˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

lou, she/her, 26

[folkloure]

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hello! <3 this blog started as a side blog used mostly to reblog and give some proper appreciation to my favourite fanfic writers, but now i’m posting my own works! you can check out my masterlist here and my ao3 here!

i don’t use any kind of AI for my writing.

requests are open — i’m currently working through my askbox so please be patient! feel free to send me an ask or dm me if you wanna chat! 💌

[folkloure]

okay so slight change of plans lol horny fic coming tomorrow (maybe thursday?) then sad fic soon after <3

[folkloure]

rewatched sabrina carpenter’s sugar talking coachella performance and immediately decided i should drop the sad fic and write some smut

[folkloure]

got a handful of really cute and fun requests since last night and i’m so excited and thankful (really!! thank you!!) but i fear i must warn you that next fic will actually be sad as fuck

[folkloure]

hii! i absolutely ADORE your writing and have a logan request if you’re taking them 🤍

could you do a john logan x reader where everyone’s at a party (maybe beau and dean’s?) and reader accidentally drinks a little too much and ends up getting really sick. everyone tries to help, but all she wants is logan, so he drops everything and comes and takes care of her. i just think he’d be so sweet and reassuring while she’s embarrassed and not feeling well. obviously take your own creative liberties and whatever you see fit! thank you! 💕💕

hiiii thank you so much for your very kind words & for your request!!!

you can read it here <3

[folkloure]

⭑.ᐟ look after you

john logan x reader

summary: girl's night takes a turn after you drink too many vodka crans, and logan takes care of you. fluff, hurt/comfort. requested!

warning: mentions of vomiting/feeling sick.

When you and Logan first started dating, a couple agreements had to be done. 

First, you need to tone down the fluff around people. PDA is fine to a limit, and you don’t feel like submitting your friends to very public kisses and more — you have Allie and Dean for that already. 

Secondly, you refuse to be one of those couples who can’t do anything without each other. You need time to yourselves, to actually spend time with your friends instead of just orbiting each other all night. Sometimes you two wanna be hip to hip at a hangout, fine, but most times you two go your own way, chat with different people or have your own fun at completely different places, just to reunite by the end of the night and piece together all the talks and gossip you’ve managed to gather, your own little debrief after a party.

Tonight, however, the debrief is compromised after one or three too many vodka cranberries.

“Allieeeeee,” you shout over the booming sound of Malone’s pop girlies playlist, an upbeat song blasting over your heads. You grab your friend by her shoulders, urging Allie to join you, “Dance with me!”

You’re both a little more than tipsy, dancing as Hannah watches from the nearest table, sober and mesmerized by your current lack of self preservation. With your arms going up and your heads banging left and right to the loud beat, it doesn’t take long for the obvious thing to happen, and your eyes widen once you feel a lump in your throat threatening to come out. You quickly disentangle yourself from Allie, running past the bathroom line and pushing people away, a litany of ugly names as you spill your guts into the bowl. 

“Oh, babe,” you hear Hannah’s voice behind you, her hand on your shoulders as she kneels to check on you, “You feeling better?”

“Nuh-uh,” you say, your mouth watering as you gag. You feel her fingers quickly wrapping around your hair, pulling it back at the same time as you lurch forward again. 

“Okay, you’re good,” Hannah says once you’re done, grabbing a bunch of toilet paper and dabbing it across your mouth and chin, “Time to go, yeah?”

You sniffle, nodding as you murmur your apologies to the girls waiting in line behind you. 

Hannah squeezes your shoulder and leads you out the bathroom, making a pitstop to pick up Allie under the watchful eyes of Jules (huh, having them be everywhere really comes handy, you think), then going your way to the car. 

“Thank you,” you mutter as she helps you buckle your seatbelt, “You didn’t have to.”

“Of course,” Hannah says, smiling fondly at you, “I’m the designated driver. It’s my duty to take care of my drunken friends.” 

“Hey, I’m not drunk,” Allie says, sprawled in the backseat.

“Sure. We’ll discuss that at home, ‘mkay?” Hannah turns the ignition on, face turning to you just slightly as she drives, “You’re sleeping at ours tonight?”

You shake your head, but she intervenes, “I’m not leaving you alone at your dorm after you puked your insides out at the bathroom.”

“Ew,” you hear Allie say, giggling a little though you immediately regret it. Every sudden movement makes you feel ill again. You close your eyes and throw your head back into the headrest,

“No, no— Could you please drop me off at the boys’?”

“Are you sure? Cause I don’t mind watching you,” Hannah says, peeking at the backseat, “Allie’s half asleep already. She’s an easy drunk once she gets sleepy.”

“Not drunk,” Allie intervenes again, muttering her words from tiredness.

“I know,” you answer, “It’s just that—”

You turn your head to the window, a little embarrassed to say it to her face. You love Hannah, and you know she loves you right back, never measuring any efforts to take care of her loved ones and always going beyond her arms’ length to reach out to you, Allie or any of her close friends. But god, you feel awful, and you wanna see Logan. Not because he’ll miraculously heal you, or take care of you better than your Hannah could, but because you miss him. You wanna lay next to him and have your little debrief session with him, even though you can’t fathom speaking more than a few words without feeling sick. 

You just wanna be with him right now.

“Just wanna see Logan,” you say, “That’s all.”

You don’t see the way Hannah’s face softens, but she doesn’t ask any more questions, immediately taking a left turn and driving to the boys’ place. She bites back a tease, feeling bad to see your face still squeamish, hands hovering over your stomach as it burns. You could use some comfort, she thinks, and who better than your boyfriend to take care of it— to look after you? 

So she drives in silence, moving extra carefully at every turn so you won’t feel carsick, paying attention even if you keep your eyes closed, wandering in and out of that unconscious state only car drives can lure you in, only hearing Hannah’s fingers tapping on the wheel up until she parks right outside the boys’ garage. You barely hear when she opens her car door and jump out, her muffled voice outside the car,

“Hey, did I wake you? No, everything’s fine— Well, actually, could you please get Logan?” You can only assume she’s talking to someone on the phone, since you don’t hear any answers. She goes on, “Hm, she’s not feeling good. She’s fine now, just— Yes, back at Malone’s. Yeah, we’ll stay the night, thanks.”

You don’t see the commotion of Garrett opening the door to help Hannah get Allie out the car, or Logan quickly going down the porch stairs and showing up on the passenger side and opening the door carefully in case you were resting your head on the window. You only stir awake after you feel his hand resting on your cheek, 

“Hey,” he whispers, hunching down to follow your confused face, “You okay?”

“Logan,” you try to say through your dry throat, “Hey.”

“Hi, honey,” he chuckles, “How are you feeling?”

“Thirsty,” you say in your ragged voice, “And tired. So tired.”

“I’ll get you some water once we’re inside, yeah?” His hand finds your upper back, pulling you forward so he can wrap his arms around your waist, “Need help?” 

You shake your head, but Logan has to catch you as soon as you try stepping out of the car, your knees buckling in the process. “You’re good, baby. You know what? C’mere.”

Logan drops to catch your legs on his arms, suddenly raising you up from the floor and biting back a laugh as you yelp, your arms quickly wrapping around his neck.

“Sorry—” He says, “Should’ve warned first. You good?”

You nod, dropping your head on his shoulder and feeling the way his body trembles with a chuckle, shutting the car door as he turns to walk back inside.

Logan carries you upstairs to his room, sitting you down on the corner of his bed and grabbing you a glass of water. You watch as he rummages through his drawers, picking up some clean clothes. He turns back to you, hands on the hems of your top, “Gonna take it off now, yeah? Wanna take a shower?”

You wish you could say no, because you’re so goddamn tired and his bed looks really, really comfy in comparison to the leather seats from Garrett’s car, but you can’t ignore the memory of having your arms thrown over the toilet on Malone’s and the bitter taste of bile in your mouth. 

“Would you help me?” you murmur, embarrassment taking over for a second. Logan grins at you, fondness all over his face. Of course, he wants to say, always. He nods instead, not bringing too much attention to the way you avert your eyes from his. 

You both tiptoe to the bathroom not to wake anyone, and Logan twists the faucet, letting the bathtub fill with warm water as he helps undressing you. You sit in the tub, legs bent up and your forehead resting on your kneecap as he gently scrubs your back and shoulders, then your arms and neck. You take the brush from his hands to wash your legs and stomach, and he uses his hands to cup some water and take the foam off of you, a quick kiss pressed on your naked shoulder once he’s done with it. He wraps you in a towel and hands you a toothbrush you keep in his closet, 

“Do it gently,” he says as you brush your teeth, “Don’t make yourself gag or it’ll hurt your stomach again.”

You move slowly, balance still a bit off. He helps you dress up in one of his old hockey shirts when you walk back to his room, then tucks you under the covers, turning the lights off and laying down next to you.

“Better?” He whispers, his minty breath tickling your face, making your lips quirk up into a tiny smile. 

“Hm, much better,” you whisper back, your fingers moving to touch his face, thumb going left and right over his cheekbone, “I ruined our debrief session.”

Logan lets out an unexpected chuckle, “We can do it over breakfast in the morning.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s not like I have much to tell you about our boring night in.”

“You always find something to tell me,” you say, jabbing his upper arm, “You overanalyse the shit out of everything the boys say.”

“They’re interesting,” Logan says, a quiet laugh as he shrugs, “Have you ever talked to Tuck? You never know what he’s gonna say next. Amazing things happening in that brain, I’ll tell you that.” You chuckle, your eyes fluttering closed as your face nuzzles onto his pillow. You wrap your arm around his torso, pulling him a bit closer, “Thank you.” For taking care of me, you leave unsaid, for looking after me, for cleaning me up, for everything, really. 

Logan presses his nose on the curve of your neck, the smell of his soapwash mixed up with your shampoo so comforting as he rests his head right next to yours, “Anytime, baby.”

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

john logan masterlist

[folkloure]

hello!!! posting a new request tonight hopefully!!! may we all join hands and manifest i can finish writing and proofreading before work please

[folkloure]

posting it in a few!!!! thank you so much for your patience!!!! <3

[folkloure]

hello!!! posting a new request tonight hopefully!!! may we all join hands and manifest i can finish writing and proofreading before work please

[folkloure]

so… raincheck until tomorrow?

[folkloure]

hello!!! posting a new request tonight hopefully!!! may we all join hands and manifest i can finish writing and proofreading before work please

[folkloure]

once again feeling like i can either write the most tooth-rotting sweet fluff or the dirtiest ranchiest smut and there’s really no in between

[folkloure]

heeeey, I love your fics, they are amazing! you're are amazing! if your requests are open, could I request one with Logan?

I'd be happy to read anything about Logan x fashion design major!reader.

But if we go into detail, what about her being nervous because she has a final show coming up? And she's running around trying to solve some issue in an already chaotic workshop where there are already a bunch of equally nervous students. And Logan decided to visit her, but she just runs past, not looking at him, with a phrase like: "Nah, I need to stay a bitch until I solve this problem, don't look at me, otherwise I'll melt." or whatever comes to your mind I just like the idea that she becomes unbearable go-getter when it comes to her major, but Logan somehow turns her from a person a who is ready to ruin the life of anyone who crosses her path into a warm and fuzzy one

but again, I'd be happy to read anything about Logan x fashion design major!reader. I'd be happy to read anything in general from you

thank you 😊😊

hello! thank you so much for your kind words <3 and thank you for your request! it’s not word for word what you mentioned but i hope i got the general idea! also, i had such a fun time writing and doing some proper research for this one!

you can read it here

[folkloure]

⭑.ᐟ vogue, vogue!

john logan x fashion design major!reader

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

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

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

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

And still, he has to go in. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eh, you know me well,” you shrug.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

john logan masterlist

[folkloure]

feeling so very normal about peter parker wearing juicy coutoure bedazzled pants in brand new day

[folkloure]

finally managed to change my work hours a bit now that i’m starting a new job and hopefully i’ll have more free time to write!! can’t wait to keep working on your requests <3

[folkloure]

Hello! Are you taking requests? :)

If u are can I get a john logan x reader where shes not the party type of gal but she's friends with hannah and allie and they always drag her so she ends up going to always finds a quiet place to enjoy herself like maybe in a backyard where its quiet and logan starts taking an interest everytime he sees are alone and approaches and they build this friendship of sitting together talking and it ends up with them being together

Its ok if u cant write it but thank you!

hello and thank you so much for your request! you can read it here <3

[folkloure]

⭑.ᐟ real romance

john logan x reader

summary: you and logan find yourselves meeting up again and again in the backyard of the hockey team's house parties. 2,2k words, fluff, request!

Logan feels like he should be thankful for the guys’ eternal disposition for throwing parties, even though he thinks it might kill him any day now.

He’s coming out of a tough week, the end of semester dumping him into an ugly mix of early practices and pulling all-nighters, leaving him more tired than usual. He thinks of his dreams of having a nice meal and good night of sleep as a boomboxing sound makes him feel like his head is pounding, swallowing all his long forgotten plans along with a sip of a warm beer. 

“That’s disgusting,” Garrett’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts, “At least get a cold one.”

“Meh,” he downs the rest of his drink, “Had been nursing this one for like, an hour now.”

Garrett hums, “Not much for drinking tonight?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “Not much for anything, really. Just hanging out for a bit.”

“Fair. Tough week?”

Logan chuckles, “You know it. Did Wellsy come too?”

“Yeah, going rounds trying to find a friend.” Garrett looks around the room, “Matter of fact, I better go find her. Want me to bring you a cold beer?”

“No,” he stands up from the couch, “I’ll grab it myself. Thanks, man.”

Logan heads to the kitchen, an impromptu bar made from two massive coolers, and grabs a beer out of the ice. He’s still dwelling on the fizzy feeling down his throat when he spots the backdoor leading to the backyard slightly cracked open, and a girl sitting on the bench under a few lightstrings.

Your eyes are closed, head resting on the wall behind you and seemingly taking in the nice weather, so different from the stuffy atmosphere inside. With your peaceful face illuminated by the tiny golden fairylights, Logan thinks you look like a vision. 

He’s not one to believe in love at first sight, but he does believe in talking to pretty girls.

“You good?” He says, watching your shoulders tense all of sudden, a startled look on your face. He bites back a laugh, “Sorry, just checking.”

“‘m fine,” you mutter, “Just trying to listen to what they’re playing now.”

He steps out, moving in your direction slowly, “May I sit?”

You watch him for a moment, scanning his entire demeanour before making your mind. Your eyes stop on his left hand, and he holds his canned beer up, “This is my second one,” he says, figuring out what you’re thinking, “And I just opened it. I’m not drunk, in case you’re wondering.”

Your mouth twists, biting your lip before you give him a single nod, “Okay,” you scoot over to the side, opening space for him on the bench. Logan sits on the very far corner, not wanting to scare you at all.

Nineties’ pop music plays inside the house, and Logan’s pretty sure Hannah is the one queuing the songs. He watches as you bob your head in the rhythm, “You like it?”

You hum, “Yeah. Playlist’s good, it’s just too loud inside.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “They tend to be.”

“You’re a regular at the hockey team house parties?” You ask, and it makes Logan realise you don’t know him at all. Bad for his ego, sure, but good that he has a clean slate. He doesn’t often get one of those.

“You could say that, yes.” He smirks, and you look at him like you’re trying to grasp what he meant by that. Or you’re just thinking he’s fucking weird, he thinks. Logan clears his throat, “You’ve never been over here?”

You shrug, “Maybe once during freshman year, I’m not sure. I don’t do parties that much, honestly,” you smile bashfully, “Boring, I know.”

“You don’t seem boring at all,” he says, smiling as he adjusts his position, turning his body to face you, “What brings you here, then?”

“Uh, my friend Hannah,” you smile, “She's been asking me to come ever since she started dating Garrett Graham. One of the Hockey guys, you know?”

Logan just nods, smiling, “I’ve heard of him. And how come you’ve never seen any of the hockey games?”

“It’s just not my thing,” you take a sip of your drink, like you haven’t just destroyed his entire world. He lets out a laugh, and you smile at him, “You didn’t tell me your name.”

“John. Uh, John Logan.”

He watches as your smile drops, and he’d feel slightly bad if your widened eyes weren’t so adorable. “As in Garrett’s best friend? From the hockey team?”

“Yeah, sorry.” He offers you a tight-lipped smile, “I thought you didn’t watch hockey?”

“I don’t,” you say, averting your eyes from him as you stand up from the bench, “I’m sorry, erm– Hannah talked about you, that’s all. Um, I should go find her.”

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he stands too, and you see a flash of earnest crossing his eyes as he steps in your direction. 

You shake your head, laughing incredulous, “No, I did that myself,” you chuckle, “I– I’ll see you around, yeah?”

And with that, you scurry back inside. 

Logan drops back into the bench, his lips curved into a tiny smile. Yeah, he’ll see you around.

“Logan, what is actually wrong with you?” Hannah shouts from halfway down the stairs. 

Logan sits in the kitchen next to Tucker as they share party leftovers for breakfast, and both Johns look up as she storms into the room. 

Tucker’s head snaps at him, “Nice meeting you,” he says solemnly as he pushes the plate of mini sandwiches in his direction "Enjoy your last meal.” 

Hannah stops in front of him, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed in a way Logan only sees when Garrett is being particularly annoying.

“I’m guessing your pretty friend rattled me?”

“She was mortified,” Hannah says, then in a slightly more invested tone, “You think she’s pretty, huh?”

“I didn’t mean to embarrass her,” He answers, “I just thought it was… Nice that she didn’t know me.”

Hannah rolls her eyes, turning away from him, “You hockey players and your big fucking heads.”

“Wait, Hannah,” Logan grabs the mini sandwich plate, moving around her, “I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to her next time.”

Hannah raises her eyebrow, “Next time?”

“If you bring her again. Please?” He smiles coyly, offering her the plate, “Here, turkey and spinach as an apology?”

She stares at the mini sandwiches, letting out a huff before snatching it off of his hands, “You’re lucky I’m hungry. Don’t try to be funny next time.”

He doesn’t know if it’s his luck or if you’re allowing him to find you so easily. Still, Logan murmurs a thank you to whoever’s listening when he spots you on that very same bench.

“Second time in a row,” he says, immediately disregarding Hannah's commands and being (debatably) funny, “Thought you didn’t do parties?”

You turn your head to face him, relief washing over him once he sees a smile on your face, “You’re one to talk,” you answer, “Mr. You Could Say I’m A Regular. You literally live here.”

“Which is exactly why I’m a regular,” he says, sitting down on the bench. “Sorry for not clarifying that before.”

You shake your head, chuckling, “It’s fine. Cruel, but fine.”

Logan’s hand finds his chest, feigning being offended, “Well, thank you for allowing me to rectify myself.” He says, “Why did you come back here, then?”

The yellow lighting dances over your face as you switch positions, “Hannah,” you say, simply.

“What, she dragged you here?”

“No. Can you imagine?” You look down at your cup, laughing, “No, she just said you were nice. That I should talk to you again.”

Oh, I gotta text Hannah a profound thank you after this, Logan thinks. “Yeah?” He mutters, “So it wasn’t about the good music?”

An upbeat, indie rock song plays in the background, muffled by the closed door separating you two from the inside. He doesn’t tell you that, but they’re playing his playlist tonight, a cheeky smile on his face as you rest your head in your hand, bobbing your head. 

“I don’t think I know this one, I think,” you say, “But I like it.”

“Me too.” He says, “You know, I promised Hannah I would make it up to you after leaving you mortified last time.”

You let out a surprised cackle, “Okay, mortified is a stretch,” you say through giggles, “I was mildly embarrassed.”

“Hey, her words, not mine.” He says, laughing with you, “Anyway, I was thinking– And feel free to like, I don’t know, say I’ve read this wrong, but– Um, do you think I could take you out sometime?”

You look up at him, the same glow of the fairy lights above you adorning your face and, god, you’re pretty. Logan would ask you out a hundred more times if he wasn’t waiting for an answer right now. 

“That’s a third meeting question, I think.” You smile at him, “But I can give you my number.”

He nods, the corners of his mouth going up, “I’ll take it.”

Logan’s thrilled that he gets to invite you for your third night over their house. Again, he feels extremely thankful for his friends’ disposition to party, even though this one barely counts as one. It’s a get–together at best, with his everyday housemates and their usual attachments, girlfriends, siblings and other close friends of friends. Maybe that’s why you seem much more comfortable as you walk inside, looking around.

“It’s a really nice house,” you say, “I can actually see the flooring when it’s not packed with people.”

He laughs, “Can I tell you a secret?” You nod, getting closer to him, and he takes the opportunity to drop his arm around your shoulder, “I like it much better this way.”

“Not much a party man yourself?”

Logan makes a face, scrunching his nose as he shakes his head, “It’s nice to just have music playing and chatter. Dean likes playing cards sometimes, I’m not against it.” “Me neither.” You say, like an open opportunity for invitation next time. He takes note, dragging you by your shoulders into the living room. 

You fit right into his friend group, he thinks as you sit on the couch, sandwiched between Allie and Hannah as you talk and talk — apparently Allie has heard wonders of you from her friend and was dying to meet you, in true Allie drama club fashion. He doesn’t mind losing your company for the next forty minutes, as long as he gets to watch you have a good time.

“You’re staring, loverboy,” Hannah says, his head snapping out of it, turning away from you in her direction, then again at your mocking face. He smiles, embarrassed from getting caught. 

“Sorry, hard not to,” he says, getting an eyeroll from Allie and giggles from you, which he counts as a win. “Mind if I steal her back?”

He’s asking you, you can tell because his big eyes don’t move from your face, even when his demeanour does. You give him a small nod, and he offers you his hand.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Is that even a question?” he says, moving from the living room to the kitchen, pitstopping to grab two drinks and hand you one, his arm going back to your shoulders as he leads you to the backdoor, “Our place, obviously.”

You chuckle as he closes the door behind him, your usual bench still in its place, fairy lights very much the same. The sky isn’t as dark tonight, a blue tinted colour around the both of you mixing with the yellow glimmer that decorates the backyard. You sit, and he follows you. This time, he doesn’t leave much space, and you don’t mind his legs so close to yours as you rest your head against the brickwall. 

“Is it our place now?” You ask. 

Logan does a hand motion, gesturing for you to look around, “I don’t see anyone else here,” he says, “I don’t think I was even aware of this bench until I found you here.”

“So you’re saying this is my bench,” you joke. 

“I mean, feel free to get it engraved or something. As far as I’m concerned, this is yours,” he says. 

You laugh, fingers moving across the wooden armrest, “Thank you,” you say, your hand traveling over the bench, reaching until it meets his upper arm, “And thank you.”

He shrugs, moving his face so his chin gently touches your hand on his shoulder. You touch his face, caressing his cheek like you just did with the armrest, pulling him a bit closer.

“I know I’m supposed to ask you on a date,” he murmurs, “But is it okay if I ask for a kiss now?”

You chuckle, not giving him any response but your lips touching his gently. His hand goes to your other cheek as you kiss him, the first of many kisses that backyard bench gets to witness. You giggle as Logan’s hands in your face keep you in place, continuing to press quick kisses over your mouth and face.

“I might take you up on that engraving offer, you know?” You say, “I like this place. It’s sort of romantic.”

“Sort of romantic?” He asks, his voice muffled as he presses his lips against yours again, getting a smile from you. 

Logan might just carve your initials into that bench now, make it real romance, just for you.

notes: genuine question how do we feel about the dividers. also i believe this is my biggest john logan fic so far! thank you for reading and sorryyy it took me some extra time, i'd love to hear your thoughts on it! <3

john logan masterlist

[folkloure]

finishing proofreading and editing new fic!!! coming to a blog near you (this one) in a few hours <3