(The best of this post and its reblogs, but with links that work)
Here is a website where you can scroll down to all the different levels of the ocean
Here is a website where you can see the future of the universe
Here is a website where you can press a ‘make everything okay’ button, over and over, until things really are okay
Here is a website that you can read if you feel like a burden
Here is a website where you can look at strobe illusions (TW strobe/flashing)
Here is a website where you can cut stuff up (TW blood/sh)
Here and here are websites where you can play with sand
Here is a website where you can draw with macaroni and other fun foods
Here is a website where you can paint someone’s nails
Here is a website where you can grow a garden with emojis
Here is a website with hundreds of videos of people hugging you (rightfully dubbed ‘the nicest place on the internet’ because it really is, y’all, it made me cry)
Here is a website that will take you to other useless websites
Here is a website where you can make a tiny cat play bongo drums (and other instruments!)
Here is a website to help give you gentle reminders <3
Here is a website where you can grow a tiny farm
Here is a website where you can take a bunch of scientific personality tests
Hii can I plz make a request for Eric because you write him sooo good honestly 😭
So basically the reader is begging him to shave his beard (back to mancity era yk ) but he refuses .. and when he finally does she's really touchy with him like kissing his cheeks and creasing them and basically making him feel soo loved..
Thankss
beardless.
masterlist requests word count: 980
a/n: he needs to go back to the man city era actually
genre: fluff.
warnings: none.
summary: you finally wear eric down and convince him to shave the beard.
You lean against the kitchen counter, arms folded, and tilt your head as Eric scrolls through his phone. His beard has gotten thicker over the past months, framing his face in a way you know many people find attractive. But you can’t help yourself. You miss the smooth-faced boyish charm he had back in his Manchester City days, when he looked so young and fresh.
“Eric,” you say, trying to sound serious.
He hums without looking up.
“You need to shave.”
That gets his attention. His eyes flicker to you, one brow arched in disbelief. “Shave? What’s wrong with it?” He rubs his jawline like he is admiring his own work. “This beard is a masterpiece.”
You groan dramatically, crossing the room to poke at his cheek. “It’s prickly. Scratchy. I liked your face better when I could actually see all of it.”
Eric smirks, leaning back in his chair. “You just want me to look twelve again.”
“Not twelve. Just…” You trail off, gesturing vaguely at him. “Clean. Sharp. Cute.”
He chuckles, clearly enjoying how desperate you sound. “You really hate it that much?”
“I don’t hate it,” you admit, tugging lightly at the hair on his chin. “But I know what’s underneath and I miss that face.”
“Too bad,” he says with a smug grin, returning to his phone.
Your jaw drops. “Too bad?”
“Too bad,” he repeats, clearly entertained. “This beard is here to stay.”
You pout, leaning against his shoulder in exaggerated defeat. “You’re so cruel to me.”
Eric laughs, wrapping one arm around you. “One day you’ll thank me for it.”
You keep trying though. Over dinner, you mention how nice he looked in those old pictures you keep saved. When you are cuddled up on the couch, you sigh about how soft his skin used to be. Every chance you get, you drop hints or outright beg him, but he never cracks. It becomes a playful back-and-forth, one of those small couple arguments that never really holds weight but always leaves you smiling.
Still, you cannot let it go.
A few weeks later, you walk into the bathroom and nearly drop the towel you’re holding. Eric is standing in front of the mirror, electric razor in hand, and his beard is halfway gone.
“Wait, wait, wait,” you gasp, rushing to his side. “You’re actually doing it?”
He smirks at your reflection in the mirror. “You wore me down.”
You squeal, covering your mouth with both hands. “Finally!”
“Don’t get too excited,” he warns, carefully guiding the razor along his jawline. “You might not even like it anymore.”
“Are you kidding? I’m going to love it.” You bounce on your toes, too impatient to wait. “Do you want me to help?”
“No, thank you. Last time you tried you almost gave me a bald spot in my hair.”
“That was one time!” you protest, but you let him finish on his own, hovering behind him like a child waiting for candy.
When he rinses off the last of the shaving cream and pats his face dry, you gasp again. It is like seeing him in high definition. His cheeks are smooth, his jawline sharp, his whole expression brighter without the beard. He looks younger, yes, but in the best way.
“Eric García,” you whisper dramatically, cupping his face in both hands. “You’re beautiful.”
He laughs, cheeks turning pink under your touch. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m serious,” you insist, peppering his cheek with quick kisses. “Look at you. You look like the sun is shining just for you.”
Eric groans playfully, squirming as you continue to kiss all over his face. “Stop, you’re going to make me blush.”
“That’s the point.” You grin, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose before moving back to his jaw. “Oh my God, it’s so smooth. I can’t stop touching you.”
He tries to step back but you hold him in place, your fingers tracing along the curve of his cheekbone. “Careful,” he warns softly, though the smile tugging at his lips betrays how much he is enjoying it.
You press another kiss to his temple. “I told you I’d love it.”
Eric sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist. “You’re impossible.”
“You love me,” you remind him, nuzzling your nose against his freshly shaved cheek.
“Unfortunately,” he teases, though the way he kisses your forehead right after tells the truth.
You both end up sprawled on the couch, your head resting on his chest. Your hand keeps wandering back to his face, tracing along his jaw as if you still cannot believe it. He shakes his head each time you giggle, muttering that you are going to drive him insane.
At one point, he catches your wrist and presses your palm to his mouth. “Are you going to stop touching me anytime soon?”
“Not a chance,” you say, kissing the corner of his lips. “This is my reward for winning the beard war.”
Eric chuckles, pulling you closer. “Fine. Just don’t complain when it grows back.”
You narrow your eyes, suddenly serious. “You’re not going to grow it back.”
“We’ll see,” he teases.
“No,” you say firmly, poking his chest. “We will not see. You’re staying like this forever.”
He grins, clearly delighted by your stubbornness. “I’ll think about it.”
“You’d better,” you mutter, leaning up to kiss him properly this time. His lips are warm, his clean-shaven cheek brushing against yours in a way that makes you melt.
When you finally pull back, you cannot resist kissing his cheek again. Then the other. Then back to the first.
Eric groans, hiding his face in your shoulder. “You’re obsessed.”
“Absolutely,” you agree without hesitation.
And for once, he does not argue. He just holds you tighter, letting you bask in your victory, the both of you laughing quietly at how something as small as a beard could bring so much joy.
A best friend and sometimes lover. A creep at your work. And a very worried John Logan coming to the rescue.
(apologies for the formatting i'm on my phone so will fix when i'm home - no warnings really on this one, but the blog is 18+. masterlists in pinned post!)
Under most circumstances, you love your job.
As one of the only bars on campus, O'Malley's allows you a job that's only a ten minute walk away from your dorm.
They're flexible with hours, pay better than most bartending gigs, and on quiet days you're allowed to get your essays done behind the counter.
Tonight, however? You could run a mile.
Your day had started with a planned 10k, which had promptly been abandoned after you twisted your ankle on a curb.
Rookie mistake.
One you know John would chide you for. He's always telling you to not run with earphones in.
You've gotta be aware of your surroundings. Especially first thing. Don't want you becoming a case.
Grudgingly, under major duress, you can admit that he has a point.
But nothing gets you through a tough run like Hole's Live Through This, so you've elected to ignore all of his advice.
It's nothing he's not used to.
Growing up in the same town, it's really a miracle that you haven't known each other for longer.
But, thanks to your sixth grade teacher and her randomised seating chart, John Logan has been a fixture in your life for a decade.
He is, undoubtedly, your closest friend.
What started with teasing and bickering had quickly grown into deep heart-to-hearts and the kind of support you could only dream of. Neither of you had stellar family lives, but when you were together it didn't matter.
Most people had assumed you'd end up together, but there's never been anything romantic between you both.
Sure, there was that one time.
When you'd just broken up with your long-term high-school boyfriend, and John had come over to comfort you, before ending the night between your legs, licking and sucking at your clit until you cried.
Both of you had agreed to never talk about it again, or do anything to jeopardise your friendship further.
That had lasted a couple of years, until Briar won the League and you'd gotten him off in the showers after everybody else had left.
You've never actually slept together, though. A moot point for most, but you feel like it holds some weight.
You're not going to be John Logan's girlfriend, and that's fine. You've got something better - you're his friend.
God, even saying that in your head sounds pathetic.
You need to get over him.
As soon as possible.
After your entirely unsuccessful run, you'd been treated to your most boring classes, made all the worse by the fact that Logan had bailed, leaving you to conquer them alone.
The apology text had been measly at best.
John. 10:32
woke up with the worst hangover
notes for today's class please??
i owe u big time
whatever you want
You'd be furious with anybody else. Hell, you would normally be furious with John.
But your car had started making weird noises when you pulled into the campus parking lot today, and you figure it's going to need some TLC.
You. 10:31
connie's sick :((( was making a weird creaking noise
Yes, your car has a name. So what?
will forgive all your egregious sins if you come and take a look at her :)
You glance back up at the professor, trying desperately to seem vaguely interested, but she lost you about thirty slides ago. Were it not for John, you would totally be failing statistics.
If he's not here, you may as well both not be.
John. 10:34.
after practice? i could swing by before maxwell's thing
speaking of maxwell's thing
you wanna come? i can drive
In normal circumstances, that would be fine. You like Beau - a lot more than most of the football team. But one of the other waitresses at O'Malleys just transferred to NYU, leaving the rest of you to pick up her slack until they've hired somebody new.
You. 10:35.
can't
working the close tonight
tomorrow morning?
A thumbs up reaction, and then you're left to deal with Statistics by yourself for the rest of the class.
For all intents and purposes, the rest of your day isn't quite as terrible as the start was.
You get one of your Ethics essays done in the library, and your roommate texts to say that she's visiting her boyfriend for the weekend. You have the place entirely to yourself.
It's not that you don't like her - Hayley's great. Mostly. Her cleanliness habits leave something to be desired. But your apartment is tiny, and with her boyfriend over constantly, you feel like a constant third wheel.
Even the start of your shift is pretty good. There are a couple of groups of rowdy guys, but nothing you can't handle. It's just you and Lydia tonight, the newest hire.
You slide three pitchers of draft beer across the sticky bar top, flash a sharp, customer-service smile, and cut off the loudest guy before he can even start speaking.
It's like dealing with toddlers - keep them placated, and they'll leave you be. It's an art you've practiced extensively over the years with Logan's friends.
Especially Dean.
You still remember the first time you met him - he'd spent half the night hitting on you, and then never so much as winked at you again.
Part of you wonders if John had something to do with it.
Besides, it's not like you were ever in danger of hooking up with Dean Di Laurentis. He's not your type.
You prefer your men slightly broodier. Skinnier. Longer hair. First name John, last name Logan.
Lydia, however, is drowning. She stands frozen by the register, fingers darting between options as she tries to work out what to do next. The line is growing, and her uniform is still spotless - a testament to this being her first week.
She'll reach the myriad of stains that litter your apron soon enough.
"Take the shallow end," You murmur, bumping her shoulder gently. She still jumps at the interruption. "Just do bottled beers,and I'll handle the taps."
You pour the stouts and scan the room, eyes settling on a body in the corner. He's around your age - probably another Briar student, though he could be a recent graduate.
In most circumstances, being watched doesn't bother you.
It kind of comes with the territory of being a bartender. Especially a young, female bartender, with a clientele that consists largely of men.
Something about this guy creeps you out, though.
You don't recognise him at all, which is unusual. You're pretty familiar with most of the faces that pass through here.
Maybe he's an exchange student.
It isn't until an hour later that he finally approaches the bar, ordering a gin and tonic.
He pays in cash, is perfectly polite, and insists you keep the change. His eyes also never leave yours. Not once.
"Busy night," He comments, eyes flicking towards the crowds. "You handle it well. The other girl's not doing so great, though."
A flare of annoyance washes over you on Lydia's behalf. "It's her first Friday."
"Girl like you shouldn't have to work the twilight shift on a Friday night - you got a boyfriend waiting at home for you?"
From most of your patrons, you'd accept that question as an innocent, if nosy, attempt to make conversation.
From this guy, you're terrified of the implications.
"Yeah. I do." The lie comes out clumsily, and you're sure it must be entirely unconvincing. "A hockey player."
You hope the extra detail might make the whole thing seem more believable, but you think it might just make you look more like a liar.
He smiles, a slow, knowing expression, but doesn't press it. "Lucky guy."
You fight back a shiver as he heads for his booth.
*****
Since O'Malley's is a college campus bar, it has a strict midnight curfew, even on the weekends. Most people use it as a stepping stone to parties on Greek Row or clubs in the next town over.
But after a six hour shift on top of a full day of classes, you just want to get home. The crowd begins to think, and you're endlessly glad to see that the corner where the guy was sitting is empty now. He must have left during the pre-close rush.
Lydia is leaning against the ice machine, completely wiped out. Her apron is now stained, her mascara is running, and she looks like she might cry if she has to pick up a mop.
"Go ahead and clock out, Lydia," you say, tossing your rag into the dirty linen bin. "It was a long day."
"Are you sure?" She asks, her voice small. "Don't I need to learn how to lock-up?"
You dismiss her with a wave. "We can do it another night. Go home and get some sleep," you tell her, giving her a reassuring nudge towards the back room.
She doesn't need any more convincing, scurrying out the front door. You lock it quickly behind her, one of the first things Sally taught you.
As a student, O'Malley's was once robbed at gunpoint because of an unlocked door. While a layer of glass doesn't do much when your assailant has a gun, you've still lived by her advice anyway.
You get to counting the cash, getting bored about halfway through. You've never liked maths. There's a reason you're pre-law. As your gaze drifts across the windows,your blood runs cold.
The guy from earlier is hanging out on the corner by the bar.
He's looking at you, but his body is turned towards the street, and you try to tell yourself that this is all one horrible coincidence. He's probably just waiting for a cab.
But when you glance outside again, the man is still there. He's moved back from the door, to just across the sidewalk. There's no way you can do the lock-up while he's hovering there.
Not with the way he's been ogling you all night, and the way you'd need to have your back turned for at least thirty seconds.
You also don't trust your ankle to hold for long enough to out-sprint a fully grown man.
It's been fine for walking, but anything faster than a jog makes it ache like there's no tomorrow.
You slip out your phone, trying to keep an eye on the door.
You. 00:04
johnny
are you doing anything rn?
His reply comes immediately, and you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes.
John. 00:04.
is this a booty call?
You swallow. John's been your best friend since you were twelve, and you're still not used to the teasing and flirting.
You. 00:05.
ha ha
but no
some guy's being weird at work and i'm the only one here
can you phone me on my walk home?
A sudden rattle at the door makes you jump. The guy is back, nose practically pressed to the glass. "I left my jacket - can you let me in to pick it up?"
Immediately, your heckles are raised, but when your gaze follows his hand, you see that there is a coat draped across one of the booths. Your heart sinks. "Sorry, sir - we have a policy - you'll have to come by tomorrow."
"Come on, sweetheart. It's right there. Would be so easy for you to get it for me. Be a doll."
"I'm sorry, I can't-"
"You can't? Or you don't want to?"
I want you to leave me the fuck alone. That's what you want to say. Except you have a feeling that would buy you a one-way trip to Murdertown.
So, you plaster a smile on your face, and decide you need back-up. "I really can't. My boss is a dick."
Sorry, Sally. You're not a dick. But I need this guy to back off.
He's trying the handle again, and you type one final message without looking to see Logan's response.
You. 00:06.
pls come
The guy shrugs, and for a single second you think that you've won.
Of course, you'd never be so lucky.
"I won't tell if you won't." There's something about the way his lips are curling into an almost sneer that makes your stomach churn.
"I'm going to be a while," you call back. "Really, it would be easier getting it tomorrow."
Another shrug. Another shiver down your spine. "I can wait. No big deal, sweetheart."
"I'm not allowed to let anybody in without a manager," You reply, trying desperately to keep your voice level. You think it works - the layer of glass between you makes you feel a whole lot better. "We have cameras. I'd get reprimanded."
A total lie.
While yes, the bar does have cameras - one of them hasn't worked since last year, and the other hasn't worked since the mid 2000s.
You're banking on this guy not knowing that.
His brow furrows a little, as he squints through the tinted glass of the window. "Don't cameras normally have a light on when they're recording?"
Your heart hammers as you try and come up with a lie. "Boss wanted them to be covert."
A silence falls, but the man still doesn't move. Part of you wishes he would just speak again - the weight of his eyes is too much.
God, you hope John gets here soon.
"Here's an idea - you can bring it out here when you're done. Then you're not letting me into the bar, and none of your precious rules are broken."
"My boyfriend's on his way!" You squeak out, panic overriding your attempts to be suave and relaxed.
At this point you're too scared to glance away and check your phone, but you can only pray that John's checked his phone.
******
You are undoubtedly the coolest and calmest person that Logan's ever met. Never once have you been phased in all his years of knowing you.
Which is why the final text you send makes his heart drop.
You hadn't even acknowledged his reply.
John. 00:05.
oh shit
want me to come?
let me just tell the guys i'm leaving - i'll come and get you
be there soon
When the 'please come' had pinged against his phone, he'd abandoned all hope of trying to find Dean, Garrett and Tucker in the crowded frat house. Instead, he'd sent a quick text over to Hannah, knowing she'd be the only one sober enough to reliably check her phone.
God, he's glad he's designated driver tonight.
The concept of this amount of worry on top of beer and tequila is not a pleasant thought.
He shoots off another text as he jogs across the street.
u okay? i'm omw rn.
Delivered.
No read receipt.
You always reply.
Even if it's just a heart. A thumbs up. A gimme ten mins, because you inevitably got talking to a regular on your way out.
You hate worrying people.
And John Logan is really fucking worried right now.
His phone stays dark.
The unease triples when he calls you, again and again - each time going straight to voicemail.
Finally, he makes another call, to campus police.
He's not taking any chances.
*****
You realise, with a chilling certainty, that the back-door to the bar is unlocked. Lydia had taken the trash out earlier, and the lock is so fidgety that you're positive she didn't do it right.
Blood running cold, there's a flash of movement from the front. He shifts again, peering through the glass, and you realise you have to get that door shut now.
You turn and run, trainers squeaking against the hardwood as you sprint through the empty bar, weaving between tables you've only just finished wiping down.
There's a dull ache in your ankle, but you have no time to consider it.
Please let it be shut.
Please let Lydia be more competent than she looks.
You shove through the kitchen doors so hard they slam against the wall, and the back entrance comes into view. Very decidedly unlocked.
The handle sits slightly turned, the lock not fully engaged, and a sob catches in your throat.
You grab it with shaking hands, yanking the door closed with every ounce of strength you have.
The lock sticks.
Of course it does.
"No, no, no..." You plead, fingers slipping from the handle as you tug.
You try again, forcing the handle up before twisting the deadbolt. It doesn't work.
Stress levels rising, you hit it with your palm.
Once-
Twice-
It clicks into place, and the latch shuts fully. You don't even get a chance to breathe a sigh of relief.
The handle jerks violently beneath your grip, and you leap back, trembling.
You press both hands over your mouth, trying to dampen any sounds that might escape as the handle twists again.
Harder this time.
Your vision blurs instantly, tears spilling before you can even process what's going on.
You have to get back to your phone. Call the police.
Except by the time you make it back to the front of the bar, he's resumed his vigil at the entrance. "There you are. I was starting to think you were ignoring me."
"Fuck off!" You shout. "I-I have friends coming, and they've called the police." Each word comes out as a choked gasp, barely audible.
"I don't get why you're being so difficult - I just want to be friends." His smile widens, and you think you might be sick. "You can give me my jacket, I can walk you home, and it'll be a happily ever after."
He tilts his head, studying the empty room. "I mean..." He shrugs. "We're practically neighbours anyway. It's the polite thing to do."
On watching your expression crumble, he continues. "You live on North Street, right?"
There's no way.
He couldn't know that. Could he?
Your knees give out beneath you, and you find yourself sliding down the back of the bar until you're curled into yourself. One hand clamps over your mouth to stop the sob escaping, while the other reaches for something - anything - that you could use as a weapon.
A small knife seems to be your best option about now.
Tears blur your vision, and you reach for your phone.
There are some messages from Logan, but you go straight for the phone. You have to call 911.
The signal indicator in the corner flickers.
One bar.
Then none.
No service.
*****
The only noise you can hear are your own sobs. It might have been seconds, or hours, but the fear in your body is too great to try and get signal. Instead, you're trapped on the floor, praying that Logan's last messages are true, and that he's on his way.
A knock at the door has you flinching, fingers curling tighter around the knife. Any attempts to steady your breathing are met with fresh waves of panic, and you can feel tears start to trickle down your cheek.
He can't get you.
The doors are locked.
He doesn't know about the rooftop, and even if he did - there's no way he'd be able to get there without a ladder. Besides, Sally usually locks up there anyway. You're too scared to check.
A familiar voice cuts through the silence, calling your name.
You've never been more relieved to see Logan in your whole life.
"Johnny," You sob, rushing towards the door, fumbling with the keys as you try and open it. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, and your face is buried in his shoulder.
His lips brush against your temple comfortingly, a hand rubbing at your back. "What the hell happened?"
Tearfully, you recount it as quickly as you can, John's brow furrowing with each added bit of information. "He knows where you live?"
You know that he'd like to kill the guy, but you can't imagine anybody being stupid enough to–
There's another bang from the back entrance.
He must be trying it again.
You flinch inadvertently, tucking yourself back into Logan's side. "I think that's him - he must have missed you getting here."
Logan's expression hardens. "Stay behind me."
Your fingers are still intertwined with his, as he leads you both out of the bar and round the back. You don't want Logan to scare him off before you can work out who he is.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
In the moonlight, Logan suddenly seems far taller and scarier than he is.
The guy turns, eyes widening a little when he sees you both. "What?"
He doesn't get another word out. Logan closes the distance in three long strides, grabs a fistful of the man's shirt, and slams him back against the brick wall.
"Does scaring women make you feel good?" Logan taunts, a slap of skin as he forces the guy back into the surface behind him. "Huh? Make you feel like a tough guy?"
"I didn't-"
"You didn't what?" Logan's grip tightens, another shove ricocheting through the quiet street. "You weren't just trying to break in to her place of work?"
"I-I just wanted to talk," He chokes out.
"Bullshit. You knew where she lives."
You wish you could enjoy the twist of terror on the man's face, but you're still so shaken you're not sure how you're still standing.
Logan continues his rant. "If you ever go near her again, I'll-"
He's cut off by sirens, as the campus police officers pull in beside the bar, but he doesn't let go. Instead, he lowers his voice, and leans in just a little further. "I'll fucking kill you."
*****
The police interview feels like it takes days. Recounting the same hour, over and over again until you think you're going crazy.
The only solace is John at your side, hand drawing soft circles onto your palm.
You answer the same questions hundreds of different ways.
When did you first notice him?
Have you seen him before?
Did he touch you?
You shake your head where you can, and nod occasionally. At certain points Logan answers for you, filling in the details that you can't quite string together anymore.
You learn that the intruder is a Jeffrey Collins - a non-Briar student who's earned quite the reputation for stalking girls around campus.
It makes you feel a little better, knowing that there are girls out there who have experienced the same thing.
The officer' expression softens when he notices your hands haven't stopped shaking.
"We'll have an officer contact you tomorrow," He says gently. "Since he made reference to your home address, we'll make sure the local department is informed. Do you have somewhere to stay–"
"Yes," Logan interjects. "She's staying with me."
Finally, you're both allowed to go, and Jeffrey is locked up in the local sheriff's department.
Your body moves on autopilot, allowing Logan to bundle you into the back of his truck, and head towards the house. Thankfully, nobody seems to be around when he leads you upstairs to his room.
You don't have the energy to explain to anybody else tonight.
He's immediately finding you clothes to sleep in, busying himself in a way that's almost overwhelming. You reach out, fingers wrapping around his wrist to slow him to a stop. "Thank you," You whisper. "For coming for me."
"I'd always come for you. Always."
His voice is sincere, and there's no doubt in his tone.
You can't tell who moves first, but suddenly your lips are on his, and your hands are in his hair. Sighing into his mouth, it's the safest you've felt all night.
It's nothing like the kisses you've shared before - this is full of sheer desperation. You could've died tonight, and John would've been none the wiser to how you really feel.
"I love you."
It's a gasp between kisses, murmured into his mouth, and you worry he misses it.
"God, I love you too." It's practically a growl, hands tightening at your waist as he walks you backwards, twisting at the last second so that you drop onto his lap. "Loved you for so long, sweet girl."
His kisses steal the words from your lungs,and all you can focus on is the way he feels against you. The three day stubble against your jaw, the denim of his jeans against your core.
"Was so scared of what I was gonna find tonight," He finally admits, mouth no less frantic as it makes against you. "Scared the shit out of me, darling."
"M'sorry, Johnny." Your hips roll against his instinctively, nails digging into his shoulders for balance.
"Mhm, say my name again," He hums.
"Johnny."
You pout when he eventually pulls back, lips following his movements. "What's wrong?"
Your mind is suddenly clouded with a whole host of insecurities. Maybe he was just feeling bad for you, and now the regret is setting in. He doesn't have the heart to let you down.
Maybe you were stupid to think that this wasn't going to be another one of your half-hook-ups, meant to be forgotten entirely.
You don't know if you can take anything else tonight, so you decide to beat him to the punch. "Shit, I'm sorry - that was so stupid, I just... I wasn't thinking. I can go, and we can forget-"
"Hey, hey, hey," Logan interrupts immediately. "What? Why would I want to forget the best kiss of my life?"
Now you're stumped. "What?"
"Babe, tonight has been awful. Truly, one for the books. You really think I want you to associate us having sex for the first time with that creep?"
Oh. You hadn't considered it like that.
He makes a good point.
"Here's what's going to happen," He continues, thumb reaching out to run over your bottom lip as he watches you intently. "You're staying with me for the weekend - maybe longer. We're gonna watch all those shitty rom-coms you love to take your mind off it, and then tomorrow night I'm taking you out for dinner-"
You can't help the interruption. "Where?"
Logan just laughs. "Augusto's. Your favourite. As if it would be anywhere else."
You linger for a second, the dread from earlier starting to seep from your shoulders. "Johnny, you really don't have to do all this. I'm fine. It was fine. "
He lets out a soft hum, a half-smile tugging at his lips. "Do what? Don't think there's anything wrong with looking after my girl."
Hi can I request a Logan x reader fic and reader gets into a bar fight after defending Jules during girls night out and they take her back to the hockey house where all of the guys are there? Reader won the fight and she has no regrets haha
No Regrets
Pairing: John Logan x Fem!Reader
warnings: homophobic comments (not written in detail), bar fight, violence, minor injuries, blood, protective!reader, worried boyfriend!logan, mentions of alcohol, language, lots of idiots encouraging bad decisions
requested by : anonymous, I hope you love it!
masterlist
One shot
John Logan knew girls' night had gone terribly wrong when Garrett opened the front door and immediately started laughing.
“What the fuck happened to you?”
You stood between Hannah and Jules with your heels dangling from one hand and your purse in the other. Your hair was a mess, your bottom lip was split, and there was already a bruise forming beneath your eye.
You also looked incredibly pleased with yourself.
“Nothing.”
Garrett stared at you.
Then at your bruised knuckles.
Then back at you.
“Oh my God.”
“Shut up.”
His laughter got the attention of everyone else.
Logan looked up from the couch, and the second he saw you, he was on his feet.
“What happened?”
You walked into the house.
“Before anyone starts, I want it known that I have no regrets.”
“That's usually not a good way to start a story,” Tucker said.
“She got into a bar fight,” Hannah announced.
“I won a bar fight,” you corrected.
Dean appeared from the kitchen.
“You what?”
Logan stared at you.
“You got into a fight?”
You dropped onto the couch with a sigh.
“Technically.”
“There is blood on your face.”
“Barely.”
“You have a black eye.”
“She looks worse.”
Garrett started laughing all over again.
Logan looked like he was about to lose his mind.
“Who looks worse?”
“The girl I fought.”
“You fought a girl?”
You frowned.
“Obviously. I'm not stupid.”
Dean nodded. “That's where you draw the line?”
“Shut up, Dean.”
Jules dropped onto the couch beside you.
“In their defense, she did deserve it.”
“Thank you.”
Logan turned to them.
“Please don't encourage her.”
“They're not encouraging me. They're telling the truth.”
Logan rubbed a hand over his face.
“Can someone please tell me what happened?”
Hannah pointed at Jules.
“You explain. I'm getting water.”
Jules settled back against the couch.
“There was this couple at the bar. The boyfriend was being an asshole basically the entire night.”
“An extremely annoying asshole,” you added.
“He made a few comments toward me.”
Logan's expression changed.
“What kind of comments?”
Jules shrugged, but you immediately sat up straighter.
“Homophobic ones.”
The room went noticeably quieter.
You could still feel the anger twisting in your stomach when you thought about it.
You'd tried ignoring him at first.
Jules had too.
But he kept going.
Little comments every time the two of you passed their table. Laughing with his friends. Saying things just loud enough for Jules to hear.
You had finally turned around and told him to shut the fuck up.
Apparently, his girlfriend hadn't appreciated that.
“So his girlfriend came over,” Jules continued, “and told her to mind her own business.”
“It was my business.”
“It really wasn't.”
“You're my friend. That makes it my business.”
Jules smiled slightly.
“Anyway, they started arguing.”
“She started arguing,” you corrected.
“She called you a bitch.”
“She was a bitch.”
“And then?”
Everyone looked at you.
You shrugged.
“She shoved me.”
Logan's eyes narrowed.
“And you punched her.”
“Yes.”
“Immediately?”
“Yes.”
Dean let out a quiet whistle.
“She swung first.”
“You just said she shoved you.”
“Same thing.”
“It is absolutely not the same thing.”
“Close enough.”
“And then they started fighting,” Jules finished.
Garrett looked fascinated.
“Like an actual fight?”
“An actual fight.”
You smiled.
“And I won.”
“Stop saying that like you're proud,” Logan said.
“I am proud.”
“You could've gotten hurt.”
“I did get hurt.”
“That isn't helping!”
You tried not to smile.
Logan walked over and crouched in front of you, gently taking your chin between his fingers.
The second he got a closer look at your face, his annoyance faded.
“Does this hurt?”
“A little.”
His thumb hovered carefully beside the bruise.
“And your lip?”
“I'm fine.”
“Your hands?”
You immediately tucked them beneath your thighs.
“No.”
“Give me your hands.”
“They're fine.”
“Baby.”
You sighed and held them out.
Your knuckles were red and slightly swollen.
Dean leaned over Logan's shoulder.
“Damn.”
You looked at him.
“Right?”
Logan pushed his face away.
“Stop encouraging her.”
“I'm impressed.”
“So am I,” Garrett admitted.
Tucker nodded. “Honestly, same.”
Logan slowly looked around the room.
“Am I the only person concerned that my girlfriend got into a fucking bar fight?”
Jules raised their hand.
“For what it's worth, I did try to stop her.”
You looked at them.
“No, you didn't.”
“I told you not to hit her again.”
“After the third time.”
“That still counts.”
Garrett nearly fell off the couch laughing.
Logan closed his eyes.
“Jesus Christ.”
You reached forward and wrapped your arms around his neck.
“I'm okay.”
He sighed but immediately put his hands around your waist.
“You scared the shit out of me walking in here looking like this.”
That took a little of the smugness out of you.
You played with the hair at the back of his neck.
“I'm sorry I scared you.”
“But you're not sorry you did it.”
You thought about it.
“No.”
He stared at you.
You stared back.
“She was defending a homophobe.”
“I know.”
“And he was being horrible to Jules.”
“I know.”
“And then she shoved me.”
“I know.”
“So really—”
“Do not try to convince me this was a reasonable decision.”
You smiled.
“It kind of was.”
Jules leaned over and kissed your unbruised cheek.
“My hero.”
You grinned.
Logan looked personally betrayed.
“Stop encouraging my girlfriend.”
“She defended my honor.”
“She committed assault.”
“Those things can coexist,” you pointed out.
Dean lifted his beer.
“She's got a point.”
“None of you are helping me.”
Logan eventually dragged you upstairs to clean you up while you complained the entire way.
“I don't need medical attention.”
“You have a split lip.”
“It's barely split.”
“You have a black eye.”
“It's barely black.”
“You're impossible.”
He sat you on the bathroom counter and stood between your knees, carefully wiping the dried blood from your lip.
You watched his face.
He was still worried.
“I'm really okay, Logan.”
“I know.”
“You're mad.”
“I'm not mad.”
“You're a little mad.”
“I'm a little mad.”
You smiled.
“Are you impressed?”
“No.”
“You're lying.”
His mouth twitched.
You gasped.
“You are!”
“I'm impressed you apparently won. I'm not impressed you got into the fight.”
“That's fair.”
He shook his head.
“I cannot believe my girlfriend got into a bar fight.”
You wrapped your legs around his waist.
“I was defending my friend.”
“I know.”
“And I won.”
“You've mentioned that.”
“She was bigger than me too.”
Logan went completely still.
You immediately realized your mistake.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“How much bigger?”
“Doesn't matter.”
“Baby.”
You leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
“No regrets.”
He stared at you for a long moment before finally laughing under his breath.
“You're fucking insane.”
“You love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
From downstairs, Garrett suddenly yelled.
“JULES HAS A VIDEO!”
Your eyes widened.
“There was a video?”
Logan immediately grabbed your waist when you tried to jump off the counter.
“No.”
“Logan!”
“Absolutely not.”
“I need to see it!”
“No, you don't.”
Dean's voice suddenly echoed through the house.
“HOLY SHIT, SHE REALLY DID WIN.”
You looked at Logan with the biggest smile you could manage without hurting your lip.
“See?”
He closed his eyes.
“I hate all of you.”
“You love me.”
He opened them again and looked at you, bruised face, swollen knuckles and all.
Then he sighed and kissed your forehead.
“Yeah. God help me, I really fucking do.”
You grinned.
“And I won.”
“I'm breaking up with you.”
“No, you're not.”
“No,” he sighed. “I'm really not.”
the end.
-------------
off campus taglist: if you want to be added to this fandoms taglist for all my fics/one shots please let me know !
Summary: A Thanksgiving dinner was the last thing Y/n and Garret wanted to share with their father. Knowing that she and her brother wouldn't be able to handle it alone, Logan is there to help them through it.
Words: 8.6K+
Warnings: Relationship established, Logan is Y/n's boyfriend, she and Garrett are portrayed as twins, Phil is always a scoundrel, based on the Thanksgiving episode, anguish, sadness, mentions of bruises and fights, panic attacks, mentions of the twins' past, mentions of their mother, no mentions of Hannah here, (because I wanted to stay focused on the couple and the twins' storyline), Garret and Logan are overprotective of Y/n, Logan is the boyfriend of their dreams, a comforting ending.
Author: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any typos, grammar, spelling, and slang errors that may appear in the story. I watch Off Campus and I can't get it out of my head.😭 (My order is open for orders!) 🇧🇷🩷
MASTERLIST
Phil Graham never called without a reason. And, in the twins' experience, it was rarely a good reason.
He emerged from under the sink without wasting any time, dropping the tool somewhere on the countertop before turning his full, worried attention back to it.
To be completely honest, it was never a good reason.
When their father's name appeared on the illuminated screen of their cell phone, both Y/n and Garret knew it immediately. It didn't matter where they were or what they were doing at that exact moment; that simple call was enough to make their stomachs clench in a tense knot.
The offer, at least to anyone looking from the outside, seemed completely harmless. An invitation to Thanksgiving dinner.
That's exactly how any outsider would see the situation, but Y/n and Garret knew their father perfectly well and were very aware of the suffocating feeling of returning home after seeing him, needing entire days just to emotionally recover from all the tension.
During the following days, they tried to think of every possible excuse.
Non-existent commitments. Last-minute invented trips. Urgent work. A rare disease that didn't even exist in medicine. Anything that would justify an acceptable absence. But in the end, reality remained exactly the same.
Logan was on the kitchen floor of the house he shared with Garret and the boys. Y/n entered the room without knocking, her hands deep in her trouser pockets, her shoulders visibly tense, and her face bearing an expression that made it clear something was very wrong.
She closed the door behind her and walked slowly through the house, noticing that no one was there except Logan. Hearing some noises coming from the kitchen, Y/n headed in that direction.
Logan was completely focused on the task, humming softly some random song they had heard earlier in the car. She approached the counter silently and rested her forearms on the cold marble, observing his every move. And even without seeing her directly, Logan sensed her presence almost immediately, and a smile appeared on his lips.
"Hey, honey! Are you going to keep staring at me, or can I get a little kiss?"
Y/n let out a weak giggle.
"Hi, darling." The reply came with an awkward smile, and that was enough for Logan to realize that something was amiss.
"I know you probably already have plans for the holidays. And I know you always spend Thanksgiving with Jules. And I know Garrett will be there with me. And I know I'm a perfectly functioning adult who should be able to survive a dinner party without panicking, but..." The words continued to flow without pause. "And I also know it's not fair to ask you to spend hours sitting at that table listening to my dad talk about himself and hockey and—"
"Are you okay, love?"
Y/n looked away, her fingers beginning to pick at bits of nail polish, as if she needed to keep her hands occupied to stop all her emotions from escaping at once.
"This isn't good at all..." Her voice faltered, and Y/n looked up at him, clearly trying to hold back tears.
Logan's expression changed instantly; he quickly wiped his hands on his pants and hurried closer.
"Hey, hey, I'm here..." His hands landed carefully on her shoulders.
Y/n tilted her head until it rested against him, finally finding a safe place where she could relax.
"Do you want to tell me? But only if you feel comfortable."
"My father called." That simple sentence was enough for Logan to understand part of the problem.
"He invited Garrett and me to Thanksgiving dinner so he could introduce his fiancée. And I don't want to go."
"I know..." Logan smiled gently, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"I can't remember a single time he invited us to something and it didn't end up being awful." Her eyes filled with tears. "Garret and I left there feeling terrible and then spent days pretending nothing happened, because it's easier than admitting how much it hurts."
"Love..."
"I know it sounds dramatic. I... I'm just tired."
Logan nodded slowly, still smiling gently at her. "I know."
Y/n stared at her own hands for a few seconds before biting her lip. "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything, my love!"
"You're not bothering me."
"No."
Y/n continued.
"And I know you have absolutely no obligation to deal with my family because it's enough that I have to deal with—"
"Hey! Breathe, my dear!" Logan laughed and Y/n blinked a few times.
She exhaled slowly. "Sorry... I'm almost freaking out."
"I perceived."
Y/n let her head fall forward. "This is awful."
"So let's tackle one thing at a time. First, you sit down and take a deep breath." Logan pulled up a stool.
Y/n sat near the counter, her body still stiff. Logan filled a glass with ice water and handed it to her, pulling up a nearby stool and sitting down beside her.
"Would you... go with me to my father's problematic dinner party?"
"Yes!" John said quickly.
Y/n blinked. "Yes?"
"Yeah."
"You didn't even think."
"Because I didn't need to think."
She stared at her boyfriend, as if she were expecting a more complicated answer.
"Logan..."
"Honey, did you really think I'd let you face this alone?"
"But what about Jules?"
"I talk to her and she's very understanding. She'll understand."
Y/n shook her head. "I don't want to bother you."
Garret watched the two for a few more seconds, and then his shoulders finally relaxed from all the accumulated tension. The weight he had carried since the call seemed to lessen a little. He nodded in silent thanks, smiled slightly, and turned to go to his room.
"He is sure?"
"Absolutely." John smiled and extended his little finger for her to intertwine. Y/n laughed and intertwined their fingers.
"Thanks."
"No need to thank me, I'll do anything, you know."
Logan opened his arms without saying anything, and she didn't hesitate. She put her glass down on the table and immediately leaned into his warm embrace, feeling his arms wrap around her waist as she buried her face in his neck and closed her eyes.
It was at that exact moment that the sound of the front door opening echoed.
Garret arrived and as soon as he appeared in the kitchen doorway, he found his sister completely hidden in Logan's protective arms. The scene was more than enough for him to understand everything that was happening there.
Then he made an expressive face, as if to say to Logan something like: Our father called.
And Logan clearly understood the message, because he replied with a calm smile that said exactly what was happening and assured her that everything would be alright.
●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●
Logan knew exactly how fragile and anxious his girlfriend became on the day she had to go to her father's house, so the day before, he made sure to play the role of the dream boyfriend: he gathered his last two savings and bought flowers, chocolates, and their favorite snack from the local Italian restaurant. With everything planned, he went to her apartment on campus to pick her up, ensuring she would spend that night at his place.
The day of the dinner had finally arrived.
Y/n felt her eyes burning with tears. "Or I don't know, I wish my mother were here because...because everything is too much sometimes."
At the moment, Logan was waiting for Y/n outside the house, leaning against the side of the truck with his hands in his pants pockets. As soon as he saw his girlfriend appear in the front doorway carefully holding the freshly baked pie they had made together, he smiled and approached, extending a hand to help her down the steps.
"Where's Garrett?" Y/n asked, looking around.
"He said he would stop by Hannah's apartment before leaving."
Y/n frowned. "I thought he was going with us."
Logan shook his head and then opened the passenger side door.
"He told me he was going alone. We know what Garrett is like, don't we?"
Y/n settled into the seat, fastening her seatbelt and holding the pie firmly on her lap, while Logan got into the driver's side and began to enter her father's address into the GPS.
She remained completely silent for a few seconds. He then noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that she seemed very thoughtful.
"Hey. You're thinking so hard I can hear it from here."
Y/n let out a weak giggle. "Sorry."
Logan frowned immediately. "Why are you apologizing, love?"
Y/n looked at her own hands. "Because I'm only now officially introducing you as my boyfriend." Logan blinked, clearly confused. "We've been together for a year and I didn't want it to be under these circumstances, you know?"
"I don't understand, my dear." John raised his eyebrows.
She exhaled slowly.
"It's Phil Graham, you know..." The name was more than enough for Logan to understand exactly where this conversation was going. "The hockey player and all that. People like meeting him, they get excited, they tell their friends... It's just that..." Y/n made a vague gesture with her hand in the air. "I wanted him to be...normal?" She tried to force a sad smile.
"I understand, my dear." John gently stroked her cheek. "And that's okay, because I'm with you for who you are, not for the last name you carry."
Y/n and Garret had already confided in him countless stories from the past about the man, harrowing accounts that made John's stomach churn with pure, silent rage, because he blindly believed every word the twins said.
John immediately pulled her into a tight hug.
"You have me and Garrett. And we're not going anywhere!" He kissed her cheek tenderly, and Y/n smiled through her silent tears. "And what about your father? I know Phil from the games, and about what you're telling me, it's all right, I'm with you... And I'm not even a HUGE fan of his!" He shrugged casually, and Y/n let out a genuine, open laugh, which made Logan smile.
"Silly!" John simply winked charmingly, and Y/n smiled softly.
"Thank you for everything."
His expression softened completely at those words. Then, with all the gentleness in the world, Logan cupped her chin with his fingers and pulled her in for a quick, incredibly delicate and affectionate kiss.
"Ready."
"Ready what?" She smiled slightly, curious.
"You are now officially forbidden from being sad for the next forty minutes."
"That doesn't even make sense." Y/n laughed genuinely.
"Of course it does." He started the car engine and placed his cell phone in the dashboard holder. "Now choose a song. But nothing too sad or dramatic."
Y/n laughed loudly and nudged his ribs with her elbow. "Shut up!"
From the beginning of college, Phil used to attend the most important games, campus sporting events, team dinners, and celebrations related to the hockey team. Logan was an active part of that world. They had already talked on a few casual occasions, because Phil usually showed up in the locker room after games, greeted the players closest to him, briefly praised a specific play, and moved on with his imposing posture.
Sometimes he would even congratulate Logan on his excellent performance on the ice, but almost always the interaction ended in exactly the same predictable way: Phil would find Garrett and immediately begin a series of comments about the tactical errors his son had made in the game.
For that exact reason, Logan never pressured Y/n to rush an official introduction to the family. Because he knew very well how Phil Graham operated outside the spotlight on the ice.
"If you want, we can go back." He brought one of his warm hands to her face, caressing her skin with his thumb and brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
The car ride along the highway went surprisingly smoothly. And Y/n actually managed to completely forget exactly where they were going.
Then a familiar car suddenly appeared in the rearview mirror and, a few seconds later, overtook the pickup truck at a daring speed, soon followed by the shrill sound of a horn. Then another quick honk. Then one more, in a joking tone.
Y/n immediately recognized the shiny black jeep, and before it completely disappeared around the bend in the road ahead, a familiar hand emerged from the driver's window, making a series of exaggerated and completely meaningless gestures in the air.
The scene was so genuinely ridiculous that she immediately started laughing, the kind of laugh that made her shoulders tremble all over.
When they finally arrived at their final destination, Logan maneuvered and parked right behind Garret's car. But he immediately noticed a crucial detail: his brother-in-law's silhouette was still clearly visible inside the jeep. Motionless in the driver's seat. As if gathering every last drop of courage before opening the door.
Beside her, Y/n continued to grip the pie tin with excessive force, pressing her fingers against the edges while her eyes were completely fixed and locked on the main entrance of the house.
And Logan realized that instantly, because he knew each of those expressions of panic in detail.
Y/n chuckled without any humor. "I really wanted to."
"We can do this, the choice is yours."
And then her gaze fell heavily on Garret's parked car ahead. Just as her brother finally opened the jeep door, his jaw visibly clenched and that familiar frown on his forehead.
"But I'm here for him too." She discreetly pointed with her chin in the direction of her twin.
Logan observed Garret's rigid posture for a brief moment, then turned his full attention to her.
"And I'm here for you, never forget that."
Y/n ended up letting a faint smile appear, feeling more secure.
However, when he looked outside again, he found Garret leaning against the side of his own vehicle. Even at that average distance, it was perfectly clear that he had neither the desire nor the energy to cross that garden and enter the house.
And then Y/n's attentive eyes went straight down to his hands; her brother's fingers were repeatedly opening and closing into clenched fists.
Garrett only did that when he was extremely nervous or under an unbearable level of stress.
Then she turned her head quickly and saw that Logan was still there, with one of his strong arms resting behind her seat and his body leaning slightly towards her.
"Do you want to go back home?" The question came gently and without any pressure.
Y/n turned completely around in her upholstered seat to face her boyfriend. "Can I tell you something before we go inside?"
"Of course, my dear." He gently poked the tip of her nose with his finger.
"But... promise me you won't act strangely when you find out?"
"Honey, what happened that was so serious?"
"Promise me first?" she insisted, her eyes fixed on his.
Logan straightened up a little more in the driver's seat, assuming a protective posture. "I promise. You know you can tell me anything."
Y/n took a deep breath, pulling all the air she could into her lungs, and then began to talk about an old childhood memory.
Because that particular story carried a dark and hidden side of Phil Graham that no one in the public or on the hockey team saw, a real side that existed in their daily lives long before the big games started being televised.
And when it was finally over, the car was completely silent.
Logan didn't say anything at all, not immediately. Because he knew there were no right words, so he did the only thing that truly seemed important at that moment; he opened his arms and pulled Y/n close to him.
The gesture was as if to say that everything was alright now, that she didn't need to carry that entire burden alone, that she believed in herself above all else.
Outside, Garret looked up just as he saw the comforting embrace through the glass and knew immediately what was happening inside, because he knew perfectly well that vulnerable look in his sister's eyes.
His jaw visibly clenched for a moment, a wave of tension coursing through his body, and then his eyes fell heavily to the floor.
When they finally got out of the truck, Logan closed the door firmly and gave Garret a subtle, gentle smile. Y/n just watched her brother with a neutral expression, trying to compose herself.
As they walked together towards the steps of the house, Garret decided to do what he did best to break the ice: openly tease the young couple.
"Then..."
Y/n closed her eyes immediately, anticipating what was to come. "No."
"I saw the little kiss."
"Garret!" Y/n let out an audible groan of embarrassment.
"That was disgusting." Garret made a theatrical grimace.
"It was just a peck!" Y/n argued in her defense.
"It was disgusting."
"You're ridiculous."
She laughed, and the three of them calmly climbed the porch stairs, with Garret going ahead and knocking on the wooden door. Logan took advantage of the moment and comfortably put an arm around Y/n's shoulders.
And then, they heard firm footsteps echoing toward the door. The first to appear and open the door was a middle-aged woman with an immensely kind smile on her face. Her eyes curiously scanned the three young people standing on the porch, and her whole face lit up with satisfaction at welcoming them.
"Garret and Y/n! It's so good to finally meet you." She smiled warmly before turning her full attention to Logan. "And you could only be John? Y/n's boyfriend?"
Logan smiled politely, showing friendliness. "It's me. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure is mine." She opened the doorway wider, letting them in. "I was really looking forward to this dinner."
Y/n returned the smile with all the politeness she could muster. "John and I brought a pie."
"Oh, how sweet! They didn't need to worry about that."
Garret discreetly lifted the dessert wrapper he was carrying. "And I was responsible for the other one."
Cindy laughed kindly. "So nobody goes hungry in this house today."
The initial atmosphere seemed surprisingly light. Almost truly welcoming. Almost.
Because it only took a few more heavy footsteps echoing down the main hallway for everything to change drastically, and for Phil to appear imposingly in the living room entrance.
As soon as Logan's eyes met his, his polite smile faded almost automatically. Y/n's words, spoken inside the truck, were still completely fresh in his memory.
The two brothers exchanged a quick glance before walking over to the man. The hugs they shared were short and completely awkward.
"Look who decided to show up. My sons!" Then, his analytical eyes met Logan's. "John Logan! Finally meeting you officially." He extended his firm hand. "We've seen each other so many times in the arena that I was starting to think you were avoiding me as a son-in-law."
Logan accepted the necessary handshake and smiled politely. "No, sir. I think all that was missing was the ideal occasion."
Phil chuckled, lightly patting him on the shoulder. "I hope Garrett didn't teach you his bad habits."
Garret discreetly rolled his eyes at the comment, and Y/n looked away at her brother. Cindy, who remained completely oblivious to all that underlying tension, flashed an even wider and more radiant smile at the group.
"I was really curious to meet you. Phil keeps saying that Y/n is very happy in this relationship."
Y/n felt her heart skip a beat in her chest and slowly turned her head toward her father, completely surprised.
Happy.
He had specifically used that word, and she could barely remember the last time her own father had stopped to ask how she was feeling inside.
"By the way..." Garret discreetly raised the dessert in his hands to change the subject. "Where can we put all this before I drop something on the floor?"
Cindy smiled. "In the kitchen, please. You can leave everything on the main counter."
"Perfect!"
As Garret hurried toward the kitchen, carrying the purchased dessert and the pie his sister had made, Logan remained firmly by Y/n's side. He kept his hands gently resting on her shoulders in a clear form of physical and emotional protection, almost a silent reminder that she wasn't alone.
However, Phil once again focused his full attention on Logan.
"So... how's the season going? I've been following your games. You've been improving a lot on the ice."
"Dad..." Y/n ended up interrupting him on purpose, wanting to get her boyfriend out of that situation. "Do you mind if I show Logan around the house before we sit down in the living room?"
Phil smiled. "Of course, go ahead! After all, this house is yours too."
The sentence sounded strange, empty, and completely out of place in their reality, but she only nodded slightly to avoid confrontation.
"Thanks."
Without saying another word, Y/n gently took Logan's hand and began to guide him up the stairs.
The walls of the long hallway were completely covered with old picture frames and photographs from childhood, records of past birthdays, Christmas mornings, and especially old sporting competitions of the twins.
Logan slowed his pace whenever he saw a different image of his girlfriend, smiling discreetly at all her phases.
Until she stopped completely in front of a specific, incredibly cute photograph hanging near the end of the hallway.
In it, a Y/n girl of approximately six years old appeared holding a large spoon as if it were a shiny trophy, completely covered in white flour from head to toe. Next to her, Garret seemed to be in an even worse and more chaotic state. The two smiled broadly at the camera while their mother laughed in the background behind the children.
Logan began to chuckle softly as he contemplated the details of that pure scene.
Y/n turned her face to him. "What's wrong, love?"
He pointed to the photograph on the wall. "Your brother looks like he fought with a sack of flour... and lost badly."
She stared at the photo and began to laugh as well, the old memory warming her chest for a moment.
"It was all my fault."
"He was?"
"I wanted to make a surprise birthday cake for my mom, but we started fighting in the kitchen, throwing flour at each other, and she ended up discovering the whole surprise ahead of time."
Logan laughed loudly, finding the story adorable, while Y/n stared at the photo with eyes filled with a deep and clear longing.
"Mom wasn't sure whether to laugh at the mess or scold us. But in the end, the three of us made the cake together."
Logan watched intently the subtle change in her facial expression; the slight smile was still there, but now it carried a heavy nostalgia. A great longing indeed.
"You look incredibly like her!" Logan smiled sweetly, gazing deeply into his girlfriend's eyes.
Y/n turned her head quickly toward him, flashing a wide, truly radiant smile. "Do you really think so?"
Logan immediately realized how genuinely happy that realization made her. "In every little detail!"
Y/n smiled shyly, lowering her gaze for a brief moment, her heart warmed.
She continued showing him each room and hallway, which seemed to hold a fond and comforting memory of her and her brother from when their mother still lived there with them.
She pointed out the balcony and fondly remembered the nights she, Garret, and her mother spent lying there watching a meteor shower. She indicated the green area of the garden and recounted the sunny afternoons when the two of them patiently tried to teach the family's old dog to fetch sticks.
She talked nonstop. She smiled slightly. She laughed openly at certain moments of nostalgia. But, deep down, Logan perfectly understood that she wasn't just showing him the physical rooms of the house; Y/n was, in fact, desperately searching for her mother's presence and trace in every corner of that empty place.
The rest of the afternoon dragged on slowly and deliberately, because whenever a conversation seemed to be heading towards any other topic, Phil found a way to steer the conversation back to hockey.
He kept talking about the possibility of Logan pursuing a professional career, questioned tactical strategies, and debated the latest college championships. Meanwhile, he never asked Y/n how her routine was going at college.
He never asked how she was doing away from home. He never asked if she was genuinely happy. Similarly, he also never asked Garrett anything that wasn't strictly related to his performance on the ice.
Logan answered each question with as much politeness as he could muster. But inside, his chest harbored an extremely dangerous mixture of fire and gasoline.
When night finally fell, the dining table was already completely set and decorated in the dining room.
Phil and Cindy sat side by side, and right in front of them were Logan and Y/n. Garret, for his part, preferred to strategically position himself at the end of the table, right next to his twin sister.
"Not to brag... but you're going to love Cindy's mashed potatoes."
Garret chuckled softly at the insistence. "He's been talking about that mashed potato all afternoon."
"Because it's worth the hype," Phil replied, amused, gesturing with his cutlery.
Cindy shook her head, visibly embarrassed by the compliments. "Modesty aside... this mashed potato is delicious. My mother taught me how to make it when I was a teenager."
Y/n smiled at the woman with genuine affection. "I'm sure it's wonderful."
"And..." Phil continued, staring intently at his children. "I also asked Cindy to make macaroni and cheese—"
Y/n's eyes immediately met Garret's in a flash of memory.
"With breadcrumbs on top." They said it exactly at the same time, in perfect sync, and the whole table burst into laughter at their identical reaction.
"It was a tradition." Y/n finished in a soft tone, and Cindy smiled contentedly before turning her attention back to Logan.
"And you, Logan? Do you have any Thanksgiving traditions in the kitchen?"
The brothers' smiles vanished almost instantly. Logan blinked a few times in quick succession, trying to find a happy answer in his mind that he simply didn't have to give.
Noticing her boyfriend's discomfort, Y/n discreetly reached for Logan's hand under the table and gently wrapped her fingers around his.
Logan fixed his gaze on her and simply smiled slightly to show that everything was alright.
"Yeah... sure!" He let out a shy chuckle to fill the silence. "We had a kind of silly tradition with marshmallows."
Cindy immediately flashed a warm smile. "Oh, that sounds lovely!"
"It was fun..." Logan smiled weakly, but the glimmer of joy quickly faded from his features, and Y/n seized the perfect moment to subtly change the subject.
"Thank you so much for dinner." She returned Cindy's polite smile. "And thank you for making the pasta."
"Of course, darling." Cindy smiled with genuine sweetness.
Phil suggested that everyone say a brief prayer of thanks before beginning to eat the served dishes. When the short prayer ended, Cindy smiled at everyone around her and gently gestured for the main courses to be served.
"So... what are your plans after you finish university?" Phil looked directly at Logan, and Y/n sighed deeply, realizing the sports interrogation was about to begin again.
"I'm still calmly evaluating some possibilities."
"Do you plan to enter this year's draft?"
"If a good opportunity arises, yes."
Phil nodded slowly, considering the answer. "And which league do you think best suits your playing style?"
"I think I still have a lot to develop physically before I can really think about that."
Garret watched the whole scene in absolute silence, and Y/n did exactly the same beside her boyfriend. Phil seemed solely interested in getting to know the promising athlete on the team and not the sweet, caring, and protective man Y/n was completely in love with.
Y/n placed some macaroni and cheese on her own plate and smiled discreetly at Cindy in thanks. "Could you pass me the bottle of wine, please?"
"Of course, darling!" Cindy reached for the bottle on the table without hesitation.
As she stretched her arm across the table, the sleeve of Cindy's sweater rode up a few inches, just enough to reveal a large, distinct purplish mark spread across her pale skin. For an overwhelming instant, time seemed to slow down completely for Y/n.
The polite smile instantly vanished from her face, and the strength in her fingers gradually weakened as she held the bottle of wine that was handed to her. Around the dinner table, Cindy laughed at some silly remark Phil made, completely distracted by the moment. Garret served himself some more food on his plate, and Logan calmly answered a question about his university routine.
For a full second, Y/n stopped seeing the dining room, and everything around her was abruptly replaced by old, suffocating memories.
It ranged from memories of dark days when the whole house was immersed in heated arguments, to terrible days when Garret would physically step in front of her to protect her when their father came home completely frustrated and stressed with life.
And as if her own mind wanted to betray her even more in that tense environment, her troubled thoughts returned forcefully to a few hours earlier, to the exact moment when she had confided in Logan a crucial and painful part of her childhood.
"He arrived early that day..." Y/n's voice was almost a whisper. "I got a B on an important test, and I always got A+s in that specific subject... But Mom had died recently, and I was still completely devastated inside..." Her fingers clenched tightly, and Logan remained in absolute silence, running his hand down her arm in a comforting caress. "In my childish mind... I was going to show him the test and just say that I would improve my grade next time. But as soon as he saw it, he simply didn't listen to me anymore... Garret was at practice. And... that day... there was absolutely no one to step in front of me to defend me from him..."
Her voice completely trailed off for a second, and her teary eyes went toward her brother outside the vehicle. Logan, heartbroken, reached out and wiped a lone tear from her face.
"My father beat me so badly that I had to miss three days of school in a row so that no one would see my bruises... And when Garret found out what had happened... he was infinitely angrier with himself than with our father." Y/n quickly wiped her face with her sleeve. "After that, he was always the one who bandaged me. Because he had more opportunities when Garret wasn't home and my father simply had no one else to take out all his pent-up anger on..."
Logan stood completely still and stunned by the revelation. While an overwhelming fury gripped his chest and he felt the urge to take justice into his own hands, Logan also wanted only to embrace her with all his might and never let her go from that safe haven.
Y/n's dazed mind abruptly returned to the reality of the dining room, and then the fingers of her hand completely lost their strength.
The wine bottle slipped from her fingers and the glass hit her with a sharp, deafening crash, bringing all conversation to an immediate halt. Y/n pushed her chair back with such haste and desperation that she almost fell to the side.
Cindy's friendly smile vanished completely from her lips, and Phil frowned in clear irritation at the mess. Garret turned his face toward his sister so quickly he almost dropped his plate of food, and Logan stood up from his chair without a second thought.
"Hey, love... Are you hurt?" Logan asked, his voice filled with genuine concern, gently holding her arm and examining every inch of it. "Are there any shards of glass in you?"
But Y/n couldn't even hear him, her eyes remaining completely fixed on that purple mark hidden under the sleeve of Cindy's sweater.
Garret was already in a state of complete tension, because he was looking in the exact same direction as his twin sister, who was staring in panic. His fingers gripped the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles turned completely white.
Phil, on the other hand, let out a small, nasal laugh, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere that had settled in.
"Relax, guys." He gave a characteristic wry smile, dismissing the situation. "In hockey, we learn that a fall like that doesn't even count as a real accident. It's just a common welcome card for those who interact with players daily."
Cindy chuckled, Logan remained completely serious, and Garret closed his eyes for a full second, controlling the immense anger rising in his chest.
But Y/n was already completely consumed by an uncontrollable wave of anger and indignation.
"Do you think that's funny?" The entire room fell into a deathly, piercing silence.
Phil raised an eyebrow, surprised by his daughter's audacious tone. "What?"
"You and your ridiculous hockey jokes."
"Y/n, daughter, what is this?"
"NO!" She raised one hand firmly before he could continue with his false speech.
Phil took a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure, and laughed again disdainfully. "You're making an unnecessary fuss over a simple broken bottle of wine. We have plenty more in the cellar, I can ask Cindy to go get another one—"
"Is that really what you think happened here?" Y/n snapped her fingers in a clear sign of pure nervousness, and Logan quickly placed one of his hands on her back. "You think everything in life is that simple, don't you?"
"Then explain your point to me," Phil said, his expression hardening and his voice becoming a little more serious because of his daughter's confrontational tone.
"You spend your whole life pretending to the rest of the world that you're the perfect, exemplary father. In front of everyone, you're extremely friendly, polite, you make silly jokes, you ask about other people's future careers... But a real father asks how his children are feeling inside, asks real questions about his daughter's boyfriend, and doesn't just focus on his sports career. A real father is present and cares about his children's lives!"
"What you're saying isn't true. I always—"
Y/n let out a sharp, completely humorless laugh. "Do you know exactly what semester of college Garrett and I are in right now? Or do you happen to know what major I'm studying with so much effort?"
"You're exaggerating and going too far," Phil said in a sharp tone, trying to regain authority.
"You never wanted to know anything about my life. And when you found out about something that was out of your control and you didn't like it, you simply took it all out on us with slaps and bruises!" Y/n spelled out each syllable with a cutting clarity, leaving Cindy with wide eyes in shock and Phil visibly furious. "You've always been a cowardly and aggressive man."
Y/n added firmly, unleashing all the pain she had held for years, and that was the absolute last straw that made Phil truly furious.
In one swift, brusque movement, Phil's chair scraped against the dining room floor with a thud, falling backward and pointing a stiff, accusing finger directly at his own daughter.
That reaction was enough to make everyone's heart race in a frantic, frightened beat. And that single movement was all it took for Logan and Garrett to react at exactly the same time.
Logan swiftly stepped in front of Y/n, placing a protective arm directly in front of his girlfriend. At the same time, Garret stopped beside them, leaning slightly forward in a visibly defensive stance.
The two stared at Phil with the same unwavering firmness in their gaze, driven by the same protective instinct and sharing the same ultimate goal: to protect Y/n from anything.
Phil immediately noticed the roadblock, and his eyebrows slowly rose as he saw the two athletes completely blocking his path to his daughter.
Over Logan and Garret's broad shoulders, the man met Y/n's striking eyes again. Her expression was entirely tense, hard, and filled with legitimate anger, but with warm tears still falling discreetly and continuously down her pale face.
"This is over!" Garret says definitively, stepping back from the table and placing both hands firmly on his twin sister's shoulders to pull her away.
"Hey, hey, everything alright!" Cindy says in a desperate voice, hurriedly getting up from the table.
"No, everything is not alright!" Logan says in an extremely serious tone, looking Phil in the eyes one last time with deep contempt.
Logan and Garret quickly led Y/n out of that suffocating dining room. Garret walked ahead of the group, clearing a path down the hallway, while Logan remained right behind his girlfriend, keeping both hands gently resting on her shoulders in constant physical contact.
As they crossed the large living room, Logan paused only to pick up the two coats they had left scattered on the sofa earlier, immediately returning to her side as soon as they reached the front door.
Garret had already opened the door and made enough space for the two of them to get outside, but as soon as he heard Phil's heavy footsteps coming in the same direction down the hallway, Garret blocked the door with his own body.
"Take her." Garret glanced quickly over his shoulder at Logan, who was already on the outside balcony.
"Are you going to be okay?" Logan's question came out low and full of complicity.
"Yes, I will." Garret glanced briefly at his sister. "Take care of her, please..."
"You didn't even need to ask." Logan gave a small, understanding, sad smile. Garret returned the gesture with an almost smile of pure relief.
Garret stood completely still and rigid in the doorway, absolutely preventing Phil from crossing the porch to go after his daughter. And while this human barrier remained at the entrance, Logan guided Y/n to the truck, waited patiently until she got in, and only then went around and got in on the driver's side.
The metal keys turned rapidly, but before he could actually engage the gear, he felt Y/n's cold, trembling hand land firmly on his.
"Wait..." Y/n pleaded, her voice choked with emotion. "We're not leaving without Garret." Her eyes, which had previously overflowed with anger, were now completely filled with the genuine despair of a sister. "I... I'm afraid of what might happen if he's left alone with our father."
The genuine concern in her voice tightened painfully in Logan's chest.
"Of course, we'll wait for him, my dear!" Logan squeezed her hand back to reassure her and gently stroked Y/n's cheek. "I promise!"
"Even if it takes a long time?"
"Even if it takes a long time!"
She breathed a little easier. "Thank you."
Logan left the truck's engine running in neutral, opened the driver's side door again, and remained standing, leaning firmly against the side. He kept his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes fully alert and fixed on every movement on the porch of the house, positioning himself ready to physically intervene the moment it was necessary.
Besides, if he wanted to break some bones, all he had to do was throw John Logan up in the air.
Garret continued speaking firmly to Phil, who remained detained on the other side of the entrance gate. And it was precisely at this moment of high tension that the older man realized he was also being watched; as soon as Phil looked up, he found Y/n sitting safely inside the truck, and soon after, his piercing gaze met Logan's.
The young player maintained an extremely cold facial expression, making no effort whatsoever to hide the profound contempt he felt.
At that exact moment, Phil Graham finally understood that Logan knew every detail of the twins' past and that he knew perfectly well the monster he had been within the privacy of that house. And, by the firm and menacing way the young athlete stared back at him from the sidewalk, it was also implicitly clear that Logan would never allow any kind of violence to happen to Y/n again.
"Listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you." Garret took a deep breath, controlling his own voice to avoid shouting. "Never show up in another one of my games."
Phil immediately opened his mouth to respond and retort to the insult, but Garret raised his open hand sharply in the air.
"I'm not finished speaking yet." He then pointed clearly with his index finger toward the parked truck where Y/n was waiting. "And never again come looking for her with cheap apologies! Because she spent her entire childhood and adolescence waiting for you to act like a real father. But now she doesn't need you for absolutely anything. She has me and Logan! So do us all this huge favor. Leave us alone once and for all!" Without waiting for any kind of response, he turned his back and went down the steps.
As soon as Garret got into the jeep, Logan finally moved away from the side of the truck and returned to the driver's seat.
The rain started pouring down on the road, and the only audible sound inside the car was the rhythmic, continuous movement of the windshield wipers.
Nobody said anything at all, but Logan kept one hand firmly on the steering wheel while, from time to time, his worried eyes drifted to Y/n sitting next to him, and then his eyes automatically searched the rearview mirror.
Garrett's Jeep remained close behind them, keeping a safe distance in the storm.
It was then that a low, broken sob broke the silence, and Logan discreetly turned his face toward her.
Tears streamed down Y/n's face again, but this time it wasn't from anger; it was from sheer exhaustion and a deep, accumulated sadness. When she brought both hands to her face, the crushing weight of that night finally collapsed upon her. Her shoulders began to tremble uncontrollably, and her crying turned into painful sobs that seemed to trap the air in her chest.
Without taking his eyes off the road completely, Logan reached for her trembling hand and held it firmly, gently stroking her skin with his thumb to offer as much support as possible.
But then, suddenly, the sound of crying stopped completely.
The silence was so sudden and abrupt that it made Logan frown immediately, and as soon as he turned his face to the side, his heart plummeted in his chest.
Y/n was completely still on the bench, her eyes wide with panic, her hand pressed tightly against her chest as she desperately tried to draw air back into her lungs.
"Honey, breathe!" Logan's voice came out, heavy with a nervous and urgent tone.
She tried to do what he asked, but the tears kept falling while her breathing became increasingly rapid. Logan immediately lowered both windows of the truck, and at that same moment, the cold wind and heavy raindrops flooded the interior of the vehicle.
But the effort wasn't working.
Without thinking twice, Logan turned on his turn signal, slowed down, and pulled his truck over to the side of the road. Right behind him, Garret noticed the emergency maneuver and also turned on his hazard lights, stopping alongside and quickly lowering his window to assess the situation.
And while this was happening, Logan had already removed his own seatbelt and leaned completely towards Y/n in the passenger seat.
Garret hurriedly opened the Jeep door, jumping out into the heavy rain and quickly stopping at the driver's side window of Logan's car.
"What happened?" The concern in his voice was evident as he tried to see his sister.
"Panic attack." Logan replied without taking his eyes off her for a single second. With awkward but careful movements, he pushed Y/n's hair back, brushing away the strands that insisted on sticking to her face. "Do you have any water?"
Garrett immediately turned to his own car and seconds later found a new, full plastic bottle.
"Here!"
Logan quickly opened it, handed her the object, and brought one of his hands directly to Y/n's face. With his thumb, he gently wiped away the tears that were still streaming down her cheeks.
"Just take a little sip," he said softly, modulating his tone of voice to convey calm. "Take a deep breath and then take a little more."
Gradually, Y/n's stiff shoulders began to visibly relax. Her uneven breaths became less rapid, and she slowly closed her eyes, finally allowing the cold, damp wind of the rain to touch her face and the breeze to fill her lungs without encountering the same suffocating difficulty as before.
Once they realized she was actually better and that another immediate panic attack wouldn't occur, they resumed driving until they finally arrived at the boys' house.
Logan had a comforting, firm hand on her back or shoulders the whole time, carefully guiding her as he led her to the bedroom and picked out some of his own clothes for her to wear after her shower. He only truly left her side when Y/n closed the bathroom door and turned on the shower.
Logan slowly descended the stairs of the house, running both hands over his face. As soon as he reached the kitchen to get something for Y/n to eat, he saw Garret leaning against the cabinets.
His clothes were still considerably damp from the earlier rain, and his wet hair dripped discreetly onto his expressive forehead. On the marble countertop, a bowl contained some untouched fruit.
"I... wanted to apologize to you."
Logan frowned slightly. "Apologies?"
"Because of everything you witnessed today. You shouldn't have been exposed to this dark side in this way."
Logan let out a quiet sigh, moving closer. "Garret..."
Y/n's brother looked away, his gaze fixed on the floor for a moment.
"She shouldn't have had to go through all that again. I should have protected her better."
"You protected." Logan leaned against the counter.
Garret shook his head immediately, refusing the consolation.
"Not enough. Because I keep wondering if that day... you know, she told you, right?"
Garret looked at Logan, and his sister's boyfriend immediately understood what he was talking about and nodded silently. "I keep thinking I should have skipped practice... Or left her at Grandma's house... Or..." The sentence died before he could finish the painful thought.
"Garret." Logan waited patiently until he raised his head again. "You were just a kid trying to protect another kid. It was never your fault."
"But I still feel like it."
Logan nodded slowly, understanding his pain. "I know."
They remained silent for several long seconds, and then Logan let a small, knowing smile appear on his lips to ease the tension.
"You know what? If that dinner had been at my family's house..." He let out an awkward chuckle. "...it probably wouldn't have been exactly a perfect margarine commercial."
Garret chuckled briefly through his nose, understanding the irony. "Yeah... None of our families won the 'Most Functional of the Year' award."
The two chuckled softly together, not because the family situation was genuinely funny, but because, for a few brief seconds of complicity, they had finally managed to breathe amidst the storm.
Garret lowered his head again, watching the water slowly trickle down the hem of his jacket onto the kitchen floor. Meanwhile, Logan walked to the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of fresh water, and before he could actually look for something for his girlfriend to eat, Garret called him softly.
"Logan. Here." He pushed the glass bowl with the cut fruit. "I set it aside for her."
Logan smiled back, grateful for his brother-in-law's gesture. "Thank you."
Carefully picking up the fruit bowl in one hand and balancing the water bottle in the other, Logan left the kitchen. But as soon as he set foot on the first step of the stairs, he turned back towards Garret.
"Can I ask you something?"
Garret frowned slightly, curious. "Hm... maybe."
"Could you give me the recipe for that macaroni and cheese? The one your mom used to make..." Garret blinked a few times, taken aback. "I... wanted to make it for Y/n."
Silence filled the kitchen again, but this time, it was a completely different kind of silence than before.
Garret felt a thick lump instantly rise in his throat, and at that exact moment, he truly understood how immense and genuine Logan's love for his sister was. Because Logan wasn't just thinking about superficially comforting Y/n on that difficult night; he wanted to bring back good memories from her past to gradually replace the old, bad ones that hurt her.
"Of course." Garret replied, his voice visibly choked with emotion. "She'll like it."
"Thank you." Then he climbed the stairs.
When he reached the quiet upstairs hallway, he noticed that the sound of the shower had completely stopped. When he carefully opened the bedroom door so as not to make a sound, he saw that Y/n was already lying on his bed, wearing his baggy sweatshirt and comfortable pants.
She was completely curled up under the covers, as if she had finally found a safe place where her body could truly rest, and she was breathing deeply, having fallen asleep from extreme exhaustion.
Logan closed the bedroom door, placed the water bottle and the bowl of fruit on the study table, and turned off the main light. Then he slowly walked to the side of the bed, carefully crouching beside her; he brushed away a few strands of hair that stubbornly covered her face with his fingertips, and then placed a long, tender kiss on her forehead.
"I'll always be here for you." His voice was just a whisper directed into the silence of the room. "I love you."
“Fuck,Logan” you pulled him closer into you by his broad shoulders as he hovered over you feeding you stroke after stroke
Dean let out a loud “fuck!” From down stairs followed by a crash “Logan!??”
“Ignore it.Need you” You whine. Not even two seconds later Dean was banging on the door
“Logan?” He called “we need you down stairs”
“In a minute!” Logan groaned
“Not in a minute. In a now! The kitchen sink is spraying everywhere”
Logan sighs “yeah ok—“
“Don’t you dare.” you pull him closer but he’s already slipping out of you. You whine at the lost “John Logan!” You groan but he’s already pulling on sweat pants. He leans over you to peck you
“I’m sorry baby I’ll be right back, right back I swear”
You groan slipping under the covers. When Logan opens the door Dean catches a glimpse of you under the sheets “oh hey y/n”
You scowl at him “go fuck yourself”
“Pleasant as always!” He calls as Logan shuts the door
John Logan Fwb but not really cause he’s head over heels for you but is too scared to say it
A/N: Based off his character in the show. I tried to make it as accurate as possible.
______________________________________________
It’s been two months since you’ve initiated no contact.
“Take care of yourself, Logan.”
Is all you texted him during the middle of the night while memories of two of you mulled over in your mind. After you hit send, you were filled with more regret than relief.
Had that been the best choice? Sure— you didn’t want this fling to go on when all you ever wanted was him. But, Logan didn’t want that. He couldn’t let himself, for some reason. He wouldn’t let himself let the relationship go past hookups, late night hangouts that ended in sex, and most importantly, past a friendship. Sure, you could see it as clear as day in his eyes— he was smitten. Jules rambled in your ear once about how all he ever talks about is you.
So what confused you about this whole thing is the fact that Logan did all those cheesy things all the while you two weren’t even together. It started off as casual, no strings attached. But then the air between you two changed one night, cuddled up under the sheets after hooking up. He said something funny, and just looked down at you with affectionate eyes when you laughed at his stupid joke. No other guy has ever looked at you the way he did.
When your heart rate spiked, that’s when you realized— you had fallen for the John Logan. Maybe it was the feeble attempts to throw hints at him, but you really did try to give him a little nudge in the right direction. He’d always deflect and act like his upcoming hockey game was the most interesting thing in the world.
That’s what led you two in this predicament. Now, benched in the cage of the ice rink, Logan’s brown eyes were fixed on the floor. His wavy hair hung over his forehead like a curtain, hunched over with his elbows on his knees.
Garrett was the first one to notice that he was behaving quite off during practice. Spacing out, mumbling to himself— basically in his own world and keeping to himself whenever no one was talking to him. If he was responding, he’d merely nod or say an occasional ‘mhm yeah.’ Their coach had benched Logan in the meantime to ‘clear his head.’ Little did their coach know that Logan’s mind was full of you. He was torn between texting you later tonight or showing up at your door unannounced, flowers and your favorite snack in hand and begging you to take him back.
You, however, were hunched over your desk with notes on your laptop with egregious amounts of papers scattered everywhere. Chemistry was already kicking you in the ass as is, and the cramming wasn’t helping either. That’s when you decided you needed a break. Standing up from the desk, you walk over to the opposite side of the room where your bed was and grabbed your phone. Then, you saw it.
Messages from John Logan, his contact name still as clear as day. You didn’t bother to block or delete his number after ghosting him, hoping that maybe one day he’d come to his senses. His messages read:
“I’m sorry. I’m so stupid.”
“Let me come over.”
“Please.”
Logan ditched practice when he decided that having you was worth more than being on the ice. He’d gladly be reprimanded by his coach if it meant that you were by his side, his girlfriend.
There you stood in the middle of your bedroom, dumbfounded. A string of messages coming from Logan begging you to let him come over. At this point, you can barely focus on studying; a break was long due anyways, and right now Logan was your sole focus. Why the hell was he texting you now? You figured he was at practice since you overheard Hannah talking about seeing Garrett after drills. Even then, you wondered what got him to break no contact.
It wasn’t even a couple minutes after he sent his texts when another one came in. You remembered that you left read receipts on for him, and the guilt ate away at you.
“It’s okay if you don’t wanna see me. At least tell me what you want.”
You can almost hear the desperation in Logan’s voice when you read his message. He was such a sweet boy, even if his actions hurt you. You knew he didn’t mean it, but it stung. Your fingers dance across the keyboard, pausing in between to reread your words as if they’d magically say something completely different. You decided on a simple answer, one that didn’t show your true emotions.
“It’s fine, you can come.”
You toss your phone on the mattress. What the hell were you even thinking? At least your roommates are gone for the night— it’ll save you and Logan from the embarrassment. Your phone buzzed, and you picked it up to see what he said. He didn’t waste a single beat before he answered you:
“Text you when I’m there.”
This wasn’t really in this month’s weather forecast at all. You scrambled through your apartment, tidying up whatever you could before Logan arrived. You didn’t bother to clean up the mess in your room either, and you prayed that you two didn’t have to go in there.
With what little time you had left, you checked your phone to see if Logan texted you. The lack of communication started to mess with your nerves. You two hadn’t see each other in two whole months, and now he was going to show up at your door. You couldn’t think for another minute before someone knocked on the door.
You’re met in the face with a bouquet of hydrangeas, baby’s breath, daisies and chrysanthemums— whites and pinks assorted in such a beautiful way that makes your breath still. When you finally look up, Logan’s sheepish eyes stare right back at yours.
“H-Here, your favorite,” he murmurs, his other hand holding your favorite snack.
“Thank you…”
You awkwardly shuffle to the side and open up the door to let him in, taking the bouquet and setting it on the kitchen counter. Logan follows suit, standing in the middle of your living room. He takes in a deep breath, looking around the same place he’s seen countless times— he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. The man looks like he’s fighting between keeping his pride and begging for you back at the same time.
“I’m… sorry. I fucked up,” Logan finally says, shifting on the balls of his feet. You’re just standing there in a large hoodie and shorts with little bears on them— not exactly a romantic sight.
“I know I hurt you, but I’m asking you,” he continues, taking small strides over to you, those brown puppy dog eyes fixed on your face. “Let me make this right. I wanna be your boyfriend.”
Logan stops right in front of you, the scent of cologne and musk wafting around you. He wants nothing more than to reach out and hold you like he’d done before, to feel a familiar body against his. But he stops. He won’t get closer unless you let him.
It takes you a good minute to let the reality of the situation wrap around your head. He wants this just as much as you do, if not more. Hell— you knew that if he hadn’t texted you first, you would’ve just carried on with your life.
He looks down at you, waiting for an answer. His gaze drops to your lips as if anticipating the words that come out of your mouth, whether good or bad.
“Logan,” you murmur, taking a step closer. The warmth between you is magnetic.
“I just… Why did you text me now?”
Logan shakes his head, carefully reaching out to cup your cheek. You’re forced to look into his eyes.
“I should’ve called sooner. I felt this way for weeks,” he explained to you, brushing a thumb over your cheek.
“I couldn’t take it anymore.”
Slowly, Logan’s eyes flicker from your lips and back as if silently asking you for permission. He leans in, tilting his head slightly— his lips part, and you find yourself leaning in too. He doesn’t kiss you yet, but his lips hover over yours to let you move away if you really wanted to. But you don’t.
The familiarity of it all makes your heart race like crazy. Logan’s other arm pulls you in by your waist, holding onto you like you’d disappear at any given moment. He’s gentle, but the unspoken words and feelings are poured into the kiss. You can taste the fresh mint on his tongue, and it makes you wonder if he popped one in his mouth before coming here.
You break the kiss to catch your breath, but his face is still very close— close enough to capture your lips again if he wanted to. Logan’s breath hits your flushed cheeks, and he nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours.
“I missed you, so so much.”
Both hands slide down to your waist now, squeezing your hips gently. He’s missed the way you felt under his palms; he always believed that your body was made just for him.
“I missed you too, Logan.”
Your arms are loosely draped around his shoulders before you lean in for another kiss.
It’s not as gentle as the first kiss. You’re sure of this, and he can tell by the way your tongue swipes across his bottom lip. Logan doesn’t deny you. How could he? This is what he dreamt about.
After the kiss the two of you are left breathless. It takes you a second to open your eyes again, but by then Logan’s already staring at you.
He looks down at you like you just hung the stars. The corners of his lips are curled into a warm smile, and you couldn’t wipe it off him if you tried.
“You look pretty like this,” he teased, wanting to see you blush. He still meant it.
You roll your eyes at his comment.
“You didn’t exactly give me time to dress up.”
“I don’t really care. You know that, right?” He hums, craning his head to press a feather-like kiss to your neck. Your breath hitches.
“I’ve seen you in less, and you still look gorgeous.”
Logan lifts his head. He chuckles with that flirty grin of his, and you smack his shoulder lightly. You both erupt in quiet laughter, like the two of you were exchanging secrets.
For once in the entire chaotic two months the both of you had been apart, everything was right.
Summary: Everybody knew about you and Logan. After your messy breakup, you became a sensitive topic—one no one dared bring up around him. He avoided everything that reminded him of you. Until the day he almost bought your favorite flowers.
Inspired by "Your Favorite Flowers" by MICO.
Warnings: Exes to lovers • Angst • Mentions of alcohol • Yearning • Reminiscing
Author's Note Hi! I've been listening to MICO way too much lately, so here's a fic inspired by his song "Your Favorite Flowers."
This is my first time writing for the Off-Campus fandom, so I hope you enjoy it!
Also, English isn't my first language, so if you spot any grammar mistakes or awkward wording, please feel free to let me know. Constructive feedback is always appreciated. ♡
The florist smelled like fresh rain and eucalyptus.
Logan wasn't entirely sure why Hannah had dragged him along. Something about centerpieces, stage decorations, and how Garrett had absolutely no eye for color. Dean had argued that fake flowers were cheaper, Tucker had insisted real ones "had soul," and somehow Logan had ended up carrying three bags of ribbon he'd never asked for.
"These?" Hannah held up a bundle of white baby's breath.
Dean made a face. "Looks like weeds." "They're filler flowers," Hannah replied patiently. "They're boring." "They're not." "They're literally called filler." Garrett pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can we just buy the damn flowers?"
While they argued, Logan wandered. Rows of blooms stretched before him in every color imaginable. Roses. Peonies. Tulips. Hydrangeas. Without thinking, he reached for a small bouquet tucked between the daisies. Forget-me-nots.
His fingers curled around the stems before his brain caught up. Blue. Tiny. Delicate enough that he'd always worried he'd crush them before they ever made it to your apartment.
"You always buy me the expensive ones." You'd laughed the first time he'd shown up outside the theater with a bouquet hidden behind his back.
"They're not expensive." "Logan." "...They're imported." You lifted an eyebrow. "...Okay, maybe a little expensive." You'd rolled your eyes before taking them anyway, burying your nose into the flowers with the kind of smile that made every late-night practice and every miserable conditioning session worth it.
"They're my favorite." "I know." Every opening night after that, he'd be there. Sometimes waiting outside the backstage door. Sometimes squeezed into the audience beside Hannah and Allie. Sometimes arriving twenty minutes late because hockey practice ran over.
It didn't matter. He always brought forget-me-nots.
Every.
Single.
Show.
"You know..." you'd teased once, carefully placing another bouquet into the growing collection on your dorm windowsill. "One day I'm gonna run out of vases."
"I'll buy you more."
"You'd rather buy me vases than different flowers?"
He'd wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pressing a kiss against your temple. "They're your favorite." You'd tilted your head back, smiling up at him. "So you remembered." "As if I could forget."
Funny.
Now all he seemed capable of doing was remembering.
"Logan?" Hannah's voice cut through the memory. He blinked. The bouquet was still in his hand. For one stupid, embarrassing second, he'd forgotten you weren't waiting outside a theater anymore.
That there wasn't another show to celebrate. That you weren't his to bring flowers to. His grip loosened immediately. "...Sorry," he muttered, placing the forget-me-nots back into the bucket with far more care than necessary.
Hannah watched him for a moment. She didn't say anything, she didn't have to. Everyone knew about you and Logan and everyone knew your favorite flowers.
The auditorium was a mess.
Props littered the stage. Someone had abandoned a fake sword in the front row. Half-finished set pieces leaned against the wings, and a ladder sat center stage like everyone had collectively decided it wasn't a safety hazard. "Again," your director called.
You and Allie exchanged the same exhausted look before stepping back into your places. For the third time in twenty minutes, you delivered your lines.
"...I'm searching and scanning for answers in every line for some kind of sign and when you were mine." Silence. Then— "Good. Again, but less angry. More... heartbroken."
You resisted the urge to laugh. "That's his solution to everything," Allie whispered as you reset. "'More emotion.'" You snorted.
"I swear, if he tells me to 'feel the character' one more time, I'm gonna feel unemployment." Allie bumped your shoulder with hers. "Lucky for you, theater doesn't pay." "Exactly my point." A chuckle escaped both of you before the director disappeared backstage to argue with the lighting crew.
You collapsed onto the edge of the stage with a dramatic sigh. "My feet are filing for divorce." "You've said that every rehearsal this week." "Because it's true." Allie laughed, taking a sip from an empty water bottle before realizing it was, in fact, empty. "...Right."
She frowned. "Where's Hannah?"
You checked your phone. No new messages. "She said she'd bring the supplies." You glanced toward the auditorium doors. "She insisted, actually." "'You guys focus on rehearsing,'" Allie mimicked in a surprisingly accurate Hannah impression. "'I'll handle the boring stuff.'"
You smiled despite yourself. "Sounds exactly like her." The smile lingered for only a second before your attention drifted back to the stage. You'd been here almost every day for the last month. Long rehearsals. Extra choreography. Costume fittings. Set painting. Anything to keep yourself busy.
Because being busy meant you didn't have to think. Didn't have to wonder what Logan was doing. Didn't have to remember the nights he'd wait outside these very backstage doors, leaning against the brick wall with that stupidly handsome grin and a bouquet of forget-me-nots hidden behind his back. You'd promised yourself this production was a fresh start.
No Logan. No heartbreak. Just theater.
"...Earth to Y/n." You blinked. Allie was waving a hand in front of your face. "You okay?" You forced a smile. "Yeah." She narrowed her eyes. "You did the thing again." "What thing?" "The staring into space like you're having a full-blown existential crisis thing." "I don't do that." "You absolutely do."
Before you could argue, the auditorium doors swung open. "Sorry!" Hannah called, struggling through the doorway with bags hanging from both arms. "The craft store was absolute chaos." Allie immediately hopped off the stage. "Finally. I was two minutes away from using cardboard instead of foam board."
"And whose fault would've that been?" Hannah shot back. "Yours." "My fault?" "You volunteered." "I was being nice!" "Exactly."
You watched the two of them bicker all the way down the aisle, unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips.
The auditorium doors swung open with a loud creak.
"We come bearing gifts!" Dean announced, dramatically lifting two shopping bags above his head like he'd just returned from war. "They're craft supplies," Garrett deadpanned from behind him. "Not the Holy Grail." "Speak for yourself. Glitter is priceless."
"You bought glitter?" Hannah asked, horrified. Dean shrugged. "It was on sale." "You weren't supposed to buy glitter." "I thought we could spice things up." "You cannot 'spice up' Hamilton, Dean."
He looked genuinely disappointed.
"Oh."
Tucker snorted, balancing several foam boards under one arm while Logan followed behind him with two cardboard boxes and a paper bag from the florist tucked beneath his arm.
"Where do you want everything?" Garrett asked.
"Stage left is fine," your director answered without looking up from his clipboard. The boys made their way toward the stage.
You were kneeling on the floor with Allie, sorting through costume pieces, when you heard the familiar sound of hockey shoes squeaking against the auditorium floor. Your hands froze. Don't look you said to yourself yet.. You looked anyway.
Logan.
He was carrying one of the boxes toward the stage, talking quietly with Tucker about something you couldn't make out. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was habit. Whatever it was, he looked up at the exact same moment you did.
Brown eyes met yours. Neither of you smiled. Neither of you looked away. For one painfully long second, the entire auditorium seemed to disappear.
Then Dean clapped his hands together. "So..." he said far too loudly. "Where do these go?" The spell broke immediately.
You looked back down at the costumes in your lap, pretending to be very interested in separating black gloves from navy ones. Logan cleared his throat and shifted the box in his arms. "Uh... stage left?" he repeated, as if Garrett hadn't already asked.
"Yeah," your director answered again. An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Not the peaceful kind. The kind everyone noticed. Garrett noticed it first, his gaze flicking between you and Logan before landing squarely on Dean. Dean noticed it a second later. Tucker definitely noticed it.
Even Hannah and Allie stopped talking. Nobody said a word. Because everybody knew. Everybody knew about you and Logan. Dean, surprisingly, was the first to recover. "So..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Anybody hungry? We passed a pizza place." "No," Garrett answered immediately. "We literally just ate." "I could eat again." "We know," Tucker muttered.
The conversation resumed, forced at first, then gradually more natural as everyone collectively pretended those few seconds had never happened. You focused on untangling a necklace from a costume.
Logan busied himself stacking paint cans near the wings. There were barely twenty feet between you. It somehow felt like miles.
The cast party was in full swing by the time you and Allie arrived.
Music pulsed through the house, laughter spilled from every room, and someone had already claimed the kitchen as a makeshift dance floor. "You know," Allie said, handing you a red cup, "I'm starting to think us theater people might actually be crazier than hockey players."
You glanced across the room, where one of the ensemble members was attempting to perform a dramatic monologue while standing on the coffee table. "...I think you're right."
She grinned, clinking her cup against yours. "To surviving opening night." "To surviving," you echoed before taking a sip. The cheap vodka burned all the way down.
You winced. "That's disgusting." "Which means it's working." You laughed. Maybe she was right. For weeks, you'd buried yourself in rehearsals, costumes, and late-night line runs. Tonight, there was nothing left to distract you. So you drank. One cup became two. Two somehow became three.
"You should slow down," Allie warned, eyeing your nearly empty cup. "I'm pacing myself." "You said that fifteen minutes ago." "I'm pacing... aggressively." Allie sighed. "You have the alcohol tolerance of a Victorian child." "I do not." "You got tipsy off half a wine cooler at Hannah's birthday." "That was different." "How?" "It was... fruitier." Allie laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. Before she could reply, Hannah appeared beside the two of you, weaving through the crowd. "There you are!" she said. "I've been looking everywhere."
"We're hiding," Allie answered. "I can see that." Hannah's eyes landed on your cup. Then on the empty one sitting on the windowsill beside you.
Then back to you. "...How many?" You held up two fingers. Then frowned. "...Maybe four?" Allie snorted. "See?" "I told you." Hannah pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh, no." "What?" "You get emotional when you're drunk." "I do not." "You cried because a squirrel crossed the road safely.""It made it." "You also apologized to a parking meter."
"I thought it was lonely." Allie burst into laughter. "I forgot about that!" "I'm leaving," you declared, pointing dramatically toward absolutely nowhere. "You don't even know where the door is," Hannah replied. You looked around. "...That's actually a fair point."
Across the room, Garrett was in the middle of telling Dean a story when he noticed Hannah looking unusually concerned. "What happened?" Hannah tilted her head toward you. Garrett followed her gaze. "...Uh-oh." Dean looked over next.
"Oh, she's drunk drunk." Tucker sighed knowingly. "Someone should probably make sure she drinks some water." Logan hadn't meant to look. Really, he hadn't.
But the moment Dean said your name, his eyes found you on the other side of the room. You were laughing at something Allie had said, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, absentmindedly spinning your cup between your hands.
For just a second...
You looked exactly like the girl he'd fallen in love with. His chest tightened. He looked away first. The girl who'd rush into his arms after every curtain call.
The girl who'd smile the second she spotted a bouquet of tiny blue flowers tucked behind his back. His fingers twitched instinctively, as if they still remembered the feel of delicate stems between them.
Forget-me-nots.
He'd almost bought them today. Almost.
His gaze lingered on you for another heartbeat before dropping to the floor. A humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"I should've bought the flowers…" he murmured under his breath. The words were so quiet they disappeared beneath the music.
Pairing: John Logan x Reader
Rating: PG.
Words: 409
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Logan was a man of few words when he was exhausted, and when he was in a foul mood, the entire hockey house knew to avoid him. Even Garrett had taken one look at him and decided to sit by the kitchen counter instead, no matter how awkward an angle it made watching TV.
Logan had walked through the front door and dropped heavily onto the sofa, leaning his head back against the cushions with his eyes tightly shut. The deep lines of tension etched into his forehead practically screamed that he was in a mood. He looked extremely unapproachable.
Fortunately for him, you’d never been particularly good at staying away from his moods.
You practically breezed into the living room, a bright and energetic contrast to the gloomy room. Seeing him slumped there, you walked directly over to him, crawling over the cushions and manoeuvring yourself until you were sitting sideways across his lap.
Eyes cracking open, he looked up to see you smiling down at him. “Baby, I am covered in rink grime, sore from head to toe, and about two seconds away from biting someone's head off,” he warned. “You don’t want to sit here.”
“Hello to you too,” you chirped, unbothered by his warning as you leant back against the armrest. “I am excellent company... you’re not going to bite my head off, are you?”
With a soft, surrendered sigh that was half-groan and half-defeat, he reached up and cupped your cheek. “Never you, baby.”
The front door rattled again as Tucker walked in, loudly dropping his keys onto the entryway table and tossing his heavy gym bag onto the floor with a loud thud. “Hello people,” he called loudly.
Logan looked back over his shoulder at where Tucker was standing, his brow furrowing. “Did you forget how to use your fucking inside voice or what?” Logan snapped.
Tucker didn’t even flinch, completely used to Logan’s moods.
Logan let out a long exhale, his hand sliding down from your cheek to wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. “Annoying,” he grumbled into your skin.
Over his shoulder you made eye contact with Tucker, pouting and pointing to Logan. In response, Tucker balled his fists and rubbed them over his eyes, mocking a crying baby. You snorted.
“What’s so funny?” Logan snapped.
“Nothing, baby,” you soothed, running your fingers through his hair.
💭: i know he's not fully a grump but he also is oh my baby. if you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment, ask, reblog etc, it means a lot xx
//song was more for the title than the vibes.// tags: @fallingfavourites //
Pairing: John Logan x Reader // Word Count: 4,577
Summary: Having a class with John Logan was best case scenario when the guy who couldn’t take a hint still doesn’t take a hint. It’s worth a shot to see if Logan can help.
Weird guy keeps hitting on you so you go to logan for help
“It’s Block Party! You have to go!” Allie insisted, dragging you to your closet. You huffed an argument but she pretended not to hear it. “If Hannah’s coming, so are you.”
“Hannah doesn’t want to go either!” You reasoned, to which Hannah tried to offer an agreement.
“Hannah does want to go because it’s a chance to talk to Justin.” Allie cut in. “You are going because you never go out with us anymore. It’s one night, Y/N/N. It won’t kill you.”
“It might.” You mumbled but sighed in defeat. “Alright, fine. Go on then. Pick my outfit.”
Allie clapped in triumph and focused back on your clothes, flipping through hangers and voicing her internal monologue regarding the selection.
“You definitely need more going out tops.” Allie shook her head. “Remind me to take you shopping this weekend.”
“I don’t need going out tops if I don’t go out.” You countered.
“Or you don’t go out because you don’t have going out tops.”
“Whatever works, Al.”
After a few more minutes of her rummaging in your closet and drawers, she finally found an outfit she approved of. You changed and she insisted on doing your hair and makeup as well. You knew better than to fight her at that point.
When you and your friends got to the block party, it was in full swing. You had pre-gamed at your apartment so there was a light buzz in your head. You still didn’t want to be out but it wasn’t as bad as you were anticipating.
After a while of dancing with your friends, you needed to sit for a bit. You loved Allie and her sense of style, but she managed to pick the most uncomfortable shoes in your closet. They were definitely meant for sitting events, but you had to agree when Allie said they made your legs look nice and long.
“Any man would be lucky to be wrapped up in those legs.” She had commented when she saw your whole look put together.
You were looking around for an open table when your caught sight of the one person at Briar that you didn’t want to see.
“Fuck.” You whispered, quickly turning so your back was to him.
“What is it?” Hannah asked quickly.
“Remember that guy I’ve been complaining about?” You answered, trying to mask the instant annoyance that came from seeing him. “Behind me.”
You watched as Hannah looked over your shoulder, searching for a moment, then nodded in understanding.
“We can go if you want.” She offered.
“No.” You shook your head a little. “We came for you to finally make a move, so we’re not leaving until you do… I’m gonna get something else to drink cause I’m too sober to deal with this. If I get in trouble, I’ll call you.”
“Don’t hesitate, okay?” Hannah urged.
“Never do.” You flashed a smile before separating from your group.
You snuck through the crowd, keeping your eyes forward. You doubted he would recognize you just from the back of your head so you could at least make it to the drinks. Getting back to your friends would be a separate issue, but at least you’d have some more liquor in your system.
Once you got your drink, you swallowed a mouthful. It burned slightly and you sucked a breath in through your teeth.
“I thought that was you.” A grossly familiar voice came from behind you and you jumped.
“Hello, Eli.” You said tightly, eyes scanning the crowd for an out.
You didn’t care who it was. Allie, Hannah, you’d even settle for Justin.
“I thought you said in class that you weren’t going to come.” He continued.
“I didn’t talk to you about tonight in class.”
“I know. I heard you talking to-”
“You were eavesdropping.”
“A little, yeah.” He laughed, trying to appear embarrassed about it. You looked over at him, a slight curl in your lip. “You look great. Beautiful, even.”
You rolled your eyes and looked back to the crowd.
“Yeah…” You mumbled, not really paying attention.
Where were your friends?
“I uh, assume this outfit is courtesy of one, Miss Allie Hayes.” He continued. Without looking, you could feel he had taken a step closer.
“No, they’re my clothes.”
“I’ve never seen you wear anything like this.”
“Yeah, cause I don’t need a mini skirt for class. T-shirt and jeans work just fine…”
“And your ‘boyfriend’. He doesn’t mind you dressing like this?”
Your head snapped his way and he feigned innocence.
“You did say you were seeing someone. Didn’t you? Why are you here and not with him? Why isn’t he getting your drink?”
You shook your head and turned away again. Something about that man made your skin crawl.
Across the party, you saw a different group of familiar faces. Dean Di Laurentis, Garrett Graham, John Tucker, and John Logan. You stood a little straighter at the realization. You had the same class with Eli as you did with Logan. You had talked to him a few times, worked on projects and assignments before. He had even invited you to parties before. Not that you ever went.
You smiled slightly to yourself, mumbled a polite goodbye, then ducked away. You slipped through the crowd, narrowing avoiding spilling your drink as you ducked and dodged couples dancing.
Finally, you popped out on the other side and made it to the guys.
“Logan!” You called for his attention. He looked your way and smiled.
“Hey! I thought you weren’t coming.” He greeted.
“The girls dragged me out.” You nodded. “I hate to do this but I actually came over here for a favor.”
“Pause.” Dean cut in, pointing to you as his eyes raked up and down. Lingering on your legs. “Logan. Who is this?”
“Right, sorry. Guys, this is Y/N. We have Consumer Behavior together.” Logan introduced. “Her work has saved my ass on more than one occasion.”
“Dean Di Laurentis.” Dean bowed slightly and you had to laugh a little. “Nice to meet you.”
“I know who you are.” You shook your head with a laugh. “Everyone knows who you are, all four of you guys.”
“Which also means she knows what you’re up to.” Garrett told Dean, who was offering you a freshly poured shot.
“I’m not up to anything.”
Your eyes flicked to Logan in question and he gave a small shrug. Dean poured another and Logan took both small cups, holding the other one out to you. You accepted it, nodded in thanks, and tapped the two together in a toast before downing the liquor. You winced slightly and coughed, which earned a laugh from Logan beside you.
“Dude.” Tucker added. “You’re always up to something.”
“I resent that. Just because she-”
“I’m sorry but can this-” You gestured vaguely to Dean, handing the now empty cup back to him. “-wait? I need to borrow Logan.”
“Shit, yeah, my bad.” Logan laughed and gestured for you to go with him. You two walked a few feet away and then he faced you again. One hand in his pocket, the other holding his original drink. “What’s going on?”
“You know Eli from class?” You began, inching a bit closer as if you were telling a secret. You were a little convinced that Eli would pop up as soon as you said his name like some freaky version of Beetlejuice. Well, freakier version.
“Uh, yeah, a little. The guy’s a little…”
“Weird.” You filled in. “He’s fucking weird, Logan.”
“He bothering you?”
“I’ve tried being nice about it. He DMs my Instagram every other day. He likes my old posts. He comments on old posts. I’ve had to delete his comments and restrict his account. He won’t leave me alone. It’s like he thinks I’m playing hard to get or something.”
“You didn’t just block him?”
“I don’t trust that I can block him and he’ll let it go, not when we have a class together.” You confessed. “I’ve even tried telling him I’m seeing someone.”
“And he doesn’t care?”
“He doesn’t believe me! He said that I don’t have anyone posted, that I don’t go out, I’m never walking with a guy, and that none of my friends have posted anything either.”
“That is a bit much.” Logan nodded, looking over your head for a moment.
“He found me when I was getting a drink a few minutes ago. I don’t know what else to do so I just thought…”
“That I could get him to back off?”
“Yeah, maybe.” You shrugged a little. “Sounds a little pathetic now that you say it.”
“So what do you need? Just to hang out and put on a show?”
“Maybe?” You laughed nervously. “I hadn’t really thought that far ahead, and I wasn’t even sure you would say yes.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“It’s not like we talk much outside of class.”
“Yeah, but that’s cause you never come to anything I invite you to.”
“Oh, come on. You guys invite everyone.”
“I don’t.”
“So I’m special?”
“Yeah, maybe…” He flashed a smile but nodded. “Okay, yeah. I’ll help you.”
“Really?” You brightened. “You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”
“But you owe me.” He pointed at you.
“The times I saved your grade isn’t enough?”
“No, not at all.”
“Alright, fine, I’ll do your next Consumers assignment.” You waved him off. “I appreciate you talking to him.”
“Oh, I’m not talking to him. Not unless he comes to us.” He laughed, taking his empty hand out of his pocket. He gestured for your cup and you offered it to him in confusion. “And you’re not drinking that.”
Without explanation, he dropped it in the nearest trashcan. He came back, offering you his now empty hand.
“My drink.” You frowned.
“I’ll get you a new one.” He offered with an amused smile.
“That one was fine.”
“You ever look away from it?”
You nodded slightly.
“You don’t trust to block the guy. You trust to not see your drink?”
“Fair point.”
You took the hand he offered and he gave you a slight tug to follow him. You did, looking back to try and find your friends. They were still lost in the crowd.
They wouldn’t miss you for a little while, right?
“Shit, Logan.” Garrett laughed as the two of you made it back to his friends. “I think Dean owes you an apology.”
“For what?” Dean spun around. “Oh, shit.”
“It’s not-” You tried.
Logan freed his hand from yours and put his arm over your shoulders instead.
“You two sneak off for a chat and come back… What? Dating?” Tucker asked and you just looked up at Logan.
You felt your phone buzzing in your pocket so you checked it.
Hannah was calling.
Maybe they would miss you.
“Shit.” You whispered and answered, turning slightly away from the boys’ conversation and blocking your other ear. “Hey, Han.”
“Y/N/N! What happened to you? We couldn’t find you.” Hannah answered. Even though she was likely yelling, the music was fighting to drown out her voice.
“Yeah, well. Long story short, Eli.”
“Shit.” She breathed. “Where are you? Allie and I will come help.”
“Another long story short, Logan.”
“Lo- Like John Logan from the hockey team?!”
“Yeah… I’ll explain later.”
“Alright… Call if you need a rescue, okay?”
“Absolutely. Thanks, lovey.”
You ended the call and turned back, shifting closer to Logan and unintentionally leaning some of your weight onto him.
“Everything okay?” Logan asked, looking over at you.
“I let Allie pick my shoes and they are not meant for standing.” You laughed.
“Why didn’t you say something?” Logan laughed.
“Because Allie was so proud of the outfit she put together despite her hating my closet.” You gestured to yourself and you didn’t miss the way his eyes followed the path of your hand. “She said…”
Logan met your eyes with a silent question.
Any man would be lucky to be wrapped up in those legs.
“She said the shoes make my legs look longer.” You filled in.
“She was right.” Logan nodded.
“She also said the skirt distracts from my boring shirt.”
“I see what she means.” Logan laughed and you found yourself smiling in response.
“You’re wearing a plain shirt and a Carhartt.” You tugged on his jacket slightly. “But you’re telling me that my outfit is boring?”
“Not the whole outfit.”
“Oh, so just half of it?”
“Yeah, basically.”
“I am regretting coming over here already. Remind me why I thought this was a good idea.”
He laughed as he guided you to the nearby picnic table his friends had claimed. He sat on the table and left a gap between his legs. Again, he reached for your hand.
You accepted, though the questioning look in your eyes didn’t falter. He just winked and smiled, and that was enough for you to go along with whatever plan he had. You took your seat, crossing one leg under yourself and adjusting your skirt accordingly. You leaned back against Logan’s leg and looked over at the stage, watching the band perform. Logan was laughing and joking with his friends. Whatever was so funny, you didn’t know or didn’t really care.
You did realize you liked hearing him laugh.
“Oh, wait. You know her.” Garrett said suddenly, then he showed you his phone screen. “The waitress from Malone’s.”
“Hannah.” You corrected, glancing at the photo of her on his screen. “What about her?”
“What’s her deal?”
You leaned forward, crossing your arms over Logan’s leg. His hand found its way to your back, fingers tracing slight patterns between your shoulder blades that almost made you shiver.
“What do you mean?”
“Like… Okay, I have a class with her and she was the only one to ace a paper.”
“Not surprising.” You shook your head. “She knows her stuff.”
“So I try to get her to help me out so I don’t fail again and she said no.” Garrett lifted his hands for a dramatic shrug.
“Well it could have something to do with you not knowing her name.” You offered. “Or she just doesn’t want anything to do with you.”
“No, it’s not that.”
“No? You sure? Can’t blame her if it is.”
“Couldn’t possibly be that.” Logan joked.
“If it’s not personal, she is usually pretty busy.” You explained. “I think she has three jobs, and then her classes and her music.”
You felt a hand tap your arm and you turned to face Logan.
“I think he’s coming over here.” Logan warned and you frowned, deflating a little.
Logan chuckled, tapping his fingers under your chin. “Trust me, okay?”
“What other choice do I have?” You gave a small shrug.
“Yo, Dean!” Logan called and the blond came over, a slight wobble in his step from too much to drink too fast. “You see that guy coming over?” Logan shamelessly pointed at Eli. That seemed to make him hesitate and change course. “Would you think he has a shot with Y/N?”
“Fuck no.” Dean answered with a laugh and no hesitation. “Logan, you barely have a shot with her. No offense.”
You scoffed in offense and whacked at Dean’s arm, earning a laugh from him and Logan.
“Does he seriously try?” Dean asked you.
“Relentlessly.” You nodded. “I can show you the DMs. It’s at least twice a week.”
“Please do.” Dean laughed and sat near you on the bench.
“Once, he commented ‘be my waifu’ on an Instagram post from two years ago.”
You pulled your phone, seeing a series of texts from Allie.
WTF!?!?!
LOOK UP!!!!
YOURE KIDDING ME
!!?!?!??!?!
You swiped the messages away before opening the one sided thread in your Instagram DMs. You passed Dean your phone before looking towards the last place you saw your friends. Allie had found something to stand on and was waving frantically towards you. You smiled and offered an awkward wave. She looked down for a moment, head moving as she was likely typing an aggressive message, then she looked back up. Her eyes were wide and her hands were swinging wildly still when you felt Dean tap you with your phone.
“That’s sad, actually.” Dean said, fake empathy in his voice. “Oh, also Allie is very confused.”
“You read my text!?” You snatched your phone and saw it was open to yours and Allie’s messages.
IS THAT JOHN FUCKING LOGAN!?
YOURE DATING JOHN LOGAN?????
WHEN DID THIS START!?!?
Y/N Y/L/N STOP IGNORING ME
“She’s gonna kill me.” You sighed.
“She’ll get over it.” Logan answered.
“No.” You shook your head as you thumbed your response.
don’t make this a thing. i’ll explain later… call if hannah goes to make a move tho and i will come RUNNING
“This is gonna be her go-to for quite literally anything. ‘Remember when you didn’t tell me about you and John Logan?’ Allie will definitely hold a grudge over this.”
“Yeah, but is it something?”
You shifted to look up at him. His head was cocked slightly, his cup abandoned beside him and both hands bracing the way he leaned back on the table.
“Just a favor...” You answered after a hesitation. That was the truth, but it still felt suddenly wrong.
Before either of you could say anything else, there was a new presence beside you. You expected to turn and see Allie had stomped her way over to demand answers or Hannah had come with some excuse to whisk you away. Instead, you turned and saw Eli standing there.
Immediately, you tugged the hem of your skirt down and shifted to be facing straight. Logan leaned forward, an arm coming across your chest and pulling you slightly closer. You reached up and put one hand on his arm, the other going for his hand. His thumb ran gently back and forth over your knuckles. A heat raced up your neck as your cheeks burned but you tried not to acknowledge it. Prior to the last few minutes, you hadn’t considered anything with Logan but now that the thought had been planted…
Now that you knew how easy it was to be around him…
“This’ll be good.” Dean mumbled.
“Hey, man.” Logan said casually. “You’re in our Consumers class, right? Elliot.”
“Eli.” Eli corrected sharply. “I just wanted to talk to Y/N about something.”
“Up to her.”
“Can’t we talk here?” You asked politely, offering an easy and comfortable smile. “It’s not like we’re telling secrets or anything.” You laughed a little.
“I was hoping to save some embarrassment.”
“For who?”
“Fine… I just wanted to see why you lied to me.” He said sharply, as if you had offended him.
“I didn’t.”
“Yeah, you said you weren’t looking for anything.”
“Wasn’t.” You shrugged. “But I did also say I was already seeing someone.”
“Why are you here, Y/N?” He asked, nearly desperate. You tried to keep your face neutral. “You talk and you tempt me but then you leave.”
“I’ve never given you that idea.” You had to laugh.
“You expect me to believe you, a beautiful and innocent and sweet and kind and smart woman, would date him?”
“Have you been bothering her outside of class?” Logan cut in, a new edge to his voice.
“No.” Eli said quickly.
“No, I've seen the way you try to corner her.”
“Yeah and I’ve seen the messages.” Dean added with a small, almost pitiful laugh. “You bother the fuck outta her. She’s just too nice to tell you to fuck off. We, on the other hand, aren’t. So fuck off.”
“Who was talking to you, blondie?” Eli turned on Dean.
“Wrong fucking answer, buddy.”
“Don’t you have some other girl to make question her morals?”
Dean went to stand but Logan grabbed his friend’s arm.
“Blondie here can still kick your ass. I wouldn’t pick a fight with hockey players.” You commented, squeezing Logan’s hand slightly. “You won’t win.”
“I like her.” Dean smiled to Logan, who gave a small chuckle in return.
Garrett and Tucker had now come closer, as if recognizing the tension. Eli took a step back.
“Just leave her alone, alright?” Logan said calmly. “She doesn’t want shit to do with you.”
“But she suddenly wants you?” Eli snapped.
You didn’t bother trying to keep your expression neutral. Your brows raised and you let out a quiet “wow”.
“Why are you here, Eli?” You asked plainly. “You don’t respect anything I tell you. You don’t believe I’m seeing someone. You literally see me with him. But you come over here and… What? Think I’ll run off into the sunset with you? I see your DMs. I see the comments. You ever think that maybe there’s a reason I ignore all of them?”
“You’re better than this, my darling.”
“Alright.” Logan announced. You felt him lean forward, his chest against your back. “You heard her. It’s time for you to go.”
“Or what?” Eli lifted his chin, almost trying to challenge Logan.
Part of you wondered if Logan would’ve moved differently had you not been sitting in front of him, tucked under his arm. Would he have been more like Dean, ready to fight? Would he have been like Garrett and Tucker, a quiet but strong presence? Or would he be the same he was, tense but in control?
“What more proof do you need that I don’t want anything to do with you?” You said sharply. You moved Logan’s arm and stood, coming nearly eye to eye with Eli thanks to the lift of your heels.
“It won’t last. He will break your precious heart and toss you aside like you’re worthless.” Eli nearly pleaded. “I will treat you like a princess. Like a queen. You deserve so much better.”
You looked over at Logan, at Dean, then Tucker. Garrett had disappeared.
“I like where I am.” You gave a small, nonchalant shrug. “Take a fucking hint and-”
You were cut off by your phone buzzing. You looked down at it, ignoring the pleas from Eli.
It was Allie.
“No fucking way.” You said when you answered. “Is she really?!”
“Yes, get your cute ass down here now!”
“Okay, yes, coming!”
“You’re not off the hook for whatever that is with Logan.”
You laughed and hung up the phone. Still ignoring Eli, you turned and grabbed Logan’s hand. You didn’t need to bring Logan with you. Surely, if Eli still tried to follow and talk to you, the boys would block him, but you just wanted to bring him along.
“Come with me!” You said in excitement and gave a slight tug.
He laughed, said something you weren’t listening to, but gave in to your efforts. He stood, waved to his friends, and followed you back towards the main party. As you reached the crowd, you had to slow down.
Logan was close behind you, one hand still in yours and the other was now on your hip. You glanced down at it and felt the heat on your cheeks again. With the people around you, there was no way Eli could see much. He didn’t have to put on a show for anyone, yet he still went out of his way to keep hold of you.
You liked it.
When you finally got through the crowds, you found Allie and Dexter already watching Hannah.
“Girl. I thought you were kidding.” Dexter told Allie, offering a double take as you approached with Logan in tow.
“John Logan, this is Allie and Dexter. Allie and Dexter, John Logan.” You introduced quickly, though it was likely they knew who he was. “We have Consumer Behavior together and he is my savior tonight.”
“Okay.” Dexter gave a nod of approval.
“Shut up! We can talk about that later.” Allie insisted, smacking yours and Dexter’s arms. “She’s doing it.”
You turned and saw Hannah making her way to Justin. Her attempt was cut short by someone knocking into her and spilling their drink. You turned and dropped your head against Logan’s arm, huffing in defeat. He laughed a little and patted your back.
“Oh, hell no!” Allie said firmly and you looked back up. Dexter pulled her back and when you followed their focus, you saw Garrett Graham offering Hannah his jacket.
You turned back to Logan.
“What the hell is he doing?” You asked in shock.
“I have no idea.” He laughed a little, though his expression was just as confused. “Guess that’s why he was asking about her.”
“Huh…” You nodded slowly. “I guess rejection is the way to Graham’s heart.”
“Or he just really wants help with that next paper.” Logan joked.
You smacked his chest slightly but laughed a little bit.
“The things we do for our grades, huh?” You teased.
“Hey, I’m doing this for more than a grade.” He put his hands up in surrender.
“Are you?” You cocked your head.
The sun had fully set by now and there was a slight chill in the air. A chill ran down your spine, making you regret agreeing to the skirt. As cute as it was, it was not weather appropriate.
“Oh, shit. Here.” Logan noticed, quickly taking off his jacket. He offered it to you, but you tried to push his hands away.
“I’ll be fine. I don’t think I’ll stick around much longer anyway.” You tried.
“Shut up and take it.” He urged gently, pushing the jacket back at you.
With a sigh, you did. It was already warm and you could smell his cologne on it.
“Thank you.” You said, shoving your hands in the pockets. “For all of it, tonight.”
You felt a tap on your shoulder and looked over to see Dexter pointing between him and Allie. He took her wrist and began to pull her away, despite Allie’s protests. Dexter gave you a pointed look, to which you rolled your eyes, then they blended into the crowd.
“They are gonna have a field day with this.” You laughed.
Logan took hold of the front of his jacket and pulled you closer, flush against his chest. You let out a small noise of surprise at the action and he just smiled at you.
He had a very pretty smile. How had you not noticed it earlier?
“Can I tell you something?” Logan asked, his voice low as if he was telling you a secret.
“Sure.” You nodded.
“I’m glad you came up to me tonight.”
“I’m glad you agreed. Otherwise, I would’ve had to sick Allie on him and that would not have been pretty.”
“You still can, I mean…” He shrugged and you laughed. You drew your hands out of the pockets and rested one on his arm while the other fiddled with the chain around his neck. “Y/N…”
“John.” You titled your head back to meet his eyes.
“Let me take you to dinner tomorrow.” He nodded slightly.
“Seriously?” Your brows raised. “Shit, not- Not that I don’t want to, just… It’s kinda out of nowhere.”
“Yeah, a little, but…” He smiled but he almost seemed nervous.
“John Logan, am I making you nervous?” You laughed.
“Do you want to go or not?” He laughed, ignoring your question.
“Well, we’ve gone this far. We might as well give it a shot.” You tugged lightly on his chain, pulling him the smallest bit forward. “Besides, you still owe me a drink.”
Summary: She's been stuck on the same issue for hours, on the verge of stress, and taking out her frustration on Tucker and Dean. Logan returns home and immediately realizes that Y/n doesn't need another explanation about the subject, but rather a break.
Words: 2.7K+
Warnings: established relationship, reader stressed by the subject matter, funny, mentions of the boys, no mention of Y/n's course, Logan is a cute and dreamy boyfriend hahaha cute and romantic.
Author: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any typos, grammar, spelling, and slang errors that may appear in the story. (It happened to me that I got stressed out during a test, so I wrote this story 🤷🏽♀️) My profile is open 24 hours a day to receive orders.
MASTERLIST
The boys' house was strangely quiet that night.
Logan had left a few hours earlier, after receiving a call about a problem with the coach's car. Some kind of mechanical emergency. The other boys were scattered around the house, each lost in their own world, and Y/n ended up alone in the kitchen.
The kitchen table was littered with open notebooks, stacked books, loose sheets covered in hurried notes, sticky notes clinging to the pages, scattered pens, and a notebook with Y/n's handwriting becoming visibly more aggressive with each line. And three empty energy drink cans occupied space among the papers like war trophies.
Y/n was bent over the material, her elbow resting on the table and her headphones resting around her neck, abandoned without music for who knows how long, her hair escaping in disheveled strands around her face.
And then he crossed out half of what he had written.
"It makes absolutely no sense." She ran a hand over her face, letting out an irritated sigh. "Who was the wretch who invented this?"
The tip of the pen tapped on the table once, twice, three times, before it resumed writing something and immediately crossed something out again.
It was at that moment that the door opened, and Tucker entered carrying several shopping bags in each hand. He seemed distracted and completely unprepared for the scene he found, but he still smiled, as if he were facing a perfectly normal situation.
"Hi, Y/n. Studying a bit?" He placed the bags on the kitchen counter.
"If you came here to tell me anything even slightly annoying, go back the way you came in."
Tucker blinked, caught off guard.
"...okay." He began to carefully put the items away, as if any sudden movement could worsen the situation. "I was just going to put this away..."
"Then guard!"
"I'm keeping it safe, miss!"
"Excellent."
Tucker cast a suspicious glance at the top of her head, as if he were still trying to decide if this was really the same old Y/n or a version possessed by some particularly cruel academic spirit.
"This can't be right. There's no way it can be right. I'm going to give up studying and live in a forest."
"Are you okay?" He took a chance.
"No."
The response was so curt and immediate that Tucker didn't even bother to insist. She put away the rest of the groceries in record time and began to retreat from the kitchen with the same caution as someone backing away from a bomb about to explode.
Y/n, oblivious to the trauma she was causing, had already returned to staring at the notebook, scribbling something while muttering to herself.
When Tucker got close to the stairs, he saw Dean coming down as if life were one big private party.
Dean glanced at him first, then at the brightly lit kitchen and spotted Y/n at the table. He raised his hand in an automatic wave, and Tucker's eyes widened instantly, and he shook his head urgently, a silent, desperate warning.
Dean frowned before heading to the kitchen.
"Hey you!"
"Dean, leave the beast alone..."
Dean tilted his head back just enough to make a face at his friend.
"What a drama!" He entered the kitchen unceremoniously and went straight to the refrigerator. "Quiet house, Logan's gone, you're here alone... I don't want to jump to conclusions, but this looks a lot like you two were doing some extracurricular activity about human anatomy that was much more fun than studying this stuff..."
The sound of Y/n's pen tapping on the table was dry. She slowly raised her eyes and stared at Dean as if deciding which kitchen object would be most effective in ending his existence.
"If you finish that sentence, I swear to God I'll shove this crushed can down your throat and make it look like an accident."
His smile vanished instantly. Dean's eyes widened and he slowly turned his face toward Tucker, who watched the scene with the exact expression of someone who had tried to warn him and been ignored.
Tucker simply shook his head and went upstairs with no intention of getting involved.
Dean looked at Y/n again, more cautiously. "Okay... Sorry, that was a bad joke. I'm sorry!"
Y/n had already lowered her head again and returned to her notebook. "This makes no sense at all... if this option is correct, I give up..."
Dean was silent for a moment, observing the scene more closely. It wasn't the comment that had irritated Y/n. She didn't even seem to be thinking about him anymore; she had already returned to waging a very serious personal battle against the open content before her.
His gaze drifted down to the energy drink can in his hand, then to the three empty cans scattered across the table, and finally to the inside of the still-open refrigerator behind him.
He had no other energy drink can besides the one he was holding.
Dean slowly closed the refrigerator door and began walking toward the table in slow steps, as if he were trying to feed a wild animal without losing his own hand in the process.
When he got close enough, he reached out and pushed the can across the table toward her. The can slid between the loose sheets of paper, dodging a stack of books and stopping near Y/n's elbow.
Dean watched his friend for a second, assessing her frown as if checking if he was still going to get out of there alive. "Here, the last one. And clearly you need it more than I do."
Before Y/n could raise her head to say anything or throw the can back at him, Dean was already walking away quickly and going up the stairs almost in retreat.
She huffed, but opened the can with a dry snap and took a long gulp, feeling the gas burn as it went down her throat.
"What's your problem?" she muttered to the page, narrowing her eyes. "Seriously. What's your damn problem?" She reread the question for the umpteenth time, tapped the tip of her pen on the corner of the notebook, and let out another frustrated sigh. "This shit can't possibly be that hard!"
She checked the calculation, underlined important words, circled a section of the workbook, and went back to the solution. This time, it seemed right. She copied the result to the corner of the page, pulled the answer key closer, and checked. Wrong.
Her jaw locked instantly.
Then, in a sudden, irritated movement, she threw the pencil away, hearing it hit the floor and slide under one of the chairs at the counter. And with a heavy sigh, she turned her face to the clock hanging on the kitchen wall.
Forty-three damn minutes on the same issue.
Y/n closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the irritation rise hot from her chest to her face.
"Forty-three minutes of my life wasted because of a stupid question." She reached under her chair, her fingers feeling along the floor until they found the pencil. "If I find out who invented this, I swear I'll go after that person just to ask them what their psychological problem was."
Y/n tried to solve the next question. The notebook was already full of arrows, calculations, crossed-out words, and notes scattered along the margins. Every now and then, she would stop to flip through another workbook, pull one of the stacked books closer, reread a passage, jot something down, and start again.
It didn't take long for the front door to finally open.
From the entrance, Logan spotted the lit kitchen lights and then, the silhouette of his girlfriend in the same spot where he had left her hours before. The corner of his mouth curved into a genuine smile, and he closed the door behind him before bending down to take off his shoes.
"Hey, love, I'm back!"
Y/n made a distracted sound in response, something between a grumble and a confirmation, without even lifting her eyes from the notebook.
Logan crossed the hallway and as soon as he entered the kitchen, the scene before him made his smile widen. When he had left, the table was already a mess, but now, one of his own notebooks was stuck in the middle of the pile, along with some old notes that Y/n had probably pulled out in some moment of academic desperation.
He chuckled softly and went to the refrigerator. "Wow... you might be trying to summon some academic spirit with all this paper on that desk."
Y/n was still focused on the issue, not even noticing his relaxed tone. "If you're not going to help, please don't get in the way."
Logan blinked, surprised, and a nervous chuckle escaped him. "Okay... sorry, darling."
Only then did Y/n seem to truly process what she had just done, and she finally looked up at him, meeting her boyfriend's confused and cautious expression on the other side of the kitchen.
She ran both hands through her messy hair, pushing the strands back.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to talk to you like that. I just..." Y/n exhaled slowly and pointed with the tip of her pencil to the stack of notebooks. "I've been stuck on this for almost an hour. This question is making me feel like an idiot, and I feel like nothing about this material is going into my head. NOTHING!"
She lowered her eyes again and resumed flipping through one of the notebooks, as if she couldn't stop herself from continuing to search for the answer even while she was talking.
Logan watched her in silence. He could see the stiffness in her shoulders, the furrow between her eyebrows, her tired eyes, and the way her fingers gripped the pencil too tightly. Even her breathing seemed shallow, as if her body itself were mirroring her state of mind.
A small, understanding smile appeared on his face.
Without saying a word, Logan walked toward the table, stopped beside Y/n's chair, and extended both hands toward her, hoping she would accept them.
"You can even go on strike with me later if you want, but I'm not going to leave you like this." He tilted his head slightly, trying to meet her gaze. "Come on, get up, love."
Y/n slowly raised her eyes, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"What? Why?"
Logan smiled, the kind of calm smile that only made her feel more disarmed. "Just get up, darling."
She huffed, clearly ready to complain, but still put the pencil down on the table and placed her hands on his. Logan took the opportunity to remove the headphones that had been left around her neck and place them on the table along with the rest of the mess.
"And now?" Y/n asked.
Logan gently guided her until she was facing him and placed his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs lightly caressing the accumulated tension.
The simple touch was enough to make something inside Y/n soften all at once. The air left her lungs heavily, and without even thinking much, she let her forehead fall against his shoulder, as if her body had recognized that this was a safe place to rest.
"Now..." Logan said softly, already putting an arm around her. "I'll hug you, you can relax and forget about these issues for a few minutes."
Y/n let out a long sigh, but this time of relief, as if only then realizing how much she needed this. Her arms moved slowly to his waist. Logan began to caress her back, kissing her hair and taking the opportunity to inhale her sweet scent.
And then she began to rock them both slowly, making Y/n close her eyes.
Then, all that back and forth gave him an idea. Taking her phone and going into the playlist they had made together, he played the first chords of 'Hungry Eyes' by Eric Carmen.
Logan pulled away from the hug and took both of her hands, starting to sway to the rhythm of the music. Y/n frowned and chuckled softly.
"What are you doing?" She laughed again, watching Logan excitedly swinging her arms around her.
"Dancing!" He winks. "Come on, join me, love!" Logan smiles and makes a face as if he's performing the song.
What makes Y/n throw their head back and laugh loudly, completely free from academic stress.
Logan had absolutely no regard for dignity when it came to getting a smile out of Y/n. In the middle of the messy kitchen, he seemed completely determined to transform that little academic disaster into some ridiculously good memory.
Logan began guiding her through the open space, rocking them both to the rhythm of the music with an exaggerated confidence that went overboard for someone who was clearly more interested in making her laugh than in dancing properly.
And it worked, because with each new verse of 'Hungry Eyes', Logan invented a different silly joke.
One moment he'd pull Y/n close and make a dramatically seductive face; the next, he'd pull them apart slightly and point to himself during the chorus with such absurd seriousness that it was impossible not to laugh. He'd deliberately shrug his shoulders, exaggerate his steps, wave her hands in the air as if he were conducting the most important performance of his life, and every now and then, he'd spin her around just to elicit another laugh.
Y/n laughed in that loose, loud way that made her eyes squint and her whole body lose any trace of accumulated tension.
Upstairs, the sound of Y/n's loud laughter ended up drawing attention.
In the bedroom, Tucker and Dean were holding video game controllers when they frowned simultaneously, exchanging a quick glance before pausing the game. They left the room and descended a few steps in silence, peeking out until they had a view of the kitchen.
And then they found the couple.
Logan and Y/n were dancing in the middle of the kitchen as if no one else existed in that house.
He held her hands, singing the song exaggeratedly with a huge smile on his face, while Y/n laughed loudly, her head thrown back. The table behind them still looked like an academic war zone, which only made everything more ridiculously adorable.
Dean and Tucker exchanged glances, both with smiles that showed they recognized a moment that shouldn't be interrupted by anything in the world. Without saying a word, they both stepped back and climbed the stairs again.
When the song finally came to an end, Logan took advantage of the momentum of the last chorus to pull her back into his arms. Still laughing, Y/n let her head rest on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around her boyfriend's waist.
Logan smiled against her hair and placed a lingering kiss on the top of her head, his hand slowly moving up her back in a gentle caress.
"Is it better?" he asked softly.
Y/n let out a muffled giggle.
"A little..." She admitted, the crooked smile still lingering on her lips. "I mean... yes. VERY."
Logan's smile widened and he kissed her head again. "Good!"
Y/n exhaled through her nose, amused. "I guess I was rude to the boys too."
Logan raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, was it?"
She nodded, biting her lip to stifle another laugh. "Tucker came in with the groceries and I almost told him to go to hell, and Dean made some stupid comment and I threatened to shove something down his throat."
Logan couldn't help but laugh instantly. Y/n hid her face in his shoulder again, laughing.
"You should have seen it. Tucker looked like a war veteran, and Dean looked at me like I was going to rip his head off with my bare hands."
Logan ran his hand down her back, chuckling softly now. "Honestly? That explains why the house was so quiet when I got here."
"I should apologize to both of them..." Y/n murmured, her amused tone making it clear that she was sorry.
"Yes, but later. Because now you're all mine!"
Before Y/n could answer anything, Logan pulled her a little closer and resumed swaying them to the rhythm of the next song that was starting to play. She let out a low laugh, letting her body follow suit.
Author: This is my first story for John Logan, I'm so excited about this series and the character that I have several others in drafts hahaha. You're also free to make requests for any of the boys hehehe (I really wanted to do one for Beau🥹)
synopsis – as Hannah’s maid of honor, your duties are simple: keep Hannah relaxed, make sure the wedding runs smooth, and do not, by any means whatsoever, fall for the best man
warnings – language, SO MUCH FLUFF, love is in the air, sexual tension like a mf
note – OOOOH this concept is TOO good. I may do a smutty part 2 if requested. Enjoy ♡
✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧
Dress. Veil. Shoes. Bouquet. Food. Bar. Decor.
The words cycle through your head, you faintly say them out loud to yourself to ensure you don’t forget anything. Your best friend was getting married for crying out loud, this day needed to be perfect, no matter what.
Arriving extra early to the venue, you set down all the bags you could fit on one hand before heading back to your car, making trip number three of the morning.
You were taking the position of Maid of Honor very seriously. From the moment Hannah asked you, you went into full planner mode, planning every aspect of her wedding, down to the number of mini cheeseburgers they wanted on the buffet.
Oh yeah, it was that serious.
Your childhood best friend is marrying the love of her life. You couldn’t lie, at first, you didn’t see her and Garrett together, living the 'happily ever after' fairytale. Hannah clued you in on the fake dating ordeal over a FaceTime call when you both were in college, across the country from each other and in that moment, you tried reasoning with her, but she just kept saying, ‘trust me, it’s gonna be fine’.
Here we are 4 years later, and oh yeah, it's fine.
Seeing your best friend beam at any mention of her fiancé warms your heart. She deserves this. She deserves true love and you will be damned if this day gets ruined by so much as a wrong shade of white in the roses she requested.
Once you arrive back at the venue, having brought the last of the hero items, the catering and décor teams have also arrived, setting up their respective areas. You exhale, heading into the back room, prepping Hannah’s dress, shoes and putting all her favorite snacks in the room for her.
Hannah, her parents, Allie and Sabrina all arrive about 10 minutes later, and the pre wedding plans commence.
Music is blaring through the speaker as you continue to help Hannah with her makeup, as her mom is doing her hair. Allie, Sabrina and you are already ready, you all dressed in matching colors, per Hannah’s request.
You wrap up Hannah’s makeup around the same time her hair is done. She walks into the changing room with her mom. As you walk closer to the door, you hear male voices approaching.
Oh hell no.
Before you can even think, you shout, “Nuh uh Graham, no seeing the bride until she’s walking down that aisle, you know it’s bad lu-“
You’re cut off when you swing the door open, your eyes meeting a very tall, very handsome man, holding a white rose pin in his hand.
“Garrett said Hannah requested something borrowed from his mom, he told me to come find you..” he drops your name with a questioning tone at the end, as you nod. You watch his eyes trail up and down your body, taking in your beauty before holding the pin up to you.
“Oh,” you sigh, taking the pin, “Thanks, sorry I thought Garrett was about to barge in here,” you chuckled. “I’m sorry, and you are..?” you ask politely.
He chuckles as he holds his hand out again, waiting to shake yours. “I’m John, Garrett’s best man”, he says, smiling charmingly at you.
Fuck.
You shake his hand lightly. “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other today then,” you reply, a cheeky grin on your lips now.
“I guess so,” he replies. He looks you over once more before taking a step back, “Well, I’m gonna go find the guys and get ready. It was nice meeting you,” he says, and with one more smile, he turns around and walks away.
‘Remember your duties,’ you think to yourself. You cannot afford a distraction. This was Hannah’s special day and nothing was going to ruin that. Not even a handsome, tall, charming, flirtatious man.
Fuck. Again.
You head back inside to see Hannah in her full wedding get up and your eyes immediately tear up as you bring your hands to your face.
“You look absolutely beautiful Han,” you say genuinely. She looks at you through the mirror, tears welling up in her eyes too.
“Don’t you start,” she jokingly threatens, “You just did my makeup, damnit,” she says as you join her in laughter.
She truly looked like a princess. The strapless top supporting her chest, the corset waist accentuating her natural curves, into the flowy bottom of the dress, she looked absolutely unreal. Garrett was so lucky.
You check the time on your phone before walking closer to Hannah.
“Okay, seating chart is put up, the food and the bars are almost done setting up, DJ is good to go, decor team has placed all the flowers on the tables, I have your bouquet and-“
Hannah cuts you off, putting her hands on your shoulders.
“Girl, please take a deep breath,” she says and you do, probably for the first time today. You inhale, hold and exhale with her before she continues, dropping her hands from your shoulders to your hands.
“This day is going to be perfect, please do not stress yourself out. You should enjoy yourself today too,” she says sincerely and you nod in agreement.
“I know, I just want today to be amazing for you,” you admit, horrified that something will go wrong and the blame will get placed on you and Hannah will never talk to you again.
Maybe you were being a bit dramatic.
“I’m here, with all my closest friends and family and I’m marrying the love of my life, today is already amazing,” she says, grabbing your hands. Your eyes well up again, seeing the little version of Hannah standing there inside adult Hannah.
You squeeze her hands, not wanting to risk hugging her and ruining her dress or veil, “I love you so much Han,” you say, full of so many happy emotions.
“I love you too,” she says. Before you can pull away, she grabs your hands again, her eyes wide with excitement, “Oh! Have you met Logan? You’ll be walking down the aisle with him,”
You shake your head, not recognizing the name.
“Don’t worry, he knows what time to be in place, just meet him by the doors,” Hannah states. You nod and look down at your phone, 10 minutes before showtime.
You make sure everyone is sat in the garden before cueing the DJ to start up the music. Soft music echoes through the garden as Garrett walks down the aisle first, taking his place up front. Tucker and Sabrina walk out next, followed by Allie and Dean.
You stand behind the doors, awaiting your cue in the music, when John approaches you, in a stunning all black suit, a white rose pinned to his suit pocket.
As if this man couldn’t get any handsomer.
You turn to him, asking frantically, “Hey, do you know where Logan is? Hannah told me he’d be walking down the aisle with me and it’s almost time and I’m kinda freaking out about it,” you say bluntly.
He finds your urgency absolutely adorable as he chuckles softly before looking back at you.
“That was probably my bad,” he starts, “My last name is Logan, everyone usually calls me that,” he says, holding his arm up, waiting for you to link yours.
You look at him and sigh a huge sigh of relief, “Oh, duh, that actually makes sense,” you say, still flustered from all the wedding prep. It didn’t even cross your mind that he was the only guy left to walk down the aisle, you the only girl left to do so too.
You smile slightly, linking your arm with his. The doors open right on cue and you both walk down the aisle, smiling for the photographer as you make you way to the front, going your separate ways.
Lastly, Hannah comes walking out with both her parents. Garrett immediately begins tearing up, as do you. You glance over at Garrett, seeing Logan pull out a perfectly timed tissue from his jacket pocket, handing it to Garrett. You smile as you redirect your attention back to Hannah, who has now made it to the front. She hands you her bouquet, as you adjust the train of her dress and veil.
The ceremony could not have been more beautiful, their exchanged vows only showing a fraction of the love they have for one another.
“You may now kiss the bride,” you hear and you usher the officiant to move out of the way to not be in the shot. He stares at you weird before realizing what you were trying to do.
‘We went over this in the rehearsal’ you thought, rolling your eyes at the slight inconvenience. Logan catches the entire interaction out of the corner of his eye, smiling to himself seeing you so passionate about today.
He already gets the impression that you’re an amazing friend.
And you're fucking beautiful. But with that, he’s just stating the obvious.
As Hannah and Garrett walk back down the aisle, he can’t help but glance at you once more. He sees the beaming smile on your face as you watch your best friend so happy. His eyes trail down your body, noticing how your hair is perfectly done, how your dress hugs you perfectly, how you are just purely stunning.
You and Logan meet in the middle once again, him holding his arm out as you take it, smiling at him before you both walk down the aisle, Allie and Dean trailing behind you, Tucker and Sabrina behind them.
✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧
The transition to the reception was smooth as ever, everyone being greeted with a welcome glass of champagne or sparkling juice. Everyone gets settled in their seats and await the arrival of the bride and groom.
The DJ hypes everyone up, welcoming Hannah and Garrett in with a loud,
“EVERYONE, LET’S HEAR IT FOR YOUR BRIDE AND GROOM, MR. AND MRS. GRAHAM”
Everyone cheers and claps as the happy couple walk in, huge smiles gracing both their faces as they walk up to the front of the room, sitting at their designated table.
The welcome speeches start, family and friends giving their congratulations, tears flowing, laughs are had and before you know it, it’s Logan’s turn. He takes the mic and stands up, adjusting his suit before speaking.
“Garrett Graham is one crazy motherfucker,” he starts out, gathering a laugh from the crowd. “Garrett has been my best friend since college and I can say nothing but congratulations. I am so happy you and Hannah have found each other. I think we can all say that the love you share for each other is something we all should aspire to have someday. Cheers,” he says, raising his glass as everyone follows suit.
His eyes find yours, knowing your speech is up next. You stand up and take the mic from him. He notices the tears already starting to well up in your eyes, whispering a, 'you got this,' to you before he finishes his walk to his seat.
You sniff lightly before bringing the mic up to speak.
“Please excuse the tear streaks that’ll be imprinted on my face for probably the entire evening,” you chuckle, the crowd laughing as well.
“Hannah and I have known each other for a very long time. We have been there for each other through so many phases in our lives and now we get to check the ‘wedding’ box off of that list. I genuinely could not be happier for you. You deserve to be at peace and in love and I am so happy you have found that with Garrett. I love you both so much and if I keep talking, I’m gonna cry again so I’m just gonna cheers to you both,” you finish, holding your glass up as everyone cheers the bride and groom.
Hannah and you exchange glances as she blows you air kisses. You blow them back, handing the mic to the DJ and sitting down, conveniently, next to Logan. The DJ then asks Hannah and Garrett to hit the dance floor, as their first dance commenced.
That dance alone got the tears flowing again. Logan noticed a tear fall from your cheek onto your dress. He pulls out another conveniently timed tissue from his pocket, nudging your arm subtly. You look at him, then down. You laugh quietly, taking the tissue and blotting your cheeks.
“Thanks,” you whisper. He nods, smiling at you as you turn away, focusing back on the happy couple.
✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧
The party kicks off and you can feel yourself relax. Your duties are officially done for the night and you can finally let loose. You feel yourself relax as you approach the bar, asking for your preferred drink.
“Didn’t know you could drink on the job,” you hear from behind you. You thank the bartender as he hands you your drink. You turn around, a grin already on your face and make eye contact with Logan.
“I’ll have you know, I’m off the clock now,” you sassily say as you walk towards him, maintaining eye contact as you take a sip of your drink.
He doesn’t break eye contact, only when his eyes drop to your lips as you swipe the bit of drink off your lips with your tongue. His eyes come back up to yours, the tension between the two of you growing stronger by the second.
“So… does that mean I can steal you for a dance later?” he asks, the boldness surprising you. You cock your head to the side, the grin not leaving your face as you step even closer.
“Whenever you wanna dance, you know where to find me,” you say, the sultry tone of your voice not going unnoticed by either of you. You back up, your eyes not leaving each other, his pupils dilating the longer he looks at you. You smile at him once more, glancing down to his lips and back up before walking past him, heading to the dance floor.
He turns around, watching you as you place your drink on your table, asking Allie and Sabrina to dance. They excitedly agree, as you make your way to the dance floor. He can’t help but watch you as your hips sway to the music, a smile never leaving your face as you dance to the music.
He is completely enamored by you.
Unbeknownst to either of you, Hannah and Garrett had seen that entire interaction at the bar, fist bumping each other under the table, their very subtle plan coming to life.
Hannah knew the second she met Logan that you guys would be a perfect match. And by pure luck, all these years later, you were both single and open to the idea of dating. She knew it was fate and the plan was hatched. All they needed to do was wait and watch the connection between you two blossom.
✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧
The party slowly died down as the night continued, some family and friends making their exits. You finally take a break from all the dancing, heading to the dressing room to freshen up, when you spot Logan out of the corner of your eye. He’s standing outside by the portable firepit, motioning you to join him outside with a slight head movement.
You hold up one finger, giving him a ‘one minute’ hand motion and he nods before you enter the dressing room. You inhale and exhale, freshening up, touching up your hair and makeup, throwing on some extra deodorant and body spray (just in case, dancing is a workout after all) before heading outside.
The sun has now set, the cool air hitting your exposed skin as you step outside, folding your arms to keep yourself warm. Logan sees you and as if he couldn’t be more charming, he swiftly takes his jacket off and drapes it over your shoulders, smiling at you the entire time.
“Thank you,” you say, wrapping the jacket around you. It smells like his cologne and you curse at yourself internally for finding yet another thing about him attractive.
You both stand outside for a minute in a comfortable silence, staring at the fire before he checks his watch and perks up, remembering, “You owe me a dance, I think it’s time I take you up on that offer,” he says. You glance over at the dance floor, hearing the music playing, before turning back to him.
“Oh, you wanna slow dance to the cha cha slide, huh?” you joke with him.
It was almost as if the timing was magically perfect, you turn back to face the party as the song ends and the DJ gets back up on the mic,
“Alright y’all, last song of the night, I want everyone to grab that special person and let’s end the night out right,” he says, turning down the lights and putting on your favorite slow dance song. You look in shock, knowing that song wasn’t in the playlist Hannah and Garrett approved that you sent to the DJ.
“I may have learned a thing or two about you while you were out dancing,” you hear and you whip your head towards Logan, who’s looking at you with what one would describe as admiration.
“H-How did you...?” you ask, genuinely confused.
“I asked Hannah, she was more than happy to let me make the change. Something about wanting you to enjoy yourself tonight too,” Logan says. Your heart flutters at his and Hannah’s consideration. You take his jacket off and hand it back to him. After he puts it back on, he holds his hand out, asking, “May I have this dance?”.
You can’t help the grin that crosses your face as you grab his hand, your fingers intertwining as you make your way inside to the dance floor, finding an empty spot around all the other couples dancing.
His hands comfortably find their way to your waist, holding you close to him as you wrap your arms around his neck. You both sway to the music, the moment incredibly intimate as you both find yourselves looking at the other’s lips. Despite the urge for both of you to lean in, you move your head slightly backwards.
“Not here,” you state, “I don’t wanna take away from Hannah and Garrett’s day,” you say. Even though you were technically done ‘working’, the last thing you wanted to do was take any attention off the happy couple. Logan smiles and nods, respecting you even more for that.
He brings you in closer, tightening his grip on your waist ever so slightly, before saying, “Then I guess we better find somewhere more private,” that damn smile not leaving his face.
You can’t help but feel a mix of emotions, all good ones as you nod, smiling at him.
summary: you and logan become love life counselors to your friends.
note: It's my first time writing fanfic here, and English is not my native language. But I hope anyone who sees it can enjoy it! Any suggestions and comments are welcome!
You and John Logan have been together since high school. Every precious moment he seemed to always be there. Your every performance, your singing contests, and the prom. And you were in his life too, either when things went good or badly. It seems you know each other too well. You are unable to be separated.
It’s the same situation in college. Everyone in Briar knows that you and Logan are together. Even though you major in a different department, you would still be spotted waiting for each other after class. You would be in the crowd cheering for John whenever his team scored a goal. He would be the one who applauded the loudest in the audience when you appeared on the stage as the director.
You are the perfect couple. So it’s not surprising that you become the counselors to his teammates.
One time happened when you were in John’s bedroom, and things really heated up.
You were in your bra and his sweatpants, lying on top of him. Just right after you broke from a kiss, the door swung open.
You screamed. John immediately used the blanket to cover your body.
“I really need your help. Wellsy said she–” Garrett finally looked up and then he realized, maybe panicked, “Oh, fuck. I’m sorry–”
“What the fuck, G?” John stared at Garrett. “Get the fuck out of my room.”
You might find it hilarious when it was under a different scenario, but at the moment you just buried your head into John’s shoulder.
“Is he gone?” You asked.
“Yep.” John snorted softly. “We can get back what we’ve done.”
You looked at each other, and then you bursted out laughing.
That was one time. But things have gotten too tricky.
Hannah would ask for your advice, and Allie would help her “friend” ask for advice, which you clearly know there’s no friend, only Allie herself. You are forced to know too many secrets from their perspective, and at the same time, your boyfriend is stuck with his teammates’ perspective too.
But as for royalty, you couldn’t share the background story to them. And it began to slowly grow pain inside you.
“Y/N! I really really really need your help,” Allie breaks into your room, while you and John are facetime.
“Hi, Allie.” John greets her with a handwave.
“Hi. Sorry to interrupt, but I have to borrow her for a second.” Allie looks sorry, but she shows you her phone. The screen shows the conversation with Sean.
“Girl, like I said. You have to let go.” You put down your phone. “You broke up with him, right? Then use the single-card. Let him realize you are serious this time.”
“You have to make him understand that you can do without him.” John backs you up, “I’m not intending to overhear but my girl’s right.”
You smile at her, with a little worry and care, “I know this is hard.”
“Hey, tonight we’ll have a party. You should come.” John proposes, “Changing mood is one of the coping methods.”
Allie hesitates, with your encouraging smile, she finally agrees. “Thanks, you guys are the best.”
“I’m always here for you, me and Hannah, you know that right?”
You squish each other’s hands.
+
“I bet Dean fell first and harder.”
After two weeks, you lie beside John in his room, playing with his finger. The light dimmed, you got comfortable in the blanket. “God. I mean, I would happily see them together. You saw their tension and chemistry that day at the party right? Tell me you saw it too.”
John laugh. He breathes into your hair. “Well, you have to talk about other men in my bed huh?”
“John.”
“Alright, alright.” He likes to tease you to see you getting annoyed, “I saw it too. But I suggest don’t push too hard on them.”
“Their worries come from overthinking. I wish I could just tell them.”
“Babe,” John shakes his head, “You have to let them figure it out.”
“I know.” You sigh, “I'm just afraid I might accidentally let something slip.”
John rubs your palm. “Don’t put too much pressure on yourself alright? They will be perfectly fine. At least the whining things would only happen outside the practice session. Or else I’ll be mad.”
He jokingly rolls his eyes, “Now, should we get to sleep?”
You suddenly pause. Damn, you are here to spend time with your boyfriend, and you start talking about everything about your friends’ love affairs but his daily life.
“I’m sorry,” You begin to feel bad, “I was rumbling about them again. How’s your day babe?”
“Good? I guess.” John snuggles you, “It’s okay. I find it extremely interesting to watch them suffer. Well, I mean those jerks. Not your friends.”
He presses a kiss to your temple. “And it makes me realize how lucky I was to find you already.”
You look at him, sure that he is your love in your lifetime.
You smile mischievously, “We hadn’t been together recently, I wonder if you've noticed?”
“Your highness, unfortunately, yes. Yes, I have noticed.” John holds you closer. His lips are pressing against your ear, “And we hadn’t properly talked about our lives besides our friends’ romantic yet painful story.”
You always love John being playful in bed. You pull him into a sweet and slow burn kiss.
“Let’s just focus on ourselves tonight. No more wrapping up in their stories.” You promised him.
“Great. I’d love that.” John looks in your eyes, almost like he’s going to be drunk in them.
Omg could you pretty please write something with John Logan!! I loveeee your writing and need the reader cleaning his bruises after a game and just being angsty and hot omggg.
love the idea of logan getting his shit rocked during a game and still being hot
John Logan x nursing major!reader
Ahead: Mentions of blood/injury, Logan being horny, making out
The game against Yale was not turning out to be a good one for Briar. While Yale was known to be a tough opponent in the past, this year they were on a different level.
The puck was whizzing around the ice, rarely hitting a Briar stick without promptly being intercepted by a Yale player. To add insult to injury, the Yale players were enjoying it. The laughter and smiles after each goal was enough to grind anyone's nerves, but it was seriously getting to Logan.
With each failed goal or pass, Logan was getting more and more in his own head. By halftime, he was like a newborn deer, completely unaware of the impending doom coming towards him. As he attempted to pass the puck, a large body hit his own. He slammed against the plexiglass of the boards and Logan bounced off like a cartoon character. All he could feel was the cold ice below him as he was left with the wind knocked out of him.
Coach and his teammates appeared soon after as he was peeled off the ice and directed to medics. Logan kept his head down as he felt the eyes of the Yale players and fans alike. They were laughing at him like he was some kind of pussy. Like he couldn't take a hit.
If he was any other player, he would have started a fight. The kind that proved he was a "real man" and left the audience speechless.
Logan wasn't that kind of player. He didn't have the infinite chances of other players and wasn't willing to let one emotional moment ruin his career. So, he let the medics check him for a concussion and give him an ice pack. They tried to clean up his slit lip and check his abdomen for bruising, but he refused. Instead, he disappeared into the locker rooms.
In the locker rooms Logan peeled off his jersey with a hiss. His shoulder and side were aching from the impact, and his lips was still bleeding. Maybe he should have stuck around to let medical clean him up, but just as he thought the click of your boots approached.
You threw your hands up when you saw him, "Are you kidding?" You hurried towards him, examining him quickly with your eyes, "That guy should be out of the game. That was so unnecessary."
He sucked in a harsh breath when your index finger skimmed his lip making your hand retreat quickly.
"Sorry!" You apologized quickly, "Why didn't the medic give you anything but an ice pack?"
Logan shrugged, "I didn't want to be checked further."
You scowled at him, "Logan, I swear-"
He grabbed your hand with a small smile. "Why would I need a medic when I have the best future nurse right in front of me?"
You rolled your eyes, suppressing a smile. "I'll get the first aid kit, dummy."
Logan leaned back as you disappeared to find the kit. He slowly unstrapped his gear from his body, grunting as he did so. Unbeknownst to him, you watched with an amused yet turned-on expression as you watched your boyfriend grunt and flex his muscles as he carefully maneuvered the equipment. You hugged the first aid kit as he unbuckled his hockey pants, shimmying them down his tanned, lean legs.
"Are you going to just watch me strip all night?" Logan's voice brought you back into reality. He looked far to happy with himself as he stood there in only his black briefs and several blooming bruises across his shoulder and side.
You cleared your throat, opening the first aid kit. "I was just watching you regret leaving the medics."
You sat next to him on a bench, quickly getting to work on his lip.
Logan watched you carefully work on him, his warm breath tickling your fingertips and eyes boring into you.
"I don't regret it." Logan said so softly it was almost a whisper, making you look up from the cut and into those pools of chocolate. You raised a brow at him and he leaned even closer to you if that was even possible, "I can't do this with the medics."
He pressed his lips to your own, ignoring the sting as lips open up to his tongue and the kiss deepened. His lip could be gushing blood for all he cared as he moved you onto his lap, thighs framing his hips. You broke apart, catching your breath.
"Logan!" You hissed at him as you realized what he had done. The cut was split even more so now, bleeding again. You quickly hopped off his lap while he protested. You slapped his hands away as he attempted to pull you back towards him by your waist. "No!" You wagged your finger in his face, a stern look crinkling your forehead.
Logan smirked, "I kind of like when you're bossy. We could do a whole hockey player, sexy nurse thing. Maybe you-"
You shush him, trying to regain your focus despite the flush in your cheeks. "You're hurt. You need to sit still and knock it off."
Logan nodded, giving you a teasing, "Yes, ma'am."
Soon, the two of your compromised. You cleaned his lips and took care of his bruises while you straddled his lap. He got to use your thighs as a stress ball, and you got to clean up your ridiculous boyfriend.
Summary: You adored your boyfriend, John Logan, with every bone in your body. Which is why you decided to throw him his very first surprised party. Except this happened to be the one time having a clingy boyfriend had it's downsides
Warnings: FLUFF, slightish bit of angst
A/N: Giving you something sweet! I really loved writing this. Lowkey one of my favorites.
Main Masterlist
After dating Logan for nearly a year, you liked to think you knew almost everything about him. You knew what made him laugh, his favorite hockey players, movies he enjoyed and video games he played. You also knew about his upbringing that shaped him into the most emotionally aware and caring boyfriend you’d ever had. But there was one thing you knew about Logan that you wanted to change.
Throwing him a surprise birthday!
He mentioned it on the off hand when you were telling him about your own 18th surprise party where your friends pretended to forget your birthday before walking into a party later that night. It was one of the most memorable events where you felt so loved. And you wanted that for Logan. Remind him that he was loved.
So the planning started. You had exactly two weeks to pull off the best surprise party of them all. You enlisted his teammates, Hannah, Allie and Jules.
—
“Hey pretty,” Logan murmured, startling you as his arms wrapped around your waist as you were working by the kitchen counter.
You were spending the night since you were away last weekend for a club retreat and Logan was being more clingier than usual.
While normally you’d relax into his hold, this time your laptop screen has the group chat pulled up and other websites. Instead you froze in his hold, quickly swiping desktops before he could catch a glimpse.
You felt guilty when Logan gave you a weird look but the expression didn’t last when you turned to pressed a kiss to the corner of his lip. He smelled fresh as his hair was still damp from the shower, which is why you wanted to sneak in some extra planning time.
“Whatcha working on?” he mumbled, head now buried in the crook of your neck. You giggled feeling his stubble against your soft skin.
“Just a group project for class,” you said, interlacing your hand with his fingers splayed across your waist. You stayed in his embrace for a second feeling his breath tickle the back of your neck.
Him seemed satisfied with your answer, pulling away slightly to spin you around in his arms so you’d face him. God you loved him so much. Every smile he gave you was just another reminder that your party planning skills had to be on top of it.
“Thought you were done with midterms,” Logan hummed.
“Yeah my marketing class is just OD,” you shrugged.
“You have Donovan right? I can give you my slides from last semester if you need help.”
Your heart clenched at his thoughtfulness. That presentation wasn’t actually until the end of the month but the fact Logan still offered you support made you love him even more.
“Thanks,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his chest, right over his heart.
“Anything for you, gorgeous,” he hummed, “Lemme cook dinner since you’re working.”
“It’s fine Logan,” you said, “I can help.”
“Nah I got it beautiful,” he assured, pressing a quick kiss to your head.
God you loved this man. Which is why this party needed to be perfect.
—
Things got worse as the date crept forward. Logan was a clingy boyfriend which normally you wouldn’t complain about until you realized you had no way of secretly communicating with anyone if he was in the room. He was always in arms distance, not in a possessive way but more in a sense he couldn’t stand the thought of there being a single inch of space between you if you were in the same room.
You were sitting on the counter in the garage while he was changing the oil of his car. Normally you would spend the time ogling him and talking about your day but today you were distracted. In between sneaking glances of him shirtless you were firing texts to Garrett, Dean, and Tucker about food details and to see if a certain birthday gift was possible. They were annoyingly slow at responding.
“You’re awfully quiet, pretty,” Logan said, turning his attention from the car to you.
Your brows were furrowed as you were trying to make sense of Dean’s cryptic texts and your legs seining back and forth impatiently. You were distracted by the amount of recipes Tucker sent and the lack of engagement from Garrett that you hadn’t realized Logan had wiped his hands and made his way over to you.
“Baby,” he hummed, leaning into your space.
“Hmm,” you replied before glancing up from your phone and seeing he was inches away from you.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hey,” you smiled, lowering your phone.
“You’ve been looking at the phone more than me this whole time. And I’m literally half naked,” he pouted, moving a hand to grip your waist.
You chuckled at his complaint but put your phone down next to you to wrap your arms around his neck drawing him closer. Your noses brushed as you looked into those beautiful brown eyes you adored.
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.
Then you leaned in to press a kiss to his lips as an apology. Logan instantly reacted, deepening the kiss like a starved man. His grip tightened around your waist while one hand reached up to cup your jaw. Your own hands tangled into his soft hair as you let out a soft moan when his tongue met yours. Your bodies were now flushed against each other as you felt his hot bare skin against your clothed body. Logan began to press kisses down your neck while your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist to pull him closer.
Just as Logan began to grind into you, gripping your thighs your phone began to ring.
Fuck it was probably Garrett getting back to you about that favor.
You broke away to check your screen to confirm your suspicions but Logan kept kissing your neck, not wanting to stop.
“Do you seriously have to take that?” Logan said into your skin.
Garrett wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important.
You pulled away, placing a hand on his chest to allow yourself some space to hop off the counter.
“Sorry it’s my group calling about the project,” you said, quickly rushing outside to take the call. You made sure to give him a quick kiss before leaving.
Logan let out a defeated sigh watching you go. A feeling of unease began to brew in his stomach as he blinked his eyes to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating Garrett’s caller ID on your phone.
You wouldn’t lie to him, right?
—
Logan’s birthday was a week away and you had somewhat finalized your plans.
Everyone agreed that it would be best for you two to have a dinner date and then to bring him back to the hockey house. The group was going to set everything up as you were out. You had also been practicing your baking skills for the past week which meant you had accidentally set of your fire alarm twice. But you were confident now that the final product would be great.
The only problem was that Logan had a birthday tradition of bringing all his friends to his childhood diner somewhere in Hastings. You had joined him last year as his new girlfriend and he was so happy to be surrounded by you and all his teammates. Which is why it was horrible breaking the news that it would only be you two this year.
“I’m sorry babe,” you hummed, rubbing his arm.
“Yeah it just sucks. I’m not the biggest fan of birthdays but I thought they’d at least remember to save the date,” Logan sighed, frowning down at you.
In reality, Garrett wasn’t visiting Hannah’s parents and Tucker and Dean weren’t going to this once in a lifetime concert. They were staying back to decorate the house.
You told yourself the look on his face during the surprise would be worth it but in the moment you wished you could tell him the truth. He’d been on edge all week with practices.
“Hey we’re going to have a fun night though,” you offered, wrapping your arms around his middle to pull him closer.
“Yeah,” he said, but his eyes still looked sad.
You rested your head against his chest as his arms stroked your side in the comforting embrace. You could tell he was frustrated with the situation but didn’t want to talk about it.
You knew Logan had trouble expressing his emotions which was a bit of a road bump in the beginning of your relationship. You learned that you needed to be patient with him or else he’d isolate himself. Although since you’ve been together Logan has been great at communicating. Almost too good as you listen to all his wild tangents and stories that led him to his emotional conclusion.
Your phone kept buzzing in your back pocket which was starting to cut through the comforting moment that Logan released you.
“I’ll let you get that,” he said hurt laced in his voice, before walking toward the stairs.
“It’s nothing,” you assured, feeling like you were adding salt to the wound.
You knew you’ve been distracted by your phone these past weeks that Logan started to catch on. Although you tried to assure him it wasn’t anything it seemed he wasn’t buying it. Hence him closing himself off.
“I’m gonna go shower,” he said and then disappeared up the stairs.
You let out a defeated sigh but you could try to make it up to him with cuddles. Checking your phone you instantly smiled seeing Garrett was able to seal the last surprise in your plan.
You just hoped Logan won’t get even sadder that he wouldn’t want to celebrate his birthday.
—
The day finally arrived and you were a frazzled mess. You sent out all your final texts as Logan was still in the shower getting ready for dinner.
Logan’s Super Surprise Party
You
We’re about to leave! DON’T go in yet until I say so
Garrett
Yes Captain
Tucker
All the food is ready!
Hannah
I’m so excited!!!
Allie
Finalized the playlist with Justin and Dean this morning
You
Thank you guys!!! I really hope he likes it
Jules
Oh he will. Mostly because you planned it and he likes anything you do.
You rolled your eyes at Jules' playful text and tucked your phone into your shoulder bag. You had slept over the night before since all his roommates were allegedly out of town but in reality they were all just staying at their respective girlfriend’s places to keep up the act.
“Don’t you look pretty?” Logan drawled, walking in with just a towel around his waist.
You were putting the last touches to your lip combo to match the cute denim skirt and white blouse you were wearing.
“Hey birthday boy,” you smiled.
Logan wasted no time planting a kiss on your lips which ruined your entire three step lip combo process. When he pulled away there were remnants of gloss staining his own lips.
“Logannnn,” you whined, rubbing your thumb over his lips to wipe off the make up. He kissed your thumb while you glared at him.
“You ruined my lip combo,” you sighed, immediately releasing him to fix your liner.
Logan just chuckled, “Worth it,” before throwing on some jeans and a plain black top.
You were jealous that he looked effortlessly good in everything while you spent an hour looking through the duffel bag of clothes for the perfect outfit.
“Ready to go gorgeous?” he hummed, grabbing his keys.
You gave a nod and happily bounced into his embrace. He stuck a hand in the back pocket of your jean skirt, leading you to the car unaware all his friends were waiting down the block.
—
Once you got to the diner, both you and Logan slid into the booth where you had your first date. He was grinning so hard you wouldn’t think he was moping yesterday about all his friends leaving.
“What are the odds?” he smiled.
You just shrugged. You had called the place earlier to save the booth. He didn’t need to know that.
“Whatcha gonna get?” you asked, scanning the menu.
“The usual. Double patty cheeseburger and fries,” he said, “And an extra side of fries so you don’t steal any of mine.”
You gave him a playful glare as you scanned the options. You’d probably do a tuna melt.
You two ordered quickly and began to discuss nothing and everything. Logan talked about his transformer’s themed 6th birthday while you laughed looking at images of a tiny Logan. When the food did come you were grateful for that extra side of fries as Logan gave you a look every time you reached for the basket.
Everything was perfect until your phone began to ring. You had put it on do not disturb but they must’ve bypassed it.
You subtly checked to see the caller ID which was Garrett. Logan looked at you with a certain look that made your heart ache.
“I need to use the bathroom,” you said, getting up.
“Yeah sure,” he mumbled.
In the bathroom you scrolled to see the flood of texts from people asking for party details and when Logan was coming.
“Garrett I’m at dinner,” you hissed.
“I know but we’re having trouble finding the cake.”
“What do you mean—Oh shit it’s in my dorm,” you sighed.
“Is Grace already on her way?” Garrett asked.
“Let me text her,” you said, firing off some messages.
Thankfully Grace was just about to leave before you caught her. She confirmed she could bring the cake which made you take a breath of relief.
“Grace is on her way with the cake,” you confirmed.
“Great, just text when you leave. Or I guess Grace has your location,” Garrett said.
“Yeah, sounds good,” you said before hanging up.
When you got back to the booth Logan was scrolling on his phone looking a bit defeated. You caught the waitress’ attention as his back was turned to you, paying the bill secretly knowing Logan would never let you pick up a check even if it was his birthday.
Your waitress smiled at you, taking your card allowing you to return to your boyfriend. You slide in the spot next to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek before stealing a fry off his plate.
“Did you miss me handsome?” you teased watching Logan’s expression change as he took in your sight.
“I always miss you,” he hummed, “Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” you said, “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Logan didn’t get a chance to answer as the waitress came back with your card.
“You’re all set,” she smiled.
Logan gave you an alarmed look watching you quickly write in a generous tip which you had to force yourself not to smile too hard.
“You didn’t have to pay,” he murmured, arms pulling you closer to brush his lips against your ear.
“It’s your birthday,” you said sheepishly, “Lemme spoil you at least once.”
“How did I get so lucky?” he hummed, pressing a kiss to your temple.
"I'm the lucky one," you teased back which made Logan pepper your forehead with kisses to prove his point.
–
The car ride was peaceful for the most part. One of Logan’s hands was intertwined with yours as he drove through the dimly lit streets. You were buzzing with excitement as you pulled onto Hawk street. Your phone dinged which you let go of his hand to answer that you would be there in a minute.
Logan frowned at the loss of contact. He let out a sigh and began to let out everything he was feeling,
“Are we good?”
Your heart sank. You looked over to him with a shocked look on your face but Logan just looked defeated.
“Are you cheating on me?” he whispered.
“What!” you exclaimed, “Absolutely not!”
“Well you’re always on your phone,” he sighed, shutting off the car as you pulled into the driveway.
“Logan, look at me,” you said, tilting his chin to look at you.
He looked so sad that it made your heart also break. You just needed to get him inside and all would be well.
“We’re perfect,” you said, pressing a quick kiss, “Let’s get inside and I promise you have nothing to worry about.”
He let out a defeated sigh but still opened up the door. You also got out and grabbed his hand as you made your way to the porch. You subtly angled your body so Logan would be in front when you entered. As he fumbled with his keys you secretly began recording for the memories.
As soon as Logan managed to open the door the house lights flicked on to reveal the crowd of people in his living room.
“Surprise!” everyone exclaimed leaving Logan’s jaw on the floor.
You eagerly pushed for him to go inside as his friends engulfed him in hugs and praises.
“Happy birthday old man,” Jules said, embracing their brother.
“You should see your face,” Dean grinned, giving him a nudge, “We totally had you fooled.”
“Yeah, what kind of friends would we be ditching your birthday for a concert?” Tucker chided.
“Happy birthday man,” Garrett smiled, bringing his best friend into a hug.
“Thanks guys,” Logan said, still trying to process it all, "How'd you guys do all this?
“Well you have a pretty awesome girlfriend,” Hannah said, nodding to where you were shyly standing behind him.
Logan turned to wrap an arm around your waist to pull you as close as possible. He gave you a squeeze as his eyes began to fill with tears with how happy he was.
“Happy birthday Logan,” you smiled, pecking his lips.
“You did this all for me?” he asked, looking around to the decorated room filled with all the people he loved.
“Of course,” you said, “You deserve good things. And that’s not even it.”
His brows popped up as Garrett pulled out his phone to reveal a video. After weeks of begging and intense networking, you and Garrett managed to get a personal birthday video from Logan’s current favorite player on the Bruins.
“Happy birthday John Logan,” David Pastrnak said with the Bruins’ rink in the background, “Heard you’re a beast on the ice so hopefully one day we can skate together. You got some good friends, make sure to celebrate tonight.”
“What the fuck,” Logan said, turning to you and Garrett.
You both gave him a non-chalant shrug as he squeezed you tighter. He pressed a kiss to your hair as you giggled seeing him so happy.
Later, you snuck away letting Logan talk to his teammates to go light the cake. Grace was helping you with the candles and gathering everyone to the kitchen. Dean turned off the light as you all sang a loud ‘Happy Birthday’ to Logan who was smiling widely in the middle.
He blew out the candles with no problem making everyone cheer in response. You could barely set the cake down before Logan had his hands all over you.
“You bake this yourself?” Logan hummed, noticing the slightly uneven frosting letters.
“Don’t judge me,” you frowned.
“I’m not. I’m just falling in love with you even more,” he hummed, accepting the knife to begin cutting the cake.
He took a bite and grinned, "Tastes amazing gorgeous."
Soon the party started to die down. You and Logan were chatting with Garrett and Hannah until the couple excused themselves for suspicious reasons that had you making sure to sprint past Garrett’s door later.
“You have fun?” you hummed, turning to face Logan.
“Of course baby. Thank you,” he smiled.
“This was a much better surprise than what you were thinking in the car huh?” you teased, playfully poking his ribs.
“Much better,” Logan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “Sorry for jumping to conclusions.”
“It’s ok,” you hummed, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I think I would’ve reacted way worse if it was the other way around.”
“I’m such an idiot for even thinking those thoughts. I mean you threw a fucking surprise party for me. You’re perfect,” he said, “I love you.”
“I love you too John Logan,” you smiled, “Happy birthday.”
You both leaned in for the kiss as everything else faded away. When he pulled away you whispered against your lips
//apparently i forgot how to write a one-shot bc it damn near went like a chapter to a full on series. anyways, enjoy. i got a lil too into the softball scenes// i had one positive response to this so here you go//
Pairing: John Logan x Softball!Reader // Word Count: 6,830
Summary: The break-up was not the cleanest but also not the worst. Asking for him and the rest of the guys to come to the game shouldn’t be too bad, right?
Walking up that familiar path, you blew out a rough sigh.
You regretted coming. It wasn’t even your idea… Okay, maybe it was your idea.
The softball team had a rivalry game the next day and your co-captain thought it would really boost attendance if the dearly beloved hockey team came. Ordinarily, you had no issues recruiting the other teams to come support or even rallying your own girls to support your fellow Briar U athletes. The problem was that your ex-boyfriend was on the hockey team.
You pulled your phone, hoping for an abort text from your co-captain. Maybe she had been able to catch Beau after class and ask him to take care of it. He was close friends with Dean, surely he could get him to say yes.
Instead, all she sent was a good luck text and fingers crossed emojis. You sent a middle finger emoji in return and walked up the short steps. The last time you were on the porch, you were leaving a box of John’s things. You hadn’t even knocked that day.
After learning the hard way, you picked up the habit of knocking before entering that house. You once walked in without and saw more of Dean Di Laurentis than you had ever wanted to.
You opened the door slowly with your head down as you knocked four times.
“Everyone decent?” You called out.
“Hey!” Dean answered. “You’re good!”
“Thank god.” You mumbled and fully walked in, pushing the door shut behind you. “Just you?”
“Nah, G’s upstairs and Logan’s out back I think. I can get him if you-“
“No!” You said. Dean’s eyebrows raised and he smiled at your reaction, making you realize you had given that answer too fast and too loud. “I don’t need John, I mean. I didn’t come to talk to him. I can just ask you.”
“No?” Dean laughed. “What’s wrong with Logan?”
“Nothing’s wrong with him.” You rolled your eyes slightly.
“You came all this way to not talk to him?”
“Can you stop being a dick for like five minutes? I would’ve called but I kinda figured it’d be better to ask multiple of you guys at once.”
“So we do need Logan!” He snapped his fingers and pointed at you.
“Ohmygod.” You ran a hand down your face. “Missa wanted me to-“
“What about Logan?” The familiar voice came into the room and a familiar heat flushed your body.
You hadn’t spoken much to John since you two broke up. You saw him on campus or when you went with Hannah to the hockey games or their parties, but that didn’t mean you two held a conversation. It was mainly just awkward nods or clipped sentences.
“Hey.” You breathed.
John hesitated slightly once he saw you.
—
“I have a real shot at captain this season.” You laughed nervously. “This is major!”
“Yeah, that’s great.” John smiled. “You’ve been working hard lately.”
“Johnnycake, this is huge. There’s hardly ever been a walk-on named captain.”
“I’m proud of you. You earned this.”
You smiled a little wider and John threw his arm around your shoulders.
–
“Are you seriously mad at me right now?” You laughed in disbelief.
“No, I’m not mad.” John answered, his voice tight.
“Really? Do you hear yourself or…?”
“Seriously, Y/N, it’s fine. Let’s just forget it.”
“No. That’s not fair.”
John laughed slightly and made a face to himself before meeting your eyes. “That’s what you think isn’t fair? Not that we hardly see each other anymore?”
“You’re the one who told me to go for captain!” You yelled, throwing your hands forward. “I don’t make the fucking schedule, John! Coach thinks we can make a serious play-off run with this squad so yes, we’re practicing a little more but it’s hardly any different than your schedule. Jesus, half the time you don’t even ask how anything with the team is going! And I never held that against you!”
“I never let it keep me from you!”
“It did. It fucking did and you know it.”
“I always made time for you.”
“Physically, sure, but mentally you were checked the fuck out on me more often than not.”
“But I was fucking there!”
“Because everything was planned around your schedule! Around your practice, your games, your parties even.”
“You never had an issue with my schedule before.”
“Cause I didn’t care!” You insisted.
“Apparently you did!”
“How is all of this my fault now?”
“I never said it’s your fault.”
“You didn’t have to! ‘I never let it keep me from you’ obviously means that I’m not doing enough for you.”
“That’s not what I fucking meant.”
“Please.” You threw your hands forward. “Tell me what you fucking meant then.”
He covered his face with both hands as he mumbled something you couldn’t understand. He looked at you again but you simply crossed your arms and stared expectantly.
“I’m allowed to want to spend time with my girlfriend, right?” He began and you nodded quietly. “That’s all this is, okay?”
“I’m trying, John. Really, I am, but I can’t rearrange every aspect of my schedule to match yours. I don’t set our lifting times or our field times or film days or any of it. Between that and classes, I’m running myself in circles and I would love it if I could get just a little bit of grace from my boyfriend.”
“If you weren’t happy, you should’ve said something sooner. We could’ve figured it out sooner.”
“I wasn’t gonna push on something you can’t quite control.”
“You’d rather just be miserable?” He scoffed. “Why?”
“Because I just wanted to make it work! I thought you wanted that, too…”
“I do.” He nodded. “Fuck. I do, I’m sorry. I’m just- I’m just tired, okay? Can we not fight about this?”
“We can’t just ignore it.” You countered. There was no anger in your voice, just the hurt realization that your relationship had come to a screeching halt. “Neither of us are gonna wake up tomorrow and suddenly not be busy and tired. John, if we can’t figure this out now, what does it mean for us later on?”
“Y/N…” He sighed. He knew you were right. He was probably thinking the same thing.
You took a guess as to what that tone meant.
“Right…” You nodded slowly. “I should go then.”
“Don’t do that.” He reached for your hand.
“No, it’s-“ You took a step back, just out of his reach. “You’re right. I’m never around and it’s not fair to you. We’ve both got a lot riding on this season so…”
“That’s it then?”
“I guess so… Makes sense why you guys don’t really do relationships.” You laughed sadly. The tears were burning your eyes but you looked up, trying to blink them away.
“Garrett and Hannah make it work.” John countered softly. “Kinda thought we could, too.”
You looked back at him and sniffled. He hadn’t moved any closer but you saw the way his fingers twitched, like he wanted to hold your hand or just reach for you. He thought better of it.
“I guess they just wanted it more.” You mumbled, more to yourself than for John to hear, but the house seemed to fall silent on the other side of his bedroom door.
“Don’t say that.” His voice broke.
“It’s too late for me to change my jersey number back, though.”
—
“Earth to Y/N.” Dean said, moments before a couch pillow hit your stomach.
You snapped from your thoughts and looked over at the blond. You snatched the pillow and whacked him over the head with it. As you pulled your arm back for a second shot, you heard John laugh.
“What part of-“ Another whack. “-stop being a dick-“ Another. “-did you not hear?” One final whack before you tossed it out of his reach. “Anyways. What are you guys doing tomorrow?”
“Like me and him specifically?” John pointed between himself and Dean.
“You, him, Garrett, Tucker, Beau. Everyone.” You shrugged.
You looked over at the previously weaponized pillow in contemplation.
“Okay, okay.” Dean laughed, his hands up in surrender. “Just usual practice stuff, why?”
“Will you guys be done by 3:10?”
“Game tomorrow?” John asked.
“Yeah… If we win, we take over first place. This could be huge for our playoff run.” You nodded slowly. “Missa thought having the hockey team there and if Jules posted on the Fifth Line account about you guys being there, we could rally some home field advantage.”
John flashed a smile that faded as soon as it came. You shoved your hands awkwardly in your back pockets. You didn’t want to say that you threw out the idea first, specifically thinking about getting John to the game. Something felt like you needed him there to get your season back on track.
“You don’t have to.” You offered. “I know softball isn’t really your guys’ scene but-“
“It’s not that.” John cut in. “We’ll be there.”
“We will?” Dean looked to John, but John didn’t seem to notice. He was still looking at you.
“Thanks.” You smiled. “The girls will be thrilled… Just try not to make them nervous.”
“How so?”
At that, you stared pointedly at Dean. “Last year, he came to a game and I distinctly remember Alysia, Chey, and Nicki tripping over third on their way to score. They were all thrown out at the plate and when I asked what happened, the answer was all the same. Dean Di Laurentis.”
“I didn’t even do anything!” Dean defended.
“He’ll behave.” John promised. “Where are you at for this year?”
“Infield.” You nodded. The awkward attempt at small talk left you feeling out of place. “Yeah, second base mostly.”
“Really?” John’s eyebrows raised as he nodded. “That’s great.”
“I still get some outfield reps but Missa’s got centerfield on lock. Most games are a no-fly zone if she’s out there.”
“You’re holding down your spot though. I’m proud of you.”
That simple sentence made your heart beat harder than it should’ve.
“Yeah, I mean… Some days I DH, just kinda depends on how the glove’s working that week.” You shrugged, rocking slightly on your feet. You watched John’s expression change to one of confusion but you didn’t want to stick around to find out why. “Uh, well, thanks again. We’ve gotta review some film before hitting so I better get going. See you guys tomorrow.”
Dean waved, shouting a goodbye as you left. You didn’t hear anything from John. Part of you wanted to believe Dean was just too loud, but you knew the more likely answer.
John didn’t say anything, just as he had said nothing when you walked out of his room that night.
You got into your car, locked the doors on habit, and pulled out your phone. You texted Missa with a relieved emoji and a thumbs up. As you went to start your car, your car had other ideas.
It stuttered, refusing to turn over and you sighed. You turned the key back off and dropped your head to the steering wheel. Everything was on inside the car, lights and stereo and dash display. You could hear the inner workings of the engine and had already talked to your dad about it. He had an idea and ordered the part for it. Before you could try your key again and use the trick your dad offered, a light tap came from your window. You jumped and shouted “ohmygod!” before turning and seeing John waiting and laughing.
You opened the door and he took it as an invitation to fill the space. He had one arm slung over the door as he leaned against your car.
“Need a ride?” He offered, a smile still on his face.
“No.” You answered plainly. “What makes you say that?”
“The defeated little head drop.” He nodded. “Does it always do that?”
“On warmer days, yeah… My dad already has a plan. We just need the part.”
“You know I can take a look at it for you.”
“I don’t need you to.”
“Yeah, I know but-“
“John.” You cut in. “We’re both too busy. Remember?”
“Definitely remember… That doesn’t mean I can’t give you a hand.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“I know, I know… Doesn’t mean I can’t offer, right?”
You looked away to watch your dashboard and focus on your car’s sound as you stepped on the brake and shifted your car to neutral. You turned the key with a silent plea that it would turn over. Thankfully, it did. You threw it back into park and turned back to John.
“See? Car’s fine. I have to go.” You spoke simply.
“Real quick, what did you mean in there when you said ‘if your glove works’?” He asked, those big brown eyes showing a familiar concern.
“I didn’t say that.” You shook your head. “I said it depends on how my glove works.”
“Okay, fine, but your glove always works.”
“Not lately.” You mumbled. “This season’s been rougher than usual. It’s not a big deal.”
“You sure?” His voice was low, a gentle prodding to try and get you to confess more. For a moment, it nearly worked and you almost told him that whenever you put your jersey on and saw your number - his number - your head and heart were yanked out of the game. Half of your plays were auto-pilot and the other half was your teammate saving your ass. “Talk to me, Gorgeous.”
The old nickname made your cheeks feel hot.
“I have to go.” Was all you said instead. You reached past him and tugged lightly on your door.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, clearly not wanting to leave.
“Look at my life.” You gestured vaguely around you. “I got what I wanted.”
Without another word, only a small tap to the roof of your car, he walked away.
—
The next day at the game, you had to stay focused. If Briar could win, they would take first and win the series. It would all but guarantee first place. You owed it to yourself and your teammates to keep your head.
You and Missa led the usual warm-up routine and were throwing together.
“Who’s all coming again?” She asked.
“He said everyone so…” You shrugged.
“There’s a few ‘he’s in that house, Twos.”
Twos. The nickname all your teammates used for you. It was new, only starting this past year when you and John got together and your number changed from 13 to 22.
“John.” You answered as your throw came up short. “Fuck.”
“Hey…” She jogged in to meet you halfway. “Are you gonna be good today?”
“I have to be.” You nodded once towards the other dugout. “I can’t afford to lose it today.”
“Okay, sure, but if you’re not in it, we can ask Coach to DH you today, narrow your focus to your at-bats.”
“I want to play the field.”
“You sure?”
“Trust me.”
“Alright.” She smiled. “Be a dog today, yeah?”
You patted her back and barked once, which got her to bark back, before you two returned to your throwing distance. As you picked up where you left off, one of your coaches was at your shoulder.
“How’s the arm, Twos?” Coach Kelsey asked.
“Feelin’ good.” You nodded.
“Great, cause we need you behind the dish today.”
You nearly dropped the throw coming back to you. “I haven’t caught since-”
“I know it’s been a while but Missa’s in the circle and Alysia’s elbow is done. She needs to be at second for the shortest throws and you work best with Missa. You know the infield plays.”
“Who’s in center? Without Missa, we need speed. Those girls are aggressive at the plate so I want to maintain a no-fly zone.”
“Are you gonna do it or not?” Kelsey asked firmly. “You wanted to be a leader. This, stepping up right now, is part of it.”
“Right.” You nodded once. “My gear’s in the clubhouse.”
“Go get it. Meet Missa in the pen.”
You nodded, waved Missa in, then jogged off the field. When you got to your locker, you pulled your phone first. Immediately, you texted John.
dont sit behind the plate today plz
You didn’t have time to wait for a response. You collected your catcher’s bag then headed back out.
Warm-ups in the pen went well and before you knew it, your team was taking the field. After your throwdown, you met your infield at the circle.
“They’re aggressive on the bases so always work ahead. Annie, you and me on a steal. Let’s talk today, alright? Know where we’re going with the ball.” You hyped everyone up.
“Hell yeah, big dogs. Big dogs.” Missa nodded, giving high fives around the group.
Your infielders each barked accordingly and you couldn’t help but laugh a little. Each girl patted your helmet before taking off to their spots.
“First place.” Missa held her glove towards you.
“Challenge ‘em.” You knocked her glove with your own. “Win or lose, make ‘em fucking earn it.”
The first three innings were a stalemate. No one scored, no one reached base. The crowd was loud, voices all blending together into a massive wave of sound. You were thankful you couldn’t hear any specific voice, even if part of you was listening for it.
The game’s momentum began shifting in the top of the fourth. Their lead-off batter struck out, the next batter grounded out to your third baseman, then a double. You moved in front of the plate to call the play and adjust your outfielders. Missa’s eyes met yours with a question of what to throw.
You nodded once towards the grass. Her brows furrowed and you flashed your glove once.
She tilted her head in protest. You wanted her to challenge this hitter to something to draw a play at the plate. The runner on two was fast and was going to try to score, but you knew your left fielder was leading the conference in assists. If anyone was getting that out at the plate for you, it was her.
You nodded once and she relented. As you retook your position, you found a familiar crew in the crowd. A crew that was far too close to home plate.
Jules waved and gestured to the phone that was now pointed at you. Dean and Beau were hollering in the row behind Jules, waving frantically. Garrett and Hannah were beside them, Garrett clapping while Hannah gave a thumbs up. Allie was standing and facing the crowd, trying to rally some sort of chant. Tucker was trying to get Beau off of his head and John was also standing, clapping and nodding towards you. You gave a single nod in his direction before facing the field again.
You called a fastball down and in, and the batter yanked it down the line, exactly where you shifted your outfield. Quickly, you jumped in front of the plate and a few feet up the line. Your mask was discarded into foul territory as you started yelling to align your third baseman for the cut.
“Left! Left!” You floated one step back. “Leave it!”
Your third baseman fell off as the throw came in on a perfect line. You caught it and dropped to a knee in a near perfect spot, leaving a path to the plate. The runner dove in but your knee was already down. Her shoulder hit your leg as the tag was made but her momentum swiped your leg out from under you. As you went down to your back, your other hand reached to secure the ball in your glove.
From the ground, you showed the umpire the ball and he called the out.
“Fucking bitch.” The runner muttered, kicking some dirt in your direction.
The entire crowd and your team erupted in cheers, Missa running over to haul you to your feet.
“What did she say to you?” Missa asked.
“She called me a fucking bitch.” You laughed.
Arguments came from both dugouts as you retrieved your mask. You heard ‘malicious contact’ and ‘unsportsmanlike conduct’ but you shrugged it off, not really sure which side the arguments were coming from.
“Fucking big dawg!” Dean yelled when you looked his way, then he started barking.
Beau and Garrett soon joined in on the barking, making Hannah laugh and whack her boyfriend. John was smiling as Tucker clapped him on the back.
You returned to your dugout, where your own team was waiting with celebrations of their own.
In the bottom of the fourth, you were leading off. You changed out of your gear quickly and were taking swings on deck when you heard the barking again. You closed your eyes and tried not to smile. They had no idea where it started but they were definitely quick to play along. Not long after, your dugout started joining in.
“WHO LET THE DAWG OUT!?” Missa shouted, prompting loud barks from your teammates and your friends in the crowd. “WHO LET THE DAWG OUT!?”
You walked backwards towards the batter’s box to face your dugout. They quieted in anticipation, waiting for your response. You smiled widely and barked twice before hurrying to the box.
The opposing catcher mumbled something but before you could register it, a fastball slammed your ribs. You managed to turn away so it caught the back of your ribcage but that didn’t make it hurt any less. You tossed your bat with a small curse before ditching your elbow guard.
“We eat those! We eat those!” Garrett shouted, nodding and clapping aggressively.
“Put her on the fucking hockey team, dude.” Beau laughed.
“Ow.” You mouthed to John, who offered an apologetic look in response.
“YOU KNOW WHY WE CALL HER TWOS?!” Annie yelled as you made your way down the line.
“WHY!?” Your dugout responded.
“CAUSE SHE LOVES TO BE ON TWO SO SAAAAAAVE YOOOOOUR AAAAAARM!!”
“SAVE YOUR ARM!!”
“SAAAAAAAVE YOUUUUUUUUR AAAAAAARM!!”
“SAVE YOUR ARM!!”
“You good?” Kelsey asked as you met her at first.
You twisted slightly, blinking back the tears in your eyes.
“She fucking got me good.” You laughed a little. “I’ll be alright.”
“22.” The base umpire asked. “Need time?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.” You smiled.
You looked across the field at your other coach in the third base box. He flashed you a quick series of signs that all amounted to one thing. Delayed steal on the second pitch.
You took a short lead on the first pitch, a ball outside and down.
You looked out into the crowd again as you stood back on the base. John was still standing, leaning forward on the back of Jules’ seat as they talked about something. He met your eyes and jerked his head slightly. You looked at second base then back at him. You smiled, adjusting your helmet by the face mask. That was your signal to each other, a way of telling the other ‘Watch this’ during your games. He flashed you that signal often and he always made good on his attempts. Now it was your turn.
On the second pitch, you took a slightly bigger lead. It was a strike, bottom half of the zone, and your teammate stayed in the box, kicking some of the clay around. As soon as the catcher’s arm pulled back to throw the ball to the pitcher, you ran. Ahead of you, you saw the shortstop hustling to beat you to the base but you knew you were going to be safe. You dropped into a slide around the base, twisting to avoid her sweeping glove and get your hand on the bag. As expected, you were called safe.
You faced your dugout first, doing that celebration together. You pointed over to first then circled your wrists to point at the base beneath you. Some of your teammates yelled to take third but you waved them off.
It was Missa up to bat, after all.
The next pitch was smacked into right center, a ringing double that brought you in to score and take the lead. You collected her bat as you yelled praise to her, now taking over your spot on second base, before spinning towards your friends in the crowd.
Jules was too busy recording the guys to add anything.
“Way to work, Twos!” John yelled.
You tucked Missa’s bat under your arm and held up two fingers on each hand. You flashed your twos then used both to point at John. He laughed slightly but returned the gesture, your guys’ small scoring celebration.
Your team managed to tack on another run in that inning and held the other team to zero. The fifth inning was scoreless, as was the sixth, but things shifted in the top of the seventh. Missa hit a batter, the one who had called you a bitch prior, and then a well placed bunt got a second runner on. Strikeout, strikeout, then a no doubt three run homerun to left field. Missa came right back with another strikeout, an embarrassing one if you were being honest.
“Everybody on me, come on.” You called your team together. “We have three outs to get at least one run. We can beat them, right now. You guys want that?”
A small chorus of yes came from around the circle.
“I said do you want that!” You urged.
“YES!”
“Let’s fucking do it, then. We have Alysia, Kam, Nicki, then me and Missa. Sounds like hits to me. Get it back and more, let’s go.”
Alysia did her job and got on base. Kam moved her over, but was the first out. Nicki hit a single to put a runner on first and second for when you came up to bat.
Various chants came from your personal cheering section.
The first pitch came up and in, making you spin away and nearly took you off your feet.
That caused a stir among your friends and dugout.
You simply laughed as you stepped back in the box. Next pitch was a ball, down and in. It nearly got your back foot but you stepped out of the way just in time.
“Starting to feel a little personal.” You mumbled, rolling your bat in your hands.
The third pitch you saw was your money pitch, middle height but the outside half of the plate. You connected with the sweet spot of your barrel, sending a rocket down the first base line. The crowd erupted as the ball was called fair.
Alysia scored, Nicki was rounding third, and you were in at second. You wanted to make it a triple but Nicki was too damn slow. The throw was cut off and Nick got back-picked at three. You called for time to remove your elbow guard as you stood on second again.
When it was granted you took off the guard and met Kelsey halfway to leave it with her. As you went back to two, you pulled your helmet off to fix your headband. You also took a second to do your celebration.
You pointed your helmet to the dugout and then drew the other arm back like an archer drawing a bow. Habitually, you looked over to John in the crowd as you replaced your helmet. When he caught your eyes, he did a smaller version of the same celebration.
His celly, you realized when you saw him do the familiar movement. Your double celly was his goal celly.
Well shit.
Two outs, tie game, bottom of the seventh. You could practically hear how Jules would be narrating it. They’d probably be zoomed in on you, talking about how physical the game was for you that day. Or they’d be locked on Missa and how big of a moment that was for her.
First pitch was in the dirt, but blocked well, keeping you in place. Next pitch was fouled straight back and judging by Missa’s reaction, it was one she didn’t want to miss. Third pitch was a called strike, top half of the zone that Missa didn’t agree with. The next pitch, however, was interesting.
It was ruled an illegal pitch, claiming her hands came together after her motion was started, and you advanced to third. When you reached Coach, you had to laugh.
“Y/L/N represents the winning run, just 60 feet away.” You mimicked a commentator’s voice. “What will Coach Tim do?”
He leaned in and turned towards the outfield grass as he spoke to you. “That ball gets by her, you score. Don’t hesitate. Don’t think. Just fucking score.”
You nodded once and focused on the next pitch.
Foul ball. Foul ball. Foul ball. Ball inside. Foul ball. Then it was your chance.
A ball in the dirt kicked away towards your dugout. You broke for the plate immediately, Missa jumping out of the way and yelling for you to slide. You listened and went head first for the plate. Why you went head first, you didn’t know. Usually, you hooked or slid straight into the bag. In truth, the dive knocked some of the wind out and the pitcher who came in to cover the plate stepped on your arm, but you were safe.
You had just won the game for Briar.
As you were celebrating with Missa, the other team asked to challenge. While the umpires reviewed the play, you and Missa leaned against the fencing. Coach came down the line to stand with you two, but you were listening to your friends.
Jules was giving the usual commentary, and you had to commend the knowledge of the game. You assumed Jules only knew hockey.
Garrett was explaining to Hannah and Allie what was going on. Dean was yelling that there was no review, just call it safe and move on. Beau was yelling to stick to the call. Tucker said nothing, but John’s voice sounded closer than it had before.
“Did she tag you?” He asked.
“Never touched me.” You answered without looking at him. “ Stepped on me but…”
You glanced down at your arm and saw the red marks from her cleats on your skin.
“After reviewing the play, the call is confirmed. The runner is safe and the run will score. Ball game.” The umpire announced.
After cleaning up and changing, you and Missa left the locker room together.
“So…” She trailed off. “You and John Logan are back together.”
“No, we’re not.” You laughed.
“That’s not what Fifth Line has to say.” She replied smugly, tilting her phone in your direction. She showed you a post on the account, a video of your double celebration with the caption ‘birds of a feather’.
“Okay.” You pushed her phone away. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Y/N, you did his celebration.” She insisted.
“It’s the same one I did when I threw that runner out.” You reasoned.
“No, the leg was different.”
“The leg?”
“Yes, the leg. Logan does it off one leg, just like you did for your double.”
“I was in stride!”
“When you throw someone out, you do it from your knees and swipe your glove in the dirt. Plus he was cheering for you the whole game.”
“They were cheering for all of us.”
“Fine.” She shrugged. “But they’re not waiting for all of us, are they?”
“No one’s waiting.” You rolled your eyes.
“Y/N!” Tucker yelled and you saw your friend group a few feet away. When they saw you looking, they waved you over.
“Case and point.” Missa sighed contently. “Go get your man, Twos.”
“It’s not gonna be any-“
“Before you get on your soap box.” She cut in. “I talked with Coach. He’s on you too much, more than he has been on any other captain, including me. I told him he had to treat us the same, that he’s only doing it to you cause you were a walk-on and he’s just mad he didn’t recruit you himself.”
“Missa!”
“It’s true.” She defended. “Anyways, he’s gonna pull back on the responsibilities he throws on you. Your schedule’s gonna lighten a little. You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t need you to do that.”
“I know but you’re my co-captain. I’ve got your back, same as you’ve got mine. Now go, be happy. You’ve been shit since you guys broke up anyways.”
“Okay, rude.” You laughed. “Thank you.”
“Of course. Love you, ice those bruises. I’ll see you later.”
You two split and you made your way to your friends. On your approach, Dean and Garrett immediately began barking.
“Big dawg!” Beau announced.
“Why does your team bark at you?” Hannah asked with a laugh.
“Yeah, where did that come from?” John added.
“I got it from my dad. He calls the boys he coaches big dogs or tells them to be a dog. I brought it over here by accident and it just kinda stuck.” You explained.
“I like it.” Allie said.
“You do?” Your brows raised. “Out of all of them, you?”
“It’s fun!”
“You did good today, Y/L/N.” Tucker said, reaching around John to pat your shoulder.
“Thanks.” You smiled.
“Kinda got the shit kicked outta you though.” Garrett commented, which got him elbowed in the ribs by Hannah.
“Yeah.” You laughed, rubbing your ribs. “After that first play at the plate, I had a feeling I’d be a target.”
“Hey, it was a fair play!” Jules defended. “Y/N left a path to plate, even when she had the ball.”
“Respectfully, Jules, how do you know softball?” You laughed a little. You winced slightly, the pain from that fastball to the ribs now kicking in. “I figured with Johnnyboy, you only knew hockey.”
“It was surprisingly easy to pick up, actually. Mr. Lonely over there was obsessing over it when you two got together so he made me learn it, too.”
“Lonely.” Dean sang, throwing an arm over John’s shoulders. You took a step back and tried not to smile. “I’m Mr. Lonely. I have nobody…”
You couldn’t avoid it and laughed, ducking behind Hannah to try and regain your composure.
“Laugh all you want, Y/N.” Garrett added. “That song was all Logan played after you two split.”
“Alright, fuck you guys.” John defended. You managed to stop laughing but the smile still threatened. “It’s a good song.” He shrugged.
“Right, right.” You nodded. “Just weird timing.”
“Exactly! See? She gets it.”
“She always ‘gets it’ with you.” Allie teased.
“Hey, are we gonna stand around here giving Logan shit all night or are we going to celebrate a first place win the right way?” Beau asked.
“I definitely need to shower and change first.” You shook your head. “I’m covered in dirt and I’m fairly certain I swallowed some.”
“Yeah, that dive wasn’t your cleanest.” Tucker nodded, almost regretfully.
“Fuck off, like you could do better.” You defended.
“It’s just like a slip and slide.”
“If you go home, Y/L/N, you’re not coming back out.” Garrett countered before you could continue to argue with Tucker. “I know you. You’re gonna lay on your floor and not get back up.”
“That’s not…” You tried to argue but then realized he was right. You did nap on your floor after games often. “Okay, fair point… Can I least go get clothes to change? Hannah can come with me if you guys don’t trust me.”
“I’ve got an extra shirt in the truck if you want.” John offered. “Just to save you some time…”
You took a moment before answering, thinking about what Missa had said before leaving. Go get your man, Twos.
“Doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice.” You sighed. “I didn’t drive anyways so I was gonna have to bum a ride with someone regardless.”
“Don’t you just love it when things work out?” Jules smiled, guiding you forward with both hands on your shoulders.
“Yeah, funny how that happens, huh?” You gave a pointed look.
The next thing you knew, you and your friends were at Malone’s. Your warm-up shirt was left in John’s truck, leaving you in his t-shirt instead. It was plain, a bit too big for you, but it had the faint smell of his cologne still. It made your heart thump hard in your chest.
You started to think that if you didn’t at least ask about getting back together, your heart would break out of your ribs and wander off.
“Hey.” John nudged you out of your thoughts. You snapped your head up, having zoned out staring at the dirty Shirley Temple in your hands. When you looked over at him, he chuckled slightly. “You still with us? Or did you hit your head today, too?”
“The way today went, I very well could have.” You laughed. “No, I’m fine, just thinking.”
“Oh, yeah?”
You nodded, looking down at the table. Your free hand was tapping slightly against the surface as you considered what to say. Should you tell him the truth? Could you make it through the night if you didn’t? Could you take the rejection if you did? Before you could form a conclusive thought, John’s hand was under your chin to gently lift your attention back to him.
“What about?”
Dear God were you still in love with him.
“You.” You confessed.
“I’m gonna assume that’s a good thing.”
“Can we talk somewhere away from tweedle dee, tweedle dum, and TMZ?” You jerked your head towards Dean and Garrett’s conversation, along with Jules.
John offered you his hand as he scooted out of the booth. You accepted, quickly swallowing the last of your drink, and followed his lead. He took you to the other side of Malone’s, to a quieter booth near the corner. He didn’t sit, just stood in a way that blocked everyone else out. Like he could be some sort of shield and keep you safe.
“What’s going on?” He asked lowly, crossing his arms.
“Look at my life.” You gestured vaguely. “I bet you can’t tell but it’s actually a pretty bad time.”
“No, trust me. I could tell.” He nodded.
“I got what I wanted, softball captain, Starting lineup every game, great grades, great friends… But it doesn’t sit right. Something’s been off until today… Today, I realized something.” You began. “This season, I’ve been shit. My teammates have been picking up my slack and making up for my mistakes but I haven’t been playing like a captain should.”
“Everyone goes through slumps, Y/N. That doesn’t change who you are as a player.”
“Yeah, but this wasn’t just a slump. This has been routine balls being flubbed, embarrassing strikeouts, base running mistakes that kids in Little League don’t even make.”
“I didn’t see any of that today.”
“Exactly.” You nodded, reaching forward to put your hands on his arm. “You. John, I haven’t felt comfortable in my jersey all year, but then you show up today and it’s like… It’s like the game makes sense again.”
“Has nothing to do with me.” He shook his head slightly. “That’s you getting your confidence back. Y/N, that light in your eyes? I don’t remember the last time I saw it. You were alive out there.”
“Can’t I just say that I missed you and I missed seeing you in the stands without you trying to be all sweet and motivational?” You laughed a little and he smiled.
He smiled that stupid smile that made your knees weak, that made you want to kiss his stupid face.
“Everything felt right for the first time in a long time, Johnnyboy.” You said softly. “Even the stupid fucking cellys.”
“I did notice you stole mine.” He joked.
“I figured we share jersey numbers, we can share cellys.”
“I really thought you were gonna push Tim to let you get your old number back.”
“After the fit I threw to get him to change it in general, there was no way I was gonna be able to wear 13 even if I asked.”
“You didn’t?”
“No…”
He chuckled slightly in disbelief before cocking his head slightly. “Why?”
“Can we try again?” You asked suddenly. There were no other thoughts in your head than a blaring siren of “BOYFRIEND!!” as you looked at him. “One more chance.”
“I thought you were too busy.” He countered and it felt like your heart fell to your feet. Your expression must’ve done something similar because John’s hands were suddenly on your cheeks. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I am busy and so are you but… But I want to make it work if that’s still what you want.”
pairing: john logan x fem!reader
words: 1.3k
summary: based on this request; you loved books, Logan loved hockey, and you both loved each other very, very much.
warnings: none, this is all fluff babyyy <3, maybe a couple swear words idk
Truth, dare, spin the bottle. It was right out of a book how you met Logan.
Picture this. It's raining heavily. Cats and dogs. And it's late at night. Everyone is running to find shelter from the pouring rain, holding their valuables close to their chest. Guy is running into a bus stop; he's not paying attention, bumps into a girl. Girl drops her book into the growing puddle of water and groans.
"Dude! I bought that like twenty minutes ago," she mourns.
"Oh my god, I am so, so, sorry, I wasn't looking, I—" he looks now.
The street light makes her glow, and she's dewy from the rain. She's frowning, she's angry, and she is not ready to put up with his bullshit. She looks radiant. He completely loses his train of thought. He's just staring at her now, mouth slightly ajar but finding nothing to say. She snaps him back to reality.
"Hey! Earth to Captain Splash."
"What? Oh, yeah, right, I'm— uh, I'm sorry," he manages, but he's not quite concentrating yet. He is positively smitten. And he feels awful because he just soaked this poor girl's brand-new book in a puddle of rainwater.
"Thank you for the apology; my book is completely dry now," she deadpans, bending to pick up what used to be the book. A laugh escapes him despite himself. He can feel her glaring at him.
She grimaces the moment her hands touch the item. That is not a fun sensory experience. She is holding it up with her index and thumb in front of her face, assessing the damage. Yeah, that book is done for.
"Again, I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'll get you the exact same book, from the exact same place, and I'll throw in a cup of coffee as reparations."
"As long as you don't throw it at my book..." she trails off.
"Logan. John Logan."
And the rest was history.
Every day, at least once, Logan swore that you were the best thing that ever happened to him.
"You are literally the captain of the hockey team."
"Baby, I could be the president, and my point would still stand."
And that would make you blush and bury your face into his chest every single time.
You and Logan were the best part of each other's day. He'd come back from an emotionally and physically exhausting practice day, climb up your fire escape (because you didn't want to tell anyone yet), and collapse on your bed like a thirsty man who finally found a river.
You'd let him lie down on your lap and stroke his hair as he'd tell you all about his day. Sometimes you'd just let him sleep for a while, and you'd read your book, a moment of peace for both of you.
A lot of times, when he woke up, he'd be annoyed that he wasn't getting enough attention and would try every single trick in the book to get you to focus on him instead. He would whine, complain, pout, and feign heartbreak while you promised one more page.
"Logan, I swear, it's getting so good I can't stop now, but give me five minu—"
He'd bury his face into a pillow and scream.
Eventually, he'd snatch your book from your hand, put the bookmark in and toss it on the table, despite your protests, and pin you to the mattress, knocking the wind out of you.
"Baby," he'd say, in that breathy voice he knew did things to you, "I've been patient, and I think it's my turn to do some reading now." You would nod slowly, breathless, and he'd laugh before grazing your jaw with his lips, and trailing further and further down. His hands would test the waters, sliding under the hem of his your T-shirt. He'd leave marks in places only you'll know about, and you'd go crazy thinking about it all day.
It was never either of your intentions to hide each other from your friends. God, no, but what you had, it was just... yours. Just him and you. To the entire world, he was John Logan, captain of the Briar U Hawks, playboy on sabbatical, charming handyman straight out of a dirty movie, the John Logan.
But to you, he was John Logan, golden retriever in disguise, supplier of endless hoodies, brings you coffee the way you like, memorises your convoluted and frankly concerning subway orders, best kisser in the entire world (among other things), John Logan. A version of him that no one will ever know, not like you did.
To him, you were the only aspect of normalcy in his entire life. Everywhere he went, he had to be somebody. A captain, a student, a friend, a brother, a son. But with you, he didn't have to put up a front. He didn't have to pretend. Because being your boyfriend was not something he had to learn or actively do. He just... did.
You were the one place in his life where he felt like he belonged. It was like he always knew how to be in love with you; he just hadn't found you yet. Now that he had, it was like he had found purpose. That's who he was now. John Logan, man in love.
The privacy, you thought, was what made the entire ordeal special. This was beautiful, and just yours. And you both wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.
And then there was that part of Logan that wanted to parade you around the campus, show you off, kiss you in front of everyone, and declare his undying love for you, god and all of Briar U as his witness.
He would unapologetically carry your stack of books whenever you were at the bookstore, and, ever the gentleman, never let you pay. Your bag was his by proxy at this point, the way he would always let it hang over his shoulder whenever you walked with him, halfway through some tangent about your latest book. And if you ever carry your own bag, god forbid, he'd look at you like you had an extra head before taking it from you.
You were deeply in love with each other.
It was a mundane day at the hockey house. Garrett had his feet up on the coffee table, controller in hand, losing spectacularly to Dean, who wasn't even looking at the screen half the time and still winning.
Tucker came through the front door, shaking rain out of his hair, and didn't bother with hello.
"Where's Logan?"
"Room," Garrett said, not looking up. "Don't bother him; dude went up like ages ago. Hasn't come out since"
Tucker paused halfway through unlacing his boots. "Let me guess. She climbed up the fire escape again?"
"Uh-huh," Dean said, eyes still on the TV, thumb working the controller. "Only tripped once this time. Progress."
"How do you even know that?"
"Window's right above the kitchen. You can hear everything. Heard her go 'shit—' real quiet, heard him go 'you good?' even quieter, and then I heard her go 'yeah, I'm fine, your stupid fire escape is a death trap,' and then nothing for like... an hour," he explained, his voice going an entire octave higher when he imitated you.
Tucker dropped onto the arm of the couch. Garrett looked up toward the ceiling like he could see straight through it to Logan's room, and he just smiled.
"Does he know we know?" Tucker asked.
"Nah," Dean said, easy, unbothered, like it wasn't even a question. "Nah, man. Let him have this."
Tucker nodded slowly, settling back, already reaching for the third controller. "Yeah. Okay. Yeah."
Upstairs, muffled through the floor, came the unmistakable sound of Logan laughing— the real laugh, the one none of them had heard much before this year, and nobody downstairs said another word about it.
