Dreamer0607

[hauntedsilences]

they don't know about us

part 6

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5 pairing: john logan x fem!reader (garrett's sister)

word count: 2.6k

summary: you have known john logan since you first came to briar u. he became a constant in your life, as he was a constant in your brother's life. developing a crush on him felt easy, perhaps the easiest thing that you had ever done. however john logan was two things: your brothers best friend, and plainly not interested in you. at least, you don't think he is? it's easy to pass off the flirting and lingering stares as it simply being who he was. was it though? or was there something more.

author note: we are back to our regularly schedule sweet fluff & fun little moments! this one has a lot more of the other characters mentioned as well! i hope u enjoy it! also i am getting a lil tired & didn't proofread so pls ignore if there are any errors!

taglist: @wintermoonly @kayleighniks @f4ll-for-you @its-phi @nihoshi17 @notsosweetcreature

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚

the term comes to a screeching halt, and you are thankful for it. thankful that the stress of exams and papers was done, and that you could breathe for just a moment as you enter winter break. you didn't many plans. it wasn't as if you would go home, so your only option was to stay at briar. which was fine given that the group had planned for a four day weekend cabin trip.

you don't know who's idea it was, allie always claims that it was her, but the group of you make it work. you find a four day weekend where the boys don't have a game and can take a break from practice. one where hannah and allie are able to book the time off, and you all split the price on a four bedroom cabin out in the snowy woods.

four bedrooms. one for hannah and garrett, one for allie and dean, one for tucker and john to share, and then one for you.

you wish that you could share with john in the same way that the other girls get to share, but you know it's not possible. that it would mean you had to crack open your chest and say to your brother "but i love him", even though you know it'd piss him off.

even though you hadn't told logan about the love of it all.

you were scared, honestly.

the two of you hadn't talked about what your relationship was other than it being a secret. there was no talks about exclusivity, and definitely no use of the word "boyfriend" or "girlfriend". so telling him that you loved him felt too heavy, and you worried that he wouldn't receive it well. that even though you had spill apart your ribs and share all the deepest and darkest parts of your broken self, somehow love felt too much. it had too many expectations.

john had texted you the day before saying that he was planning to drive, and was hoping that the two of you could convince the others to let you go in his truck. however when the day came, and you arrived at the hockey house, garrett put all of your bags in his jeep out of instinct. as if it was already decided that you go with him and hannah.

you gave john a sympathetic look and a gentle shrug as you were rushed into the backseat of the jeep and tucker found his place in the passenger seat of john's truck.

you couldn't even text him, and that made the whole thing worse.

when you arrived at the cabin, everyone immediately took their own bags to their respective rooms. you couldn't help the slight pang in your chest as you watched the couples drift off together hand in hand, and then watched john trail behind tucker to a room across the cabin from your own.

you desperately wished he could be with you. the bed would feel cold without him, that you were sure of.

you are busy unpacking your things when there is a gentle rap agains the already open door, "hey," comes the familiar voice and you can't help the way that your head whips around to look at him. there is a smile that overtakes your face as he steps into the room, a few long strides before he is standing in front of you and his hand reaches out to grab onto yours.

the familiar warmth of it engulfs you and for a moment you forget about everyone else in the house. for a moment you forget about everything but him.

then there is a clatter from the kitchen and you are snapped back to reality. your eyes flicker from his face to the open door behind him. john notices, as he always does, and squeezes your hand once before letting it fall from his own.

our secret.

"tuck is starting on dinner," he says softly then, his eyes crinkled from the smile that is still plastered on his face, "and allie just opened a bottle of wine and began pouring a glass all the way to the rim. i think she is also pouring you one, saying something about how you need it after your bio exam?"

there is a laugh that escapes your lips then, "yeah we studied together in the library right before my final, and i cried right in front of her." the words come out with a gentle shake of your head before you add, "i told you?"

he pauses then and this look of thought crosses his face, "i thought that was chem."

you laugh again before shaking your head, "no, chem was when i cried to you in my bedroom."

you both laugh then and he says something about how he remembers, but you barely hear him because you are too caught up in the way his laugh rings throughout the room. how it reverberates in your chest and wraps your heart up in a warm, comfortable hug.

"well, we should head out there before they start to wonder whats taking so long," he says with sad sort of smile, and you know it's because he would rather stay here with you. you know it, because you feel the same. he turns his body then, hand moving to rest on your lower back as he starts to lead you out the room. a touch that only lingers for a moment, but you feel it seared into your skin. a simple thing that you are sure not to forget.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

the night went as expected with this group of people.

tucker had made dinner, as he normally did, and you all enjoyed it while sitting at the large dining room table that the cabin had. john had intentionally sat next to you, and every so often his hand would drop under the table to lightly graze against the side of your thigh. little reminders that he was always thinking of you, and how very hard it seemed to be for him to keep his hands to himself.

from there the group found their way to the living room. you found yourself curled up in the corner of the couch with a (very large) glass of wine thanks to allie. as they all began to filter in, tucker went to sit next you but john all but launched himself over the back of the couch to claim the spot. luckily it was typical behavior on his end and no one really seemed to think much of it.

just as it was typical behavior for him to sling one arm over the back of the couch while the other settle happily at his side with a bottle of beer in hand. as you all sit there talking and drinking, you can't help but notice the way his fingers would graze your shoulder. how sometimes you could swear that he was tracing patterns there with his finger tips.

you almost blush at the thought of it, and you are thankful for the way that wine seems to always make your face heat up and go a little bit red. that way you had something to blame it on if anyone was to notice.

the boys are all arguing about some hockey game, and your legs are tucked up against your chest with your arms wrapped around them and a wine glass tucked happily in both your hands when he squeezes your shoulder. a sensation that causes you to look at him, catching his eyes as he was already smiling in your direction. there is a moment where you hold each other's gaze and he almost goes to mouth something, but allies voice cuts in, "i want to dance!"

your attention shifts to her then as a laugh escapes your lips at her sudden proclamation. his eyes fall on you as they always do when he hears you laugh, and there is a toothy grin that breaks out across his face as the sound plays in his ears.

allie puts on a one direction song before she starts to make her way over to you, "dance with me," she whines in your direction.

you look at her bewildered and hug your legs tighter to your chest, "i am not dancing, al," you say before yours eyes shift to hannah, "ask hannah. or, better yet, ask dean."

there is a pout that crosses her face before she says, "noooo, i want to dance with my girls." from the ways that her words slur and how her hands make a grabbing motion towards you, you can already tell that she is definitely drunk which is going to make telling her no a lot harder.

the word does still linger on your lips, however, because you don't want to dance. yet as you got say it, you feel logan press against your shoulder and the words, "come on, you should definitely dance with you," are quick to follow. there is this stupid, teasing smile on his face that tells you that you are really not winning this one.

"yes! see, you should definitely dance with me! even logan agrees!"

there is a resigned sigh that leaves your lips then as you take another drink from your wine glass before holding it out for logan to take hold of. once it is safely out of your hands, you unfold your legs and reach out to grab onto allie's hands as she pulls you up and starts jumping around the living room. it isn't long until hannah is forced to join you, and the three of you are dancing to the one direction playlist that allie had picked (much to garrett's disgruntled dismay).

as you jump and dance around the room, you can't help the way that your eyes latch onto logans. nor can you help the way that his big, bright smile and laughter seems to ring in your chest every time that you see it.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

by the time that 2am rolls around, you find that you may have had a little bit too much wine as you danced around the living room with the girls. enough that logan, as instructed by garrett who had to carry hannah to bed, had make sure that you made it into your bed.

he had a hand planted firmly on your lower back and a hand loosely wrapped through your own as he leads through the house. it's innocent, or at least everyone thinks that it is. especially given that you had been in this very similar situation without almost all of the boys at least once before.

yet, you know there is something different in this. a burning sensation coming from the palm of his hand as it settles onto your back, and there is this firm comfort that comes from his hand laced around yours. there is laughter that comes from the both of you as you stumble through the cabin and he is forced to catch you every now and again from fully falling on your face.

when you finally make it to your bed, he settles you down onto the bed before going to find the make up remover that he had spotted settled on the dresser. there is a bathroom just around the corner from your room, and walks to it wet a small hand towel before making his way back to your bedroom.

"sit still," he instructs as he settles a hand onto your shoulder. you look up at him under heavy lidded eyes and there is a pout that overtakes your features at the instruction.

he had watched you remove your makeup enough times to know that the cleansing balm needed to be warmed up in his hands before he rubbed it on your face. his touch is gentle, and you almost melt into it. almost get lost in the way that his calloused hands seem so weirdly soft as they cleanse the makeup from your face. "do you want to wipe it off, or should i?" he asks. you don't even answer, just place a pointed finger to his chest to indicate that he should. there is a laugh that escapes him before he begins to gently wipe the towel over your face to remove the cleanser.

when it's all done, and your face had been patted dry, he then moves to find the pajama's that he had watched you put away. as he settles down next to you, his hands find the bottom of your shirt and a frown takes over your face, "um," you say rather sternly, "you should not be doing this," then there is a smile as your voice lowers, "even if i want you to."

there is a soft, low laugh that escapes him as he scrubs a hand over his face. he had dealt with you drunk before, but never like this. "no one is watching, babe," and then he leans in a little bit closer, "plus i'm just putting your pajama's on you, nothing else." there is a pout then, and your eyebrows crease so intently as if this was the worst news that you had ever heard. "come on," he continues, "arms up."

you obey his instructions, and all the ones that follow as he methodically takes your clothes off and replaces them with the pajama's he had selected from the drawers of the dresser. once done, he pulls back the comforter and picks up your legs to rest them onto the bed. your body is quick to follow as you settle against the bed, your head hitting hard against the pillow as he tucks you in.

"can't you stay?," you asks, eyes big and pleading as you look up at him.

his own eyes soften, and there is a sympathetic smile that over takes his face, "i want to," he admits then, and his head tilts a bit as he takes in your sad expression, "but we both know i can't."

"but the others get to," you whine, your voice betraying you as it does.

"i know," he says then, hand reaching up to move a stray piece of hair from your face, "but we can't." you knew he was right. that this was a secret, and him staying in your room would ruin it. there was lie you could come up with to make it seem okay to garrett. he had to go back to his room with tucker, and that was the saddest thing you had realized all night.

as if he can read the sadness on your face, john leans forward and softly presses a kiss against your lips. it's chaste and gentle, and he tastes faintly like beer. not much, as he was the most sober person in the room, but enough to remind you that he stayed this sober for you. "goodnight," he says then as he pulls away from you, a hand tucking the blanket in a bit more around you.

your eyes flutter shut then, and a lull of sleep begins to blur the edges of your conscience, "goodnight," you whisper. then, without thought, three words fall from your lips before sleep takes you fully, "i love you."

it leaves him stunned, watching you there as the words hang in the air and you fall under the warm embrace of slumber. there is a moment where he hesitates, wondering if you meant. wondering even more if you'll remember.

part of him hopes that you do, but another part? another part doubts that you will.

[kuraemonn]

Story-Times and Hangouts.

Masterlist

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: fluff, mention of makeout.

A/N: thank you guys for soooo much support <3!!

The previous scene

─•──── ᯓ★ ─•──── ᯓ★ ─•──── ᯓ★ ─•──── ᯓ★

It was supposed to be a normal hangout with the group but what Hangout here is normal? Currently, I'm stuck in the living room with John, his bestfriend Garrett and his girlfriend Hannah.

Garrett and Hannah are being all PDA while I'm sitting close to Logan, almost curled into him but not quite. I haven't realised but our knees are touching like it's the most natural thing in the world. Hanna gets distracted and goes to get Ice cream for herself, and I finally look up from my phone and join her.

Meanwhile back in the living room, Logan asks Garrett, "So where is our low budget Ken anyway? Didn't he said he'll come with his 'new barbie'?" Garrett looks confused, "Who?"

"The low budget Ken. You don't know?" I call out from kitchen still scooping ice cream. "Whoever that is must've really offended you guys to earn that name." Hanna says from beside me.

"yeah, it's a long story." I sit beside Logan again, sharing my ice cream and giving him a knowing look. We hadn't realised that 'classic low budget ken' has become our very own inside joke since the last encounter with you-know-who.

"C'mon man, include us in whatever this is." Garrett says.

Logan turns to me and gives me a questioning look, "should we reveal the secret, darlin'?"

"well don't get all traumatized by what we're about to tell you." I say as an encouragement to Hanna and Garrett.

Logan starts, "so basically remember how last week everyone was out on dates, Tucker went to visit his home, you guys were out even Dean was somewhere out with his new girl or whatever, so we also made plans. But by the time we got dressed up, our impulses won and we settled for a makeout- on this couch by the way-" Hannah immediately makes a 'awww' face while Garrett looks disgusted.

"-yeah so we were mid making out when Dean walked in on us. And that's when she called him 'classic low budget Ken' and ever since then it has become our inside joke. There. Traumatized?" He finished the story and gives me a mischievous glint.

"And you guys tell us to stop PDA." Garrett says. While the three of us burst laughing and Hanna shots me a 'I need details later' look.

Right on cue, the main door flings open, "I heard someone say Ken?" Dean steps in and shots me a look. Seems like he hasn't forgotten the comment since last time.

"Welcome Low Budget Ken." I say, finishing the last spoon of my ice cream. And before he can say anything snarky again, Logan shots him the same 'mind you, this is my girl' look.

"You'll never let me live that down, eh?" He says, shaking his head as he sits down as well on the dining table chair.

"Fits you though, Ken." Hannah says with a grin.

Dean groans. "See you've started a whole revolution."

"now we'll tell the whole school." Garrett says with a grin.

I watch their banter happen, still curled into Logan who now has his hand behind me on the couch, ever-so-protective, while he occasionally kissed my hair like he's been doing it forever. And honestly, he has been.

─•──── ᯓ★ ─•──── ᯓ★ ─•──── ᯓ★ ─•──── ᯓ★

Read another one? (Garrett Graham)

[hauntedsilences]

they don't know about us

part 7

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6 pairing: john logan x fem!reader (garrett's sister)

word count: 3.2k

summary: you have known john logan since you first came to briar u. he became a constant in your life, as he was a constant in your brother's life. developing a crush on him felt easy, perhaps the easiest thing that you had ever done. however john logan was two things: your brothers best friend, and plainly not interested in you. at least, you don't think he is? it's easy to pass off the flirting and lingering stares as it simply being who he was. was it though? or was there something more.

author note: i know i said this wasn't coming until later this week but then i kept thinking about the ending scene and i just... had to type it out.. but it is 11:20 pm so i definitely am not proofreading!!

taglist: @wintermoonly @kayleighniks @f4ll-for-you @its-phi @nihoshi17 @sycamore55 @notsosweetcreature

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚

the weekend goes by in a flash, and neither of you mention that first night. nor do you bring up the three words that fell from your lips in a drunken confession before sleep took you. rather, you go on as you were. stolen touches under the table and in your bedroom when no one was looking. tracing patterns on your shoulder as his arm is lazily slung over the back of the couch while everyone drinks, argues, and plays games.

even down to the night that he snuck into your room well after everyone had fallen asleep. when tuck was snoring, likely dreaming of some girl back in texas that he as babbling about earlier in the night after finding her instagram. when the cabin went completely quiet and his footsteps were hidden beneath the howling of the wind outside.

he didn't rap on your door this time, but rather slowly turned the knob before letting himself in. quietly he made his way to the bed, lowering himself down next to you and wrapping you in his arms, "what are you doing?," you asked, confusion lacing your words as you speak.

"i missed you," he whispers, a kiss falling onto your lips as he speaks.

"this is dangerous," you say then, pulling back with a concerned look on your face. his eyes meet yours for a moment, and you can't help the way that you get lost in them.

"who cares?" the two words fall between you for a moment, and you can tell that he means them. tell that the risk seems worth it to him despite the months you both spent laying low and honoring the pact you made to keep it a secret.

"i care," you say, words soft and low as you speak, "and garrett will definitely care if he finds out."

there is a beat of silence that falls between you then. the only sound in the room being a mix of the howling wind and your ragged breathes. you can feel his heart beat in his chest as it's pressed flush against your own. then a sigh falls from his lips, "just give me a few hours, please," there is a pleading in his tone that you are utterly unfamiliar with, "and then he doesn't have to know. our secret, remember?"

our secret. the mantra you have had blasting in your head over and over and over for months now.

"fine," you say with a teasing eyeroll, "but only because i am very cold in this bed." there is a laugh that escapes him, once of those perfectly melodic laughs that always seems to find it's way into your bloodstream and course through your entire body.

he pulls you closer, and you feel so at home in his arms that you wish he didn't have to leave. that the few hours would extend until forever, even if you know that it isn't possible. even if you know the way that the betrayal of it all would reverberate through out the house in the morning.

even still, you find a way to fall asleep in his arms. as if they were home enough to make you forget how the bed was lumpy and uncomfortable, feeling so unlike your own.

when you wake, for a moment there is a hope that he is there. he isn't, and you knew he wouldn't be. you don't know when he left, all you do know that the bags under his eyes seem more prominent when you spot him in the kitchen for breakfast.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

life goes back to normal once you all make it back to briar. the boys go back to practice, and you back to filling your break with silly hobbies and binging a lot of shows. john finds his way to your dorm almost every night. once he off handedly mentioned how tucker had asked where he was going every day, and he had lied and said he picked up some extra handyman gigs that left him more busy than usual.

you try not to think into it too much. if only for the fact that you know he could have told a half truth. could have said he might have a new girlfriend that he wasn't ready to introduce. except, there is that word again: girlfriend. the thing he hasn't called you, the word you are too scared to bring up. perhaps his lie was better, it came with less expectations.

you were busy working on a crocheting project (a new hobby of yours, you can't decide if you hate it or not) one saturday afternoon when your phone aggressively begins to buzz next to you. you set down the yarn and hook, and pick it up to find that john had texted you.

john: you coming to the party after the game tonight? or are you going to be too busy with your old lady crafts? you: can you shut up? john: you didn't answer my question. you: i'm only going if you win john: great, cyat you: ... do you mean, see you then?

they won the game, but that doesn't shock you. the team they were going against wasn't really all that good. if they had lost, you genuinely would have been shocked. even still, you find yourself on the edge of your seat for the entire game. cheering for every goal, and winking at john each time that he notices you in the stands.

you are so caught up in the joy of the game that you nearly miss the look that logan gives your father when he spots him in the parking lot. a look that is so recognizable that it nearly gives you chills. he looks as if he wants to kill, and you figure he might if given the chance.

the only thing that distracts him is when he spots you, immediately beelining his way over to you. "did you not drive?" he asks as he meets up with you, hand lingering on your arm for a moment before you turn and start walking towards his truck.

"no," you say with a soft shake of your head, "i didn't want to have to drive back to my dorm and then call a cab to the house. i figured i'd just ask you for a ride." you look up at him then with a smile on your face, knowing that the likelihood of him saying no was very low.

there is a laugh that escapes him as the both of you finally approach his truck towards the end of your words. there is a pause in movements as he looks at you, and the look in his eyes lets know that you already won. and if his eyes didn't give it away, then him opening the passenger door for you definitely did.

you hop into the passenger seat and watch as he slides his hockey bag down by your feet. normally, it would go in the back but it had been snowing and the bed of the truck was wet. you didn't mind it, really, because at least it meant you were in his truck.

he closes the door then and moves around the truck to the driver side. the moment that he slides into the truck, you turn to beam a bright, toothy smile at him, "i'm picking the music," you announce with ease.

his head snaps to you and there is a look of mild annoyance on his face as he states, "no, you're not. my truck, my playlist," he establishes rather quickly before sticking the key in the engine and turning it on.

"please?," you ask, a slight pout in your lip as you look at him with big doe eyes. he doesn't look at you immediately, probably because he knows that he will cave once he does. it's a look that you have given him a few times now, and he tends to always give in the moment that he sees it.

finally, his eyes shift towards you and he lets out a sigh before handing the aux cord to you in a silent agreement. you accept it and eagerly plug it in before putting on one of your favorite playlists.

the music pushes out of the speaker, and he sighs again before putting the truck in drive and pulling out of the parking lot. as soon as he is comfortably on the road then, his hand reaches out and settles onto your thigh. your eyes shift down to his hand, the warmth of his touch seeping through your jeans and into your skin. there is a moment of pause before you reach out your own hand and lace your fingers through his, happy to hold it for the few short moments that you are able before you are both forced back into a crowded room with prying eyes.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

the party goes into full swing rather quickly. people filtering in quickly, all still riding off the high of the game. you stick by logan at first, talking with him and some of the other guys on the team. they all seem to be chattering about their favorite moments, and you make sure to chime in about the way it looked from the audience's perspectives.

it's only been about an hour before logan is dragged away to do the traditional hockey shot that they always do after a winning game. you watch from the side, a smile on your face as you watch them all do it together and cheer in some typical way. he is about to make his way back over to you when one of your friends comes and grabs onto your arm dragging you to the other side of the house in a hurry.

you didn't want to be separated from him, but how did you explain that to everyone? how did you make it make sense without telling on yourself?

so, you follow her over and find yourself trapped into helping them settle some weird moral debate that you did not care about. the conversation drags on for longer than you want given that the two won't stop arguing back and forth, and you have to keep interjecting to ask for clarifications so that you can give a final verdict.

you're not sure how long it had been, but eventually you find a perfect place to excuse yourself and start making your way through the room again.

you look for john, but when you find he seems caught up in a conversation with some of the hockey guys and a few pretty fake blondes. joining them feels like torture, so you find your way to the kitchen to get another drink instead.

you had grabbed a can of beer from the fridge, and had just cracked it open with a boy from the football team stumbles into you, "oh my god," you let out as you fumble back then. he turns around immediately and begins to flood you with a million apologies.

then, when you think he will walk away, he doesn't. rather he follows you to clear corner in the kitchen and you talk. he says something funny, and you find yourself laughing so loudly at it that the sound fills the room.

john's head snaps immediately when he hears it, searching the room for you. there was a smile on his face that fades when he realizes who you are talking to. when he realizes that it was this man who made you laugh.

you are so caught up in the conversation that you don't notice his eyes on you. you don't see the crease in his eyebrow as he watches the two of you talk. watches as you laugh and smile, and the football player seems to accidentally put his hand on your arm when he laughs in return.

you don't notice john, but allie does.

"you're staring," she tells him as she leans her body against the wall, head tilting as she looks at him.

"what?," john asks, but he doesn't turn to face her. rather, his eyes keep burning holes in the back of the football players shirt.

"i said that you're staring," she states, her words a bit more pointed then, "granted, you're always staring at her." it is then when john looks at her, and his eyebrows knit together, "do you really think no one notices? maybe the boys don't, but i do."

"it's not--" he starts, but she immediately cuts him off.

"it is," she states with a cocked eyebrow, "i saw you sneaking out of her room at the cabin. i was in the kitchen getting water, and there you were." a hand scrubs over his face then, a look of a man who had definitely been caught. a laugh escapes allie's lips, "i'm not going to tell anyone, logan. i care too much about her to ruin your secret."

relief washes over his face then, and the reminder of that guy talking to you seemed to come rushing back when he hears you laugh again. his head snaps back up to stare at the two of you, eliciting a heavy sigh from allie, "just go over there, idiot, before everyone in this room begins to smell your jealousy."

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

it takes him 15 minutes of seething before john decides that he can't take it anymore. the cup in his hand is beginning to falter under his white knuckled grip, and he has to actually stop himself from crumpling it completely in his grasp. before he stalks over to you and that football player, he takes it upon himself to finish the rest of his beer in one go. at least this way it will look like he had an excuse.

not that he thinks he needs one, given that his girl was sitting there laughing with some other stupid, fucking guy.

he drops the cup in the trash, it was far beyond the point of being used again, and finds his way over where the two of you stood in the corner. there is a smile on your face when you notice him, head tilting to look at him and a laugh still dancing on your lips when you say, "logan!"

you hadn't called him logan in months, it drives him insane that you do.

"have you met terrance?," you ask, head turning them to look at the other boy. terrance sticks his hand out then, but john doesn't take it. rather he just looks him up and down in a way that makes terrance visible uncomfortable, and you immediately feel the need to fill the awkward silence that grows between them, "he was just telling me that we are in the same chem class? and we were talking about how much of a horror show it was."

john's eyes shift from terrance to you, and his face is flat and emotionless as he states, "can i talk to you?"

your eyebrows crease for a moment, and there is an awkward laugh that escapes you as you say, "okay?" your head then turns to terrance and you offer him a sympathetic smile as you say, "i will talk to you later," and your hand falls onto his arm, "if not here then we can get coffee sometime? prepare for the next chem class?"

out of the corner of your eye you can see john's jaw tense, a muscle flexing in it that you had only ever seen happen when he was angry. terrance, thankfully, doesn't seem to notice and says something about texting him before walking back into the party and finding someone else to mingle with.

your attention turns back to john, "you wanted to talk?," you ask with confusion lacing your tone. you lift the beer can to your lips, taking a drink from it in hopes of it doing something to cut the awkward, unsettled feeling that was weighing on your chest.

"not here," he responds, his voice sounds more like a growl than anything else. his hand wraps around yours as begins to pull you away from the crowded kitchen and out to the front yard which was empty due to the cold, winter air.

you realize immediately that you don't have your coat on when the air bites at your skin. however, you don't get long to think about it before you are face to face with john and he demands, "you were flirting with him."

confusion clouds your face then as your eyebrows knit together, "no, i wasn't?" the words come out more like a question, which seems to make that muscle in his jaw tense even more.

the wind blows then, cold and uncomfortable as it bites at the exposed skin of your arms. your hands lift up instinctively to rub against the skin in hopes of bringing some heat into them.

"yes, you were," he states then, eyes flicking down to your arms as you rub at them. there is a sigh that escapes him as he starts to take off his own jack, but that doesn't stop him from continuing to speak, "you were touching him, smiling, and laughing," he goes on to explain, the coat now off of his body, "so what do you call that?"

you almost miss the question, distracted by how he reaches up to wrap the coat around your shoulders. however, there is an intensity in his eyes that brings you back to the conversation, "i call it talking, john." the words are harsh as they leave your mouth.

"okay, so what do you call asking him out for coffee?," there is an anger in his tone that is hard to miss.

"i call it being friendly."

"really? because to me it seemed a lot like my girlfriend asking some stupid fucking footballer out on a date."

you pause then, and your eyes go wide as he says it. that word. that one that you had thought was forbidden had just left his mouth, and you don't know what to do with that. "what?" the word stumbles out of your mouth without much thought of all.

"i don't understand how that wasn't clear?"

"no, i get what you're saying," you rush to say, eyebrows knitting together for a moment. "but you never said i was your girlfriend before. we never even talked about being exclusive, john." the defense feels pathetic as it falls from your lips. "not that i was asking him out, because i wasn't, but i..."

he takes a step closer to you then, closing the gap that was between you. standing so close that you can see the breathe that leaves his lips. his head is tilted down as he looks at you, a cloud of emotion hiding just behind his eyes, "you told me you loved me."

oh, that.

"you didn't say it back," you counter, your eyes wide as you look up at his.

there is a moment then when his hand flexes by his side, as if it craves to reach up and rest upon your cheek. a craving that he uses every muscle in his arm to fight against.

"of course i love you," he says then the words coming out as soft as a whisper, "i'm not a fucking idiot."

[hauntedsilences]

now I got somethin' to lose

pairing: john logan x fem!reader

word count: 1,059

summary: you meet him on accident when the faucet in your small apartment had broke and a friend had suggested him as a handyman. you never expected the romance that would have blossomed from that. how he would have asked for your number, even after you daughter had extended his work time by constantly stealing his tools. now it's been a couple of months, and you can't help the way that you have fallen in love with him just as he can't help the way that he had fallen in love with the two of you.

author note: this is just a cute lil one shot idea i had! pls enjoy!

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚

your books are sprawled across the tiny kitchen table as you pour over them trying to study for your midterm. however, every so often there is a ring of laughter that blossom's through the house and you can't help but focus on the sound of it for just a moment. how those tiny giggles would reverberate across the walls and settle somewhere comfortably in your chest.

he was always so good with her.

you had met him almost a year ago, back when your daughter was only 2 years old and insistent on getting into everything that she could. he came highly recommended by one of your friends as one of the cheapest and best handymen across campus. she had given you his number, and he was quick to schedule a time to come over the following day.

you had tried your best to keep your daughter, ellie, out of his tool bag. it was just that she was faster than she looked, and had this way of sneaky away from you at any moment. you expected him to be annoyed with her and swear to never come back. however, he was sweet to her and even tried to include her. asking her hand him things and showing her what he was fixing.

he was sweet, and it was refreshing. it made accepting his date proposal easy. perhaps the easiest thing that you had ever done.

everything that came after was a whirlwind. the two of you fell into this perfectly blissful relationship, and he was so good with ellie. he took time to focus on her and build a relationship of their own. it was something that you always worried would never happen. which, isn't to say that were mad about it. you were content with it being just you and her. especially given that she was the reason you were doing all of this.

that being said, you can't deny the relief and joy that you felt when you realized that it didn't have to be just you and her.

it became the three of you. he hadn't moved in yet, but he was over all the time. enough that it felt normal and comfortable to have him there. he also watched her on his own when you wanted to see your friends or had a study group. the two of you went to his games and hung out at his house with his roommates. it was easy how integrated he became in your lives, and vice versa.

so it wasn't shocking when he said he would be over to entertain her and care for her while you studied for your midterm. he knew how terrible three has been with her. how she opted for destruction over a quiet playtime. it made studying easy, and you weren't entirely sure how you would do it without him. honestly, every day you feel more and more thankful for him.

"good news," the words break through the room as you look up at see john as he makes his way over to the table, "i wore her out and now she finally napping." he settles in to the chair next to you, head tilting to the side as he looks at your biology text book. it takes him a moment before he reaches forward and closes it in front of you. "hey," you protest, eyebrows knitting together as you turn to face him. there he sits with that stupidly cute smile of his. the one that always makes your heart leap into your throat. "i was reading that," you continue, a stern tone taking over your voice.

"well, i think you need a break," he teases, his smile beginning to look more like a mischievous smirk. you can't help but melt when he gives you that look. you watch as he leans forward and kisses you softly, another thing that causes you to melt.

then he pulls away, but he still stays close enough that he is the only thing that you can focus on. there is a pout that overtakes your face momentarily the moment that his lips are no longer on yours. john can't help the way that he laughs at the sight before asking, "are you hungry?"

"if i say no, will you go back to kissing me?"

"unfortunately, babe, no," he says with a half laugh, "because i know when you are lying. want me to go pick up something from malones?"

"um, no," you say with a slight scowl, "i am not letting you leave this house."

"fine, pizza it is," he adds before moving to get up and go grab his phone from the living room. however your hand wraps around his wrist and you force him to stop walking. his body turns towards yours with a quizzical look, and your hand reaches up to grip onto the collar of his shirt. you then pull him down towards you and kiss him again.

your lips find his, and you kiss him in a way that is heavy and hungry. it's easy, the way your tongue slips past his lips as you deepen the kiss. his hand wraps behind the back of your head and tangles in your hair as he pulls you closer, eager to have you as close to him as possible.

then, you pull away, but you keep him close, "so pizza?," you ask teasingly, "you want to spend this break with her napping eating pizza?"

a frustrated sigh leaves him then and a hand scrubs across his face, and you can see the battle he is waging upon himself. for he has always been the kind of boyfriend that wanted to take care of you. the one to make sure you are sleeping and eating. "babe," his voice trails off then and you can see the desire hidden right behind his eyes.

"yes?" you ask back, biting down on your bottom lip as you look up at him. it seems to be enough to break him, because he reaches down to lift you up from your seat and throw you over his shoulder. there is a laugh that escapes you then, a giggle that fills the room as he starts to make the all too familiar walk back to your bedroom.

you won. though, that isn't surprising, because you always win.

[toonice113]

A Few Of Your Own.

Pairings: (book) John Logan x fem!reader

Summary: You and Logan fall in love during what he thought would be just another dreadful summer under the rain and you show him you'll keep showing up no matter what.

Word count: 2.5k

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ I'm so excited that the great divide tour has started! I'm seeing Noah in DC in July and I can't wait, so here's a lil story based on one of my favorite songs from the album (it literally changes everyday) and there might be a sequel with yet another song in the album hehe be on the lookout!

Off campus masterlist

I was high when I met you, life was somethin' to get through.

Logan hated the summer, while his friends were off at the beach, or visiting their family, or even on their own working a summer job, he was stuck at home with an alcoholic father and a mechanic shop to run. His brother had declared that this year him and his girlfriend had decided to actually take a vacation away from all their problems, a two week trip to Mexico followed by three more weeks around the US which meant Logan had to cover for him.

He was already high when he got to his childhood home, having smoked a joint Dean had left him with on his way there, irresponsible? Yes, but as idiotic as it sounded, part of him thought an accident would've been better than being stuck here. He didn't have a lot, leaving his favorite clothes behind at the hockey house and only carrying a backpack with the items he'd wear while fixing stuff up at the house or in the odd jobs he'd take here and there with neighbors.

The garage was closed, expected, his brother had let him know he'd closed shop before leaving just an hour ago, so he opened it up stalling for when he would have to go in and check on his dad who was probably shit faced already even though it was barely 2pm. Eventually, after smoking yet another joint he finally made the short walk to his house. Inside, his dad was sitting on a recliner, seemingly asleep with the tv on a replay of an old baseball game and a bottle of cheap alcohol clutched to his chest. The sight was pathetic and this was what his life was leading to.

"Oh…" A quiet voice from the kitchen door startled him "You must be John, Jeff mentioned you were coming in today"

"Who are you?" Logan was confused as to why there was a pretty girl his age in the dump that was his dad's house.

"Jeff didn't tell you?" You'd introduced yourself with your name and then told him about how you came in a few days a week to help with cleaning up the house and checking on his dad occasionally, he had no idea how Jeff was affording that but he didn't ask, not his problem yet, plus his brain was too foggy to catch up with more information than your name.

Ain't it strange how you saw me gettin' dressed in the hallway?

He wasn't used to being back yet, the first few days were always the most difficult, the shift from his life in campus as a popular and respected hockey player to whoever this version of himself was never went smoothly, that's how he ended with a whole can of auto oil on his shirt and pants, grumbling at himslef for not paying more attention he dragged himself into the house where his dad was once again passed out drunk in front of the old tv.

He took his shirt off and then his pants in the hallway on his way to his room, the fact that you were in the house today completely slipping his mind until you collided with his chest on your way out of the bathroom.

"Sorry" You said with wide eyes, you weren't blind, John was handsome on a regular day, but sweaty, shirtless, disheveled John was kind of unfair "I- uh, sorry" Yet you didn't move as your bodies pressed against each other.

"No worries" He was the first one to move taking a step back and to the side so you could be on your way.

After a few seconds you snapped out of it, feeling the heat of blush (or embarrassment, or both) on your cheeks you managed to blubber a "I'll uh kitchen" And rushed away.

Logan chuckled and went into his room to get fresh clothes to get back to work.

You could tell I was fallin', or escapin' from somethin'. You didn't say a single word, you didn't see me as a curse.

The first time you had an actual conversation happened towards the end of the first week he'd been there, Garrett had stopped by with pizza and beers, you'd been in the house and noticed that John kept Garrett as far away from it as he could. The hockey captain left a little before you finished tidying up the house. And just as you walked into the garage to let Logan know you were leaving a heavy rain settled in.

"I can drive you once it calms down" He'd offered after you asked if you could stay for a bit since you were walking home today.

"Thank you" You agreed and then somehow a conversation started.

You talked long after the storm calmed down, sitting on two old car seats you told him about how you were working here for whatever Jeff could scramble and babysitting your neighbor's kid whenever you weren't here as you took a semester off of school to hopefully save some money. He told you about his Briar hockey scholarship and his agreement with Jeff, you told him about how your mom had died when you were little and your dad had left when you turned 18.

It was dark by the time he drove you home and as you sat in the truck before getting out you had said seven words that stayed with him for a long time "You are a good man John Logan"

The state of the summer blends us in with each other. We would pray for more thunder, for a night under cover.

The week after he drove you home Logan almost forgot how shitty his life actually was, his highlight was when it rained, if he wasn't super busy with a car (which he barely ever was) he'd jog back to the house before it got too bad with the excuse of coming in for some water or a snack and you would both sit on the back porch talking and watching the rain. Or at night, when you were leaving. If you had your car (a shitty old Honda Civic) with you you'd park it in front of the garage and come in to say goodbye, if you'd walked that day (because you had no money for gas) you'd wait until he was done with work so he could drive you.

And the nights when it rained? Well those were both of your favorites.

We were huddlin' like mice, below an unforgivin' sky.

It was a Friday night when he was driving you home that the sky seemed to part in two and come down weeping out of nowhere. It had been too much rain to keep driving so Logan had turned on the hazards on and parked on the safest side of the road he cold find. Your windows had been down when it started raining and in the short time it had taken to put them up you'd gotten a bit wet so now you were cold and shivering.

"Come here" He'd offered pulling you closer so you were huddled together in the middle of the seat, his arms around you warming you up as the rain poured all around you.

"You know, when I was a kid I was so afraid of storms" You admit, he looks down as you keep with your story "I'd run into my parents room the moment I heard the rain start because I thought rain meant lightning and I didn't understand that it couldn't get me inside my house"

"Are you still scared?" He asked because he'd lost count of how many storms the two of you had braved together in the past weeks and you hadn't seem scared at all.

You shake your head "Not anymore, after I lost my mom I started taking comfort in them actually. Storms always meant being envolved in my mom's arms, so now when the rain starts I can almost feel her wrap me up and tell me she won't let anything happen to me"

Two souls in one truck, and no money left to lose. Teach me how to not stare at you.

Things between you shifted subtly at first, fleeting touches, silent secret conversations with your eyes and then fast in a blink of an eye, a deep kiss out of nowhere followed by makeout sesions that ended with hookups everywhere and anytime you had the chance and an infinite amount of car rides together.

Sometimes Logan would close the garage at lunch time and take you out for something to eat, other days you'd drive without a set location and end up in town or at the county line before turning back, whatever it was, one thing was for sure, every red light and stop sign Logan's eyes were set on you.

"What?" You'd chuckled once when you caught him "Is there something on my face?" You pulled the sun visor down and checked yourself in the mirror "Is it my teeth? You're supposed to tell me by the way"

"There's nothing" He'd snapped the visor up "I just… I don't know, don't take this in a weird way but I just can't seem to stop staring at you"

"Well, I don't think there's a different way to take that John" You'd joked "Kinda creepy"

And I felt the spiral of the earth when you finally called me yours.

It happened on a Wednesday, you'd been acting like a couple for weeks now, but neither of you had put a label on it yet. It was one of those days where here was no business at the garage and his dad was too busy arguing with the old baseball game on the tv to care about Logan not working so he'd texted you telling you he was picking you up from your babysitting job to take you out to a movie once you were done.

"I'll see you soon okay?" You crouched down in front of the little girl you'd been watching.

The pigtailed girl frowned "Why can't we have a sleepover tonight?"

"I made plans with someone else for tonight sweeetheart" You explained soflty "But next time I'm around we can make a fort and watch all those barbie movies we were talking about yeah?"

"Okay" The girl sighed in resignation giving you a hug to say goodbye, that's when she noticed Logan standing by his truck, he was parkd close enough that he could hear your conversation but far enough to not spook the girl "Is that who you have plans with?" You hummed in confirmation "Is he your boyfriend?"

You laughed and then, as if it was nothing new you said "Yeah, he is"

Logan swore he had felt the world reset, the colors around him exploding into something more vibrant, your laugh sounded more harmonic than ever and when you kissed him hello after the girl was safely inside you tasted sweeter than ever.

Once all the rain stopped, I was afraid you might wake up. And remember who I was, and remember what I've done.

For once in his life, summer ended too fast for Logan's liking and soon enough he was packing up the little he had brought over into his truck and getting ready to go back to Briar. His biggest fear? You deciding this ended with summer, that him leaving meant your relationship was over.

"You sure you've got everything?" You'd asked leaning on the side of the truck.

"Almost" He answered, you raised an eyebrow in question "I'm missing you"

You laughed at the cheesy remark "I've got school too remember? Gotta get back on track so I can get a big girl job and I don't end up being called a gold digger once you make it as a big hockey player" He hadn't even corrected you on the fact that he was not making it to the NHL because he had to come back here after he was done with college.

"You better answer my calls" He sighed pulling you into a hug and speaking into your hair "And it's gonna be a lot of calls, so many calls you'll be sick of me"

"Never" you replied "I'll answer every single one, and I'll see you for thanksgiving right?"

He wasn't too sure he'd be able to make it out this year since they had games sandwiched in between the holiday but he just hummed in agreement, he'd figure it out "And you can come over whenever you're free"

I grew up with a feelin' that what's good must be fleeting. That if I'm happy, I'm dreamin', then I'm prepared for you leavin'. But I see that shitty beat-up car, oh baby, there you are

Logan was tired, too tired to function properly as a person let alone a boyfriend, you'd driven to him last night all excited about meeting his friends and seeing him play but they had lost horribly because their new coach had messed up with their lines and everyone was in a sour mood, including him. Then Jeff had called to remind him of their plans for next summer and by the time he'd reached you, the only good thing of the night, he couldn't even get himself to be in a good enough mood for you.

You'd gone to sleep after a quick quiet dinner where you updated him on your classes and what had happened back home and he tried his best to listen attentively and make conversation as well as he could. Then this morning he'd left you asleep with a kiss saying he'd be back after his early class and had spent the whole two hours of lecture convincing himself that you would be gone by the time he got home later because that seemed to be the way his life worked.

He never let himself enjoy things too much because good things ended way too soon in his world and you'd been around for a while now, you'd make him so happy, made him forget about the ugly in his life so much that sometimes he thought he was dreaming, so the drive back to the hockey house he prepared himself for the heartbreak.

But then he saw it, the shitty beat up Honda Civic he'd worked on a few times now, parked up in the driveway next to Dean's shiny Audi because you hadn't left. And when he opened the door he was greeted with your sweet laugh and the warmth of a house full of pople that loved him, Garrett and Hannah cuddled up on the couch, Tucker pulling something out of the oven, Dean reading a text from a puck bunny out loud and you, waiting for him to come home.

And all he could think was what a time to be alive. Because he no longer felt alone, he'd known just well, he'd known hell and now he didn't, now he only knew this.

[rgntthragg]

The Uniform Stays ON

☄︎ Warnings: oral (f!receiving), ridin’, sweaty logan, not proofread (it's 3am i'm sorry) ☄︎ Pairing: F!Reader x John Logan ☄︎ Rating/Genre: Mature (🔞). Smut. ☄︎ Words: 2800 ☄︎ Summary: You and Logan semi-make up in the locker room after an argument.

💭: am I toxic? lol🧍🏾‍♀️you all are making my logan obsession become so much worse!! i’m supposed to be a loyal dean girlie pls! but... i have some more logan fics to get to which i am very excited about hehe... if you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment, ask, reblog etc, it means a lot xx

Read the original request here. 〣 Find my Off Campus Masterlist here.

You paced the length of the Hawk’s arena hallway, trying your best not to let your impatience show. The muffled sound of celebratory music thumping from the main arena doors down the hallway doing nothing but making you even more antsy.  

Under your impatience, you were furious. You had been furious since last night, when you and Logan argued over something so miniscule that you couldn’t even remember what it was about. While you don’t remember the cause of it, you do remember that you’re furious about it.

It didn’t help that the two of you hadn’t spoken to one another from since he had said, “I love you, but I’m not doing this right now.” and walked out of your dorm, slamming the door on his way out. Okay, he hadn’t actually slammed the door but, to you, he basically did. And that made you furious.

Despite your stubborn vow to ignore him until he came crawling back to you, you still found yourself sitting in the stands with Hannah and Allie to watch the game. You had, childishly, planned to look unbothered and uninterested in the game. You had even practised your yawn. But, from the moment that Logan took to the ice to the time he got off it, you were on the edge of your seat.

He played like a man possessed. Obviously, he was just as furious as you were and he had channelled all of that into the game. He was checking the Harvard guys into the plexiglass with such a force that you swear you saw it wobble. He threw his head back and roared when he scored, it took all of your dignity to not start moaning right there and then.

Every time he skated past your section, chest heaving under the padding, you became a little less angry with him. And, somehow, a whole lot more furious with him.

And this wait was making it worse.

The double doors of the locker room finally clicked open; the team flooding out in chaotic chatter. You watched as the partners gravitated towards their boyfriends. That should be you and Logan, but it’s not because you’re ‘fighting’. You stayed with your back against the wall, waiting for the hallway to clear. You knew that Logan wouldn’t be coming out with them.

Once the hallway cleared and the voices faded, you pushed open the door and stepped into the way-too-brightly lit locker room.

Logan was sitting in his stall, his forearms resting heavily on his knees as he stared blankly at the Hawks logo on the carpeted floor. His thick, dark curls fell over his eyes, soaked with sweat. He was still in his uniform, only his skates and helmet were off, discarded somewhere on the floor.

Even from across the room, you could feel the pent-up aggression vibrating off of him in waves.

When the door clicked shut behind you, his head snapped up. You leant back against the it, refusing to come in any further. You’d already taken the first step towards him. Now he had to come to you. His eyes narrowed on you, dark and intense.

“You’re still here,” he rasped. It wasn’t a question, but you answered it anyway.

“Yes,” you said, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. And, because you were being petty, added, “and, I’m still mad at you.”

Logan snorted, running a tense hand through his damp hair. He slowly stood up and walked over to you, stopping inches away from you.  

Without his skates, he didn’t tower over like he would have done on the ice, but he was tall enough and wide enough to make you feel surrounded as you stood up straighter against the door.

His jaw clenched as he looked down at you and you felt a sudden heat pooling between your legs.

“I’m still mad at you,” he fired back.

“Mhm,” you murmured.

Your eyes greedily looked over him. The way his brow was furrowed. The sharpness of his jawline. The way he watched you looking all dark and serious. He looked rugged, undone, and it was so attractive to you that it made your heart ache and pussy clench.

His jaw clenched under your scrutiny, his gaze dropping to your lips as his breathing became shallower, more uneven.

“Have you come to pick another fight?” Logan asked.

“Maybe,” you countered, your voice steady despite your racing pulse. “Why? Do you want me to?”

“No.”

“Well, then I’m not here for that.”

“Then why are you here?”

He knew why you were here, the asshole. He could see your eyes travelling his body. He could see you watching the sweat roll down his neck. There’s no way he didn’t notice your chest rising or the way your eyes had dilated. He just wanted to hear you say it.

He leant forward slightly, hands slamming against the wall on either side of your head, trapping you there.

God, the smell of him. From this close, it was overwhelming. The smell of his sweat shouldn’t have pulled you in the way it did. But there was something so him and so masculine about the way he smelt.

That’s how you knew you were down bad.

You looked up at him, your stubbornness and pride pushed aside by the unadulterated need. “Are you going to kiss me or what?”

He didn’t answer and worse, he didn’t kiss you. Instead, the motherfucker smirked at you. He slipped his hands under your thighs, grabbing a hold of your ass and effortlessly lifted you up. He pressed you back against the door and you instinctively wrapped your legs around him.

The padding under his jersey prevented you from being chest to chest, forcing him to lean forward and tilt his face towards yours.

He hovered there, his lips a fraction away from yours, so close that you could feel the rapid puff of his warm breath on you, but he still wouldn’t kiss you. He stared down at your lips, then looked back up at you. You looked into his eyes, seeing the intensity of last night’s anger, tonight’s victory, and his raw desire for you. It was one of the things you loved most about him, he couldn’t hide anything in his eyes.

You felt a vein in your neck throb. You tilted your chin up, expecting him to crash his lips against yours now that you’ve made the first move. But Logan deliberately pulled his head back just an inch further. Teasing you. Letting you ache for it.

“Asshole,” you muttered, your fingers digging tightly into the damp fabric of his padded shoulders.

“Say that again.”

Instead of answering, you tried to pull his head down, but he held his ground. Keeping his eyes locked on yours, he shifted his weight, deliberately grinding his hips forward to press the hardness in his pants right against you.

“Ass. Hole.” You punctuate each syllable, if that’s what he wanted, you would give it to him.

His eyes flared as heat ran through his body. He ground into you again, making your breath hitch.

Lifting you higher in his arms, he pressed himself against you. His dick was twitching in his pants, and he so desperately needed relief.

“What am I going to do with you?” He let out an exasperated laugh as he tilted his head and leant into you.

The first touch of his lips was just a soft brush, but it still sent a ripple down your spine. You hadn’t expected him to be so delicate after the way he’d been looking at you and teasing you. He lingered there, brushing his lips across yours.

He brushed his lips against yours once more, before capturing your lower lip between his teeth, biting and tugging slightly.

You moaned.

The second the sound left your throat; Logan released your lip and kissed you for real. It was bruising and desperate and exactly what you needed to get out the frustrations of the last 24 hours. His hands were suddenly all over you in a frantic blue, sliding up the hem of your shirt, cupping your ass to lift you higher, caressing your face to tilt your mouth deeper into his.

Clinging to his neck, you were only faintly aware that he had begun moving. He kept his lips on yours, carrying you across the room as he stumbled to his locker.

He didn’t break the kiss until he was in front of his locker. As his hands slid from your ass, to your waist, he pulled back, eyes locking onto yours as his chest heaved.

“Pants off,” he said, voice gruff.

The moment you unwrapped your legs from him and stood up, he was there to help you with your jeans. His fingers were trembling as he frantically tried to undo the button.

Once your jeans slid down, you sat back on the black cushion of his locker bench, looking up at him with your heart hammering in your chest.

Logan dropped to his knees, settling right between your legs. His hands gripped your knees, spreading your legs open to look at the wet patch on your panties.

He stayed there for a beat, thinking about exactly how he wanted to devour you first. He settled on your thighs first.

His hands stayed gripped on your knees as he leant forward, pressing kisses and sucking on the sensitive skin along your inner thigh, travelling up. He got unbearably close to where you were waiting for him, already soaked, before trailing back down again.

You let out a frustrated whimper, your fingers clawing at his scalp.

On his third journey up, a heavy hand came to your stomach as he gently guided you to lean back against the wooden cubby. At the same time, his other hand slid around your lower back.

With an effortless tug, he pulled you forward until your ass was right at the edge of the bench. You rested one leg over his shoulder, completely opening you up to him.

It had only been a day and a half since he last had his face buried between your legs, but to him, it might as well have been an eternity.

“Fuck, baby, I missed this,” he said as he buried his face between your legs, inhaling you in.

With one hand, he slid your panties to the side and parted one of your folds so he could lick a fat stripe up your pussy. He did it again, and again, and again, lapping up the juices there before moving to focus on your clit.

Your hips bucked into his mouth as he flicked his tongue against you. He had no more intentions to tease you; he wanted you to cum on his face.

He used his nose to rub against your clit and you shamelessly rolled your hips over it. The friction feeling so good.

A whine caught in your throat as he dove back in with his tongue, flicking from left to right.

“Logan~~.”

He looked up at you, spit and arousal shining on the lower half of his face. “Feel good, baby?”

“So, good, you always make me feel so good.” You curled your fingers in his dark curls, pushing him back between your legs.  

Chuckling at your impatience, he went right back to work. His hand slipped under the hem of your top again so he could squeeze and knead your breast, the other still holding your panties so he could get at you.  

You tugged at his hair as he pressed his tongue against you and swirled it in uncontrolled circles.

When he was between your legs, all he cared about was giving you exactly what you wanted. What your body needed. You needed, he obliged, tongue continuing to flick and swirl against you.

“Don’t stop– I’ll...”  Your thought died on a moan.

The locker room was filled with the wet sounds of him moving his mouth against you, and the loud lewd moans that you freely let out. You didn’t care if anybody was around to hear you. In fact, you wanted them to hear just how good Logan was to you.

He could feel himself getting drunk off of the taste of you, his body was warm and buzzing. He was starting to feel delirious as your hips rolled on him.

The pressure of his tongue on you was perfect, you could feel the pleasure build steadily within you.

“Your tongue feels so good, Loge,” you praised. You were close. So close.

“Then come for me,” he said as he slid two fingers inside of you, curving and caressing your walls.

Shockwaves of pleasure ran over you as you came, clenching on his fingers. He kept his mouth on you through it, humming and moaning at the taste of you.

When your body finally settled, he sat back on his knees, panting heavily as his lips glistened in the harsh fluorescent blue lighting. You reached over, pulling him in for another kiss, tasting yourself on his lips.

“Wanna ride you, Loge,” you mumbled against his lips.

Logan didn’t need to be told twice; he was already thumbling with his pants when you pulled back to take your panties off.

The pants were barely down past his knees when you gently pushed him to lie flat on the carpet and straddled him.

“Just lay back, let me take care of you now,” you soothed as you ground against him, leaving a trail of slick arousal on his aching dick.

He practically whimpered as you continued to slide over him.

“B-baby.” His hands came to your waist, thumbs digging into your skin through your top. “Let me fuck you.”

Looking down at him, his eyes were half-lidded as they pleaded you. Who were you to argue with those beautiful brown eyes.

Lifting your hips up slightly, you held his dick to guide it into your pussy.

As your hole stretched around his tip, he let out a strangled moan. You watched him as you slowly lowered yourself onto him, coming to a full seat.

He throbbed and twitched within you, his thick head leaking pre-cum. You circled your hips, relishing in the feeling of him rubbing against your walls.

You hadn’t even really moved yet and he already looked wrecked. His mouth was hung slightly open, eyes squeezed shut. You craved more, to see him absolutely shattered by you.

Bracing your hands on his on the still damp fabric of his Briar U jersey, you began to move. You don’t raise your hips high, choosing smaller bounces and grinds of your hips.

For a few minutes of bounces, he let you set your pace, grunting and groaning as you sensually moved over him.

Each bounce brought him to the brink of desperation, his restraint wearing thin.

The hands on your waist tightened as he helped guide your rhythm in desperation. He needed you faster, he needed you to slam back down onto him harder.

“You were so hot out there.” Your voice was breathy, bouncing on him the way you were had you exhausted. “I wanted to touch myself just watching you play.”

The praise made him grip you impossibly tighter, made him slam you back down even harder.

His dick curved just the right way to hit your g-spot, causing you to see stars as you clenched around him. You moaned in tandem, his head thrown back as a result of your vice grip.

You didn’t care that if anyone opened the door right now, they’d come face to face with you bouncing on it. He didn’t care that the carpet rubbed at his ass as he tried to thrust up into you, limited by his pants around his ankles.

All you both cared about was the way you were wrapped around him, and the sounds that tumbled from his mouth as he got close.

It took a few more harsh bounces from you for him to unload into you. The hands on your waist held you in place as he filled you up. You purposely clenched, milking him for all he had.

“Fucking hell.”

You collapsed against his padded chest, your forehead resting against his shoulder as your breathing slowed. You turned to inhale the fresh sweat on his neck. “You need a shower.”

Logan wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tighter against him. An exhausted smirk tugging at his lips. “So do you, coach is going to be pissed if you drip cum onto his floor.”

You were still furious with him, and his stupidly hot face. You knew the fight wasn’t actually over. But, if this is what being angry with Logan brought you, then you were more than happy to pick another fight tomorrow.

[hauntedsilences]

they don't know about us

part 6

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5 pairing: john logan x fem!reader (garrett's sister)

word count: 2.6k

summary: you have known john logan since you first came to briar u. he became a constant in your life, as he was a constant in your brother's life. developing a crush on him felt easy, perhaps the easiest thing that you had ever done. however john logan was two things: your brothers best friend, and plainly not interested in you. at least, you don't think he is? it's easy to pass off the flirting and lingering stares as it simply being who he was. was it though? or was there something more.

author note: we are back to our regularly schedule sweet fluff & fun little moments! this one has a lot more of the other characters mentioned as well! i hope u enjoy it! also i am getting a lil tired & didn't proofread so pls ignore if there are any errors!

taglist: @wintermoonly @kayleighniks @f4ll-for-you @its-phi @nihoshi17

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚

the term comes to a screeching halt, and you are thankful for it. thankful that the stress of exams and papers was done, and that you could breathe for just a moment as you enter winter break. you didn't many plans. it wasn't as if you would go home, so your only option was to stay at briar. which was fine given that the group had planned for a four day weekend cabin trip.

you don't know who's idea it was, allie always claims that it was her, but the group of you make it work. you find a four day weekend where the boys don't have a game and can take a break from practice. one where hannah and allie are able to book the time off, and you all split the price on a four bedroom cabin out in the snowy woods.

four bedrooms. one for hannah and garrett, one for allie and dean, one for tucker and john to share, and then one for you.

you wish that you could share with john in the same way that the other girls get to share, but you know it's not possible. that it would mean you had to crack open your chest and say to your brother "but i love him", even though you know it'd piss him off.

even though you hadn't told logan about the love of it all.

you were scared, honestly.

the two of you hadn't talked about what your relationship was other than it being a secret. there was no talks about exclusivity, and definitely no use of the word "boyfriend" or "girlfriend". so telling him that you loved him felt too heavy, and you worried that he wouldn't receive it well. that even though you had spill apart your ribs and share all the deepest and darkest parts of your broken self, somehow love felt too much. it had too many expectations.

john had texted you the day before saying that he was planning to drive, and was hoping that the two of you could convince the others to let you go in his truck. however when the day came, and you arrived at the hockey house, garrett put all of your bags in his jeep out of instinct. as if it was already decided that you go with him and hannah.

you gave john a sympathetic look and a gentle shrug as you were rushed into the backseat of the jeep and tucker found his place in the passenger seat of john's truck.

you couldn't even text him, and that made the whole thing worse.

when you arrived at the cabin, everyone immediately took their own bags to their respective rooms. you couldn't help the slight pang in your chest as you watched the couples drift off together hand in hand, and then watched john trail behind tucker to a room across the cabin from your own.

you desperately wished he could be with you. the bed would feel cold without him, that you were sure of.

you are busy unpacking your things when there is a gentle rap agains the already open door, "hey," comes the familiar voice and you can't help the way that your head whips around to look at him. there is a smile that overtakes your face as he steps into the room, a few long strides before he is standing in front of you and his hand reaches out to grab onto yours.

the familiar warmth of it engulfs you and for a moment you forget about everyone else in the house. for a moment you forget about everything but him.

then there is a clatter from the kitchen and you are snapped back to reality. your eyes flicker from his face to the open door behind him. john notices, as he always does, and squeezes your hand once before letting it fall from his own.

our secret.

"tuck is starting on dinner," he says softly then, his eyes crinkled from the smile that is still plastered on his face, "and allie just opened a bottle of wine and began pouring a glass all the way to the rim. i think she is also pouring you one, saying something about how you need it after your bio exam?"

there is a laugh that escapes your lips then, "yeah we studied together in the library right before my final, and i cried right in front of her." the words come out with a gentle shake of your head before you add, "i told you?"

he pauses then and this look of thought crosses his face, "i thought that was chem."

you laugh again before shaking your head, "no, chem was when i cried to you in my bedroom."

you both laugh then and he says something about how he remembers, but you barely hear him because you are too caught up in the way his laugh rings throughout the room. how it reverberates in your chest and wraps your heart up in a warm, comfortable hug.

"well, we should head out there before they start to wonder whats taking so long," he says with sad sort of smile, and you know it's because he would rather stay here with you. you know it, because you feel the same. he turns his body then, hand moving to rest on your lower back as he starts to lead you out the room. a touch that only lingers for a moment, but you feel it seared into your skin. a simple thing that you are sure not to forget.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

the night went as expected with this group of people.

tucker had made dinner, as he normally did, and you all enjoyed it while sitting at the large dining room table that the cabin had. john had intentionally sat next to you, and every so often his hand would drop under the table to lightly graze against the side of your thigh. little reminders that he was always thinking of you, and how very hard it seemed to be for him to keep his hands to himself.

from there the group found their way to the living room. you found yourself curled up in the corner of the couch with a (very large) glass of wine thanks to allie. as they all began to filter in, tucker went to sit next you but john all but launched himself over the back of the couch to claim the spot. luckily it was typical behavior on his end and no one really seemed to think much of it.

just as it was typical behavior for him to sling one arm over the back of the couch while the other settle happily at his side with a bottle of beer in hand. as you all sit there talking and drinking, you can't help but notice the way his fingers would graze your shoulder. how sometimes you could swear that he was tracing patterns there with his finger tips.

you almost blush at the thought of it, and you are thankful for the way that wine seems to always make your face heat up and go a little bit red. that way you had something to blame it on if anyone was to notice.

the boys are all arguing about some hockey game, and your legs are tucked up against your chest with your arms wrapped around them and a wine glass tucked happily in both your hands when he squeezes your shoulder. a sensation that causes you to look at him, catching his eyes as he was already smiling in your direction. there is a moment where you hold each other's gaze and he almost goes to mouth something, but allies voice cuts in, "i want to dance!"

your attention shifts to her then as a laugh escapes your lips at her sudden proclamation. his eyes fall on you as they always do when he hears you laugh, and there is a toothy grin that breaks out across his face as the sound plays in his ears.

allie puts on a one direction song before she starts to make her way over to you, "dance with me," she whines in your direction.

you look at her bewildered and hug your legs tighter to your chest, "i am not dancing, al," you say before yours eyes shift to hannah, "ask hannah. or, better yet, ask dean."

there is a pout that crosses her face before she says, "noooo, i want to dance with my girls." from the ways that her words slur and how her hands make a grabbing motion towards you, you can already tell that she is definitely drunk which is going to make telling her no a lot harder.

the word does still linger on your lips, however, because you don't want to dance. yet as you got say it, you feel logan press against your shoulder and the words, "come on, you should definitely dance with you," are quick to follow. there is this stupid, teasing smile on his face that tells you that you are really not winning this one.

"yes! see, you should definitely dance with me! even logan agrees!"

there is a resigned sigh that leaves your lips then as you take another drink from your wine glass before holding it out for logan to take hold of. once it is safely out of your hands, you unfold your legs and reach out to grab onto allie's hands as she pulls you up and starts jumping around the living room. it isn't long until hannah is forced to join you, and the three of you are dancing to the one direction playlist that allie had picked (much to garrett's disgruntled dismay).

as you jump and dance around the room, you can't help the way that your eyes latch onto logans. nor can you help the way that his big, bright smile and laughter seems to ring in your chest every time that you see it.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

by the time that 2am rolls around, you find that you may have had a little bit too much wine as you danced around the living room with the girls. enough that logan, as instructed by garrett who had to carry hannah to bed, had make sure that you made it into your bed.

he had a hand planted firmly on your lower back and a hand loosely wrapped through your own as he leads through the house. it's innocent, or at least everyone thinks that it is. especially given that you had been in this very similar situation without almost all of the boys at least once before.

yet, you know there is something different in this. a burning sensation coming from the palm of his hand as it settles onto your back, and there is this firm comfort that comes from his hand laced around yours. there is laughter that comes from the both of you as you stumble through the cabin and he is forced to catch you every now and again from fully falling on your face.

when you finally make it to your bed, he settles you down onto the bed before going to find the make up remover that he had spotted settled on the dresser. there is a bathroom just around the corner from your room, and walks to it wet a small hand towel before making his way back to your bedroom.

"sit still," he instructs as he settles a hand onto your shoulder. you look up at him under heavy lidded eyes and there is a pout that overtakes your features at the instruction.

he had watched you remove your makeup enough times to know that the cleansing balm needed to be warmed up in his hands before he rubbed it on your face. his touch is gentle, and you almost melt into it. almost get lost in the way that his calloused hands seem so weirdly soft as they cleanse the makeup from your face. "do you want to wipe it off, or should i?" he asks. you don't even answer, just place a pointed finger to his chest to indicate that he should. there is a laugh that escapes him before he begins to gently wipe the towel over your face to remove the cleanser.

when it's all done, and your face had been patted dry, he then moves to find the pajama's that he had watched you put away. as he settles down next to you, his hands find the bottom of your shirt and a frown takes over your face, "um," you say rather sternly, "you should not be doing this," then there is a smile as your voice lowers, "even if i want you to."

there is a soft, low laugh that escapes him as he scrubs a hand over his face. he had dealt with you drunk before, but never like this. "no one is watching, babe," and then he leans in a little bit closer, "plus i'm just putting your pajama's on you, nothing else." there is a pout then, and your eyebrows crease so intently as if this was the worst news that you had ever heard. "come on," he continues, "arms up."

you obey his instructions, and all the ones that follow as he methodically takes your clothes off and replaces them with the pajama's he had selected from the drawers of the dresser. once done, he pulls back the comforter and picks up your legs to rest them onto the bed. your body is quick to follow as you settle against the bed, your head hitting hard against the pillow as he tucks you in.

"can't you stay?," you asks, eyes big and pleading as you look up at him.

his own eyes soften, and there is a sympathetic smile that over takes his face, "i want to," he admits then, and his head tilts a bit as he takes in your sad expression, "but we both know i can't."

"but the others get to," you whine, your voice betraying you as it does.

"i know," he says then, hand reaching up to move a stray piece of hair from your face, "but we can't." you knew he was right. that this was a secret, and him staying in your room would ruin it. there was lie you could come up with to make it seem okay to garrett. he had to go back to his room with tucker, and that was the saddest thing you had realized all night.

as if he can read the sadness on your face, john leans forward and softly presses a kiss against your lips. it's chaste and gentle, and he tastes faintly like beer. not much, as he was the most sober person in the room, but enough to remind you that he stayed this sober for you. "goodnight," he says then as he pulls away from you, a hand tucking the blanket in a bit more around you.

your eyes flutter shut then, and a lull of sleep begins to blur the edges of your conscience, "goodnight," you whisper. then, without thought, three words fall from your lips before sleep takes you fully, "i love you."

it leaves him stunned, watching you there as the words hang in the air and you fall under the warm embrace of slumber. there is a moment where he hesitates, wondering if you meant. wondering even more if you'll remember.

part of him hopes that you do, but another part? another part doubts that you will.

[kuraemonn]

Story-Times and Hangouts.

Masterlist

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: fluff, mention of makeout.

A/N: thank you guys for soooo much support <3!!

The previous scene

─•──── ᯓ★ ─•──── ᯓ★ ─•──── ᯓ★ ─•──── ᯓ★

It was supposed to be a normal hangout with the group but what Hangout here is normal? Currently, I'm stuck in the living room with John, his bestfriend Garrett and his girlfriend Hannah.

Garrett and Hannah are being all PDA while I'm sitting close to Logan, almost curled into him but not quite. I haven't realised but our knees are touching like it's the most natural thing in the world. Hanna gets distracted and goes to get Ice cream for herself, and I finally look up from my phone and join her.

Meanwhile back in the living room, Logan asks Garrett, "So where is our low budget Ken anyway? Didn't he said he'll come with his 'new barbie'?" Garrett looks confused, "Who?"

"The low budget Ken. You don't know?" I call out from kitchen still scooping ice cream. "Whoever that is must've really offended you guys to earn that name." Hanna says from beside me.

"yeah, it's a long story." I sit beside Logan again, sharing my ice cream and giving him a knowing look. We hadn't realised that 'classic low budget ken' has become our very own inside joke since the last encounter with you-know-who.

"C'mon man, include us in whatever this is." Garrett says.

Logan turns to me and gives me a questioning look, "should we reveal the secret, darlin'?"

"well don't get all traumatized by what we're about to tell you." I say as an encouragement to Hanna and Garrett.

Logan starts, "so basically remember how last week everyone was out on dates, Tucker went to visit his home, you guys were out even Dean was somewhere out with his new girl or whatever, so we also made plans. But by the time we got dressed up, our impulses won and we settled for a makeout- on this couch by the way-" Hannah immediately makes a 'awww' face while Garrett looks disgusted.

"-yeah so we were mid making out when Dean walked in on us. And that's when she called him 'classic low budget Ken' and ever since then it has become our inside joke. There. Traumatized?" He finished the story and gives me a mischievous glint.

"And you guys tell us to stop PDA." Garrett says. While the three of us burst laughing and Hanna shots me a 'I need details later' look.

Right on cue, the main door flings open, "I heard someone say Ken?" Dean steps in and shots me a look. Seems like he hasn't forgotten the comment since last time.

"Welcome Low Budget Ken." I say, finishing the last spoon of my ice cream. And before he can say anything snarky again, Logan shots him the same 'mind you, this is my girl' look.

"You'll never let me live that down, eh?" He says, shaking his head as he sits down as well on the dining table chair.

"Fits you though, Ken." Hannah says with a grin.

Dean groans. "See you've started a whole revolution."

"now we'll tell the whole school." Garrett says with a grin.

I watch their banter happen, still curled into Logan who now has his hand behind me on the couch, ever-so-protective, while he occasionally kissed my hair like he's been doing it forever. And honestly, he has been.

─•──── ᯓ★ ─•──── ᯓ★ ─•──── ᯓ★ ─•──── ᯓ★

Read another one? (Garrett Graham)

[hauntedsilences]

they don't know about us

part 4

part 1, part 2, part 3 pairing: john logan x fem!reader (garrett's sister)

word count: 2.3k

summary: you have known john logan since you first came to briar u. he became a constant in your life, as he was a constant in your brother's life. developing a crush on him felt easy, perhaps the easiest thing that you had ever done. however john logan was two things: your brothers best friend, and plainly not interested in you. at least, you don't think he is? it's easy to pass off the flirting and lingering stares as it simply being who he was. was it though? or was there something more.

author note: part 4 is very soft... i just want to thank everyone again for their very kind words & support! putting my writing on the internet has been something that very much so scared me, and your support over the past day or so has really helped! taglist: @wintermoonly @kayleighniks @f4ll-for-you ⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚

he wasn't meant to spend the night. yet, once he was there you found that you didn't want to let go of him. nothing happened, all you did was stay up and talk. okay, maybe there was some light making out as well, but mainly it was just talking. talking and talking and talking until suddenly you were asleep in his arms.

he held you so closely to his chest as if he was afraid of letting you go. afraid that if you slipped from his grasp the whole night would melt away, and you both would go on as if it didn't happen. as if he didn't you, and you didn't come to agreement of secrecy.

so, like, our secret.

a deal made in the cold of night, his arms wrapped around you like a promise. there were logistics and complications that you needed to discuss, but you were too busy talking about anything else. talking about your classes and his practice. telling each other all the times that you noticed one another.

you confess that you had liked him since the day you met.

he confesses that his feelings for started a bit later. it was a party at the hockey house. you were tipsy, but not drunk, and he was standing in the corner talking to some puck bunny that he can't remember the name of. you were in the middle of the living room talking to garrett, and you laughed. a laugh that was so loud and so contagious, that it immediately grabbed his attention. his eyes drag over to you, and for the first time he really saw you. saw the way that your eyes seemed to have this glitter in them, and how your smile seemed so bright and loud. the type of smile that he could practically hear.

of course, he also noticed how hot you looked. something that he confessed with a laugh.

you don't remember that night, because there had been so many like them. however he is able to describe your outfit down to the socks you were wearing. as if he had committed to memory. as if it was something he never wanted to forget.

the confession had caused something warm to blossom in your chest. the feeling wedged itself in between your rib cage and lit your heart on fire. you knew that you would remember this confession until the day die.

something that was easily backed up by the fact that it was the first thing you of when you woke. the second being the feeling of his body pressed against yours. how his arms felt strong and stable as they wrapped around your body. the room is so quiet that you can hear his even breaths as they settle against the top of your head warm and steady.

you don't want to move, afraid to wake him. afraid to burst this perfectly warm bubble that you found yourself wrapped in. however, you also can't help the way that your body shifts ever so slightly, unintentional but it happens regardless, and you can feel him begin to wake next to you.

you figure that he must have been close to waking up anyway, because you were never under the suspicion that he was a light sleeper. not when you had seen him wake up last and stumble into the kitchen groggy the night after a raging party.

his body shifts against yours, and for a moment there is a panic that settles in your chest. one that tells you that this all wasn't real and he was going to immediately regret it. you wait for his body to jolt up, and some excuse to stumble out of his lips.

except, that isn't what happens. instead his arms seem to tighten around you and pulls you closer to him. which is odd given that you can't really get that much closer to him. your body was already flush against his to the point that you could feel the warmth radiating off of his body.

"good morning, beautiful," he says softly, his voice gravely and rough. there is this immediate fluttering in your chest and a smile that pulls at your lips when he speaks. he then nuzzles into the side of your neck, planting a soft kiss on the exposed skin, "i like this."

there is a soft laugh that escapes you then before your body twists in his arms so that you are now facing him. the smile on your face softens as you take him in. there is something so gentle about the way he looks right as he wakes up. how his eyes are kind puffy, and his has this lazy smile on his face. your hand reaches up and rests on his cheek, your thumb softly rubbing against his stubble.

"don't you have practice?," you ask, a slight teasing in your tone.

"i'll say i'm sick," he replies, his body moving as if he was trying to shrug.

"i don't think that will work when you live with the captain," you state, eyebrow raising as you speak, "especially when he catches on to the fact that you didn't make it home last night."

he sighs in resignation then, a look of defeat taking over his mesmerizing brown eyes, "fine, fine," he says before his head flops forward against yours and his arms tighten around you, "just give me a few seconds more."

you don't argue, obviously. why would you? not when you also want to stay just like this forever.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

you couldn't go back to sleep after he left. not when you felt empty without him next to you. all you could think about was his arms wrapped around you, and the way he had snuggled into the crook of your next. your skin seems to miss the feel of his lips against it, and it's all you can think about. it completely consumes you.

even though you can't go back to sleep, you decide to have a slow morning. in part because you didn't have much to do to, but also because you were hoping to avoid your roommate. she wouldn't tell you if she saw him leaving your bedroom, but you also didn't want risk the knowing look that she was bound to give.

after spending at least an hour scrolling on your phone, you decide it was definitely time to get up and make some coffee in the machine that you had stored on top of your dresser. it is then when you notice the familiar hoody that was draped over your desk chair. you tilt your head for a moment as you look at it, and then a smile takes over your face.

as you slip the hoody on over your head the intoxicating smell of him consumes you. you don't realize how much you missed the smell of him until you are wrapped up in it. it's odd how the smell feels like a hug, something warm and all consuming.

you are quick to snap a selfie, and even quicker to send it to him.

you: forget something? john: i was just looking for that. you: oh were you? that really sucks, because i think it's mine now.

you wished you could the see look on his face, but you have a pretty good idea about what that smirk would look like.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

you had already planned to go to the hockey house that afternoon before all that had happened the night before. you wanted bake some cookies for your study group, and tucker's kitchen was better than the community space in your dorm building.

you didn't mean to wear john's hoody. rather, you just forgot that you had it on. you had been wearing it all day, and it just slipped your mind. it isn't until you had walked through the door and are met with the stares of at least 3 of the hockey boys: dean, garrett, and logan.

their stares bore into you, and you can't help the annoyed confusion that over takes your face as you ask, "what?" no one moves, nor do they speak at first. rather you watch as garrett's eyes slide from you to logan and then back again.

"what are you wearing?," he asks, a slight disgust hinting at his voice as he speaks.

your eyes shift from the three of them and down to the hoody that was draped over your body. the realization hits like a truck, and there is an instant panic that bubbles in your chest. "oh," the word slips out quietly.

"oh?" he says in response, and you can tell by his tone that your time was very limited.

"i leant it to her last time that she was here," logan slides in, the words coming out with ease, "she said she was cold and you were in your room doing god knows what, so i gave her the hoody."

there is a moment of realization that overcomes your face now that the lifeline had been thrown out. "right," you say with so much surety, "and i forgot where i got it from? i just threw it on today because i was cold and i have to do laundry."

garrett takes a moment before his face evens out, and it appears that he bought the lie that you both have spun, "okay, whatever, at least it's not my hoody being stolen this time." he then turns his body back around on the couch to continue watching the game that was on the tv as if nothing happened at all.

your eye catches john's then, and there is this smile on his face that burns itself in your mind. with everything that had passed between you, you can now feel confident that there is this hungry look in his eye. as if he wished that no one else was in the room.

the other two errupt into some sort of cheer inspired by something on the tv, and it shakes the both of you out of the trance you were. you watch as logan sighs and grimace's before reluctantly turning his eyes away from you and back to the tv screen.

there is a moment longer that you stand there, feeling a heat in the pit of your stomach growing as you look at him. there is then a sigh before you make your way to the kitchen and set your bag of ingredients on the counter.

within a minute, your phone buzzes.

john: alright, it's yours. you look hotter in it anyway. you: is that so? john: well yeah. but you'd look better with it off

a laugh escapes you then, and his head snaps to look at you as it does. your eyes connect and you can't help the way that your eyes roll in his direction. ✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

the oven door opens as you reach reach in to grab onto the last batch of cookies that you had put in. you set it on the stove top and are quick to remove the oven mitt from your hand. with your earbuds in, it's hard to hear anything around you. however, after listening to the boys yell at the tv for long enough, you decided that maybe it was for the better.

you continue to move around the kitchen, searching for a platter to place these cookies on. after making enough for your study, you decided that you should leave the boys some as a thank you for letting you use their kitchen. as you search through a cupboard, you become startled by a part of arms that snake around your body. a hand reaches up to tear an earbud out as you twist your body around to face john, "what are you doing?," you whisper with panic coating your face.

his eyebrows crease as he lets out a laugh, "what does it look like i'm doing?"

"we are at your house," you hiss out, "my brother lives here, in case you forgot."

"i didn't forget," he says with an eyeroll, "but he isn't here. he went to go pick up hannah from work, and the other two ran off to some party with beau." yet, that doesn't seem to calm your nerves. your body is rigid in his hold, the anxiety seems to rush through you. it's something that he picks up easily, and he offers a calm but reassuring smile, "we are fine, i promise."

apparently that's all you needed, because you relax in his hold. correction, you nearly melt into it. his arms are strong and steady as they hold you, and you had been thinking about them all day. your arms reach up to wrap around his neck then, and you push yourself up ever so slightly to press a short, soft kiss to his lips. when you separate from him, you make sure to keep close to his face, "you don't have practice tomorrow, right?"

"no, we don't."

"do you want to stay over again?" you ask, a certain shyness seeming to take over your tone as you do. you had never been someone that was so bold. rather, you tended to blend a bit more into the background, always anxious to ask for you what you want. it was easy to deduce that it was a response to trauma. a learnt behavior that asking for what you want never ended exactly how you wanted.

yet, there is a smile that overtakes his face. one that is boyish and mischievous in a way. "hell yeah," he says then, words soft as they are spoken in close proximity. he pulls you in then, sneaking another kiss. this one longer and deeper, passion hiding behind his tongue as he sneaks it past your lips.

it doesn't last that long, because you both know your time is limited. that garrett would walk through the door with his girlfriend and you would have to go back to pretending that you were just friends.

at least you had tonight, and hopefully more nights to come.

[puckbunnywrites]

by choice | john logan

john logan x reader!single mom

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

what surprises you is when he comes back.

word count: 4,5k

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

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

it was dean and beaus dynamic duo party.

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

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

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

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

you made your way inside being greeted by beau

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

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

“where’s your partner” he said looking around

“right here”

you and beau turned around to see kendall holding two drinks

“hey s” you said taking the drink from her

“hey b” she said back sending you a wink

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

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

“um sure” he said

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

“i’ll catch you later”

as soon as beau leaves kendall turns to you

“i wish you and beau would just get together”

you sigh

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

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

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

not a smile.

a smirk like he’d been caught.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“oh, he’s got it bad.”

you snorted.

“poor guy.”

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

you followed his gaze to Hannah Wells.

“fair point.”

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re not looking bad yourself”

a comfortable silence settled between you.

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

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

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

you raised an eyebrow.

“pretty sure we just did.”

a grin spread across his face.

“well, look at that.”

you rolled your eyes, fighting a smile.

“you’re impossible.”

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

“so let me guess sexy school girl?”

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

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

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

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

“come on y/l/n i see you”

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

“hey, y/n right?”

you look up seeing sean, allies boyfriend

“oh hey, sean right? allies boyfriend?”

“yeah yeah, you good?”

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

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

“yeah she probably would” you say with a giggle

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

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

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

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

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

his eyes remained on yours.

not smirking anymore.

just focused, with a look.

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

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

no hesitation now.

no distractions.

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

he stopped close,closer than before.

not touching you.

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

for a second, neither of you spoke.

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

“you do that a lot,” he said quietly.

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

he didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he stepped just a fraction closer.

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

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

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

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

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

you went silent while logan continued speaking with the boys

“who is that” dean says

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

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

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

“what?” you said diverting your gaze to him

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

“you know how to dance?”

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

you laughed. “wow so romantic.”

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

“you’re just saying that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“that sounds like harassment.”

“more like persistence.”

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

logan noticed.

of course he did.

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

“I am not.”

“you are.”

you glanced toward the dance floor again

then back up at logan.

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

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

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

he held out his hand.

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

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

“don’t step on me,” you warned.

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

“that’s not reassuring.”

“It’s honest.”

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

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

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

“that you can’t dance?”

“I already admitted that.”

“right.”

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

that made you pause mid-step.

“logan.”

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

“you’re supposed to be dancing.”

“I am dancing.”

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

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

“seems like a fair trade.”

your hand was still in his.

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

or maybe he did.

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

“hide what?”

“that you’re flirting.”

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

he chose neither.

Instead, he pulled you just a little closer.

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

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

“that’s a dangerous mindset.”

“Is it?” he asked.

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

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

logan’s eyes flicked to yours.

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

that landed differently.

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

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

“I’ve been confident.”

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

a faint smile tugged at his mouth.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

there was a beat where neither of you spoke.

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

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

“tell me to stop,” he said.

you raised an eyebrow. “stop what?”

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

“flirting with you like this.”

you held his stare.

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

then you smiled.

“why would I do that?”

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

“you’re so beautiful” he said

causing your breath to shudder.

“tell me to stop”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“logan i have a baby im so sorry”

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

“you have a kid?”

the question hung between them.

you nodded once.

“yeah a daughter.”

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

you’d seen that look before.

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

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

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

“I can’t do that.”

the words landed softly.

not because they didn’t hurt.

because you’d expected them.

you gave a small nod.

“okay.”

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

“okay?”

you shrugged

“It happens.”

a frown pulled at his brow

“people leave when they find out.”

the room fell silent.

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

“It’s fine.”

but logan could tell it wasn’t.

not because you looked upset.

because you looked practiced.

like you’d had this conversation before.

like you’d already learned how to survive it.

something in his expression shifted.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know.”

you cut him off gently.

“you don’t owe me an explanation.”

he looked uncomfortable.

guilty, almost.

but you weren’t angry.

you were just tired.

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

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

“take care of yourself, logan.”

his name sounded strangely final coming from you.

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

then thought better of it.

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

“fuck”

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

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

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

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

“yes yes yes”

“hey mom” you said as she kissed your cheek

“hey babe how was your night?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

she then turned to you

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

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

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

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

she gives you a kiss bye and a hug

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it was ridiculous, really.

one kiss.

one moment.

yet somehow it had attached to every thought you had.

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

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

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

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

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

loganjohn has requested to follow you

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

you scrolled through every photo.

the hockey pictures.

the team photos.

the random shots with friends.

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

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

your thumb hovered over another picture.

then another.

then another.

somehow fifteen minutes had passed.

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

It was absolutely stalking.

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

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

a direct message from Logan.

your breath caught.

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

logan: hey.

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

you: hi.

three dots appeared instantly.

disappeared.

reappeared.

you could practically feel him overthinking.

logan: wasn’t sure you’d answer.

you: wasn’t sure I’d answer either.

a few seconds passed.

logan: fair.

you: so why did you follow me?

another pause.

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

your stomach dropped.

you: logan…

logan: I know.

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

logan: I know I hurt you.

you stared at the screen.

you: then why are you here?

the typing bubble appeared immediately this time.

logan: because I made a mistake.

logan: and it’s been driving me insane.

you heart started pounding.

you: you were pretty sure when you rejected me.

you felt yourself waiting for a reply

the typing bubble coming and going, but still nothing

you locked you phone.

and checked again fifteen minutes later.

still nothing.

the next morning, nothing.

the day after that, nothing.

eventually, the embarrassment started to outweigh the disappointment.

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

there wasn’t anything.

just silence.

and somehow that hurt more.

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

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

“um-hey” logan said looking nervous

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

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

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

“you read my message”

“i know”

“and then you ignored me”

guilt flashed across his face

“i know and im sorry”

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

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

“please” he said without hesitation

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

it was quiet between you guys.

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

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

he turned towards you.

eyes instantly connecting.

“i’m sorry”

“you already said that”

“i know and i will continue apologising”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

wide.

slightly stunned.

like the apology had completely left his system.

you exhaled softly, still close.

“…you talk too much.”

that did it.

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

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

“you were spiraling.”

“i was explaining.”

“you were rambling.”

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

then you leaned in again,just slightly

and his composure disappeared completely.

he pulled you back in like it was instinct.

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

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

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

just you

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

taglist: @ethanthequeefqueen

[athousandblunts]

underwater (part i) | john logan

john logan x f! reader

premise: at the end of high school, you ended your relationship with logan, and the breakup was devastating for the both of you. as a collegiate diver, you got an offer from california, and moved away from massachusetts, completely intent on never seeing him again. when you suddenly transfer to briar in your junior year, logan goes through a second round of heartbreak, torn between loving and hating you.

category: enemies (exes) to lovers, a lot of angst, a lot of yearning

word count: around 3.4k

content/trigger warnings: brief mention of throwing up right before the first line break, description of a panic attack (mentions of faint, rapid heart rate), super super super light allusion to smut in the second section of the fic (it's from a dream and it's barely smut to begin with, but to be safe, minors dni), a pretty intense but short argument at the end (cursing).

context notes: i recently read ali hazelwood's deep end last month and i'm still obsessed with it. that's why reader is a diver in this fic :) i apologize for getting any diving terminology wrong, i'm still learning it! and you might think that logan is kinda out of character in this, but he's only acting this way out of heartbreak, i swear. plus he continues to yearn after her, too. yearner!logan is always activated. also pretend that your name is a common name in this fic lol (it'll make sense when you read it, it adds to logan's denial). i do not possess a common or an "American" name (if that even exists in the first place) but i pretended to while i was writing it. and from what i know 10 meters = 33 feet, roughly, right?

author notes: this will be a multi-part fic. i'll try to update once or twice a week, depending any changes with my work schedule and tasks. we're also going to learn why reader transferred to briar as we advance through this fic. i also plan on doing alternating POVs too! this part is focused on Logan, next part will be focused on the reader. feedback is always appreciated :) and this was slightly proofread as of 06/12/26, so there still might be some errors/typos.

Logan is wholeheartedly convinced that he’s hallucinating when he hears your name casually slip out of Dean’s mouth.

A name that hasn’t crossed his mind in over two years.

“We were watching them practice yesterday, and dude, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her,” He hears Beau say to Tucker, and Logan’s chest begins to ache. Even though half of his upper body is stuck under the kitchen sink as he tries to fix another broken pipe, he continues to eavesdrop. He has to.

Maybe it’s another Y/N.

“Wait, Briar has a diving team?” Tucker asks in confusion, and Logan’s grip tightens on the pipe. He inhales sharply through his nose, forcing himself to pause as he listens to his friends.

He doesn’t have all the details yet. Perhaps there’s another Y/N who just also conveniently turns out to be a diver. If Logan retained anything from his statistics class last semester, it’s that there are an infinite amount of possibilities out there. 8 billion people exist on this Earth. 342 million people live in the U.S. We’re all bound to intersect somewhere in the Venn diagrams of our lives.

“Yup. They haven’t been doing well, though. Everyone’s saying that Y/N will make a difference on the team,” Dean explains, and Logan fixes his gaze on the towel he’s holding in his gloved hand. “She just transferred from California. Berkeley, I think.”

And that’s all it takes for the dam of Logan’s tightly wound emotions to burst. Internally, of course.

He squeezes his eyes shut, forcing himself to gently crawl out from under the sink to avoid hitting on his head on the wooden surface above him. Slow and steady.

“And she’s so fucking hot,” His body freezes once he registers Dean’s voice. “I’m gonna ask her out after the meet tomorrow.”

Bam.

Logan abruptly hits his head against the wood, groaning and letting out a loud “fuck!” as he slides out from under the cabinet. Before he can even stand up, Tucker rushes over.

“Shit, dude, are you okay?” He looks at his housemate in concern as Logan pinches his eyes shut yet again, wishing he was anywhere but here.

When he opens his eyes, he sees that Beau and Dean have made their way over as well. Logan lets out a loud huff as he hurriedly walks away from the kitchen, pushing away Tucker’s helping hands.

“Dude, you good?” He hears Dean’s infuriating voice merge with the incessant pounding in his head, and he can’t tell which sound is worse. Logan can only grunt in response, rushing up the stairs.

“I’m gonna lie down,” Logan then offhandedly announces to the house as he reaches his bedroom and slams the door shut. He’s undeniably positive that Dean’s calling him a “moody bitch” right at this very moment, but he can’t bring himself to give a fuck.

Instead of falling onto his bed, he collapses onto his desk chair, pushing the palms of his hands into his eyes as his leg restlessly begins to shake. His heart rattles incessantly against his chest as if he’s been skating suicides around the rink for hours.

And of course, his brain immediately starts to fuck with him. Maybe he misheard. Maybe he imagined the whole conversation. It wouldn’t be the first time his mind had wandered off while repairing a pipe.

But as his eyes drift to his closet, thinking about the box of your things that’s been collecting dust over the past few years, he has a sinking feeling in his gut that Dean’s words are probably true. That you are probably back in Massachussetts. At Briar. In the same vicinity as him.

And that this isn’t some sort of awful nightmare, and that the announcement of your presence is enough to send this man into a hysterically sickening spiral of denial and disbelief.

But his mind continues to propel him into a self-destructive rumination, conjuring up the most absurd of thoughts about how selfish you are to come back into his life, that you surely came back with the sole purpose to ruin his life for the second time, as if the breakup itself wasn’t devastating enough.

The boys all know about the mysterious woman who broke high school Logan’s heart. They jokingly tease him over her, making nonchalant comments about how he supposedly lost “the love of his life.” But they don’t know the extent of the torment and pain that he suffered.

Well, Garrett actually knows a little bit about you. He’s the only one out of the all of the guys who knows your first name. One time in sophomore year, Logan drunkenly let your name slip, and Garrett never forgot the way his best friend’s eyes turned glassy immediately upon muttering your name.

Now, Logan turns his head away from the closet, settling his gaze onto the chipped wood of his desk. He can’t bear to open that box. He vehemently refuses to.

While exhaling a shaky breath, he feels the familiar pressure of the tears lingering behind his eyes, but he furiously blinks them away. He forces himself to grab his Econ textbook to start his homework, desperately trying to shove the image of you in his mind into a deep dark hole.

When he opens his laptop to take notes on the Keynesian market theory, he receives a notification from his inbox. An email from Briar’s weekly student newsletter.

And because this cruel universe wants to add fuel to the blazing fire burning in Logan’s heart, the headline just happens to be a reminder about the diving meet tomorrow. Despite every bone in his body telling him not to scroll, he does anyway, because he must be some goddamn mascochist, he mutters under his breath.

He sneaks a peek of the very top of the photo underneath the headline. And as soon as he gets the tiniest glimpse of your hair and your forehead and your eyebrows, he immediately slams his laptop shut, feeling the churn intensify in his stomach and grabbing the trashcan beside him when he tastes the bile crawling up his throat.

The bastards make him attend the meet as well. Of course they do.

Logan knew about Briar’s Aquatic Center, since some guys in Beau’s frat were on the swimming team, but he has never actually step foot into the place. And his friends have the nerve to be fucking giddy when they walk into the center, seeing the colors of both Briar and Northeastern embroidering the bleachers.

He truly believes that he’s been masking his emotions successfully so far. However, even though some of the boys (i.e., Dean) have no idea, he can feel Garrett’s eyes stealthily watching him on the back of his head.

As they sit on the bleachers with the rest of student crowd, Garrett finally breaks the silence, looking at his best friend with furrowed eyebrows and utter confusion.

“You good?” He casually asks, elbows going to rest on his knees, his question practically getting muffled by the cheers of zealous Briar students. “You’re acting weird.”

The question punches Logan hard in the chest, but he conceals his emotions with a sarcastic scoff, shaking his head. “I’m fine. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

His first sentence? Definitely false.

But his second sentence? Absolutely true.

The hockey player tossed and turned in his sheets last night as he tried to fall asleep without thinking about you. But that task proved totally impossible.

Because as soon as he closed his eyes and drifted into a deep slumber, his subconscious immersed him into a dream of your high school selves, sneaking around in the back of his truck between class periods. He felt your arms wrapped around his neck, your ankles crossed on his back, and your frenzied breaths as he pushed himself into you, wanting more and more. He moaned into your neck, saying your name over and over, and as he looked down at your bare chest littered with his bite marks and hickeys, he couldn’t help but think about how much he fucking loved you.

But suddenly, you disappeared underneath his arms, much like how you disappeared from his life. And instead of making love to you in the back of his truck, he woke up heaving and panting all alone in his bedroom with the digital clock practically mocking him as it displayed “3:01 AM” at him.

He couldn’t go back to sleep afterwards.

Logan’s mind wanders away from you and comes back to the present when he watches Garrett sigh and shake his head, as if non-verbally telling him “you’re a shitty liar, Logan.” His bloodshot eyes definitely do not help his case, either.

As he watches some student workers pass out brochures listing out the rosters of both teams, a wave of denial crashes into him for the hundredth time.

Even though he overheard Dean’s raunchy comments, and even though he saw the tiniest peek of your forehead in the email yesterday, he refuses to believe that you’re back until his eyes confirm it for him. He needs the visual verification before allowing himself to go completely mad. As if he hasn’t been tearing at his hair in a fit of hysteria for the past twenty four hours already.

“Oh look, she’s from Munsen,” Tucker casually notices as he reads your player profile on the brochure, nudging Logan’s shoulder. “Your hometown, right?”

Logan feels like he has to work every muscle in his body in order to give a response. “Yeah, that’s crazy.”

And he wasn’t lying. This whole situation was fucking insane.

He doesn’t realize how fast his leg is bouncing until Dean lightly shoves at his head, pointing to the rest of the bleachers. “Dude, knock it off. Your leg is shaking up this entire section.”

On a regular day, Dean’s comment wouldn’t even affect him. But today, the blood swells and boils in Logan’s veins as he restrains himself, desperately wanting to tell the blond bastard to “fuck off.”

But before he can ever get a word out of his mouth, an announcement blares over the speaker, broadcasting to everyone that Northeastern’s team is about to walk out from the tunnels behind the center.

His body is present enough to register the cheers from the crowd opposite of him whenever the speaker announces the name of each diver from Northeastern. And then the music changes, and it’s time for Briar’s team to walk out. Logan has to subtly check his pulse on his neck vein to ensure he’s still alive.

After all, he’s this close to running out of the center.

He feels physically sick as he watches each diver walk out, anticipation coursing through him, as if he’s watching a horror movie and anxiously waiting for the jumpscare.

When the fourth diver walks out, Logan stupidly feels a sudden wave of relief through his body. You haven’t walked out yet. Maybe this whole thing is a prank. A figment of his imagination.

“And now, let’s welcome our new platform diver, transferring fresh from Berkeley, California, Y/N Y/L/N!”

Everyone around him screams once the new diver comes into view, and his hand clutches against the metal of the bleacher, knuckles rapidly turning white.

It happens in slow motion.

His eyes lock onto the one piece hugging your body. His gaze then carries over to your hands that wave out to Briar’s crowd, and to your devastatingly gorgeous smile that both excites and destroys him. Whenever he scored a goal, or pressed slow kisses to your neck, or jumped into his arms after a long day, you flashed that beautiful smile at him.

Fuck. You’re actually here. Logan feels like he’s going to faint, or explode. Or both.

He doesn’t realize that he hasn’t teared his eyes away from you until Garrett forcefully lifts him up by the elbow, looking down at him as if it’s his first day on Earth. The national anthem had begun playing and he was still sitting down, spiraling into complete panic. He places a hand over his racing heart, and he knows that Garrett’s getting suspicious.

The meet begins shortly afterwards and you sit on side while the rest of your teammates go before you. You still haven’t noticed Logan in the crowd yet, even though his gaze never leaves your body.

Later, when it’s finally your turn, you walk your way up the stairs to the platform standing thirty-three feet above the pool. Since his seat directly faces the platform, Logan also conveniently has a good view of you as well. You’re much closer now to him.

And when his eyes linger down to the top of your left thigh, he feels the familiar burning coming back behind his eyes.

It’s small, but he recognizes it immediately.

It’s still there.

The stick and poke that Logan drew on you in junior year. The #22 proudly blazoned on the top of your thigh. He remembers tattooing it on you like it was yesterday—the way you squirmed underneath the needle, the way you dug your fingers into his curls and caressed his scalp, the way your laugh reached his ears when he joked that “you’re tied to him for life.”

You never got it removed.

He doesn’t know if he should be relieved or horrified.

The speaker blasts your name once again before you take your position. In high school, your signature dive was a simple but sharp backwards tuck. At every single meet, you absolutely dominated in your category, coming home with new medals and trophies practically every week.

Now, your signature dive is different. It’s become an armstand, a dive that always terrified the fuck out of Logan. Holding a handstand while on the edge of an awfully high platform was enough to cause nightmares. He never understood how you did it.

You hold your armstand flawlessly before flip through the air, and Logan physically feels the crowd collectively hold their breath as you dive into the water from ten meters above.

“Woo!” He hears Dean holler among the rest of the cheers of the Briar crowd. Logan senses the tiniest bit of possessiveness sinking into his body. “Now that’s fucking sick!”

At your high school meets, a part of Logan was always irrationally scared that one day, you wouldn’t get out of the water. Sure, playing hockey came with pretty bad injuries, but so did diving. So as you take your sweet time getting out of the pool, Logan feels like he’s going even more insane. A trace of protectiveness still runs through his blood, even when the sight of you breaks his heart.

You climb yourself out of the pool, giving an unusual tight-knit smile before walking over to your coach. It’s not your usual wide, radiant, “I just demolished that dive” smile. It’s tense. Restrained.

Even though his eyes continue to inspect you, his focus is broken when Garrett claps a hand on Logan’s shoulder, physically jolting him from his trance.

“That’s Y/N, isn’t it?”

Garrett’s an asshole, but at least he has the decency to lower his voice, which Logan is immensely grateful for.

Logan wordlessly nods his head, shoulders slumping in defeat after getting caught by his best friend.

Garrett takes a moment to respond, letting the information truly set in, before shaking his head and looking at him with a mix of disbelief and concern.

“John, you’re fucked.”

To no one’s surprise, you score first place in your category.

And because of your accomplishment, hordes of people come rushing over to you once the meet is over. Since all of these excited fans and NCAA coaches immediately crowd you, Dean quickly gives up on getting your number.

At least Logan got one win today.

Once the boys are ready to head out, Logan lies and says that he needs to go to the library to pick up a book. Garrett looks at him suspiciously, but the rest bid him goodbye as they head off to the house.

Is it a bit strange that he waited outside the center for more than an hour? Maybe. But his denial and disbelief have transformed into anger, and he needs to get some thoughts off of his chest.

Finally, as the sun is setting and all the other divers are walking out, he sees you.

Your back is facing him, but you could be a thousand feet away and he would still know that it’s you. He watches as you push open the door, sneakers bouncing against the grass as you walk further away.

But his voice catches you before you could put your earbuds in.

“You’re back,” He breathes out, and watches as you immediately halt your steps. “You’re back in the state and you didn’t even tell me.”

You remain frozen in place, back still turned to him. You recognize that voice immediately. You say nothing for at least thirty seconds, torturing Logan with your silence.

He already regrets his decision to speak to you.

“And why the fuck would I do that?”

And when you turn around, he feels the ground sway underneath his feet.

You look the exact same. You’re the same girl who would doodle and draw little sketches of him in your 9th grade biology class. The same girl who would bring a new poster of him to every single hockey game, cheering you on whenever he dedicated his goal to you.

The same girl who would lend him extra blankets and coats during the winter because his mother frequently forgot to pay for the heating.

But in a bizarre sort of paradox, you also look entirely different. The bags under your eyes are pronounced. There’s a slight hunch to your shoulders as you carry your duffel bag. And he’s trying to find the same radiance in your eyes that you had two years ago, but that light has been completely extinguished.

He simultaneously wants to wrap you into a bone-crushing hug and sprint away from you.

“I think it’s basic human decency. Could’ve given me a warning at least, you know,” So that I could avoid you around campus, he thinks to himself. “Before you fuck up my life for the second time.”

You scoff, stepping closer to him, almost sending him into cardiac arrest. “Wow. Who the fuck do you think you are? God forbid I don’t cater to you. I don’t factor you into my decisions. I stopped doing that a long time ago.”

“Yeah, clearly,” He barks out a mirthless laugh, his heart sinking at the words you spewed out to him. “You stopped thinking about me even before our relationship ended.”

You let in a deep inhale, eyes narrowing him. He clenches his jaw, undoubtedly certain that the anger is rolling off of him in monstrous waves at this very moment.

“I’m not doing this right now,” You mutter, starting to back away from his space.

“Of course!” He snarls, bringing his hands up, practically shooing you away. “Walk away, it’s what you do best.”

You whip your head at him, and suddenly you’re a mere few inches away from him, your chest heaving at a dangerous pace. He gets a small whiff of your perfume, a scent that you’ve never changed and one that he’ll always, until the end of time, associate with you. After all this time, he hates that his first instinct is to hold you. But he can’t bring his arms to reach out to you, or his hands to touch your waist.

“Fuck you, John,” You snap at him, your body shaking to the very bone as you utter those painful words. “I walked away because you didn’t listen.”

“To your bullshit? Listening would be a waste, anyways,” He looks you dead in the eyes, and to his surprise, you remain silent, your head tilting downwards to fix your gaze on the grass.

And when he sees the tears welling up in your eyes when you finally lift your head to look at him, he’s completely startled. You close your eyes immediately.

“Just…stay out of my way, John,” You whisper to him in a shaky voice, eyes still closed as you pull your trembling hands to your chest, showing your empty palms to him as an act of surrender. The way your voice breaks when saying his name sends an ache throughout his chest. “And I’ll stay out of yours.”

Before his brain even registers it, you turn around and walk away, your body slowly disappearing into the night.

Garrett’s right. Logan’s completely fucked.

taglist: @solstice-333

[flwr-princ3ss]

lacy, oh lacy (part 4) (+ a bit)

A/N: we finally made it friends, we came to the end of this fic. thank you for all your kind words and for continuing to read every time the word count multiplied, I tried to give this an ending I felt fit. this has been so fun and I've enjoyed reading your comments and messages. extra fat forehead kiss with this one, much love xx.

summary: in which Logan must decide how to take a risk, and you have to decide how much more you're willing to sacrifice. you perform at the pop showcase and get some encouragement from an unexpected friend.

pairing: john logan x bestfriend!reader

wc: ~9.5k (my eyes are burning)

tw: angst, insecurity, confrontations, doubt, self-realizations, idiots-to-lovers, learning to communicate feelings, swearing, alcohol mention

disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters from off campus, nor do I own the song used in this fic. all credit to the brilliant artists, authors, and show writers.

Part One Part Two Part Three

Hey Y/N, can I talk to you before the showcase?-x Logan

Logan’s text had left a heavy feeling in your chest, unsure of what Logan could possibly want to talk about. Usually he was so superstitious with his traditions, you never really heard much from him until after the game ended.

Your game overlaps the showcase, talk after?-x Y/N

You always tried to make Logan’s games and he always came to your performances, but with the unlucky timing of today’s campus events you would both unfortunately be missing from each other. Part of you was sad that your best friend likely wouldn’t make it, but you were also partially relieved you wouldn’t have to explain the inspiration behind your song to him.

Sure, missing my good luck charm though :( -x Logan

He had texted you hours ago, and you hadn’t been able to feeble together a response. His message just sat in your phone’s inbox, mocking you as your heart involuntarily beat faster at his seemingly innocent text.

“Hey, Y/N, do you have a second?”

Hannah stood behind you, her hands repetitively creasing the corner of one of her notebook sheets, her smile didn’t reach her eyes. You slid your phone into your guitar coat pocket, turning your attention fully to her.

“Hannah, sure. What’s up?” You raised your eyebrows in concern.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. I just get nervous before things like this and you’re like my only friend here right now and Bethany is convinced she’s going to win and just listening to her I was getting more and more nervous so,” Hannah was rambling.

You reached up and grabbed the hand creasing her paper.

“First of all, you’re going to do great. You’re so talented, I can’t imagine you not doingwell. Second of all, never listen to Bethany, you know how she is,” you rolled your eyes at the thought of the girl who flitted around the department like she was above everyone in it.

Hannah looked down.

“I think I’m also just, I don’t know if upset is the right word? I wanted Garrett to be here to night, but he broke up with me and things are sorta weird right now. I only last minute decided to do this,” Hannah said.

“Mmm,” you nodded, remembering that Hannah had last minute re-entered after she had dropped out initially.

“And like it’s dumb to want him here, right? Like we broke up and he wouldn’t have been able to make it anyway most likely because he’s probably at the game, even while he’s suspended,” she kept going.

“I don’t think it’s dumb,” you interrupted.

“No?” Hannah’s eyes met yours.

“No, I don’t,” you laughed before continuing, “I don’t think it’s dumb that you want him here. You love him so it’s only natural you would want him here, and I can’t speak to what’s happening between you two right now but I’ve seen the way Garrett looks at you. He loves you, Hannah. And for what it’s worth, I have a lot of hope that you guys will work it out.”

Hannah paused for a moment, your words ringing in her mind before she pulled you in for a hug, startling you.

“Thanks, Y/N. I know we aren’t super close but I hope maybe we could be,” Hannah said as she pulled away.

“I’d love that,” you smiled genuinely.

“But enough about me, how about you? How are things with Logan?” Hannah asked.

“Oh, Logan and I are just friends. I wish he could be here but he has the game. And with Garrett out for four games he’s been super wrapped up in practice since I saw him last,” you looked down at your feet, not wanting to have this particular conversation with Hannah.

“I’m sure he wishes he could be here too, Y/N.”

“Yeah, it’s okay though,” your shoulders dropped, slightly more defeated than you’d allow yourself to admit.

“Is it?” Hannah raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“We all kinda thought you guys would’ve gotten together by now,” Hannah said so casually you would’ve thought she was talking about the weather.

You freeze, feeling like you did in the hallway with Allie and at the party with Dean, feeling like everyone had caught on to how you felt about your best friend.

“Who’s ‘we’?” You asked carefully.

“Well, me and Garrett talked about it, and he talked to Dean who had talked to Tucker and they all said the same thing. Oh! And my friend, Allie, the one who also works at Malone’s? She was just saying the other day how cute you two are when you come in together. You two always sit in the back booth and just talk for hours, it’s like you never get tired of each other,” she listed off.

“We’re just friends, Logan doesn’t have feelings or anything like that for me,” you reaffirmed.

“It’s just…I don’t wanna overstep or anything but like you see the way he looks at you right?”

“You are not the first person to say that this week, I don’t get it. Like Logan and I are just friends, that’s all we’ll ever be,” your tone fell off at the last part, dejection settling in your chest.

“Is that all you want to be, though?”

You physically couldn’t answer Hannah, your eyes downcast to the floor as you wrung your fingers together.

“Oh.”

“Hannah, I know for a fact Logan likes someone else, I see the way his eyes light up when he sees her. It’s never going to be me and I’ve accepted that,” you barely managed to get out.

Hannah let the silence stretch between you, realizing how much this has taken a toll on you.

“I don’t know who this other person is, but it’s a damn shame if he doesn’t see you, Y/N.”

You laughed lightly at the irony.

“I’m serious, Y/N. You are one of a kind, you deserve someone who sees just how amazing you are. If not Logan, then someone else who will fight for you,” Hannah was so sweet in her reassurance, you felt like maybe you could believe her.

“Ladies, we start in 15 minutes. Warm up if you need,” your professor interrupted your conversation, the nerves and reality setting back in for the both of you.

“Let’s do this,” Hannah began anxiously folding her paper corner again.

You could only offer her a small smile and nod.

———

You set up your equipment, placing the foot pedal for your loop recorder close to the stool as you connected your laptop to the speaker. Your hands were shaking. Hannah just gave an amazing performance and being directly after her did very little to calm your nerves. The bar was set, and Hannah set it high. You weren’t sure you could place in the top three let alone be the best performance tonight. You needed this scholarship but doubt settled into the pit of your stomach and made you worry in nervous anticipation. 

Would this be enough? 

Was your song enough? 

Were you enough? 

You looked stage left to the side stage and found Hannah watching you, giving you a thumbs up in support as she smiled and encouraged you from where she stood. 

For the longest time you had wanted to believe that you and Hannah could never go beyond the friend-from-class title you stood behind. But now you were more hopeful than ever that you two could be real friends, close friends even. She had shown up for you and comforted you tonight, she picked up the pieces to something she never even fully understood she was in the background of. She never judged you or looked at you like you were dumb or wasting her time. 

Time and time again, Hannah had sung your praises and made you feel like someone worth knowing, like someone worth loving. She knew you loved Logan, and she believed that he loved you too. You wished endlessly for her to be right.

Hannah was your friend. She had your back and she believed you could do this. 

Every emotion you had felt over the last couple weeks circled your mind endlessly, anxiety gnawing at your conscious as you took a deep breath and picked up your guitar and your pick. You found a seat on the stool that had been set up for you, and closed your eyes to center yourself amidst the never-ending self-criticisms that picked you apart and made you feel like you had always needed to be more.

No, you thought.

Not this time.

This song was the manifestation of every thought and feeling you had been desperate to ignore or push down, every physical symptom and pang you swallowed, it was everything to you because it was the things you so often left unsaid despite the way it devoured your soul and eviscerated your heart. Maybe you could never tell Logan how you felt without having what remained of your heart crushed, but this was yours. This was your truth to own and to bear despite whoever was looking. No one could take that away from you.

~Lacy, oh, Lacy, skin like puff pastry

Aren't you the sweetest thing on this side of hell?~

You started singing, voice ringing clearly as your fingers moved across the frets of your guitar with practiced ease. Your eyes fluttered shut as you strummed along, foot tapping on the looper pedal to add different harmonies in the background of your playing.

~Dear angel Lacy, eyes white as daisies

Did I ever tell you that I'm not doing well?~

You try and focus on your singing, your conversation with Hannah fading into the back of your mind as all the emotions you poured into this song resurfaced and twisted in your mind.

~Ooh, I care, I care, I care

Like perfume that you wear

I linger all the time

Watchin', hidden in plain sight~

You had hidden in every corner, watched from right by his side and as everyone around you had seemed to catch on. It felt like a train-wreck you couldn’t turn away from as you longed for him to turn to you just once. Your desire had been a weapon against your own heart as you had convinced yourself you cared too much to ever let it affect your friendship with Logan.

~Ooh, I try, I try, I try

But it takes over my life~

You had tried for so long to bury it all, bury the fact that you were in love with your best friend. And what did that get you? The price of your silence and for what? To be miserably in love either way? Doomed to watch your best friend choose someone else every time? You repeatedly told yourself Logan didn’t owe you anything, but damn that didn’t stop you hoping.

~I see you everywhere

The sweetest torture one could bear~

Memories of sitting in a booth at Malone’s, watching Logan watch Hannah. Karaoke night. Beau and Dean’s party. Hockey games. The house. Every place that Hannah had been at and unconsciously causing Logan to catalog her every action as though he was afraid to miss something. Every time you had watched him fall more in love with her and further away from you.   

~I'm losing it lately

I feel your compliments like bullets on skin~

And despite it all, Hannah had never once said a bad word about you. Even on the days you could hardly talk to her in class because it hurt too much. She had seen the best in you and wanted to become closer friends. Every compliment shattered your desired perception, every praise was salt in the wound. Whether it was for the fear of being mocked or or the reality of being seen, you were never really sure.

~Well, aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist?~

You remembered every time you watched Logan watching her, you remembered every time his eyes followed her across every room. You had never blamed him, knowing that Hannah was radiantly beautiful and lit up every space she entered with her bubbly personality. She captured the attention of every one in every room, and that included Logan.

~You got the one thing that I want~

She didn’t even know it, but Hannah held the heart of the man you had been endlessly pining over to no end. She had been at the center of your pain and longing without ever knowing and had even offered you advice and support like the sweet person she was. She had Logan in the palm of her hand and you could only watch with a longing ache in your side.

~Ooh, I try, I try, I try

Try to rationalize

People are people

But it's like you're made of angel dust~

You had done everything to explain away your feelings, to rationalize the pain make it seem like something you just needed to get over. 

You remembered every time you thought she was prettier, smarter, kinder, or floated on air. You rationalized that it was only natural for Logan to choose her over you and in doing so you were also choosing her over yourself every single time. You took all the pain that you put yourself through just to try and rationalize it all and you turned into lyrics, pouring your heart into the microphone as you sang with so much conviction that you didn’t notice how the audience hooked onto your every word.

~Lacy, oh, Lacy, it's like you're out to get me

You poison every little thing that I do~

And backstage, when Hannah had comforted you and supported you, you had come to realize that it had been unfair to put her on this pedestal. You had made her into this untouchable being that dictated your self worth and all she wanted was to be your friend. You had known it all along, but it was never her fault that Logan had feelings for her. She was simply in the crosshairs of something she never knew she was a part of.

~Lacy, oh, Lacy, I just loathe you lately~

You had never been able to bring yourself to hate Hannah. She was simply existing, trying to find her own beat and write her own story. Every time you wanted to hate her, you could never come up with an actual reason. It was just an easy place to put the blame for your unrequited feelings. And really there was no one to blame, just as Hannah had simply existed, you simply fell in love with your best friend. 

~And I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you

Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you~

You sang the final line of your song, strumming the last chord as you felt the string vibrate against your finger. Silence filled your ears afterwards.

Well that’s not promising, you thought.

You brought your eyes up from where they had fixated on the edge of the stage, surprise washing over you as you met the gaze of the very man you didn’t think was coming.

“John?” You whispered almost silently under your breath.

John Logan had just heard your song. Your song about him and your unrequited love. 

Before you knew it he was jumping to his feet and clapping as he hollered your name.

“Yeahhhh! Let’s go, Y/N!”

Suddenly, applause broke out, Logan having lead the way as the audience jumped to their feet and giving you a standing ovation. The hockey boys were screaming your name, clearly ecstatic about your performance. You could see Allie and some of Hannah’s other friends, Jules and Beau were also there and cheering for you. Your friends from Music Comp were to the side, and out of the periphery of your eye you could see Hannah bouncing and clapping in the side stage.

Over all the noise, you heard someone calling your name the loudest.

It was Logan. He had his hands clamped around his mouth, cheering you on. You could feel your heart soar as you two made eye contact, pride radiating off of him as you heard him call out,

“That’s my girl!”

———

You felt like the floor could open up and swallow you whole and that would be the probably be for the best. 

Everyone had finished performing their pieces and the judges had left to deliberate. They had returned and were seated at the table, having passed a folder with the results to the the emcee of the event, one of your professors from within the Music Comp department. 

You and Hannah stood side by side back stage, hands tightly gripping each other’s as nerves wracked both your bodies. They had already announced third and fourth place winners, and all that remained was first place and runner’s up. 

Those two spots also had the most desired prizes.

First was a hefty scholarship, and second was a paid internship that would also pay a decent chunk of Briar’s unsightly tuition.

Several people remained, praying and hoping for their names to be called. You were beginning to feel a bit defeated. Several of these people, many of whom were your friends, had performed phenomenal songs. Everyone had taken this challenge to heart and put it all out there on the line. 

No one was leaving here tonight saying that they hadn’t given it their all. A few people had come up to you directly after your performance and spoke so highly of you that you felt relieved at least that you could say your song wasn’t terrible. People had seemed to like it, and that standing ovation was something that would stick to you. Your mind drifted to Logan, who had led the standing ovation and practically screamed your name until you left the stage.

He had called you his girl again.

The memory of him proclaiming it so loudly in front of everyone made your heart race and your mind dizzy. You figured you might have some things to explain about your song tonight, but for the first time in a long time you felt like maybe there was hope after all. Maybe it was delusion, but for tonight you’d let yourself have it.

“And first runner-up is…”

You and Hannah squeezed each other’s hands, feeling like there was no air left in the room. Anxiety had shattered you both, and from where you peeked around the curtain you could see all of your collective friend group holding hands for dear life.

“Hannah Wells!” 

You let go of Hannah’s hand, jumping up and cheering for her as she walked onstage to accept her award. You could hear the cheers erupting from your friends as they shot out of their seats, screaming out of their minds for Hannah as she beamed and shook your professor’s hand. You could barely make out the way Garrett looked the most alive you had ever seen him, like he was absolutely vibrating with joy for her. You hoped that was good omen that things were going to be back on track for them soon.

With Hannah on stage, that left you alone in the side stage, your hand reaching up to scratch your neck as you accepted defeat. There were so many talented performers this year, and if Hannah only got second you could only imagine that left you somewhere in the lower ranks. 

You would be able to make it work, without the scholarship. It would just be hard and you might have to pick up a part time job somewhere around campus to help out. You had put your heart out there on that stage, and you could genuinely say you were proud of yourself for leaving it all out there. You were so caught up in your reverie you barely registered as they announced first place.

“And in first place is…Y/N L/N!”

You stared at your professor, your mind was slammed into a tailspin as he gestured for you to come join him onstage. Several of your friends cheered you on from the side stage where you stood, someone giving you a gentle push to go accept your prize as your eyes instantly found Logan’s in the crowd.

Your friends were going crazy, Dean was bouncing up and down so hard you thought he might actually take off into outer space. Beau and Jules were trying to start a chant with your name, Tucker and Garrett clapping and cheering as your mind reeled in bewilderment. You joined Hannah on stage, giving her a brief hug and ignoring her whispered “I told you so,” as you shakily accepted the certificate and shook your professor’s hand.

Logan still held your gaze, his eyes betraying his emotions, his hair slightly messy from having run his hands through it so much while desperately praying for your name to be announced. He was grinning from ear to ear, his breath caught in his throat as he held your gaze.

You watched his lips move as he called out to you,

“I’m so proud of you.”

For once, you didn’t feel second to Hannah.

In more ways than one.

——— 

You had spotted him when you exited the building, he had been staring at the exit waiting for you to presumably talk about his text from earlier. He had also been biting his nails, so he was nervous it seemed.

“Hey there, superstar,” Logan called, his smile widening as he noticed you approaching.

He shifted his position so that he had his hands in his pockets, leaning against his truck with an effortless, casual stance. His eyes were tracing your figure as you stopped in front of him.

“Logan, you came,” you said quietly, still in disbelief that he made it despite having a game.

“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

There it was, the butterflies fluttering in your stomach despite themselves. You didn’t think this feeling was ever going to go away, you were fairly certain you could spend the rest of your life pining over this sweet man and you’d feel no relief. You could only give him a tight-lipped smile before fixating your gaze on your hands. 

“You were so unbelievably amazing. I felt so starstruck watching you perform out there. Your song was…I think the best I’ve ever heard you perform. I know I’ve said it before but you really put it all out there every time you perform. You were so otherworldly, it felt like I was witnessing something once in this life time,” Logan continued to sing your praises, in doing so causing a warmth to crawl up your neck and across your face.

You met Logan’s eyes, nervous about what he thought about the contents of your song.

“I’m glad you liked the song, I put a lot of work into it.”

“Trust me, Y/N. Everyone in that room could tell. You were unbelievable, we were all mesmerized as we watched you perform. I’m so lucky to call you my best friend,” Logan reached a hand towards yours, pulling you a step closer and playing with your fingers.

“I couldn’t help but notice, your song was a little sad, though.” 

You could tell Logan wasn’t going to let this go.

You couldn’t think of anything to say.

“We don’t have to talk about it, but I just wanted to ask, who is your song about?”

You sighed, Logan was straight to the point, as usual. You told yourself you were going to own it, that in bearing your heart you weren’t going to let it hurt you anymore. Now it was time to do just that, despite the way the idea filled you with dread.

“It’s about something I’d been feeling for awhile, watching someone I—uh, felt a certain way about feel that way about someone else, and all the feelings associated with that,” you stammered, hoping Logan dropped the subject.

Logan studied you, his eyes flickering with a whirlpool of emotions as he seemingly stared straight through your soul. You felt as though he could see right through you and the walls you had been steadily putting up. It was unraveling you.

“Right, well—um,” Logan fumbled his words.

Logan was always so certain of himself, hiding his real emotions behind his solid exterior so you were struggling to understand why he seemed so uneasy before you now. 

It felt dangerously close to vulnerability.

“There was something, Y/N, I wanted to talk to you about before,” Logan reached a hand up to scratch his neck, pulling at the collar of his jacket before meeting your eyes.

“Yes…your text,” you said nervously, anxiously awaiting what Logan was so urgently waiting to tell you.

“Right, so—”

“Garrett! Put me down!” You heard drift across the street, you redirected your attention from Logan to find Hannah being picked up into Garrett’s arms.

Laughter carried across the wind, melodically ringing in your ears. You watched as Garrett held Hannah, spinning her around and kissing her deeply.

Looks like they’re finally back together, you thought.

You were elated for her, you had become extremely fond of the sweet girl and you hoped she got everything she wanted, she deserved it. This seemed like a pretty great start to that.

Logan noticed your gaze fixed on the happily reunited couple, turning to watch them for a moment before turning back to you.

“Looks like Garrett got his girl back. Took him long enough,” Logan echoed your thoughts.

“Hmm, hope you aren’t too upset you lost your chance to swoop in and sweep her off her feet,” you murmured, still watching the two lovebirds across the way.

“Yeah, Hannah wasn’t the one I was hoping to sweep off her feet tonight,” you snapped your neck to look at Logan, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a new girl already,” you could feel your heart sinking.

“No! N-no it’s someone I’ve actually wanted for a long time, I’ve just never had the guts to say anything until now,” Logan hurriedly tried to correct what he was saying.

“Wanted for how long? And why is this the first time I’m hearing about it?” A twinge of hurt flaring in your chest.

“Since freshman year. And because I was scared.” 

John Logan scared? That didn’t sound right. It would almost be laughable if not for the tension riddling this man and threatening to boil over as his shoulders straightened and his eyes grew darker.

“Oh. This is like love love?” You said quietly.

“Yeah, it is.”

Logan sounded definitive in saying that. Like he was absolutely sure that this mystery person was the one that he wanted in every single way. This was going to be what seismically shifted your world and sent if all crashing down around you, you were sure of it.

“So then who’s this long time crush you’re gonna sweep off their feet?” You choked out, feeling like Logan was taking all the air with him when he was undoubtedly about to let you down slowly.

A strained quiet descended, Logan searching for the right words to say.

“That was you…actually,” Logan sighed as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

What?

What did he just say?

There was no way, absolutely no way.

You had just spent so long watching Logan watch Hannah, just to say he wanted to sweep you off your feet? You had to have been hallucinating, that’s not what he actually said, right? Maybe this was all a dream, maybe none of it was real. That had to be it. There was no way.

“But,” you started, your voice quivering as you tried to understand everything.

“I thought you were in love with Hannah?”

“I’m not,” Logan said immediately like it wasn’t a question in his mind.

“You’re not?” You sounded confused, you couldn’t make sense of the situation.

“I thought I liked her. I was doing everything I could think of to push down everything I felt towards you. I tried to convince myself that if I ignored it, then it would go away. But it didn’t. If anything it just got worse as time went on and the more I tried to fight it. I wanted to believe I could like Hannah the way I liked you because there was less to lose. If you didn’t feel the same, I thought I might lose you out of my life for good. And I didn’t want that, Y/N.”

“Your song tonight, gave me a lot of perspective on how much of an idiot I’ve been. If I’m right, and god I hope I’m right, I think you might feel the same. If you don’t then I understand if you want to walk away from me right now and never talk to me again, and I’ll respect that.”

“I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re hard to love. And I’m sorry if I’ve ever been the guy to make you feel that you were, Y/N.”

“John,” you whispered, a single tear streaming down your cheek. 

Your emotions were a mess, every thing you had felt the past several weeks bubbling up under your skin. Your heart and mind were engaged in a battle, dueling each other in such powerful intensity as you tried to rationalize everything Logan said to you now and everything that had happened lately.

“No, Y/N. I meant what I said. You are not hard to love. God, it’s so easy. It’s the most natural thing I’ve ever done. I can’t imagine a day waking up and my heart not already beating for you. You crawled right under my skin and found a home within me. I’m only sorry it took me so long to realize that’s what this was for me,” Logan grabbed your hand, his eyes pleading with yours.

“There was a part of me that was beyond terrified that I would lose you if I said anything. But I can’t do that anymore. If I say nothing, I could lose you to someone else. So, I’d rather stand here and tell you that I am an ass, you’ve told me that more times than I can count and you’re not wrong. You’ve been by my side for so long and have seen me at my worst so many times, yet somehow you only talk about the best of me,” Logan paused, searching for any hint of what you may be feeling.

“But then I think that’s because you bring out the best in me. You make me want to be a better person, genuinely. You make me want to be better for you. I spent so long thinking I always had to be at my best for you to want me the way I’ve wanted you, and I can’t say I still don’t feel that way. But I saw Tucker’s hand on yours for two seconds and I almost put him through the boards, Y/N. I don’t want a better man for you. I want to be better, for you,” Logan heaved, out of breath for talking so long.

You were at a loss for words. It felt like too much, too fast almost. But that’s how it began with John Logan, it may as well have continued that way. 

Your mind caught up with your heart, your breathing trying to even out as you processed everything. Your mind was still reeling.

“So you don’t like Hannah?” You questioned.

“No, no I don’t. It was only ever truly, you,” Logan 

“There’s a lot of things I haven’t felt like I’ve been able to say,” you started.

“I know, I—“ 

“No, Logan. You don’t. Let me finish,” you placed a hand on Logan’s chest, keeping him a bit of a distance from you. 

Logan swallowed but nodded, a dejected look on his face.

“I spent so long, watching you like Hannah. It destroyed me. The worst part was I couldn’t blame you, I looked at her and saw a million ways I didn’t compare. I convinced myself it was natural for you to choose her because this was all I would ever be.”

“Everyday, it felt like someone was ripping my heart out of my chest and tossing it around like a hockey puck, Logan. It absolutely tore me apart, I couldn’t breathe when I was around you but I couldn’t stand to be away from you. That night at karaoke? You looked so lovestruck I thought I could die right there and you wouldn’t notice.”

“I can never do that to myself again, I refuse to. I will never be second place, the second choice, or just the conveniently placed best friend. If I give you this chance right now, this is it. There won’t be another and if I ever am made to feel that way again, I will walk away. I will not let my self worth be absolutely warped like that again. Ever.”

Logan’s eyes widened, he took a tentative step towards you. 

“I know it won’t be easy. I know there’s things I can’t fix overnight, but I am willing to try. If you’ll let me, I want to fight for you, for us. I want you, Y/N. That’s it. You are it for me,” Logan openly pleaded with you now.

Logan ignited sparks along every nerve, traveling down your spine and lighting fires all the way down. You felt so utterly alive and effervescent. 

“John,”

“Yes?”

“Did you mean it?” 

“Did I…what?” Logan was incredulous at your question.

“Did. You. Mean. It?” You grabbed his hands, challenging his unwavering gaze as you stared right back with equal intensity.

“I told you, Y/N. I meant everything I said.”

You deliberated for a second, searching his face for any sign that he was lying to you or pranking you or for anything even the slightest bit off to give you enough reason to refute his declaration.

You found nothing but adoration and something you couldn’t quite place.

John Logan felt the same way about you. The words didn’t even make sense to you. But as you stared up into Logan’s gentle doe-eyes, desperately searching your own for any inclination of how you felt, you did the only thing that felt right in that moment.

You reached up and grabbed Logan by the shirt, pulling him into you as you kissed him.

Logan was surprised, completely caught off guard by your brazen act. The feeling of your lips on his, pressing into him like he was the only thing tethering you to this reality ignited the fire inside him, pooling in his stomach as he suddenly remembered to kiss you back. He was savoring the feeling and taste of your sweet kiss, never wanting this moment to end.

You pulled away after the all too quick kiss, your chest heaving and breath rattling as you stared nervously into his eyes. Logan was also breathless, his pupils blown as they flicked to your mouth and back to your eyes again. The both of you were speechless, waiting for the other to make a move.

Silence stretched between you two. Logan’s hand reached up to cup your face, his thumb gently running over your bottom lip. 

“Please,” you barely whispered as heat settled over your face.

“Please what?” Logan rasped out, his breath shaky as his hand gently stroked your cheek.

“Kiss me.”

Logan grinned, unwilling to deny you. He pulled you back to him, never once releasing you from where he held you. His lips found yours again, eyes fluttering shut as euphoric delight crashed over you in waves. The hand caressing your face slid to the back of your head, pulling slightly on your hair in a way that left you gasping, Logan seizing the opportunity to gently slide his tongue into your mouth. His other hand came up to rest on your back, pulling you impossibly closer against his own body. 

Now that he had you, Logan was never letting you go.

———

Prior to walking into Malone’s together, you and Logan ended up having a whole conversation in his truck about how to handle this now that you two were trying things beyond being just friends, and how to explain that to the friend group.

“So like…do we just say fuck it and tell them? The guys will go crazy,” Logan asked.

“Well, if we just keep things under wraps it gives us a bit to breathe and make it just ours,” you were still getting used to the idea that Logan returned your feelings, let alone you were kind of together now.

“Yeah, problem is I kinda had a whole discussion with the guys about how I was going to tell you,” Logan winced.

“…so Dean knows.”

“Dean knows,” Logan confirmed.

“Guess we’re hard launching it then,” you sighed.

“We can wait until someone brings it up, maybe they’ll be normal about it,” Logan was blissfully ignorant.

“You’re hoping Dean Di Laurentis is going to be normal about this? He’s been watching us for months,” you pointed out.

“He said since spring.”

“Dear god,” you groaned, throwing your head in your hands.

“He’s not letting us get away with anything.”

“Nope,” Logan simply said.

You contemplated your choices for a minute.

“Well, let’s just roll with it, I guess,” you said, shrugging off the possibilities.

Because really, what was there to lose? Your pride because Dean was about to be a smug asshole about it and tell you both that he was right? You could live with that if it meant Logan suffered along with you under Dean’s relentless teasing.

Logan nodded and tapped his hands on the steering wheel.

“We could just go back to your apartment or the house, it could be just us for tonight and deal with the rest tomorrow,” Logan offered.

A soft giggle escaped you, Logan brightening at the sound.

“I promised Hannah I’d come out tonight. We don’t have to stay long but I feel like you owe me a margarita,” you beamed at him.

“Guess it’s decided then,” Logan didn’t even protest the margarita.

He hopped out the driver’s side of his truck, winding around the front to pull your door open before you got the chance to protest and holding a hand up to you.

“Ready?” He asked, his eyes watching your face for any initial sign of discomfort.

You grasped Logan’s hand in yours, swinging your legs down and onto the ground before meeting his gaze.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Upon walking into Malone’s, hand in hand with Logan, you could hear cheers immediately across the bar, all of your collective friends having beat the two of you there.

“Called it! You owe me 20 bucks, Tuck!”

“There’s the Pop Showcase Champ!”

“Ayoooo atta’ boy Logan!” 

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Dean approached you two, a mischievous, shit-eating look on his face as he noticed your intertwined hands.

“Hi Dean,” you said as evenly as possible.

“First let me offer you my congratulations, dear Y/N for your splendid performance and well-won prize,” Dean rambled off.

“Thank you, Dean. Go ahead, get this next part over with,” you laughed, already shaking your head.

“Oh, I will thank you dear, sweet Y/N,” Dean turned to Logan.

“And now my boy, John Logan, may I finally at long last offer my congratulations to you on finally pulling your head out of your ass long enough to see this magnificent specimen that had been right in front of you for some time,” Dean clapped a hand on Logan’s shoulder.

“Thanks man,” Logan sighed, resigned to let Dean have his moment.

“Oh I wasn’t finished—“

“Why don’t you let these two make their rounds,” Allie came up next to Dean and put her hand on his shoulder, coaxing him away from a lecture about how he was right the entire time and sparing the entire bar from hearing about it.

“Fine, fine. I’ll just leave it at this, I have been rooting for this for a long time. Y/N deserves the best and I’m happy you finally got the girl, Logan. Cheers,” Dean raised his glass before chasing after Allie to a table, something you noted to ask about later.

You and Logan turned and looked at each other, each laughing as you made eye contact.

“Y/N! Over here!” 

You turned to see Hannah waving you over to a booth where she sat next to Garrett, his eyes full of adoration as he watched her.

Still holding Logan’s hand, you pulled him with you over to where the two sat, sliding in on the opposite side of the booth. Logan sat as close to you as he could get, his leg brushing against yours as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. 

“Y/N! You were so amazing out there, you absolutely killed it!” Hannah gushed.

“You did really great, Y/N,” Garrett nodded.

“You’re so kind, I thought for sure you were going to win, Hannah,” you grabbed her hand from across the table.

“Second place is just fine with me, it comes with a great internship opportunity,” Hannah gripped your hand back, no sign of bitterness or bad blood anywhere in her face.

“A paid internship at that,” Allie had abandoned Dean and Beau and was standing behind your booth.

“And as long as it was between you two and not Bethany, I’m satisfied,” Allie smiled.

The group laughed, Logan’s body rumbling gently against yours where your bodies touched. Warmth crawled up your neck, the cool vinyl of the booth a pleasant contrast. When you looked up at him, he was already looking at you. Your breath hitched as his eyes traced over your face.

“Ugh, get a room you two,” Garrett threw a straw at Logan.

“As if you two weren’t in each others throats when we got here,” Logan retorted.

Hannah blushed, Garrett wrapping an arm around her tightly, keeping her attached to his side.

“Can you blame me?” Garrett asked nonchalantly, looking at Hannah.

Logan turned his attention back to you.

“No, I can’t.”

It was your turn to blush, you felt it up into the tips of your ears.

“Y’know what Logan, you still owe me that margarita,” you got out of the booth, pulling Logan with you as Garrett and Hannah laughed at you. Allie slid into where you two had been sitting, switching topics with Hannah to talk about some new guy she went on a date with. 

You glanced at Dean, noticing the way he watched Allie from across the room. For a brief moment, his eyes flashed to yours. You gave him a small, sympathetic smile and nod. You weren’t sure you fully understood what was happening between Dean and Allie, you were fully sure you probably didn’t want to know the depth of what they were up to, but you could empathize with Dean. You knew exactly what he was feeling at this moment, having lived something similar yourself. Dean broke his gaze first, turning to go find Beau and maybe distract himself.

By the time you reached the bar and Logan had ordered for you, Jules had joined you both.

“‘Bout time there, John. I wasn’t sure you had it in you,” Jules poked at Logan’s side.

“Thanks, Jules,” Logan passed you a margarita, taking the wrapper off the straw for you.

“Does this mean next karaoke night I can put you both down for some Sandy-Danny action?” Jules wagged their eyebrows at you.

“Sure, but I’m taking Sandy,” Logan joked.

You laughed, pure elation coursing through your veins. So much had happened today, and a lot had changed. There was still a lot to be worked out and you were sure doubt would still creep in from time to time. But you were hopeful. And as Logan had reminded you of your own advice, you were trying to focus on the things you could fix right now.

Jules left you two alone, Logan leaned on the bar and watched you sip your victory margarita. His stance was softer, more comfortable. He seemed relaxed and like he was truly enjoying everything in his life right now. The tension that so often sat between his shoulders was looser, a bright smile and on his face as though he was completely enamored.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Knowing you were watching, Logan cleared his throat.

“You did great today, and while you were up there I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you looked as well,” Logan said nervously, a gentle pink tinging his cheeks.

His fingers moved to play with the hem of your dress, you had chosen a black, lacy dress that held you together with a corset back. It was reminiscent of your dynamic duo outfit, something that Logan had picked up on.

“It reminds me of this swan I met at a party once,” Logan started.

“She was so stunning and after she left I remember I spent the rest of the night kicking myself for being such an ass and leaving her at that party, I didn’t have any fun once she was gone,” Logan’s eyes flicked up to yours.

“That’s a damn shame, I’m sure she spent the rest of her night wishing you had stayed by her side, too,” you teased back mercilessly.

Logan’s eyes raked over your body, his eyes flashing as he breathed your scent in.

“Y/N, I—”

“Logan! You called him?!” Dean was pissed and pointing at some guy you didn’t recognize.

“Shit,” Logan swore quietly.

“Logan who is that?” You felt like you were watching something big unfold.

Next thing you knew, Dean and this guy were throwing punches at each other and Logan was up and trying to help the guys break them apart. Dean had the guy against the bar, you had quickly moved out of the way and spared a glance towards an unusually disarrayed Allie.

Oh.

This was going to get messy.

———

The rest of the night had been a lot of separating the boys and calming Dean down and thanking people for their praise on your performance. By the time you and Logan had made it back to the hockey house, you were exhausted.

You had trudged up the first flight of stairs to Logan’s room, your feet dragging behind you until Logan came up behind you and swung you into his strong arms.

“Logan! What are you doing?” You all but shrieked, not worried about waking anyone up because you had beaten the others home. 

“I said I was going to sweep you off your feet, didn’t I?” Logan smirked, carrying you the rest of the way up and into his room.

“You’re ridiculous,” you chuckled, resting your head against his chest as he carried you across before setting you on the bed.

“Take off your makeup and shower, I’ll grab a towel and shirt for you,” Logan instructed.

For once, you weren’t in a mood to argue with him and stood up to head towards the bathroom.

You paused next to where Logan stood, reaching up and pressing a gentle kiss against his cheek. 

Logan swore he could have melted into a puddle right there, watching as you retreated behind the bathroom door and turned on the water. 

While you were preoccupied, Logan set the towel and shirt on the bathroom sink, careful to still give you your privacy. He returned to his room and was putting away miscellaneous hockey gear and text books while he waited for you to finish. 

He had straightened his bed and run downstairs to refill your water bottle you had forgotten during one of your movie nights. By the time he got back upstairs, he noticed the water in the shower had turned off and he could hear you lightly humming.

Smiling to himself, he set your water bottle on his night stand and changed out of his clothes and into some sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. 

Just as he had pulled the t-shirt on, he felt your arms wrap firmly around his waist, as if you were afraid to let go. He softened, his heart skipping in rhythm and singing your name. Turning around in your arms so you faced him, he looked down at you pressed against him in his t-shirt. He never wanted to let go. 

“You ready for bed?” He asked softly, noticing how sleepy you had gotten.

His chest rumbled as he laughed, picking you up gently and moving the couple of yards over until he landed on his bed. He laid you down gently first, climbing in beside you like he’d always done, his arm wrapping around your front and pulling the covers up until you were completely cozy and cocooned. You burrowed into his chest, his heart swelling as he watched your breathing begin to even out as sleep overtook you.

“John?”

“Yeah?”

“What if when I wake up this was all a dream?”

Logan hesitated, pulling you tighter into his chest.

“Then I’ll remind that this is real. You’re it for me, Y/N. I’ll remind you as many times as you need.”

You smiled before fully drifting off into sleep, your soft, gentle snores filling the air. Logan tucked a loose piece of damp hair behind your ear, just enjoying this moment where you were totally his.

In that moment Logan knew for sure.

He was just as much yours as you were his.

(+ bonus bit)

It had been a few weeks since the showcase and finals had come and gone. The hockey season was still ongoing, but most of the guys had traveled home for a few days to get some time in with their families while they had a brief break. That left you and Logan alone in the hockey house for the last few days. It had been some of the best days you swore you ever lived. You had been spending time with Logan, reflecting on how everything had changed in the last few weeks.

You and Logan had said a lot to each other after the pop showcase and you had spent a large part of that night talking about the things that you both had been holding back, the insecurities created, and the doubts that you would still have to work through over time as your relationship bloomed into something like best friends, but better. 

John Logan wasn’t just your best friend anymore, he was also your boyfriend.

And you were John Logan’s girlfriend.

If you sat and thought about it too long, you would start to form this absolutely dopey look on your face, smile so wide that your cheeks would start to burn. This time around though, you knew with certainty the same could be said for the man laying next you. 

You laid chest to Logan, his hands making busy work of gently combing through your hair and rubbing circles into your shoulder. This was the most content you had been in a long time.

“Logan?”

“Hmm yeah, baby?”

God it would take time getting used to that.

You took a beat of silence.

“I love you,” your voice was barely above a whisper.

Logan shifted in bed beside you, turning on his side so he was facing you. A shit-eating grin was forming on his face.

“Sorry, baby but I don’t think I heard you. What was that? Say again.”

Warmth flushed down you cheeks and chest, your hands coming up to cover your face as embarrassment washed over your features.

“Logannnn,” you whined.

“Sorry baby, but I really need you to say it again,” Logan teased as his hands started skimming up and down the side of your arm and down to your legs.

“You’re such an ass, John Logan!” you exclaimed, smacking him lightly in the chest.

Wasting no time, Logan hitched his hands under your knees and slid between them as he moved you so you were lying flat against his bed.

“Logan! What the f—”

He didn’t let you to finish that statement, his hands falling on either side of your head as he caged you in. He gave you no chance to escape him or his steady gaze as his eyes locked into yours, something unfamiliar swirling around in the brown irises you frequently got lost in.

“Y/N, I need to hear you say it. Say. It. Again.” Logan rasped out, his pupils dilating the longer he stared down at you.

You were breathless as you stared right back up at the man you could finally call your own, losing focus briefly and flicking to his soft lips before back to the eyes that once haunted your dreams.

“I love you, John,” you said firmly this time, watching as his smile spread to his eyes and dimples began to form.

Logan laughed lightly, shaking his head as if he hoped he never got used to hearing you say it, he hoped he felt butterflies and sparks and the fire you had lit in him for the rest of his life. He was fairly certain he would get his way.

“That’s good because I love everything about you, Y/N. I love that you’re so stubborn and always think you’re right.”

He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Because I am always right,” you retorted.

“Shhh,” Logan kissed your right temple, not tolerating your interruption.

“I love how you are the smartest, most creative person I’ve ever met.”

Logan moved to kiss your other temple, leaning in closer to your left ear.

“I love how you are the only person I know to cause a microwave fire from popcorn.”

You laughed freely as Logan pressed a soft kiss against your hairline.

“I love that you always search for the best in people, even when they don’t deserve it. Even when I don’t deserve it.”

Logan kissed the bridge of your nose, your heart squeezing.

“I love every part of your body and how devastatingly beautiful you are.”

Logan’s eyes ravenously traced your form before his warm breath fanned over your neck, kissing the pulse point in your neck.

You bit your lip, Logan noticing right away.

“I love how you choose to always drive me crazy.”

Warmth ignited fires through your nerves as Logan kissed right above your collar bone.

“I love those breathless little sounds you make every time I kiss you.”

He leaned down to kiss the corner of your mouth, moving his lips to your right ear.

“And most importantly, I love how easy it is to love you. I’d sooner forget how to breathe than ever forget how it feels to love you.

Your breath hitched in your throat, the edges of your vision blurring with unshed, happy and content tears. Logan leaned down to kiss you fully, his lips meeting yours in an passionate battle as your flesh melded into one. You let out a breathless sound while Logan’s kiss consumed you, the feeling of his lips against yours leaving you feeling like every fiber of your being had electricity pulsing through. It felt like white-hot flares were bubbling up under your skin, making you impossibly warm and deliriously happy. Each spot he had kissed you before felt like a million tiny fireworks were dancing across the surface, the feeling tattooed into your skin by this man.

Logan pulled away, his hand moving to cup your face as he earnestly looks you in the eyes, absolutely sick with adoration.

“And there’s a million more reasons why I love you, and I plan on telling you a new one every single day until you’re absolutely sick of me,” Logan finished.

You could barely handle all the love you felt, you felt as if your heart was overflowing with something you once never thought would be yours. There would be moments where you still hesitated to believe this was all yours, and there would be moments Logan would be terrified he’d scare you off for good. You would both handle those moments as they came, if they came. Laying there in Logan’s arms, you felt as though the two of you could handle whatever life threw at you next.

You reached a hand up, brushing a curl out of Logan’s face as you stared into his doe-like brown eyes, reveling in the way they softened as he leaned his face into your palm.

“Well, I don’t think I will ever get tired of that, John,” you said sweetly. 

Logan only grinned as he pulled you in for another kiss.

Yeah, you could get used to that.

…

You were incredibly, 100% without a doubt, obvious to everyone else, in love with your best friend John Logan. 

And your best friend, John Logan, was 100% without a doubt, obvious to everyone else, in love with you.

A/N: and so it's come to an end :'( I've enjoyed writing this so much and I hope you all enjoyed it too. I'll probably take a break bc this was way above what I ever imagined, but I wanna start working on my next fic soon, anyone down for a lil Logan x maneater!reader maybe?? also I tried to leave the song in this as ambiguous as I could while still referencing the song that inspired the fic so I hope that comes across okay? like it's not my song so I felt a bit weird writing it as my character's song so I wanted to go about it more like these are the lyrics as they apply to the story and what the character is feeling as they sing, not just the song that is necessarily being sung also that way if you had a different song in mind you can live your artistic liberty dream. idk ik its not that deep but what can you do. either way thank you for all the love, this story is now yours <3 thanks for being along for the ride :) xx

taglist: @nihoshi17@taivantaylor@solstice-333@littlepippilongstocking@anyasthoughts@sisterslytherinog@dina2223@cherryangel-coke@yvesjgk@sela-gypsy@leithold@abcdefghijklmopqrstuvwxyzz@jigsaw11111@itmekelpy@coldheartedmar@k-alen@fandom-princess-forevermore@itsheathermarieposts@savedbystyle@abominablesnowman24@yegrnn@sagittarianwolf@hteusefam@gandalfthegoatsblog@dinafox2006@dumplingsyum@irisjustlikeheaven@makinbananapancakes@bruce9818@skyesthebomb@wilmonyibo7@powellssaturn @huang-the-greek @tacocoburittoto @wh1stlet0e @girlbossforever@il0vereadingstuff@saltyfriendsaladbandit@idgasb@jordan-connor@loony-brain@superbfishhumanoidweasel @hadesnumber1daughter @devildoll769 @wintermoonly @undercoverbatwoman @chervbs @outpostsworld @pola-rosa @nisarelle @honeylesshaze @ilovesharry @woderfulkawaii @ky-laa @starktcc @ajw1231 @budgetcupid @run-for-the-hills

[hauntedsilences]

they don't know about us

pairing: john logan x fem!reader (garrett's sister) word count: 1.1k trigger warnings: there is mentions at past abuse summary: you have known john logan since you first came to briar u. he became a constant in your life, as he was a constant in your brother's life. developing a crush on him felt easy, perhaps the easiest thing that you had ever done. however john logan was two things: your brothers best friend, and plainly not interested in you. at least, you don't think he is? it's easy to pass off the flirting and lingering stares as it simply being who he was. was it though? or was there something more. author note: this is my first fic, esp w/ logan so please be kind to me & let me know if u have any notes!! this is just a lil short as it's kinda like the beginning & i wanted to see if it was something that people would be interested in!! ⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚ a party at the off campus hockey house wasn't out of the norm for you. not when your brother was the captain of the hockey team, and one of the four boys who found residence in this home.

the two of you had always been close, bonded by a childhood that no one should have endured. the trauma dealt at the hand of your father being something that haunted both of you. it was also something that brought you close to each other. finding comfort in a brother that always swore to protect you.

following him to briar was easy, and blending yourself into his friend group was even easier. you were only a year younger than him, and have found yourself fully integrated after the two years spent hanging around the house, attending games, and parties. you found a best friend in his girlfriend, hannah, and a found family with everyone else that seemed to come and go from the house.

then there was him. he was different than the others. he was casually cool in a way that always left you wanting more. his smile seemed to hold this specific ability that would cause you to melt, and his voice seemed to be the perfect kind of music to your ears.

he was everything that you wanted, but you couldn't have him.

for he was your brother's best friend, and there were some lines that you knew you couldn't cross. even if you wanted to, it wasn't as if he liked you. garrett had told you what logan's type once. it was a off-handed remark as the two of you watched him flirt with someone who definitely wasn't that type. you learned enough to realize that you also were not his type.

even if you were, would it matter?

you cast the thoughts aside every time that you have, refusing to let youself believe in a world in which john logan could ever like you. it was easier that way. easier to talk yourself down from any hope that lingered in your chest when his words came off as a little bit too flirty, or when he smiled in your direction for a little too long. all things that you convinced yourself had to mean nothing, because that was easier than believe that it would ever mean something.

tonight was another of those nights where you had to convince that it was all just him being him. when he lingered by your side a little too long as a freshman on the team drunkenly tried to flirt with you. when he smiled at you from across the room eyes lifting from the girl that was in front of him to meet yours. when he laughed at your jokes that was simply not that funny.

it all meant nothing, you swore on that.

then the party dwindles. people filter out, the other guys end up in their rooms with their girlfriends or some girl they picked for the night. it was just you and logan, sitting on the couch as you both finish a beer. "did you see that freshman who didn't realize that hannah was garrett's girlfriend?," you ask, a smile on your face as his eyebrows arch up in curiosity, "the look on his face when garrett came up? that was nearly priceless."

"was it the same one that flirted with you?," he asks then, the words coming out a bit unprompted. enough to the point that it catches you off guard. there is a smirk on his face, something that feels a bit more mischievous than it should.

you laugh awkwardly then before taking another drink from your beer bottle, "it wasn't," you admit sheepishly, "that one didn't seem to have eyes for anyone else." it was kinda nice to have someone look at you that way. someone who was so enamored by you that he followed you around like a puppy desperate for your attention.

the smirk on his face fades then, and his elbow props up on the back of the couch, arm slanted up so that his head can rest against his hand. there is a moment of silence that passes between you as he takes you in. there is an unsettled feeling that settles into your stomach as you become abruptly aware of being under his gaze. "why didn't you leave with him then?," he asks, words lacking any sort of teasing

you laugh then, but it comes out awkwardly. a hand runs through your hair, pushing it back out of your face as you look at him. "just because he didn't have eyes for anyone else, doesn't mean that i didn't," you admit, a smile teasing at the corner of your lips.

his eyebrows furrow for a moment, and he is almost too quick to ask, "who else do you have eyes for?"

you become acutely aware of the alcohol in your system then. how it tingles your senses and blurs the edges of your mind. it seems to lower your ability to think properly. the walls that you normally have up around him beginning to crumble under his gaze, "don't you know?," the words come out without much thought.

the moment that the words are out, you feel embarrassed by them. by the hint of a confession, and the smile on his face seems to hint at the fact that he does know. there is a heat that floods your cheeks the longer than he smiles at you, and the longer that the silence seems to draw out between you.

you move to take another drink from your beer, suddenly wishing it would empty itself and you could claim that you were to call a cab to take you home. wishing that you could be removed from the conversation.

another second ticks by, and your eyes have to advert from his. you think it would be easier to endure if you weren't looking at him.

you take another drink from your beer, finishing it at last. "i should go," you say at last, an awkward laugh tagging onto the end of your words, "i have a study group in the morning, and it's already getting so late."

then his hand reaches out to yours, and that smirk of his seems to be dripping with charisma, "or you could stay." the words make your heart skip a beat then, and it's almost as if he can tell. that smirk on his face nearly implies that he can. "and we could talk about that person that you have eyes for?" shit. he definitely knows.

[rgntthragg]

Caught

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

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

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

Logan is shoved halfway under the kitchen sink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He curves his index finger, gesturing you over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like that, baby?” He asks.

“Yes~ I’m dripping wet,” you respond.

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

“Yo! Anyone home? I brought food.”

It’s Dean.

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

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

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

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

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

Dean lets out a loud whoop!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Main Masterlist

[fezrus]

Friday I’m in love (part three)

John Logan x Reader

part one part two

Or how John Logan claimed every single day of your week—first as a milestone, now as a minefield.

word count : 4.3k — part 3/7 — angst but fluff but angst — yearning — logan and dean are idiots — enjoy and please tell me what you think !

Chapter three — wednesday

"It's not what you think," Logan said.

His voice was entirely too quiet, swallowed instantly by the muffled chatter of the library stairwell. He stood a step above you, still holding the cream-colored sweater between his hands.

"Oh really?" you scoffed.

Logan flinched this time, the sharp edge of your voice cutting straight through his quiet defense. He took a slow step down, descending to your level until he was looking you dead in the eye, his gaze heavy and entirely focused on yours.

"Look, I know it's fucked up," he said, his voice dropping to a rough, private register. "And I know it sounds awful, and you have every right to be mad. But I didn't pretend. Everything I said, everything I felt—it was real. I didn't give a single shit about the bets, I swear to you."

The word hung in the cold air between you, sharp and jagged. The bets.

Your jaw tightened, the raw humiliation of saturday morning washing over you all over again, sharp and biting. "The bets," you repeated, almost imperceptible. Your voice was strained, injured, defeated—as if a part of you was still clinging to the hope that none of it was true—as if not having voiced it out loud until now meant it wasn't fully real yet.

"The bets," you shook your head slightly as a dull, bitter laugh slipped out. It was just stupid. You felt like an idiot for believing him, for letting him into your space so easily. You looked up at him, your tone flattening into something cold. "So you actually admit it. And you expect me to just stand here and listen to your excuse?"

Logan’s jaw tightened, a hard muscle twitching in his cheek. He raised his eyes back to yours, his chest heaving, but his tongue stayed tied. He couldn't deny it. The messy reality of what he'd done was written plain across his face.

The silence was the only explanation you needed.

You snatched the sweater from his hands, shoving it into your bag. You didn't give him another syllable. You turned on your heel and began to walk down the rest of the stairs, your study group long forgotten.

"Wait—" Logan reached for you, his hand catching the air just past your shoulder. His voice followed you down the stairwell, desperate. "I'll do anything to prove how much I regret it. Please. Anything."

You didn't look back. You burst through the heavy library doors and out into the gray, freezing campus afternoon, his parting words still ringing in your ears.

The walk back to your apartment was a blur, your mind actively staging a coup, dragging you backward to a wednesday night just a few weeks ago. Another night where he had claimed he would do anything to prove himself—and then actually did.

After that heated, suffocating session in the library archives, everything had devolved into a complete mess. The air between you had turned thick and incredibly awkward. For three days, the easy momentum you’d been building since the broken bike chain simply vanished.

There were only a few dry, tentative texts back and forth.

Mavis: You get back okay?

You had stared at the screen for twenty minutes before typing a brief response.

You: Yeah. Thanks again for the help with the archives.

He didn't reply to that, leaving the conversation dead for over twenty-four hours. But by monday night, he clearly couldn't handle the weird distance anymore. He reached out again, trying to force things back to normal.

Mavis: Free tomorrow? Let's grab food after class.

You had freaked out. The sheer intensity of what had almost happened under the dim lights of the stacks left you completely overwhelmed. You had shared a moment so intimate, so important, so… interrupted. After leaving the library, neither he nor you had dared to initiate anything at all. Nothing. Maybe he had let himself get swept up in the moment, even if he seemed completely aware of his actions, his words, his hands—even if he himself had said he felt no regret about it—even if his eyes burned with desire? So, naturally, with all this evidence in your hands, you did the thing any responsible adult would have done—you panicked and shut it down.

You: Massive exam on Thursday. I need to cram.

The three little dots appeared instantly, and you immediately wanted to punch yourself. Idiot, you thought.

They stayed there for a full minute. Then they vanished. A few minutes later, they appeared again, stayed for ten seconds, and disappeared. Finally, the text came through.

Mavis: Oh. Well, okay. Good luck.

The disappointment practically bled through the glass screen. A heavy wall of distance had been firmly built between you, born entirely out of the sudden fear that you had missed your chance, and that neither of you knew how to cross the line again without the cover of playful banter.

By wednesday night, you were a ball of unresolved anxiety. Hannah and Allie had practically dragged you out of the apartment, insisting you needed a drink to get out of your own head.

They just conveniently forgot to mention the hockey team would be at the exact same bar, a notorious campus dive—sticky floors, smelling permanently of stale beer and sweat.

“Oh, look at that!” Allie shouted over the noise as her eyes locked onto the back corner of the bar. You followed her line of sight and felt your stomach drop. The guys were crowded around a massive corner booth. “Funny coincidence, right?” she smiled, her voice completely unconvincing.

Great. You really wanted to be mad at them for plotting that out, but you couldn’t blame them. They’d spent the last three days watching you pace the apartment like a ghost, jumping every time your phone buzzed, completely consumed by an anxiety you refused to explain. It wasn’t a trap to punish you—they were just exhausted from seeing you suffer in silence.

Once your small group walked over, the standard introductions were made, everyone shouting over the blaring music. The moment Allie introduced you, Tucker raised his glass with a smirk. “Ah! You’re the bike girl!”

"Drop it," Logan muttered immediately from the corner of the booth. He didn't look up from his drink, but his jaw was tight, and his ears had turned a faint shade of red. He looked completely miserable—shadows under his eyes, his shoulders tense, a dark cloud hanging over him. He clearly thought he had completely ruined things at the library, and your radio silence over the last three days had obviously confirmed it in his head.

The guys exchanged a silent, knowing look, but thankfully, they let the comment slide, shifting back to a loud conversation about their upcoming game.

Despite the rocky start, the night shifted. Dean was surprisingly pushy, practically hauling Logan out of the booth and steering him toward the bar top where you had gone to order another round. He slid into the space next to you, winked, and then physically shoved Logan into his place before walking away toward the dartboards.

Suddenly, the noise of the crowded bar faded. It was just the two of you, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at the scratched wooden counter. Logan stared down at his beer glass, looking smaller than usual, stripped of that effortless confidence.

"You're avoiding me," he said, his voice quiet, lacking his usual bite.

You stared down at the counter, your fingers nervously picking at the corner of your coaster. You opened your mouth a few times to speak, to deny it, but you couldn’t. He was right and you both knew it. "I just... I didn't really know where we stood after the library. Things got intense, and then..." you paused, the words catching in your throat. You swallowed, hesitating, and he noticed. Of course, he noticed.

“And then?” he asked, his eyes searching for yours, a glimpse of hope making them shine despite the obvious disappointment.

You took a deep breath before looking up to meet his eyes. "And then we didn't even kiss. I just assumed I misread everything."

Logan blinked, his dark eyes tracking your face as a sudden look of realization washed over him. He let out a low, breathless chuckle, his shoulders visibly dropping as weeks of built-up anxiety evaporated in a second.

"You thought you misread me?" he asked, a faint, genuine smile finally reaching his eyes as he ran his hand over his face, letting his index fingers massage his temples. "Jesus. I spent the last three days convinced I'd completely freaked you out in the stacks. I thought I was being way too pushy, and then you hit me with the 'oh, I have to study' text."

"I was nervous," you admitted, leaning your chin on your hand, a tiny smile forming. "You're a lot to handle, Mavis."

"Am I?" He leaned a bit closer, his tone shifting from defensive to entirely serious. He shifted on his stool, leaning his elbow on the bar to turn toward you. A small, dry smile finally touched his mouth. He nudged your shoulder with his, his eyes locked onto yours. "You're the one who completely froze me out for three days, honey."

"I didn't freeze you out," you countered softly, though the sudden warmth in your cheeks gave you away. "I just wasn't entirely sure what you wanted."

He looked down at your glass, his index finger tracing a slow line along the condensation on the counter, right next to your hand. "I think you knew exactly what I wanted."

Your pulse skipped a beat at the quiet certainty in his voice. "You didn't exactly make a move."

"Because I didn't want to rush you," he murmured, his eyes snapping back up to yours. "I was trying to play it cool. Clearly, I overcorrected."

You looked down at your hands, the memory of his touch in the library—heavy, breathless, and entirely un-gentlemanlike—sending a sudden flush of heat straight to your chest. "You weren't exactly playing it cool in the stacks, Logan."

His gaze dropped to your mouth for a fraction of a second, the memory hitting him just as hard. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a rough whisper.

"Yeah, well," he murmured, his eyes locking back onto yours with a quiet amusement. "I promise to be on my best behavior this time."

He paused, his hand sliding across the counter until his thumb trailed a slow, distracting line across the inside of your wrist.

"...Unless you don't want me to be."

For the next two hours, the rest of the world ceased to exist. You traded sharp, easy banter, laughed at his terrible impressions of the coaching staff, and shared quiet, lingering smiles under the warm, neon glow of the bar signs. The distance of the last three days was entirely erased.

By midnight, the bar was thinning out, and Logan was driving you home.

The ride was completely silent, but the atmosphere inside his truck was thick, almost suffocating with a restless, building heat. The rain was hitting the windshield in a steady, heavy rhythm, cutting off the rest of the campus. Every time he shifted gears, his knuckles brushed against your knee, and neither of you moved away. You could see the tight line of his jaw in the dim glow of the dashboard lights, his breathing shallow, his fingers gripping the steering wheel. The playful flirting from the bar had dissolved into a heavy, aching desire. You were staring out the side window, your heart hammering against in your chest, acutely aware of how close he was sitting, the air between you thick enough to taste.

When he finally idled the engine in the back corner of your complex's dark lot, he didn't turn off the headlights. He just sat there, his hands resting on the top of the wheel, his chest heaving slightly as he turned his head to look at you.

The air in the cab felt entirely too warm. You made a move to reach for the door, but your hand lingered on its handle. The space between you felt charged, heavy, and completely unfinished.

"Logan," you murmured, your voice a soft question in the dim light.

He shifted in his seat, turning his body toward you, his brown eyes fixed on your face. "Yeah?"

You didn't answer. You couldn't. You just stared back at him, the silence thick with everything you weren't saying.

Logan’s breath hitched. His knuckles turned stark white as his fingers tightened against the leather of the steering wheel. There was an intense, searching hunger in his dark eyes, staring at you as if he were trying to read every unsaid word written on your face. He looked like he was a fraction of a second away from reaching across the console—but just as the gravity began to pull him under, a sudden, sharp flicker of hesitation fractured his gaze.

The phantom echo of the library stacks caught up to him. The blinding lights, the sudden whiplash, the terrifying realization that he had almost crossed a line and freaked you out. He was so deeply afraid of becoming too much, of overstepping and breaking the fragile momentum you’d finally rebuilt, that the fear paralyzed him.

Slowly, almost painfully, he dragged a ragged breath into his lungs. He forced his eyes away from you, locking his gaze back toward the rain-slicked windshield as he held fast to the wheel, wrestling down his own desperate gravity.

"You should go inside," he muttered, his voice dropping to a rough, fractured whisper that carried the full weight of his restraint. "Before I completely forget my manners and don't let you leave this truck. Please."

The warning was heavy, rough, and entirely intentional. It hung suspended in the cramped space between you, vibrating with an edge of raw truth that made your breath catch completely. Your heart still hammered in the quiet of the truck, and for a long, breathless second, you couldn't move, caught in the suffocating pull of his restraint. Finally, you managed a faint nod, unlatching the door and slipping out into the cold drizzle before you completely lost your nerve. You practically flew up the concrete stairs, the rain cold on your face but your jaw still burning where his thumb had rested.

You unlocked the door, stepped into the dark, quiet living room, and closed it behind you. The girls had already ditched you hours ago to head over to the off-campus house, leaving the place entirely empty.

You stood in the dark entryway as the lock clicked into place, your head absolutely spinning. What the hell are you doing? Why did you walk away again? He was right there.

The realization hit you like a physical blow. You didn't want the safety of your dark living room—you wanted him.

You spun around, your fingers fumbling with the deadbolt. You threw the door back open, fully intending to run down the concrete stairs, out into the rain, and catch him before his truck pulled out of the lot.

You snapped your eyes open and froze.

Logan was already standing right there on your doorstep—standing in the dim yellowish light of the outdoor corridor, his hair damp from the drizzle, his chest heaving as if he'd just run a marathon—his jacket unzipped, and his dark eyes wild, completely consumed by the exact same restless hunger that had been choking you in the car.

You both stared at each other, breathless.

"I tried," Logan said, his voice a rough, low rasp that shook slightly. He took a heavy step over the threshold, closing the distance between you before you could even draw breath. "I tried to leave. I really did."

His large hand came up, his fingers tangling firmly into the hair at the nape of your neck, tilting your face up as his mouth crashed down onto yours.

The restraint he'd been holding all night completely snapped. His lips parted against yours with a desperate, heavy weight that made your hands instantly fly to the collar of his jacket just to keep yourself upright. He tasted like cold air and whiskey. A quiet, ragged groan escaped the back of his throat as your fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until there was no air left between you. He backed you hard into the entryway of the apartment, his massive frame completely consuming you, his lips moving against yours with a fierce hunger.

Everything in you wanted to pull him across the threshold and shut the door. You could feel the exact same desperate craving vibrating through his broad shoulders as his hands gripped you tighter. The invitation was right there between you, completely understood without a single word spoken.

But right at the edge of pulling you inside, Logan caught his breath.

His mouth slowed against yours, his lips dragging a breathless path to the corner of your mouth, then pressing a lingering, heavy kiss to your cheek. He buried his face in the curve of your neck for one brief, agonizing second, drawing a sharp, shuddering breath against your skin as if trying to anchor himself.

He didn't pull away completely. Instead, his hand slid down your arm, his large fingers catching your hand. He pulled your wrist up to his mouth, pressing his lips firmly against the soft skin of your pulse point, closing his eyes tightly as he held you there.

When he finally opened his eyes and looked down at you, the frantic edge was gone, replaced by a calm certainty.

"I want to stay," he murmured, his voice a rough, low rasp against your skin. "More than anything. But I'm not going to rush you, and I'm not going to rush this. I want to do this right."

He lingered for one last second, his thumb brushing the soft skin of your wrist before his hand finally dropped away.

"Goodnight," he rasped.

Then he turned and walked down the stairs, leaving you standing in the doorway, your lips tingling and the cold air rushing in to fill the space where he had just been.

The memory shattered into a million jagged pieces the moment you reached the top of your apartment stairs.

The transition from the warmth of that wednesday to the freezing reality of today felt like a physical drop in temperature. You shoved your keys into the lock, expecting the quiet sanctuary of an empty living room where you could finally break down, but the door swung open to reveal a tall, broad figure waiting right inside.

This time, it wasn't Logan waiting on the other side of your door.

It was Dean.

He was actively pacing the small, worn-out rug in your living room. The second the door groaned on its hinges, he snapped his head up. Before you could even open your mouth to scream at him to get out, he held up a heavy hand. His face was tight, shadowed with dark circles, his skin pale with a mix of guilt and sheer frustration.

"I know we fucked up," Dean said, his voice dropping to a hard, unyielding register that cut off your words before they could start. "I know I ruined everything. Be mad at me. Call me whatever you want, I deserve it. But please, just listen the fuck to me for two minutes."

You stayed frozen by the entryway, your hand still gripping the cold metal doorknob, your voice flat and venomous. "Dean, get the fuck out of my apartment."

"It was never just a stupid bet," Dean cut in fiercely, taking a hard step toward you, his eyes dead serious. "It was me helping my friend get the girl in the most fucked-up way possible."

You stared at him, your grip tightening on the handle until your fingers ached, as Dean dropped his head back, running both hands down his face with a heavy, exhausted sigh before the truth finally started pouring out of him.

To Dean Di Laurentis, the whole thing had started months ago as a classic locker room ribbing—a joke that had spiraled completely out of control because he hadn't realized how high the stakes actually were.

He vividly remembered the afternoon it began. Logan had walked into the locker room after a morning lecture, looking entirely thrown off, his usual cold, hyper-focused game-face completely gone. He had tossed his duffel bag into his locker and just sat on the wooden bench. Dean had noticed it immediately—the rare, genuine sparkle in Logan’s eyes, the faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he muttered something about a girl with a broken bike chain.

It was the exact look that gave it away—his notoriously guarded, emotionally detached friend was completely down bad. Dean took one look at him and decided it was time to play the wingman.

“Look at you,” he had laughed that afternoon, throwing his arm around Logan's shoulders. “You’re totally gone, man. Staring at the wall for ten minutes straight? I bet you fifty bucks you don't even have the balls to ask her out by monday.”

Logan had aggressively shoved Dean’s arm off his shoulders, grunting a defensive “Shut up, man.”

But the challenge had been set in Dean's head. He knew Logan's strategy of playing it cool meant absolutely nothing was going to happen anytime soon. He just needed a push to actually do something about it.

On Monday morning, Dean had been sitting on the worn-out leather couch at the off-campus house, while Logan had been staring at his phone like it was a live grenade.

“Just text her, you idiot,” Dean had groaned, rolling his eyes and pulling out his own phone, typing a quick draft into his notes and flashing it toward his friend. “Tell her 'don't flake on me.' Sounds confident, girls love it. Just send it.”

“I’m not saying that,” Logan had muttered, his face tight with stress, though his thumbs were already moving over his screen.

“Tick-tock, Logan,” Dean had teased, kicking his heavy boots up on the coffee table with a smirk. “Monday’s half over.”

So, Logan had sent the text, got the coffee date, and for a few weeks, things seemed to be going well. But to Dean’s mounting frustration, the relationship wasn't evolving quite fast enough. Logan was treating you like you were made of glass, terrified of making a wrong move.

Dean had finally lost his patience on a tuesday afternoon after a brutal three-hour practice. The team was stripping off their pads, Logan was sitting on his bench, staring at a text you had just sent him.

“You’ve been taking her out for three weeks and you haven’t even kissed her yet, have you?” Dean had barked across the row of lockers. He walked over, slamming his locker door shut, and leaned in close so only Logan could hear. “You’re completely overthinking this, man. If you don't make a move by next tuesday, she’s going to get tired of waiting around.”

Logan had looked up, his jaw tight, his eyes flashing with a sudden, dangerous heat. He thought the whole thing was profoundly stupid. He was texting you, taking you out for coffee, and walking you to class every day because he genuinely wanted to, not because of some locker room dare. But as he stared down at his phone, watching the ellipsis bubble pop up and disappear, he had to admit—Dean's timeline gave him a strange, twisted kind of motivation. It was the exact jolt he needed to stop overthinking every little detail and just make a move. So, after all, why not use it to finally break the ice?

Except it hadn't gone to plan. Logan had failed that one, the night of the library archives. Dean had been waiting up at the off-campus house when his teammate walked through the front door at midnight, looking completely wrecked, vibrating with an intense, unfulfilled frustration that filled the whole entryway.

He’d wanted to kiss you right there in the archives, more than anything. But he hadn't, and the awkward distance of the next few days had nearly driven him insane.

By the time they hit the bar later that week, Dean could still taste that lingering misery coming off him. It was all the excuse he needed to reset the clock and corner Logan into a second chance, refuse to let him overthink his way out of it again.

Standing by the jukebox while the rest of the team ordered pitchers, Di Laurentis had leaned his heavy shoulder against Logan’s. He pointed a finger across the crowded bar toward where you were sitting.

“Alright, look,” he had whispered, his voice dropping to a serious, low register. “I'll give you an extension because you clearly botched the library. But you’re running out of time, man. She’s slipping away because you’re acting like a chicken. Bet you sixty bucks you can't even get a decent kiss out of her tonight." 

Logan had stared across the loud, smoky bar, his eyes locking onto the side of your face. For a fraction of a second, an internal war raged behind his dark eyes. He hated that Dean was turning this into a game, but the thought of letting you slip away was worse. His jaw set, a hard, unyielding determination washing over his features.

He turned to Dean, his voice flat and absolute. “Watch me.”

And he had succeeded. The memory of your doorstep that very night was already burned into his mind—breathless, unforgettable, and entirely worth it.

Dean sighed heavily, the sound echoing in the quiet of your apartment. He leaned his lower back against your kitchen counter, crossing his broad arms over his chest. The careless ease he usually carried around campus was completely gone. Looking across the living room at you, he just looked exhausted and heavy with regret.

"Everything up to that night... it was just me riding his ass because he kept dragging his feet on making a move," he muttered. "But honestly, he didn't give a single shit about the bets. He just wanted an excuse to get close to you because he was losing his mind."

Everything up to that point truly could have been fine.

If it weren't for the Thursday bet.

@addisondavenport @linnygirl09 @unknownsangel2 @rollsonrollss @parker-barnes-af @caspianobsessed @parker-barnes-af @voldyslostnose05 @youngloreninja @juuuniw @loverslakess @iiamgracee08 @rubywingsracing @yoongishawtyyy @stavroulaschreave @adhxmoony @aeyoshinyships @notsosweetcreature @l33nlikeacholo @strangegirl26sff @wilmonyibo7 @kittsylusen @coldheartedmar @melaninbradshaw @imjustagirl-intheworld2 @aeyoshinyships @hehetenya @hteusefam @its-phi @lucine-28 @jordan-connor @staywildflowahchild @zophiathefirst @lucyysthings @vintagefucksstuff @ilovejjmaybank @carpediem1219 @jemimah-b99 @stilinskisensation @starktcc @ellepinkbluepurple @aerinu-blog @mildlyfantasticmanticore @cloeisclaudie @rrosiitas @chocobo522 @emmaturtle48 @velvetandromeda @pearldaisy @hermionelove @wilmonyibo7 @mothericraveviolence57 @sycamore55 @ateez-yada @emilyswortwellen

[rgntthragg]

Caught

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

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

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

Logan is shoved halfway under the kitchen sink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He curves his index finger, gesturing you over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like that, baby?” He asks.

“Yes~ I’m dripping wet,” you respond.

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

“Yo! Anyone home? I brought food.”

It’s Dean.

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

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

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

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

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

Dean lets out a loud whoop!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Main Masterlist

[666eyed]

john logan x rinkside reporter!reader inspired by seb vettle if yk what im talking abt HAHA

The fluorescent hum of the campus broadcast truck was your sanctuary, a cramped oasis of glowing monitors, tangled cords, and shouting student producers parked just outside Briar University’s arena. As a student sports journalist, this was your entire world. While other college kids were out at parties, you lived for the analytics, the frantic scratching of notes on your clipboard, and the strategic chess match played out on ice. You took pride in your growing reputation around campus as a serious reporter, though you were admittedly soft-spoken, always trying to let your work speak for itself rather than drawing attention to yourself.

Which was exactly why surviving the two minutes after the final buzzer with John Logan was your biggest professional hurdle.

Briar’s star forward was a force of nature on the ice, but off it, he was a chaotic, smiling menace. He didn't just participate in your student media interviews; he completely hijacked them. While you approached the media flash zone with strict timelines, heavy clipboards, and hyper-focused queries, Logan approached it like a late-night talk show where he was the host and you were the prized guest. He had this infuriating, effortless charisma. The kind of guy who spent more time teasing you about your notes and trying to peek at your clipboard than actually discussing the game strategy.

Tonight was no exception. The campus arena was still vibrating from a wild, double-overtime thriller, the student section a roaring blur of blue and gold behind the glass. You stood rink-side, nervously adjusting your headset and trying to hear your student director over the din. “Thirty seconds, keep it tight,” the voice crackled in your ear.

You tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, smoothed down your jacket, and watched as Logan skated over. He stopped hard, spraying a light dusting of ice against the plexiglass before leaning over the barrier with his elbows propped up, looking less like an exhausted athlete and more like a guy pulling up to a campus bar counter. He was grinning already, his helmet tilted back, his dark eyes locked onto you before the camera even started rolling.

Your cheeks immediately warmed up, but you focused on the lens as the red light snapped on.

"I'm here rink-side with John Logan," you began, your voice quiet but clear. "John, a chaotic game tonight, but you managed to pull off the win in double OT. What are your plans for the rest of the season?"

Logan didn’t even look at the camera. Instead, he leaned down, tilting his head to look directly at your notes, a brilliant, teasing smile spreading across his face.

"What are your plans?" he countered smoothly.

You blinked, your breath catching. A shy smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and you instinctively pulled the clipboard a little closer to your chest to hide it from him. "My plans are to finish this interview, John," you murmured softly, looking up at him through your lashes. "Seriously, looking ahead to the playoffs—"

"Because if your plans include celebrating tonight," he interrupted, completely unbothered by your professional boundary, pointing a thick, gloved finger at you with a chuckle, "you've got my phone number. How come I don't get a text from you? I check my phone after every single period. Nothing. It's heartbreaking, really."

A bright pink flush crept up your neck. You let out a soft, embarrassed huff, looking down at your shoes for a brief second to gather yourself before looking back up at him. "We are live on the student network, Logan," you whispered, trying to brush it off with a demure, polite nod. "And I am a professional journalist."

"A professional journalist who ignores my texts," he nodded solemnly, turning to face the camera lens as if appealing to the entire student section. "Very harsh. Back to you guys in the studio, I guess."

That interview set the tone for the rest of the semester. As the winter dragged on, interviewing Logan became less of a traditional sports report and more of a weekly comedy routine that the journalism department absolutely loved. No matter how hard-hitting your questions were regarding puck possession or shooting percentages, Logan treated your microphone like a prop and your serious queries like mere suggestions.

By mid-season, the campus was tuning into the post-game coverage just to watch him try to crack your quiet, stoic exterior. You tried changing your strategy, opting for a pre-practice segment to catch him before the adrenaline of a game took over, but it was useless.

"John, huge game next Friday against the top seed," you said one afternoon, holding the mic out across the ice barrier during a Tuesday practice rerun, trying your best to sound official. "They have a notoriously aggressive defensive line. How are you preparing for that focus-wise?"

Logan paused, leaning his entire weight onto his hockey stick, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he looked you up and down.

"Well, I'm actually more worried about my focus right now," he chuckled, gesturing loosely toward you. "I really like that dress you were wearing last week. Seriously, it was great. Maybe wear it again on our date? What do you think?"

Suddenly, a loud chorus of rowdy barks and obnoxious whistling echoed from the ice behind him. You looked up to see a trio of his teammates leaning against the boards just out of the camera's frame. Garrett Graham was grinning ear to ear, cupping his hands around his mouth.

"Ooh, a date! Write it down in your little notebook, Logan's getting a date!" Garrett hollered, loud enough for the microphone to definitely pick it up.

Next to him, Tucker was practically leaning over the glass, waving his arms dramatically to hype Logan up. "Shooters shoot, baby! Tell her about the dress, Logan! Don't fumble the play!"

Dean was leaned back against the bench, shaking his head with a massive, teasing smirk, crossing his arms. "You're embarrassing us, Logan," Dean called out, though his eyes were full of amusement. "She's out of your league, man, give up the ghost!"

Logan didn't even look back at them. He just flashed a wide, entirely unbothered grin, lazily throwing a hand up to give his teammates a backwards middle finger while keeping his eyes entirely locked on you.

You lowered the microphone slightly, your face burning a deeper shade of crimson as the hockey team's collective teasing amplified the warmth in your chest. You bit your lower lip to hide your shy smile, shaking your head gently as you tried to brush the chaos off. "Logan, that was just for an awards banquet. And there is no date."

"Not with that attitude," he shot back, ignoring Garrett and Tucker's loud, artificial gasps in the background. He gave you a quick, playful wink that made your heart do a chaotic little flip. "But write down in your little notes there: 'Logan says he will score two goals next Friday if she wears the dress.' Put it in writing, come on. Let me see you write it."

But the lighthearted character couldn't stay on forever. The true test of your composure came three weeks later on a brutal night. Briar suffered a heartbreaking, messy 4-0 shutout on home ice. The campus stadium, usually roaring, was dead quiet, and the post-game energy in the corridor was heavy, suffocating, and tense.

You felt a genuine lump in your throat. Because as much as you loved the journalism side, you loved the sport first, and you knew how much a loss like that stung a college locker room. When Logan walked out to the media flash zone, the usual swagger was missing. His hair was damp with sweat, his jaw was tightly clenched, and there was a fresh, angry bruise forming near his cheekbone.

You wanted to give him an out, a real, respectful question to let him address the tough night with dignity without forcing him into a corner.

"I'm here with John Logan following a difficult night on the ice," you said softly, your voice dropping to an even gentler, quieter register than usual, offering him a look of quiet empathy. "John, as we have seen today, what do you do to reset when you're having an off day on the rink?"

Logan looked down at you. The guarded, frustrated look on his face completely melted the second he caught your eyes. He saw the genuine, soft care behind your microphone, and the heavy tension in his shoulders visibly dropped, replaced by that familiar, softer glint of mischief.

He leaned close to the microphone, his voice dropping to a gentle, quiet register that felt entirely too intimate for a live campus broadcast.

"Just seeing you already makes it better."

You froze. The ambient noise of the stadium seemed to vanish into a blur. He wasn't smirking this time; he just looked at you, letting the silence hang on the air for a second too long, entirely comfortable holding your gaze while the camera rolled.

Your face flamed under the studio lights. "Back... back to the studio," you stammered softly, completely losing your place on your clipboard for the first time in your college career, your eyes darting away as you tried to hide your flustered expression.

The second the student cameraman gave the "clear" signal, indicating the broadcast had cut away, Logan didn't immediately skate back to the locker room. He stayed right there at the glass, tapping his knuckles against the top of the barrier to pull you out of your daze.

"I'm serious, you know," he said, the classic, unbothered smile slowly returning to his face, though his eyes remained incredibly steady. "You have the number. Use it. Let's get out of here."

You looked down at your notes, a genuine, shy laugh finally escaping your lips as you clicked your pen shut. You gave him a small, demure shrug, brushing it off one last time. "If I text you, Logan, will you actually answer my questions about the power play next time?"

"I'll give you a full breakdown of the playbook," he grinned, starting to skate backward toward the tunnel, pointing a finger at you. "But only if you wear that dress."

written by 666eyed, do not repost anywhere else.