiet about twenty minutes ago, with Allie laying on the sofa in the corner going through a script for class and you and hannah sitting on the large table in the centre of the glass box, you scribbling out statistics equations and Hannah trying to compose a new piece. 

The initial productivity went out the window when Hannah began to complain about Garrett, either of you could have stopped her, put a pin in it and dealt with it at home. Instead, Allie and you happily discarded your work and quipped helpful bits of advice during her rant. 

"You know what his problem is?"

You exchanged a glance with Allie, both of you knew it was better if nobody answered- experience had taught you this was a trap.

"He says he'll call me."

Hannah pointed at her phone that she had flung across the table at the beginning of her speech, "then doesn't call me."

You nodded, the man had a habit of saying he’ll call after practice- then take hours in the locker room with the boys. Your own boyfriend had done that more times than you could count, but you made peace with it very early on; assuming it was because the boys were engrossed in some weird, hockey bro hangout while they changed. 

It was nonetheless a reasonable complaint, because the team was AWOL for nearly the entire day, and the three of you were suffering for it. Ever since Garrett returned from the bench, after the fight that led to his suspension, training was 24/7 and you were lucky to get a morning kiss at the crack of dawn and a small whisper of seeing you later before the door shut, leading their phones seeming to have fallen off the face of the planet.

So, if Graham had promised he’d “see his girl tonight” because he “missed her so much” and then had the gall to not reply to her messages for half an hour. You were prepared to ride at dawn, and steal his skates to rub against concrete for as long as your drill sergeant ordered. 

However, currently the drill sergeant was pink in the face and grabbing at her phone, stretching herself over her textbook to wave the device angrily. 

"And then when I text him asking where he is-"

You already knew this wasn't going to end well.

"He sends me a thumbs up."

The silence was immediate, you gaped at Allie, she gaped back. It was two fishes staring at each other while Hannah slumped into her chair.

It shouldn't have been shocking, it was exactly the sort of thing Garrett would do. But he was an idiot for deciding to not fight against his nature during this trying time. 

Allie lowered the script she had folded against her legs, flopping it onto her chest as she sat up. Slowly, carefully, as if she’d been told there was a rabid animal that could sense her fear.

"A thumbs up?"

"A thumbs up."

"Oh."

"Exactly."

You shook your head and closed your eyes. This was rough, like Liverpool F.C rough. 

"I know he meant well."

That sentence was somehow worse, because she was trying to be rational. And when Hannah was angry and tried to be rational, it usually resulted in disaster. 

"Did he think?"

Allie's contribution was deeply unhelpful.

Hannah jumped and gave her a thankful clap, "THANK YOU."

"I'm just saying."

You groan and give her a look of deep regret, "You are not helping."

"I wasn't trying to." She grinned at you.

Hannah dropped her head onto the table, face first into her music sheets. The universal sign of academic and emotional defeat. 

You watched her lie there for a moment.

Then another

Then-

"I am going to kill him."

You roll your eyes and cross your arms, there it was. The threat you’d all been waiting for, Allie checked her phone, nodding her head.

"Only ten minutes."

"A personal best." You added.

Hannah stood up immediately, the chair scraped obnoxiously against the floor- as if warning her not to do the thing she was absolutely going to do. Both you and Allie looked up, concerned at the way she blinked quickly, the cogs in her head turning so fast that you were sure smoke would start spilling from her ears. 

You recognised the look on her face, a dangerous determination, masked by an eerie calm. In actuality it was a complete loss of common sense

"Hannah." Allie started, warningly. 

"No."

"You haven't even heard the question."

"I know the question."

The smile spreading across Hannah's face made your stomach drop. It was a Hannah Has An Idea smile and historically speaking, those had a terrible survival rate.

You racked your brain for what she could possibly be plotting. Then your face fell.  Practice had ended approximately fifteen minutes ago. Which meant the boys were currently finishing up at the rink. A fact that should've been irrelevant, so painfully ordinary that it was similar to breathing. Instead, it somehow became the most important detail in the room.

“Hannah, no-”

She had already grabbed her bag and started walking towards the door. Allie scrambled to her feet, shoving her stuff into the tote she randomly picked up when you left that morning. You did the same, not caring that you messily crumpled up your work into your bag, instead more focussed on watching Hannah strut out of the library, stomping through the isles- not paying you any mind. 

You panted when you caught up to her, dragging a hand through your hair,

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"Hannah."

"No."

"Hannah."

The door to the outside world opened and Allie squinted against the golden hour glow, Hannah’s smile widened dangerously, 

"I am going to find my boyfriend."

The first sign this was a terrible idea came when Hannah ignored the boys leisurely walking out of the athletes' building, their hair damp from showers, you recognised a few, some from the calisthenics club, you waved at the girls on the swim team and pointedly flipped off the lewd comments from the lacrosse team. Eugh. 

The second sign came when she didn’t listen to your warnings.

The third came when she barely blinked at the coach giving her a confused greeting.

By that point, frankly, the universe had done everything it reasonably could.

"Hannah."

No response.

"Hannah."

Still nothing.

The woman marched through the arena, stumbling sharply against the chairs. You inched through behind her, holding Allie's hand as she huffed and whipped her bangs out of her eyes, glaring at Hannah, who was already at the bottom of the staircase, about to turn into the back corridor. 

Neither of you were particularly interested in letting your best friend commit relationship homicide without witnesses.

"Hannah."

"What."

The answer arrived instantly. She stilled just before the dim pathway towards the locker room, hands braced on her backpack straps, her shoes tapped on the floor expectantly. 

"You do realise practice literally just ended."

"Correct."

"You do realise hockey players are probably changing."

"Correct."

You looked at Allie, whose eye was twitching at her best friend's unwavering need for vindication. 

"You're concerning me."

She rolled her eyes and dashed down the hallway, you recognised this part of the training facility instantly, it was embarrassing the amount of times you had waited here, leaning against the wall for Logan to emerge, his chain glinting in the yellow lighting as he hauled equipment over one shoulder, the other carried his own gear. 

He would kiss you quickly, mumbling against your lips about missing you, and then dump all the random sticks and bags of pucks into the storage before slinging an arm around your shoulder, slowing to a leisurely stroll as you recounted your day. 

You rounded the corner, and froze. Allie bumped into you, whining as she rubbed her nose. 

The locker room doors sat at the end of the corridor. You stared ahead, and blinked when Hannah barely stopped- charging forward.

"Hannah."

"No."

"Hannah."

You cupped your hands around your mouth and shouted after her, jogging behind. "What exactly is your plan here?"

"I am going to find Garrett."

"Then?"

"Then I am going to explain why sending a thumbs up was stupid."

Allie threw her hands up and blocked her pathway to the door, "Hannah."

"No." She tugged down Allie’s arms, and pushed the girl out of the way. Before either you or Allie could stop her, Hannah grabbed the door handle, and it was like the world slowed.

"HANNAH!"

The door opened and you immediately regretted the day you were born. The silence hit you like the torrential stream of water in a car wash, burning your eyes as a gasp got stuck in your throat. 

Then your brain caught up with what was in front of you- because unfortunately, disastrously, hockey practice had ended, extremely recently. So recently in fact, that half the team were still in the showers hooting and hollering, while the other half were dripping wet in front of their cubbies. Staring straight at you, towels paused mid-dry.

You froze.

Hannah froze.

Allie froze.

The hockey team froze.

Time itself appeared to freeze.

"Oh my God." Allie giggled shrilly, her eyes wide as her hand came up to stifle a mix between a gasp and sob.

It wasn’t the shirtless hockey players that disturbed you. It was the penis’.

Everywhere. 

Anywhere. 

Dicks floor to ceiling, no matter where your troubled eyes would take you, it was phallic body parts all around. A sight that would haunt you until graduation.

The team were the first one to snap out of the trance, some of them barely phased at the intrusion, the other half silently covered their junk and shouted brokenly for the people you were actually looking for. 

“What?” Logan’s voice shouted from beyond the showers, luckily you were far enough away to avoid the sight of your boyfriend and his teammates in the steamy, tiled cheap porno setting. 

You accidentally made eye-contact with one of the freshmen on the team, and he winked at you. The expression on your face must've been unbelievably unimpressed because he rushed to get dressed immediately after his failure. 

That made your survival instincts finally activate.

You spun around immediately, a sensible decision on your part. 

Unfortunately, Allie had chosen the exact same strategy.

The two of you collided at full speed.

"OW."

The yelp escaped simultaneously. One second you were turning around, the next your shoulder crashed into Allie's.

Your foot caught on your other ankle, and suddenly gravity joined the party. The floor rushed upwards, the world tilted and you were convinced this was your rapture. 

Two seconds away from meeting your untimely demise, strong arms caught you before impact.

"Oh my God, babe?" The voice sounded familiar and you braced yourself for his bewildered expression when you squinted your eyes open. Logan’s face was approximately six inches away and you felt the towel he had hurriedly wrapped around himself slip low down his hips against your waist. 

"Nope, don’t ask." You closed your eyes against the water droplets splashing onto your face from his hair. The tickle of his silver chain against your cheek made you wave your hands between the two of you. You could feel him gearing up to ask something, 

A finger wag in his face and a simple, "Nope." made him laugh as he hoisted you up. 

Across from you, Dean had already reached Allie, looking equally concerned and delighted.

"Are you okay?" His arms were bound securely around her, pressing in front of him.

Allie flicked his forehead, "Stop smiling."

"I'm not smiling."

"You absolutely are."

Dean was moments away from framing the incident and hanging it on a wall, it was when Allie had steadied herself and stepped fractionally away from him that you noticed Dean hadn’t managed to grab a towel. And stood naked, right in front of you. As bare as the day he was born. 

You retched loudly and tried to run out the door, forgetting that Logan was still holding you upright, an arm around your waist- hand steadying your shoulder.

Deeply and violently, you groaned- accepting that this was your life right now,  "Please tell me I died."

The laughter around you doubled in volume, a few of the guys chirping at you.

Somewhere behind Logan, Garrett appeared, towel around his waist- completely oblivious to the chaos playing out with his team. 

"What happened?"

The silence that followed was immediate, the boys pursed their lips together, you and Allie were engrossed in anything that didn't involve Hannah. 

She glared at him slowly, dangerously. Garrett took one look at her expression, and his eyes ping ponged around the changing area, the open door, the duo of embarrassed girlfriends- one of them looking at her boyfriend seductively, the other hiding her face in her hands. And finally the boys, Dean who was playing into Allies flirting- butt naked. And Logan who was stifling a laugh against your shoulder as you shook your head silently into your palms.

Understanding dawned, making him rush over to his bag and dig out his phone, his eyes widening at his girlfriend, "Oh."

The idiot actually laughed. Hannah looked ready to gouge his eyes out with his stick.  And somehow, unbelievably, things were about to get worse.

By dinner the same day, everybody knew, not just the team, not just other teams. The entire student population. 

People in your classes, people in the library, people in the campus cafes. Somehow all of them must've collectively received an email.

You still didn't know how, no matter how hard you searched the gossip account, your dm’s, hunted through stories. There was no way to determine how the hell the situation had reached every set of ears at Briar. You'd spent the better part of twelve hours trying to figure it out.

The incident had happened at approximately 9 am that morning.

By six-fifteen, two members of the lacrosse team had smirked at you in passing.

By seven, somebody in a study group asked if you were "recovering."

By eight-thirty, a girl in your dorm-block had winked.

"Tell me again why I haven't transferred,” You dropped your forehead onto the cafeteria table.

Across from you, Hannah looked equally traumatised as she picked at her dinner, Allie looked murderous as another pair of irrelevant students giggled as they passed by. 

The three of you had spent the entire day suffering.

Allie slumped in her chair, "Because we're seniors."

You stabbed aggressively at your salad. "Unfortunately,” mouth half-full of lettuce you continued, "You know what the worst part is?"

Nobody answered, mostly because nobody wanted to encourage you.

"The fact we literally didn't do anything."

"THANK YOU."

Allie pointed dramatically.

"THANK YOU."

The cafeteria table rattled slightly, you winced and gave her an accusing stare. While the passion was appreciated, the volume was not.

"We walked into a room." Hannah shrugged

"Accidentally." Allie added.

"Then left."

"Immediately."

You threw your hands up, "And somehow everyone is acting like we joined an orgy."

The three of you sat in offended silence, completely justified silence. Silence that lasted approximately four seconds.

Then somebody cleared their throat and you closed your eyes, praying to whatever god that put you in that situation this morning, wasn’t just deciding to test your self control.

You swore, if you opened your eyes, and the person who you thought it was, was standing in front of you. There would be a search warrant for your name, and a blown up ice rink in your wake. 

"No."

Across the table, Hannah groaned and Allie made a sound like she was ready to throw something. The answer came before you opened them, pressing your lips to your hands that were held together in a praying position, you shook your head, "No."

Because standing directly behind you was, Dean who was grinning so wide, you’d think Santa Clause gifted him a dildo, Garrett, currently more occupied in flashing his puppy dog eyes at Hannah and Logan, the only useful one, who came bearing gifts with an apologetic yet amused smile on his annoyingly handsome face.

The Three Horsemen of Making Things Worse.

"Oh, come on.” Dean looked genuinely offended, hand on his chest as he pulled out the seat next to you, in front of Allie.

She threw one of Hannah’s chips at his face, which he caught in his mouth, "We came to support our girlfriends! amidst their public cancellation from society."

"You came to laugh at us." You corrected, ignoring the paper container that slid in front of your tray and the weirdly shaped Logan entity that sat on the other side of you. 

The smile on Dean's face widened, "How ‘bout both?"

Hannah dropped her fork and lunged at him, only held back by Garrett- who had two fingers looped into her belt loop. 

During this, you peeked into the container, flicking open the lid to see a slice of your favourite cake- red velvet from the bakery just outside campus.

You glanced at Logan and stuck your tongue out at him in response to his pleading expression. There it was, you thought- your eye twitching, the complete lack of shame astounded you.

You hated the smug bastard. A deep, passionate hate. But you still gave him a quick peck, intertwining your hands beneath the table and placed them on his thigh. He suppressed a grin and leaned back in his chair watching you cut into the pastry with your fork.

"How's recovery going?" Dean rested his chin on his palm, twirling a blonde strand with his finger.

Allie flipped off her boyfriend, "Leave."

Garrett laughed immediately, "You have to admit-"

"No." Hannah interrupted, hands slapping at his wrist which comfortably kept his hand looped into her jeans. 

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"Because it doesn't matter."

"It was funny."

"It wasn't."

"It really was."

The idiot looked entirely too pleased with himself, which was particularly annoying because he wasn't even the one receiving the worst of it.

That honour belonged to you and Allie. Specifically because both of your boyfriends had apparently become the main characters of the story. A fact you deeply resented.

"You know what?" You sat up, “How come nobody is talking about Hannah?”

The entire table went quiet.

Hannah blinked.

"Oh my God." Allie said slowly, "You're right."

"I know."

Hannah immediately looked suspicious, "Why aren't they talking about me?"

Then Allie pointed dramatically, "THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN SAYING."

"You haven't said that."

"I've been thinking about it."

Somehow, the entire college manipulated the story into a desperate cliche- that you and Allie were dying to see your boyfriend’s and just. couldn't. wait. for them, so you burst into the changing room, ovulation phase at it's peak and boned down in front of the entire team.

Completely cutting out the bit where you both were trying to stop Hannah from social suicide.

Mission accomplished apparently. The problem now, was that you’d stepped in front of the bullet, and forgot that it meant you’d get shot. 

"You started the whole thing." You whined at her.

"EXACTLY."

Dean and Garrett looked delighted.

"You stormed across campus." You held up one finger.

"Correct." Hannah nodded.

"You opened the door." Another finger.

"Correct."

"You ignored approximately fourteen warnings." A third.

"Correct."

"And somehow everyone else became the main characters." You harrumped and slumped back into your seat, glaring at Logan whose arm came up to rest behind you- but you didn’t pull away when he pecked your forehead.

Hannah looked genuinely aghast at her lack of involvement within the gossip mill, "You know what?" She folded her arms, "That is offensive."

"There she is." Dean blew an exaggerated kiss at her, "The victim complex."

Hannah threw a napkin at him.

The situation somehow got worse, a possibility you never thought could be true.

By Wednesday morning, people had started inventing details, ones that didn’t even make sense. Especially because the original story was already embarrassing enough.

Now there were rumours.

Terrible rumours.

Wild rumours.

Factually incorrect rumours.

"I heard somebody say we were recording."

Hannah looked flabbergasted, the pen in her hand creaked as her first tightened.

Across the corridor, Allie stopped walking, "We weren't?"

"Exactly."

"We were too busy being surrounded by cockfest 2026."

The three of you continued toward class, united by shared trauma- forged entirely through public humiliation. 

The campus buzzed around you, students heading between lectures, athletes carrying equipment bags, people drinking coffee they absolutely couldn't afford. The usual. Until somebody shouted out your name, the voice was gratingly familiar in a way that made you want to spit out your tonsils. 

The guys sitting outside the student centre weren't even subtle about it, the one who called out for you nudged another, the second looked up and smirked.

They were two guys from the lacrosse team. Arguably, you’d think such a fancy sport would produce gentlemen, but the game manufactured slime-balls like the two currently snickering at your deadpan expression. 

"Oh look." The smile spread, "The locker room girls."

You stopped mid-step, and you’d known it was a mistake the minute your foot paused, because now they knew you'd heard. The embarrassment hit instantly, like a slap to the face that reached down your throat, hot in a way that made your body burn. 

Beside you, Hannah looked ready to throw hands, her eyes narrowing at the boys. 

“You got only fans? We’d love to see what happened in the locker room.” 

Allie grit her teeth and just as she was about to bite back, a voice interrupted her.

"Say that again."

The atmosphere chilled behind you, one second the lacrosse pair were giggling like little goblins, the next, their faces were frozen with teetering smiles. 

You felt an arm wrap around your shoulders. Logan stood next to you, his thumb rubbing soothingly on your arm. 

Dean was walking up to Allie, his hands still cupped around his mouth from his interruption. Garrett hung back, but welcomed Hannah into his side when she begrudgingly shuffled up to him. 

They had apparently finished a team strategy session, an unfortunate coincidence for the boys in front of you, who suddenly looked significantly less dick-ish. 

The one with slicked back, blonde hair looked to his friend- who shrugged and patted him on the shoulder, his lip visibly quivered when he spoke, "What?" the question came out weak.

Dean smiled, two hands braced on his girlfriend's frame. Leisurely almost. "Oh, don't do that." He tilted his head with a pout, "You were really confident thirty seconds ago."

Nobody answered.

Garrett called out, still maintaining a generous distance from the situation- probably not wanting to get too involved with another team as the captain, “You seem like the type to be on only fans Jackson. Is that what you do when you lose to Eastwood?” The disappointment in his voice somehow made it worse.

"Seriously,” Dean shook his head, "Dude, if you're going to talk shit about my girlfriend at least be creative." Allie smacked the front of his chest, but nodded in agreement. 

Then Logan spoke, "Find something else to talk about."

Jackson, and the other guy- equally as greasy, dissolved into pitiful excuses and throwaway comments, scoffing as they retreated into the building.

"Holy shit."

Dean grinned, "You're welcome."

"You enjoyed that." Allie poked him accusatorially, leaning up on her toes to kiss his cheek a few times, leaving lipstick prints against his dimple. 

"I enjoyed that immensely."

Nearby, Garrett wrapped an arm around Hannah's shoulders and joined the rest of you.

"You know," Garrett said thoughtfully, "I feel like people would've stopped talking about it sooner if Dean hadn't told literally everyone."

The silence was beautiful. The three of you slowly turned to look at Dean, who was gritting out threats at Garrett, a horrified expression gracing his features as he timidly caressed Allie's hair. 

"I did not."

Logan punched his shoulder jokingly, like bros talking about whose basketball team won last night, "You absolutely did."

"I told one person."

The universe was finally smiling down on you, since Tucker walked up to the six of you, pushing his curls out of his face.

"You told Tucker." Garrett laughed. 

Tucker blinked between the two, who were now engaged in a heated conversation using their eyes. 

"That's still one person."

"Dean."

"One person."

"You told the biggest gossip on the hockey team that our girlfriends walked into the changing room after practice and saw everyone's dicks. by accident."

Tucker finally nodded his head with an affirmative sound, “Oh yeah, I’m just annoyed I left practice early for a doctor's appointment.” He patted Dean on the shoulder, grinning as he stirred the proverbial pot, “luckily Dean here, my best friend, the person who tells me everything. Recounted it in perfect detail.”

An argument exploded instantly, involving Allie smacking Dean upside the head and she bickered about how the last 48 hours had been a living hell.

Hannah wasn’t letting Garrett off the hook easily, nagging him that if he had just “replied to her goddamn messages” the three of you wouldn’t have been in there, she quietened and blushed when he whispered in her ear.

Tucker had joined Allie in bashing Dean, but the three of them groaned when Dean promised, “mind-blowing orgasms on every surface of the house”. Allie didn’t say anything further, just glared at him when he hooked a hand onto her waist and pulled her in.

They drifted ahead while they bickered. Leaving you slightly behind with Logan, who had somehow presented an iced coffee from behind his back and was watching you sip it. 

"You didn't have to do that." You said mid-sip.

Logan looked over, "What?"

"That."

You gestured vaguely toward the now-empty student centre steps. Logan’s expressions softened slightly as he took your bag from your shoulder and pulled you into him, tucking a hand into your back pocket. 

"Yeah." he paused, "Actually, I kind of did."

Your stomach performed a deeply inconvenient little flip.

"Why?"

Logan looked ahead, then to the ground in an almost bashful kind of way, then he shrugged. Like the answer was obvious, "I don't like people making you feel bad."

You cooed at him, grabbing his face with your free hand and squishing his face between your fingers, “You’re such a softie.” 

Smacking a kiss to his stubbly cheek, you returned to the drink, gulping it down appreciatively.

He snickered to himself and added unhelpfully, “Plus, kind of owed you since you saw Dean’s cock.”

“Logan!”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @harls-sturn, @https-dandelion, @watergirl85, @brianna28483, @irishone11, @anyasthoughts, @kmc1989, @norrisidous, @glorveina, @zophiathefirst, @outpostsworld, @yomamaslays4lyfe, @babblegumgirl101, @itmekelpy, @strengthandstay, @run-for-the-hills, @eviemae5864, @tabisswag, @reveries01, @gojodaddy1029 @lukeyoumeanit, @ashloveshockey, @fandom-princess-forevermore @thewrxith05 @jemimah-b99, @themarvelousbee, @roisebear

[g0ldendesiree]

Things Unsaid | John Logan

summary: you're in love with logan, but what happens when you think he doesn't feel the same way?

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 2.80k

authors note: the amount of people that requested this concept acc shocked me like I have like another thing like this coming out soon because so many people love this concept. hope you all enoy it though and I really don't have much more to say beyond that.

For someone as smart as Logan could be, he could also be the stupidest man alive. 

Because as Hannah went up after Beau for karaoke, all Logan could focus on was the girl singing. 

The look he gave her made your stomach churn as it was the same look you often gave him. 

It was one full of love and hope, not for the person in front of them but for what the two of them could become together.

You had been Logan’s best friend since your first day in your freshman year. 

He needed a pen and when you offered up several different colours to him, something just clicked for the two of you. Leaving you inseparable ever since. The puck bunnies always asked why you had never done anything with Logan as his friends always asked if he was hiding that you were more to each other than the rest of the world knew. 

While you were always left being forced to smile and nod along when those questions came your way as you swore you two were just friend, you had to admit that it was starting to hurt you. 

Somewhere along the way you stared to like John, as more than just a friend. 

At first you played it off as something silly, but by the time you actually decied to rip off the bandaid and tell him how you felt. 

It was too late, not because Logan was taken but instead because he was looking at Hannah like she already had his heart. 

And tonight just reminded you of that as you were forced to sit there and watch as Logan looked at her like she was performing to a room of just him and her “I hate love.” You grumbled as you shook your head when you felt the seat next to you get taken.

Beau went to comfort you “shit,” he yelped as he drunkenly fell off of his chair. 

Your hand immediately clasped over your mouth “you good?” Your words were muffled as you tried to hold your other hand out to help him back up. 

The boy laughed, finally making you break too “ow.” He groaned as he stood back up. 

You shook your head “idiot.” You elbowed the boy who sent you a grin “at least I wasn’t just complaining about a guy.” He stuck his tongue out at you. 

A laugh left your lips again as your cheeks turned red “watch it or else I’ll push that chair.” Your warning made Beau grin as he sat on his chair again. 

When your eyes went back to Logan you saw him looking right back at Hannah. 

From that night you decided that you needed a break. 

A chance to pull yourself out of the situation. 

A moment to gaslight yourself into thinking that maybe you were wrong and Logan wasn’t in love with Hannah. 

And the only way you knew how to do that was to avoid him entirely. 

So that was exactly what you did.

And Logan realised something was seriously wrong when you stopped coming to the house entirely.

At first, it had just been smaller things.

Skipping movie nights. Leaving group chats on read. Suddenly always “busy” when the boys invited you over.

But now?

Now it had been almost two weeks since he’d properly seen you.

And Logan hated how much he noticed.

The house felt off without you in it.

Too quiet.

Nobody stealing fries off his plate. Nobody yelling at Dean for putting empty milk cartons back in the fridge. Nobody curled into the corner of the couch in one of his hoodies while pretending not to fall asleep during movies. Yet always ending up with a blanket wrapped around you

It irritated him more than it should have “she’s avoiding me,” Logan muttered finally one night when he walked from a run.

He thought the fresh air would clear his mind, but instead, he just found himself craving your company even more.

The boys all looked up from the living room at the exact same time.

Dean paused mid-scroll on his phone.

Garrett blinked slowly.

Tucker looked like he was trying not to laugh “what?” Logan asked immediately.

Dean stared at him for a long moment “you’re kidding.” He looked at the other guys to see if anyone else found it so funny.

“About what?”

Garrett physically set his drink down “oh my god, he actually doesn’t know.” He brought his hand to his mouth.

“Know what?”

Tucker laughed under his breath, “this is painful.” He mumbled making the blonde nod in agreement.

Logan frowned harder “can one of you just explain what the hell you’re talking about?”

Dean pointed at him dramatically “she likes you, idiot.” He was done waiting for Logan to get on the same page as everyone else.

Logan blinked.

“What?”

The room went dead silent.

Then Dean actually threw his head back laughing as Garrett looked personally offended “no way.” Logan stared at them. 

“No she doesn’t.”

All three of them groaned simultaneously as they hit their heads with their hands “yes she does,” Dean said immediately as he knew Logan was on a losing side of this battle.

What made it sad was that Logan was unaware of it all “massively,” Tucker added.

Garrett leaned forward “it is genuinely impossible to miss.” He pointed out as he rolled his eyes.

Logan looked between them almost nervous, “you’re messing with me.” He didn’t want to believe that they were all right.

Dean barked out a laugh “Logan, she literally follows you around this house like a lost puppy.” He didn’t even mean it in a bad way, it was just the truth. You just loved being around Logan.

“She does not.”

“She absolutely does,” Dean cut in.

Logan opened his mouth to argue again, but Garrett beat him to it “she sits beside you every single time we watch movies.” Without fail, your legs always landed up in his lap.

“That doesn’t mean-”

The blonde pointed his finger into the air “she does it because she loves getting a chance to cuddle you!” Dean interrupted as he shook his head.

Logan frowned slightly.

Beau pointed out as he walked into the house, “she also laughs at jokes that are objectively not funny when you make them.” Logan felt like the most unamusing person in that group half the time.

“That’s not true.”

One of the boys threw something at Logan as if it would knock some sense into him “dude,” Garrett deadpanned as he sent Logan an unimpressed look“you made a joke about a burnt grilled cheese last week, and she laughed so hard she cried.” Logan hesitated because maybe that one was fair.

Dean was already on a roll now.

“She brings you a thing of berries because she thinks of you.”

“She remembers your practice schedule better than you do.”

“She knows your coffee order.”

“She looks at you like you’re the only dude in this house half the time.”

Logan stared at the blonde, who continued to list things off

His stomach was starting to feel weird “she does not look at me like that.” He shook his head as the three of them exchanged a look.

Then Dean leaned back against the couch cushions dramatically “oh my god he’s stupid,” he muttered as he rubbed his face with his hand.

“Hopelessly stupid,” Garrett corrected.

Dean pointed toward the kitchen “last month you walked in wearing that grey hoodie she likes, and she genuinely forgot how to use a microwave.” Logan blinked as he swore that he never had that effect on you.

“What?”

Tucker nodded solemnly “tragic, honestly.” Not knowing if he was talking more about you or Logan in that moment.

Garrett laughed as he thought back to his favourite memory of you trying to hide your crush “and every time you touch her,” he did his best to hold back a laugh, “she goes completely silent for like ten seconds.”

Logan frowned harder, trying to think back.

Little moments suddenly started replaying differently.

You getting flustered when he threw an arm over your shoulders. How pink your face got whenever he complimented you. The way you always seemed to brighten the second he walked into a room “oh,” Logan said quietly.

Dean pointed at him again “there it is.”

Logan looked genuinely stunned now, like his world had stopped in that moment.

“She-”

“Yep,” Beau interrupted him immediately, not giving Logan a chance to come up with something wrong.

Silence quickly fell over the room as the boys waited for Logan to say something, “for how long?” Logan asked, his cluelessness made everyone else laugh.

Garrett shook his head “months, man.” Dean nodded in agreement as he ate his food.

Logan sat back slowly against the couch cushions.

And suddenly, karaoke night replayed in his head, too.

A switch had flipped in your brain, and you were stoic towards him after Hannah’s song. The way you barely looked at him afterwards. How you’d practically vanished from his life the next day.

Logan looked back at them “she stopped coming around because she likes me?” It was as if the penny dropped for him in that moment.

Dean’s expression softened slightly “she stopped coming around because she thought you liked Hannah.” Logan and Garrett all made awkward eye contact.

Logan blinked as he cocked his head “yep.” The boys all nodded in agreement before Logan had a chance to question it.

Logan ignored him completely as he stood up “oh, you are an idiot,” Garrett words were so quiet but still Logan heard everything he said.

Because the boys were right.

Days later, you didn’t know how you ended up at the boys place after a win. 

Well that was a lie, Beau and Dean practically dragged you out of your dorm after believing that you were becoming a decoration within your own room.

It was hard to say no to either of them when they started guilting you “I should go home.” You announced at the front door when the boys tightened their hands on your shoulders. 

Dean shook his head “look just have fun with us.” Beau mumbled into your ear. 

You sighed as they walked you into the house. Music echoed in your ears as people flooded around the first floor “we’ve got your back.” Beau added as he watched your eyes land on the boys. 

More specifically, Logan. 

The boy looked tired as he listened to Tucker recount a story that had him being overly expressive with his hands. 

His under eyes were dark as Logan looked almost like he wasn’t there anymore, at least not mentally. 

But when he finally saw you, he smiled. It was this soft, sweet one that almost looked delicate, like he was worried if he gave you anything more, that he was worried you’d run away. 

Your eyes drifted somewhere else in the room as you felt your heart throb.

It was killing you to not talk to Logan, but when you saw how Hannah smiled at something that Garrett said, you knew it was all because you could think about was what you didn’t have “c’mon let’s get you a drink.” Dean patted your shoulders as he pushed you in the direction of the kitchen. 

The boys kept on replacing your drinks every time you finished them. 

And you were doing a good job of throwing each newly refilled cup back like it was nothing. 

Song after song. 

Drink after drink. 

Every effort to avoid Logan went successfully. 

Time slipped away and the night grew older.

And before you knew it, you were drunk. 

Not the cute kind of giggly that wine got you. 

But the stubborn and determined drunk that tequila got you. And that’s when you decied that you had enough.

The air was cold when you finally left the party. 

You had decided that avoiding Logan was getting too much, so you left. 

The fall weather should have left your cheeks cool when the night breeze drifted past you, but instead, you felt like you were on fire. 

All your focus was on putting one foot in front of the other so that, by the time you made it to the sidewalk, the front door opened. 

You had created enough distance between you and the house “are you fucking serious right now?” Logan scoffed when he let the door shut with a slam behind him. 

Footsteps pounded behind you as you kept on walking fast. Which for someone who was as drunk as you were, wasn’t very fast at all “don’t,” you grumbled, knowing that he was steps behind you. 

Your fists clenched “what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Logan almost laughed as he furrowed his eyebrows. 

“It means just leave me alone!” 

Logan finally reached for you as you stumbled over your feet “I won’t.” He ended up in front of you forcing you to stop. 

A harsh sigh escaped from your lips “I’m fine.” You slurred, feeling your head spin. 

Alcohol tainted your tongue as Logan could smell it, “you’re so far gone.” He shook his head when he frowned. 

Your lips formed a pout “well aren’t you observant?” You stuck your tongue out at him as he laughed. 

You tugged your body back “so let me go home.” Your voice came out harsher than intended, and you were so drunk that you didn’t notice. 

He glared at you and you glared right back. 

And somehow that little moment sent the two of you over the edge “you know you have been avoiding me for damn weeks.” Logan was hurt and even if he tried to hide it, it still seeped through his voice. 

You rubbed your cheeks with your hands “not this shit again.” You groaned as you shook your head. 

“Yes, this again.” 

Logan wasn’t going to stop until he had a reasonable answer from you “you disappeared and acted like it was nothing!” He tugged his fingers through his hair. 

You finally looked at the boy’s eyes “look you didn’t even notice.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. 

It made the boy frown “of course I noticed when you weren’t around.” Logan clicked his tongue “hell you’re the first person I always look for in a room, even if I know you won’t be there.” His confession made your stomach churn. 

You shook your head “you don’t get to do this.” You raised your hand to stop him “look it’s bad enough you don’t like me back but don’t lie to me.” 

Logan crossed his arms “I am not lying jesus,” he scoffed as if he was offended that you even thought it. 

You looked up at the sky as you licked your lips “you love Hannah-” he tried to cut you off but you stopped him. 

Your hands wrapped around yourself, “and I need to learn to accept that you just don’t love me how I love you.” Your words came out and it was as if you had opened a can of worms. 

“In a way that makes me fine when you eat the last cookie or wait at the rink after games just so that I can be the first one to congratulate you or hug you, and god it’s in an unfortunate way that makes me hate you for not seeing me how I see you.” 

Silence followed your words as you felt your throat constrict, “oh god.” You groaned as you pushed Logan away from you, leaning into the dirt next to him. 

His hands immediately went to your hair as you threw up “let it out.” He cooed, rubbing your back as you whined. 

“I’m gonna die.” You groaned weakly, making him laugh “no you won’t.” 

You looked up at him in betrayal “I told you I love you and you are laughing at me?” You grumbled as you sent him a scowl. 

He shook his head “absolutely not.” He forced his lips shut “okay maybe a little bit.” 

Logan went back to rubbing your back “for the record I love you too.” The words slipped from his lips making you stand up. 

Your eyes were wide “you do?” Your voice was barely a whisper. 

He nodded “I was trying to stop it because I wanted to keep you as a friend rather than lose you altogether.” Logan let his hands fall to your hips. 

You melted into his touch “now please never leave me like that again.” Logan pressed a kiss against your forehead as you nodded. 

Logan smiled as he could smell your perfume on you again and not just on his clothes “can we go back to your room?” You asked as he let his hand slot into yours.

[andy-15-07]

jealous!Logan!!!!! jealous!Logan!!!!

He Doesn’t Like It

Pairing: John Logan  x Reader

Word Count: 1658

Request open!

Off campus masterlist

 John was not the kind of jealous boyfriend who made a scene.

That was the problem.

If he had been loud about it, if he had gotten obviously possessive or shoved himself between you and whoever was talking to you, it would have been easier to deal with. You could have rolled your eyes, laughed at him later, maybe even teased him until he admitted he was being ridiculous.

But John did not do ridiculous very often.

John got quiet.

And quiet John was dangerous.

You noticed it at the party in Garrett and Dean’s house, when you wandered into the living room with a drink in your hand and found yourself stuck in conversation with one of John’s old teammates. He was nice enough, probably. He was also talking to you with a little too much interest, standing a little too close, smiling a little too long.

You were already halfway through a polite laugh when you caught sight of John across the room.

He was watching.

Not glaring. Not scowling. Just watching with his drink in hand and that still, unreadable expression he got when something had his full attention. His jaw was set. His eyes were locked on the two of you.

The moment your eyes met, something flickered in his face.

Then he took a slow drink and looked away.

Your stomach tightened.

The guy beside you kept talking. “And then I realized I had the wrong study guide the whole time, which was honestly embarrassing.”

You smiled politely. “That sucks.”

“It really did.” He laughed, then leaned in just a little. “You’re easy to talk to, though.”

Before you could answer, a hand settled at the small of your back.

You almost jumped.

John’s voice came from directly behind you, calm and even and somehow worse than if he had sounded annoyed. “There you are.”

You turned your head. “Hi.”

His eyes flicked briefly to the guy beside you, then back to your face. “Hey.”

The silence that followed was immediate and awkward in all the obvious ways.

The guy looked between the two of you, then smiled. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t realize you were,”

“Not a problem,” John said.

It wasn’t rude.

That somehow made it colder.

The guy cleared his throat. “Right. Yeah. I was just talking to her.”

John nodded once. “I can see that.”

You could practically feel the tension under your skin.

You gave John a small look that said what are you doing?

He ignored it.

The guy shifted his weight, suddenly less confident. “Well, I should probably find my roommate.”

“Probably,” John said.

That was it. Just that.

The guy gave you an awkward smile and disappeared into the crowd.

The second he was gone, you turned fully toward John. “What was that?”

John took another sip of his drink. “What was what?”

“You know exactly what.”

He looked at you, and his expression was too neutral by half. “I came to get you.”

You crossed your arms. “From a conversation?”

John glanced in the direction the guy had left, then back at you. “A very long conversation.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “He talked to me for maybe four minutes.”

John’s mouth twitched. “Felt longer.”

That was when you knew.

You tried not to smile. You really did. “Are you jealous?”

He didn’t answer right away.

He just looked at you.

That should have been answer enough.

You tilted your head, trying to hide your amusement. “John.”

“I’m not jealous.”

You blinked. “That was the least convincing thing you’ve ever said.”

His jaw moved once, like he was fighting the urge to say something sharp. “He was standing too close.”

You stared at him for a beat.

Then your smile spread before you could stop it. “You are jealous.”

John gave you a flat look. “I said I’m not.”

“You walked over here like you were claiming territory.”

“That’s not what I did.”

“You put your hand on my back.”

“I was guiding you.”

“You interrupted my conversation.”

“He was rambling.”

You laughed softly. “Oh my God.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t start.”

“I can’t believe this.”

He leaned in a fraction, lowering his voice. “Believe it.”

Your face warmed instantly, because of course it did. He had that tone. That low, steady, very John tone that made teasing him feel a lot more dangerous than it should have.

You bit back a grin. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Don’t call me cute.”

“That’s not a no.”

John set his drink down and stepped closer, close enough that your back was nearly against the wall beside the hallway. “You think this is funny.”

You looked up at him, trying very hard to stay composed. “A little.”

He stared at you for a long second, then said, “He was flirting.”

You blinked.

The words were so direct that your smile faltered.

John’s expression stayed steady, but there was tension in his shoulders now, a quiet kind of possessiveness he usually kept better hidden. “I don’t like it.”

That hit different.

Not because it was dramatic. Because it wasn’t.

John wasn’t making a scene. He wasn’t accusing you of anything. He was just telling you the truth, plainly, like he always did when something mattered.

Your teasing softened automatically.

“John,” you said, a little quieter, “he was just talking to me.”

“I know.”

You frowned. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I don’t like him looking at you like that.”

Your heart gave a stupid little jump.

You studied him for a second, the jealousy still there but now mixed with something warmer, something protective and almost shy underneath the surface. John was trying very hard not to turn it into a bigger deal than it was, which somehow made it more endearing.

You reached up and touched his arm. “You know he meant nothing, right?”

John’s gaze dropped briefly to your hand, then back to your face. “I know.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

He hesitated.

That alone made your chest tighten a little.

Then he said, very quietly, “I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

The honesty of it made you go still.

There was no performance in his voice. No ego. Just that low, straightforward truth that always got past your defenses before you had time to stop it.

You softened immediately. “Okay.”

John studied your face like he was trying to decide whether you were laughing at him.

You weren’t.

You were looking at him with a fondness that only made him more alert.

His voice dropped another notch. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” You shifted closer and let your fingers slide lightly into the front of his shirt. “I get it.”

John’s expression changed a little at that. The tension in his jaw eased, though he still looked guarded.

“You do?”

You smiled. “You got jealous.”

“I did not,”

“You did.”

He stopped.

You gave him a soft, knowing look. “And for the record, it was kind of hot.”

That did it.

John stared at you for half a second, then his hand came to your waist and pulled you closer in one smooth motion. Your breath caught, but he didn’t kiss you right away. He just looked at you with that quiet, intense expression that always made your knees forget their job.

“Don’t say things like that if you don’t mean them,” he murmured.

Your pulse jumped. “I mean it.”

His thumb brushed once against your side. “Yeah?”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

John leaned in, his forehead almost touching yours. “Then tell me why I had to watch some guy stand there acting like he had a chance.”

You blinked, then laughed softly despite yourself. “You really are jealous.”

“I already admitted that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

His mouth twitched. “I’m admitting it now.”

That made your smile widen.

He stared at you for a second longer, then added, quieter, “I don’t like sharing your attention.”

That hit you right in the chest.

Because John said it like it was a simple fact. Not dramatic. Not needy. Just true.

You reached up and touched his cheek. “You have my attention.”

He looked at you.

All the tension in his face eased by degrees.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

You brushed your thumb along his jaw. “And for the record, nobody else is getting it like you do.”

Something in his expression softened completely then.

His hand at your waist pulled you in just enough that your bodies lined up, and his mouth brushed your temple in a quick, almost absent kiss.

It was such a small gesture, but it made your stomach go warm.

John rested his forehead briefly against yours. “Good.”

You smiled, a little breathless now. “You still being jealous?”

He was quiet for a second.

Then, very dryly, he said, “A little.”

You laughed. “That is so obvious.”

“I’m trying.”

“You’re failing.”

His eyes narrowed, but there was no real heat in it. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“A lot.”

John huffed a small laugh and kissed you properly this time, slow and steady and just possessive enough to make his point without actually making one. When he pulled back, his hand stayed at your waist.

You looked up at him, grinning now. “So. We’re done pretending you’re not jealous?”

John held your gaze for a beat, then said, “I never said I wasn’t.”

You laughed, soft and delighted, and he finally looked a little less tense.

Then his mouth curved, barely there but unmistakable.

“You coming back to the couch,” he said, “or do I need to keep rescuing you from bad conversation all night?”

You smiled and slipped your hand into his. “Depends. Are you going to keep glaring at everybody?”

He squeezed your hand once. “Only if they deserve it.”

And the way he said it made it very clear that, apparently, John Logan was willing to be jealous for as long as it took.

[folkloure]

⭑.ᐟ this place, your face, your heart

john logan x reader

summary: logan runs into you at a new year's party months after you broke up. second chance romance. angsty with happy ending! john logan being the biggest yearner in america! requested!

Logan has no business staring at you from across the room. Still, tonight he seems to be in the mood for torturing himself at this Briar U Alumni New Year’s Party, and he spends a few good minutes hiding behind walls and pillars to get a good look from you in the distance.

You look beautiful, he thinks, though your hair looks different, and he wonders if it’s just a low lighting trick or if you got a haircut somewhere in between those few months since he’s last seen you. 

He remembers overhearing Allie say once, “My mom would always tell me to cut my hair after a heartbreak. It’s tradition, you know?” He recalls her chatting with Hannah over some iced tea as their boyfriends and his teammates (himself included) had lunch, “Says it gets rid of the past for good.”

He feels stupid for hoping you haven't changed your hair yet.

“Are you planning on hiding all night?” Garrett’s voice breaks him out of trance, to which he sighs.

“Yes, actually.” He nods in your direction. Garrett follows Logan’s vision tunnel til he’s staring at you too. 

“Shit. First time seeing her after the breakup?” Logan nods, and Garrett hands him the whiskey he had been holding, “Take it. You need it more than I do.” 

“Thanks.” Logan takes a sip, scrunching his face at the bitter taste.

“Come on, dude.” Garrett takes him by the shoulders, hand pulling him from behind the pillar and pushing him in the opposite direction, “Let’s get your mind somewhere else, yeah? Party’s just starting.”

—

Just after the clock hits eleven, Logan says a half-assed apology to his friends before ditching the party. 

Truth is, he wasn’t enjoying himself at all, visions of you having taken place into his head now, occluding every other thought. All the memories he kept trying to push down, redirecting every single one of them into more training, more handywork, more car engines and tv screens and radio sets to be fixed every time he dared to think of you and how much he must’ve hurt you when he decided to break things off.

Logan had tried convincing himself it was for the best. That his love for you was making him turn away from all the other things he still had to fight for, spiraling over his future. That in the end, it got him where he wanted to be.

Still, he misses the days where all the glory he truly had was you trying to comfort him, soft kisses on his face as you murmured, “Don’t get too in your head.”

He won’t bother trying to push these memories down now — Logan welcomes your pretty face into his mind as he puts down a cigarette, throwing its butt on the floor of the Briar U Theater rooftop. If he can’t find a place you won’t haunt, he might as well go to the place he remembers you the most.

“You’re smoking now?” 

Logan turns around on his heels to find your figure at the door. He wonders if his memory is fucking with him, until you start walking in his direction, “Thought I saw you downstairs.”

Logan opens his mouth to answer, “Uh, no– Not really, it’s– Only when I drink.”

You hum, “Heard the Bruins signed you. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” he answers, then after a beat, “I wanted to call. To tell you about it.”

You shrug, “I guess I would’ve known either way.”

“Yeah, but still.” Logan gulps. How can he begin to say that he hates that the only way for you to hear of him is through the news? That he wants to tell you these things himself? God, he misses you. It’s not so easy to pretend he didn’t when you’re right in front of him. 

“And how’s that?” You speak again, a tiny, hurt smile on your face, “Everything you wished for?”

Not even close, he thinks in an instant, and the certainty almost surprises himself. Logan realised, through time, that even though he had finally secured his place on the NHL, you were still the only thought in the forefront of his mind. That no amount of time, prestige or money would take place of the thing he dreamed about the most, day and night.

“I miss you.” He says, wincing ces as you slightly recoil in surprise.

“Logan…”

“No, listen.” He takes a step closer, watching to see if you step back and nervously chuckling when you stay in place. “I’m– I’m really sorry I haven’t said anything sooner, or tried– I don’t know, tried to make it right before. But, oh my God, I miss you so much.”

You look at him for a moment, then drag your eyes around the place you’re both standing. “Do you remember this place?”

Logan scoffs, “Of course I do.” He looks around, “The only calm place in the building. You’d come here after rehearsals just for the silence.”

“And the view.” you completed, a smile on your face, “I liked watching the full moon from up here.”

He hums, “I liked watching you under the moonlight,” you look back at him, “Still do.”

You giggle, and Logan feels his heart jump.

A commotion on the ground floor picks your attention, and you look down to find people shrieking and laughing as they leave the Theater building. There’s sparklers in everyone’s hands, and they start chanting a countdown.

You move closer to him, head resting on his shoulder now.

Twenty nine, twenty eight, twenty seven, twenty six—

“I missed you too.” you say, your voice so low it almost gets drowned by everyone else’s screams, “I was so hurt back then. When you thought you wanted to end things, I mean.”

Logan’s eyebrows scrunch, face twisted in embarrassment, “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, “Don’t be, I think I understand. You were just too–”

“Too in my head.” He finishes, “You’d always say that. You were right.”

You nod, smirk on your lips, “I know.”

Eighteen, seventeen, sixteen, fiveteen—

“I don’t think I can just, you know, forget all that happened.”

He prepares himself for a rejection.

“And we’re gonna have to really talk things out.”

Logan’s head snaps in your direction, eyes wide, “What?”

Thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten—

“Is that not what you want?”

“Of course it is.” He rushes to say, “It’s all I want, but– You said–”

“It’s what I want too,” you say, “I don’t wanna get rid of our past, Logan. I just want us to make it work. For good, this time.”

Six, five, four–

“Thank you.” He takes your hand in his, bringing it up to his chest. You feel his heart beating, and your other hand travel to behind his neck, “Do I get to kiss you at midnight?”

Three, two, one–

You laugh, hands moving to his face as you pull him closer, lips sealing together as cheers erupt from the ground and fireworks decorate the sky. He kisses you once, twice, three times, then moves to pull you in a tight, sealing embrace. 

“Happy new year.” He whispers, and it’s like he’s wishing a happy new beginning.

“Happy new year, Logan.” You whisper back to him.

notes: thank you for reading! requests are open! likes/reblogs/thoughts are appreciated! <3

john logan masterlist

[random-ly-obssessed]

I Circle You

I've written reader as feminine and wanting traditional things (big house, kids, etc), swearing (maybe), drunk father dynamics, vague smut, reader is 20

Snapshots into John Logan's relationship

Not proofread, i have a migraine 😪

Logan has always known what his life would become after graduating. Everyone around him would move forward, go to the NHL or go work regular jobs, move around, settle down with their families. Not him though, he!d have to take care of his good-for-nothing, drunkard excuse of a father. Jeff would finally be free from the shackles of watching the old man drink himself sick into throwing up and then whining about his self-inflicted turmoil.

Jeff had a girl, and he deserved to marry her after everything he'd gone through so Logan could get through college, even if the degree was ultimately worthless, not like he could do anything with it. His life had been decided by fate at a very young age, it wasn't his own anymore once his father became a drunk. His life was boiled down to being a caretaker, a slave to the very man who had a hand in creating him.

Even though he hated what was coming, he couldn't bring it in himself to hate his father. He remembered being a kid, the man he used to be, the father who'd tuck him and Jeff into their beds at night, the father who said he loved him. He hadn't said that in years. Logan wondered if he still loved his dad or just the memories in his head that he clung to, hoping and dreaming that he'd wake up one day and the bad parts were all just dreams.

But they weren't, and Logan knew that, which is why he tried so hard, so hard, to not love you. You were air, you were his new dream, the one he could dream about without even sleeping. And he never feared that the dreams would make a turn for the worse because how could they? How could a dream with you in it ever be bad when you were the light shining in all of them?

You had been a freshman, which Dean would have warned him about, had you not been 20 and taken two gap years, something the blonde could commend you for. Your uncle was the coach, which would have scared Logan off immediately had you not been so...you.

Your smile was bright, so bright that Logan caught himself trying to make you laugh more and more when he was around you just to see it. Everyone noticed it, he'd deny it, say "no, no, she's coach's niece, i'd never go for it." But he would, and he did.

"Can I take you to dinner on Friday?" He'd asked you after practice one day, knees almost buckling when you looked up at him.

"Like a team dinner?"

"No, uh...just us. The two of us. Together." He'd asked swallowed, nervous now. He saw you process it before you smiled.

"If you're asking me out, do it properly."

"Y/n L/n, will you do me the honor of going out with me to dinner on Friday night?"

"Woah there, you're asking me out on a date, not proposing."

"I can't do anything right here, can I?" I scoff, smiling boyishly.

"I'd love to go out this Friday. Pick me up at 7:00?"

"It's a date."

And it was. If he'd been nervous before, all worries flew out the window once you opened the door for him on Friday looking worse for wear. Your nose was red, eyes the same shade to match. You'd looked confused.

"What are you- I texted you, didn't I?" You looked around for your phone, letting him step inside. You grabbed your phone, checking the messages before sighing. "I forgot to hit send..."

"Cold?" Logan asked, slipping his shoes off, setting the pink roses down. He knew you had a cat and you'd talked his ear off one day about how pretty much every flower was toxic to cats, minus roses and sunflowers and a few others. He'd pocketed that information for this.

"I dunno." You sniffled. "I think it's stress. Some girl was out sick, she sits next to me in physics, and then the next couple days I had a horrendous migraine." He frowned as you sat on the couch, curling in on yourself.

"Do you want me to leave or should I just order us some food and we stay in?" He asked, leaning against the wall that joined the living room to the kitchen, his eyes on you.

"I don't want to get you sick, or make you feel like you have-"

"I want to stay, if you want me to stay." He said. You pouted, eyes softening.

"I do." The minute you'd said it, he was stepping forward and sitting with you on the couch, pulling you into his arms and letting you melt into him.

"Did you take medicine?" He asked.

"I did, it didn't help much." You sighed.

"Maybe food will help, what are you in the mood for?"

"Something easy," you said tiredly, "like porridge or something." He wracked his brain before texting Tucker.

L: I'll pay you $50 if you can make something for Y/n, she has a cold.

T: I'll make it for free, what's she want?

L: Porridge?? She said something light.

T: 👍

That night, you two had laid on the couch and watched the first season of NCIS, the music and chase scenes were loud and he thought they'd bother you but no, ten minutes in and you were out like a light.

He sat up, slowly and carefully picking you up, taking you to your bed and covering you with your blankets. He turned on your fan, pecking your forehead softly, brushing a hand gently through your hair before pulling away to leave, pausing when you mumbled something.

"Huh?"

"Stay...stay here." You said, rolling over right after. He hesitated. You were sick, drugged up on painkillers and sleep medicine, not on your right mind at all. But he sighed. He wasn't going to do anything, obviously, and in the morning, if you yelled at him to leave, he'd do so. But your lips were in a pout, eyes cracked open just enough to look at him with a plea, and he folded.

He slipped off his jeans, staying in his shirt as he slid in next to you, rubbing you back once you curled into him, head tucked under his neck. He inhaled deeply, eyes closing in bliss. You smelled nice, you always did. Warm, some caramel mixed with something tangy, floral.

He felt a small shake on the bed, eyes peeking open to see your cat having jumped up to check on you. He recalled you saying your cat was always in tune when you were sick, had been since you were a kid, and he knew it was true when the cat took its place between your legs, purring loudly enough to where you could feel it. You'd told him how purring had calming effects on both humans and animals, something he had also tucked away for a time just like this.

The next week, when he showed up sick to practice, coach had sent him right on home to yours when you returned the favors and cared for him.

He'd taken that as a sign, a look into the future, that with you in the picture, didn't seem so bleak anymore. He took you to meet Jeff and his girl and after that went swimmingly. you met his dad. It had gone...as well as it could have.

Logan had confided in you that night, begged you to leave him since he could t give you what you wanted, picket fence, a husband that came home to you, maybe a few rugrats running around. He'd always be tied down, and he didn't want that for you, someone who was so passionate, so creative.

But you dug your heels into his grave and planted a garden there, a colorful array of wildflowers. He'd cried that night, right into your neck, and when you held him closer, he'd cried even more.

Logan came to yours a week later, looking...light.

"Good news?" You asked, sitting down on the couch.

"...Yeah. Like- the best news." He'd replied, sitting next to you. "My uh..my dad's going to rehab again, six month program." He swallowed. "And he said I should...he said I should apply to the NHL draft."

"Woah...I think you should," you said, always encouraging.

"I did." He chuckled. "Your uncle had the damn paperwork ready for me to just sign my name."

"So..." You bit your lip, looking up at him, squealing when he pounced on you, cupping your jaw as he kissed your mouth before trailing hot kisses down your neck.

"I'm going to the NHL, and you're coming with me."

"Oh, I am now, am I?" You mused, hands threading through his curls.

"Mhm, never letting you go, ever." He said, tilting your head back and kissing down the valley of your clothed breasts.

"Sounds clingy."

"You love when I'm clingy." He scoffed.

"Mm, true." You hummed, letting him nuzzle your neck once more before he pulled away.

"...I love you." He said, voice firm but quiet. You'd both said it before but this time was softer, intimate, the hopeful promise of a life beyond this.

Your lip quirked upward. "I love you too, Logan."

"If I asked you to marry me, what would you say?" He asked, making you chuckle.

"I'd say where's the damn ring-.." You trailed off when he rummaged in his shirt pocket before producing a small ring, the exact design you had saved on your pinterest board.

"Will-" He fumbled, quickly getting off the couch and onto his knees before realizing his mistake and lifting one knee, holding the ring up.

"Y/n L/n, will you to me the honor of being my wife?" He voice trembled slightly.

You'd blinked twice before rushing him and tackling him to the ground, making him laugh loudly before your lips were on his, his hands in your hair, ring set on the table as you kissed eachother. After pulling away, you murmured against his lips a quiet,

"I'd love to marry you, John Logan."

The ring slipped onto your finger, fitting perfectly. Like a puzzle piece that had been lost for years finally reunited with the original set. Nothing in this world was bleak anymore, because how could it be? How could anything be colorless anymore when you lit everything up with a glance, reviving his heart with a smile. Coloring his life in with your words.

[f4ll-for-you]

thinking of this for my next John Logan series?

Synopsis: John Logan was a senior, expected to go to the NHL along with his best friend Garrett Graham. His whole life had revolved around Hockey. And then there was you, his girlfriend, the love of his life. Logan’s life was just beginning and just ending at the same time, because he had a promise to keep.

[wildflowerxwords]

Check Engine Light // John Logan x Fem!Reader - [Chapter Eleven]

Synopsis: What starts as a simple repair turns into late-night diner runs, coffee deliveries to the garage, and a growing attachment neither of you expects. Logan likes that you talk too much when you're nervous. You like that Logan becomes softer when nobody’s watching.

But as pressure mounts with Logan's hockey career and real life starts pulling at you from opposite directions, you begin to wonder if you’re just a temporary stop in Logan’s fast-moving future.

And Logan realizes far too late that somewhere between oil stains and midnight drives, you became the closest thing he’s ever had to home.

Pairings: John Logan x Fem!Reader

Read the previous part here: read here.

Masterlist: Masterlist here.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

The drive back to campus passed in a blur.

You couldn’t say what songs played on the radio or how many traffic lights you stopped at. Your thoughts remained stubbornly fixed on the garage and on Logan’s face when you’d told him you felt like you were already losing him.

You hated that image. It followed you all the way back to your dorm.

By the time you got to your room, kicked off your shoes, and dropped your bag onto the floor, exhaustion had finally caught up to you. For a while, you tried to distract yourself by changing into sweatpants, washing off your makeup, and straightening up things in your room that didn’t need straightening.

Anything to avoid thinking or looking at your phone. Eventually, you failed. The screen lit up the second you picked it up.

There was a text from Logan, sent twelve minutes ago.

Logan: made it home?

You stared at the message; it was such a normal thing to ask. You sat down on the edge of your bed and typed back.

You: yeah

The response came a few minutes later.

Logan: okay

That was it. You stared at the screen long after the message arrived, just waiting. Not that you expected another text, but that you realized you wanted one. Something stupid, or meaningless. A meme, or a joke, or a complaint about Garrett or Dean or Tucker. Anything that felt normal. Nothing came.

You set the phone on your nightstand and climbed into bed. The room was dark aside from the soft glow of the lamp beside you. You found yourself staring at the ceiling, wondering what he was doing. Was he asleep? Was he replaying the fight too? Was he sitting in his room at his house feeling just as miserable as you did?

Despite everything you’d said that afternoon, despite all of the hurt and frustration and tears, you first instinct was to worry about him.

Eventually, sleep came. Not easily, but… eventually.

The next morning, you woke up before your alarm. For a few seconds you remained half asleep, staring at the pale sunlight that was filtering through the curtains.

Then you reached for your phone, the movement automatic. Your fingers found the screen, and that’s when you realized that nothing was there. No text, no good morning, no heart emoji.

The empty screen shouldn’t have surprised you. Not after the garage and everything you’d said. Now, there was only silence.

You placed the phone face down on the mattress beside you, before immediately picking it back up again, as if another message might have appeared in the last five seconds.

As you got ready for class, you found yourself checking your phone far more often than you wanted to admit. Again, not because you were expecting a message, but that you couldn’t quite stop hoping for one.

By lunchtime, you had convinced yourself that you were being ridiculous. Not because you suddenly felt better about what happened at the garage, but because you were perfectly capable of surviving a few hours without hearing from your boyfriend.

Or former boyfriend. Or whatever you were now. The problem was that you weren’t entirely sure which category applied.

You hadn’t broken up, neither of you had said the words. There hadn’t been some dramatic declaration in the middle of Logan & Sons.

But, you also hadn’t left with a plan. There was no ‘let’s work on this’ or ‘let’s take a few days and talk again’. Not even a ‘we’ll figure it out.’

You hated ambiguity. By the time you’d reached the student center between classes, you’d checked your phone often enough that you shoved it into the bottom of your bag out of sheer stubbornness.

That lasted twenty-three minutes. Not that you were counting.

You were sitting at a table near the windows, attempting to read an article for class, when Mel dropped into the chair across from you.

One look at your face and her expression immediately softened.

“Oh.”

You groaned.

“It’s not that bad.”

Mel leaned back in her chair.

“The fact that you’re arguing before I even ask a question tells me it’s bad,” she said.

You rolled your eyes.

Mel watched her for a moment before speaking again.

“Have you heard from him?” she asked.

You looked down at your half-finished assignment in front of you.

“No.”

Mel nodded slowly.

“Have you texted him?”

“No.”

The time, Mel’s eyebrows lifted. You immediately knew what you were thinking.

Normally, you would’ve. Normally, if there was tension, you wre the first person to reach across the divide. The first to call and smooth things over. This time, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You were just tired.

Mel seemed to understand that without you saying it. She reached across the table and squeezed your hand briefly.

“What do you want to happen?”

The question caught you off guard. Everyone kept asking what had happened, but nobody had asked that. You looked away for a moment.

“I just want him to understand.”

The words came out before you could think about them. Mel nodded.

“I don’t need him to agree with me, or think I’m right about everything. I just need him to understand why it hurt.”

You looked down at your hands. What you needed was for Logan to understand that it wasn’t one individual moment; it was that those moments had stacked on top of each other, week after week, until you’d felt more alone in the relationship than you ever thought possible.

Mel was quiet for a few seconds, then she said softly, “I think he does.”

You looked up, “What?”

“I think he does understand. Maybe not all of it.”

She paused before adding, “From what you’ve told me, he looked pretty devastated.”

You laughed weakly.

“Yeah.”

That was one word for it. The way he’d looked when you’d told him you felt like you wre losing him. The way his face had changed when he’d admitted he didn’t know how to fix it. Hearing him admit he was lost had made the situation feel frighteningly real.

Mel tilted her head, “What are you thinking?”

You hesitated and then answered honestly, “I miss him.”

“Of course you do,” Mel said, almost expecting that answer.

You shrugged, feeling stupid.

“You don’t stop loving somebody because you had one terrible conversation,” Mel said.

You nodded. You just wanted to believe that the boy you loved was still somewhere underneath all of the pressure and expectations. You just wasn’t sure if either of you knew how to find him anymore.

--

The first few days were the hardest. You hadn’t realized how much of your daily routine had quietly wrapped itself around Logan until suddenly he wasn’t woven through it anymore.

His absence showed up in strange places. A walk across campus where you instinctively glanced toward the hockey facilities because that was usually where you’d find him. A funny story during class that had you reaching for your phone before remembering that there was nobody else you wanted to text it to. A late-night trip to the dining hall where you automatically checked your messages, expecting some complaint about one of the guys eating someone else’s leftovers.

Every time it happened, the realization stung all over again. There was no clear ending to mourn, because again, you hadn’t broke up. There was just a conversation at the garage and a silence that neither of you seemed willing to break.

By Friday, you had become embarrassingly aware of how often you looked for him. A campus that once seemed enormous, now seemed determined to throw you into each other’s orbit.

The first time was outside the student center. You were leaving a class meeting when you spotted a group of hockey players coming down the front steps. Your stomach dropped before your brain fully processed why.

Logan.

One glimpse of him and every carefully constructed emotional wall that you’d spent days building developed cracks. He was laughing at something Dean said, his head tilted back slightly. His shoulders were relaxed, and for a brief moment, he looked exactly like himself.

The sight hit you harder than you expected. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed seeing him smile.

As if sensing something, Logan looked up. Your eyes met across the crowded walkway.

Dean kept talking, Garrett said something, but Logan stopped walking.

The smile faded from his face; not because he was unhappy to see you, but because now he looked uncertain. For a second, you thought he might walk over and part of you desperately wanted him to. However, you simply looked at each other.

Then, you forced yourself to keep walking. By the time you glanced back, the hockey players were moving again and Logan disappeared into the crowd.

The encounter lasted less than ten seconds, but it ruined the rest of your afternoon.

--

That night, you were halfway through answering emails when your phone buzzed. The sound immediately drew your attention.

The screen lit up on your desk, and you saw the contact name. Logan. For a moment, you simply stared at the name. Finally, you tapped the screen, opening the message.

Logan: Hope your presentation went okay today

You read it twice. No apology, no request to talk or emotional speech. It was just a simple message, but it was significant. You hadn’t told him you had a presentation today, at least, not recently. Then, you remembered. Three weeks earlier, lying in bed together at his house, you told him you had the presentation and you were nervous about it.

Logan had apparently remembered, and that realization caught you off guard.

You: it went well

You stared at the message before finally hitting send. The bubbles appeared to show he was typing.

Logan: good, I know you were stressed about it

The words made your chest tighten. They sounded like Logan. Just your Logan.

You looked at the screen for a moment, and then set your phone aside without answering. You didn’t know how to continue the conversation. For the first time since the garage, something other than sadness settled in your chest. Not happiness, not yet, but the faint, cautious realization that maybe silence wasn’t the only thing waiting on the other side of that conversation.

The conversation didn’t continue that night. For some reason, that made you respect it more.

--

The next afternoon, you found yourself at Malone’s, grabbing a quick lunch. What you didn’t realize, was that Allie would be your waitress that day.

You hadn’t spoken to Hannah or Allie more than a few texts here and there, and you figured that they’d gotten the story from Logan or their boyfriends.

Allie appeared next to you at your table, putting your drink down. She looked like she was deciding whether to say something or not.

“Dean’s losing his mind,” she finally said.

You looked up.

“What else is new?”

“No, seriously.”

“What happened?” you asked curiously.

“Logan left here after twenty minutes yesterday.”

You blinked, “What?”

“Twenty minutes. Dean thought he was dying.”

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

“Why?” you asked.

Allie shrugged, “Said he was tired.”

You looked down at the menu in front of you. The answer shouldn’t have mattered, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about it. Logan loved this place, not because he loved the place itself, but because that’s where everyone was: his team, his friends, and the noise and energy he’d always seemed to thrive on.

You nodded.

Allie watched you carefully, “He’s been weird lately.”

The comment was casual, and you immediately knew there was more coming. You sighed.

“Allie.”

“What?”

“Don’t.”

A grin tugged at her mouth, “I’m not doing anything.”

“You absolutely are.”

She laughed, and then surprisingly, let the subject drop as she took your order.

That relief lasted approximately twenty minutes, long enough for you to convince yourself that Allie would drop it. Then, Allie appeared to drop off your food.

“You know what’s even weirder?” Allie asked.

You groaned.

“Allie—”

“He turned his phone off.”

Your head snapped up before you could stop yourself.

“See?”

“Allie.”

“He turned it off.”

“People turn their phones off.”

“No they don’t.”

You opened your mouth, and closed it again.

Logan practically lived with his phone attached to him lately. The image of him constantly checking messages at Malone’s flashed through your mind, the memory still stinging.

“You’re just as bad at meddling as Dean,” you said, trying to change the subject.

Allie laughed and walked off. You couldn’t stop wondering why Logan would shut his phone off. Not because you thought it had anything to do with you, that would’ve felt dangerously close to hope. Still, the thought stayed with you for the rest of the afternoon.

That evening, you attended the Briar U Hockey game. You spent most of the drive to the arena debating whether you should go at all. That argument was ridiculous; of course you wre going. You’d been going to games long before the garage argument happened, long before you’d start wondering if you and Logan were slowly slipping through each other’s fingers.

One conversation didn’t get to take away hockey and supporting him from you, even if part of you worried that seeing him might hurt.

The arena buzzed with its usual energy. Students packed the stands in blue, white, and red. You were wearing one of Logan’s old practice jerseys, the 22 and LOGAN in bright white letters on your back.

Music blasted through the speakers, and the ice gleamed beneath the bright arena lights. Everything looked exactly the same. You weren’t sure if that was comforting or upsetting. You found your usual seat and settled in just as warmups began, and the boys skated out onto the ice. You felt your heart jump as you looked for number 22 but didn’t see him yet.

A few minutes later, Dean spotted you. Even from halfway across the ice, he waved enthusiastically. You laughed and lifted a hand in return to wave. Some things never changed.

A few of the remaining boys who weren’t there for warmups came out later, Logan and Garrett included. Their backs were to you as they all stood for the national anthem to play.

Then, the game started. For a while, you managed to lose yourself in it. The speed and noise were distracting you. Then, Logan stepped onto the ice, and suddenly nothing felt simple anymore.

You watched as he effortless glided across the ice, commanding attention. The same person you’d spent days trying not to think about, but also missing. You watched him adjust his gloves after the whistle was blown, and he glanced towards the stands.

Then, he froze. Only for a second, it was a blink-and-you-miss-it moment. But, you saw it, because he was looking directly at you. Even from across the rink, you could see the surprise in his expression. The realization that you’d come. Neither of you looked away from each other. Then, the referee skated into position, and the moment ended as Logan got ready for the game to resume.

For the rest of the first period, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. It was like the ground beneath you was finally beginning to move after standing perfectly still for the last few days.

The game was one of Logan’s best in weeks. You had realized it sometime during the second period, as he scored, and the announcers kept saying his name. You heard the crowd around you start whispering about him. He looked different during the game; lighter.

The tension you’d grown accustomed to seeing in him seemed less pronounced somehow. He was still playing hard, still carrying the pressure that came with being one of Briar’s biggest NHL prospects, but there was a confidence to him tonight that had been missing lately.

Twice, you caught Dean looking toward the stands and grinning. You caught Garrett doing the same thing. The second time, Garrett pointedly looked from Logan to you and then shook his head as if he had just solved a mystery.

You immediately pretended not to notice. Unfortunately, Garrett saw you notice. His grin widened.

You spent the rest of the period avoiding eye contact with any of them entirely. By the time Briar secured the win, the arena was loud enough to shake the bleachers. Logan had scored twice.

Student surged toward the exits, excitedly talking about the game and beating one of the team’s biggest rivals. The team gathered near center ice with their coach. You remained seated for a few extra moments, letting the crowd thin.

A month ago, you would’ve lingered outside the locker room, assuming you’d see him afterward. Maybe you’d grab food, or end up at his house. The possibilities had once felt endless, but now they felt impossibly far away.

You stood, standing there for a moment before you headed toward the exit. It wasn’t because you wanted to leave, but you’d spent too much time waiting already and didn’t know what to say to him. You felt strangely proud of yourself, because leaving hurt, but you did it anyway.

The text arrived ten minutes later. You were stopped at a red light when your phone buzzed in the cupholder beside you.

You saw the name flash across the screen. Logan.

The light turned green, and you forced yourself to keep driving. Only when you reached your dorm parking lot did you finally check it. The message was short.

Logan: thanks for coming tonight

You stared at it and read it again. There was just gratitude.

You: you played really well

The response came a minute later.

Logan: I wasn’t sure if you would come

The honesty of it caught you off guard. It felt like Logan. For the first time in days, you allowed herself to imagine what he was doing. The post-game interviews were probably over by now. Was he headed to Malone’s?

You looked back at your phone.

You: I’ve never missed one of your home games

The response took longer this time, long enough that you wondered if he’d gotten pulled into something. When the message finally appeared, it was only one sentence.

Logan: I know.

Two words. Somehow, they carried more weight than entire conversations. It was something deeper, like he was saying ‘I know you’ve always been there.’

Your phone buzzed again.

Logan: Can I ask you something?

Your heartbeat immediately quickened. The question felt different. You stared at the screen for several seconds before replying.

You: okay

This time, the pause stretched longer. Long enough that you wondered if he’d changed his mind. Finally, the bubble popped up showing he was typing.

Logan: would it be ok if I took you to get coffee sometime next week?

You read the message a few times. Not dinner, not a date, just coffee. Something simple, and low pressure. The type of request that acknowledged exactly where they were, and didn’t assume anything.

Something inside of you softened, just a little. Not enough to erase the hurt and undo the last few weeks. But, to remind you why this had been so difficult in the first place. Logan wasn’t trying to force his way back into your life. He was knocking, and waiting to see if you would answer.