I love to chat and interact with you all through DMs or asks, so please do not hesitate to message me!
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Below is my masterlist. If you have any questions regarding what or who I write for, please send me a DM or an ask. When they are open, requests can also be sent via DM or ask. Thanks for stopping by!
Supernatural:
Sam Winchester Imagine
Sam Winchester Imagine
Dean Winchester Imagine
Dean Winchester Imagine - I Think I'm in Love With You
Dean Winchester Imagine Requested - A Bit of an Inconvenience
The Vampire Diaries:
Damon Salvatore Imagine
Damon Salvatore Imagine
Damon Salvatore Imagine Requested - Sexual Tension
Damon Salvatore Imagine Requested - A Slight Jealousy Problem
Damon Salvatore Imagine Requested Smut - It's About Damn Time
Damon Salvatore Christmas Imagine Requested - All Alone On Christmas
Damon Salvatore Imagine Requested - You Finally Got the Girl
Damon Salvatore Imagine Requested - Forever
Stefan Salvatore Imagine - Hopelessly Head-Over-Heels In Love
Stefan Salvatore Imagine Requested - I'm Not the Kind of Person You Fall in Love With
Stefan Salvatore Imagine Requested - Moonlight
Tyler Lockwood - Shut Up and Kiss Me
Stranger Things:
Billy Hargrove Imagine - Mysterious Boy
Billy Hargrove Imagine - Mysterious Boy Part 2
Billy Hargrove Imagine Requested - Brooklyn Baby
Billy Hargrove Imagine Requested - Missing You
Billy Hargrove Imagine Requested Smut - Pretty Unconventional
Billy Hargrove Imagine Requested Smut - Just For Fun
Billy Hargrove Imagine Requested - No One Deserves to Be Lonely
Billy Hargrove Imagine Requested Smut - Do You Mind if I Join?
Billy Hargrove Imagine Requested - A Quiet Life
Billy Hargrove Imagine - Something Special
Billy Hargrove Imagine - Pinky Promise
Billy Hargrove Imagine Requested - Songbird
Billy Hargrove and Max Mayfield (Platonic) Imagine - Dazzle Me
Billy Hargrove - A Simple Car Ride
Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington Imagine (Smut) - Three's a Party
Robin Buckley Imagine - The Drive-In
Kali's Group Imagine
Nancy Wheeler Imagine - Not So Drunken Stupor
Steve Harrington Imagine Requested - I'm Done Pretending
Steve Harrington Imagine Requested - The Tutor
Steve Harrington Imagine Requested - My Little Buddy
Steve Harrington Imagine Requested - I Love You So Much Most
Steve Harrington Imagine - A Sweet Distraction
Steve Harrington Imagine - A Sweet Redemption (A Sweet Distraction Part 2)
Steve Harrington Imagine - My Protector
Steve Harrington Imagine - The Feelings Are Mutual
Steve Harrington Imagine - As It Should Be
Fred Benson Imagine - The Best Bookworm
Fred Benson Imagine - The Set-Up
Fred Benson Imagine - A Library Date
Peter Ballard (001) Imagine - The Ultimate Betrayal
Henry Creel Imagine - Always
Henry Creel Imagine - ...And Forever (Always Part 2)
Gareth Imagine - Wonder Woman
Eddie Munson Imagine - The Adventurer and the Dungeon Master
Eddie Munson Imagine (Smut) - The Adventurer and the Dungeon Master Part 2
Eddie Munson Imagine - The Fire Genasi
Eddie Munson Imagine - Little Koala Boy
Eddie Munson Imagine - A Well-Deserved Apology
Eddie Munson Imagine - My Guardian Angel
Eddie Munson Imagine- Confessions
Eddie Munson Imagine - My Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy
Eddie Munson Imagine (Smut) - You're Mine
Eddie Munson Imagine - Call My Bluff
Eddie Munson Imagine - Sonnet 18
Eddie Munson Imagine - The Yuletide Bluff
Harry Potter:
Draco Malfoy Imagine - Promise?
Draco Malfoy Imagine Requested - A Christmas Miracle
Luna Lovegood Imagine Requested - Yule Ball
Marvel:
Bucky Barnes Full Fic - It Was Always You Moodboard
Bucky Barnes Full Fic - It Was Always You Masterlist
Loki Laufeyson Imagine - The Blacksmith's Daughter
Warnings: Mild language, shy!Reader, descriptions of anxiety and self-doubt/imposter syndrome (please let me know if I missed anything)
A/N: Ahhhhh!!! First of all, please excuse the title. I know it's ass, but I couldn't come up with anything better, okay? Moving on, I’m so happy that anon requested this! Thank you so much for helping me get back into a creative space. You don’t know how thankful I am. Truly. Anyway, here is my first John Logan fic! It kind of got a little deeper than I expected, but I hope that you all like it. And, anon, if this reaches you, I hope that I did your request justice and that you absolutely love it. I feel like my writing is a little rusty, so I apologize if this is not my best work. Please be kind in the comments, and just know that any and all interactions with this story are greatly appreciated. I do have two other Logan requests that I will be posting within the next coming weeks. So, in the mean time, please enjoy this one and feel free to hop in my inbox or asks. Also, I hate that I have to say this, but I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WORK OR TRANSLATE IT WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION!!
*Readers, please know that you are enough, beautiful, and amazing, no matter what your head may sometimes tell you. I’m always sending you all love and good vibes.*
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“Goodies” by Ciara shakes the walls of the Hockey House as I walk in and do my best not to bump into anyone. It’s a Saturday evening after the boys beat a rival school, so it’s almost expected that they throw a party. If someone had asked me a year ago if I would have known that information, I would have laughed and said “Absolutely not!” for several reasons. Yet here I am, shimmying through a crowd of my sweaty peers, working my way to the kitchen, where my friends are inevitably gathered.
Parties aren’t usually my thing. In fact, I used to actively avoid them because being in large crowds surrounded by people who don’t know me makes my skin itch. But, when I met John Tucker, my life significantly changed. In our public speaking class a year ago, the college gods decided that it would be a good idea to pair us together to make a speech in front of our class. In retrospect, it was a good thing because instead of judging my more introverted nature and fear of public speaking, Tucker made me feel comfortable and seen. He took the reins on the assignment and even walked me through the actual presentation. It was only after that assignment that Tucker discovered he and I were both business administration majors and made the collective decision that we absolutely had to be study buddies for the rest of our degree programs.
“We’re practically besties now,” he had reasoned. “I need you just as much as you need me, and it’s a rule that you can’t bail on your boys.”
He was partially correct. Not about him needing me because it’s pretty obvious that wasn’t the case. But about me needing a buddy and our newfound friendship? Absolutely. So, with very little persuading, I fell into a completely unpredictable yet rewarding friendship with John Tucker, the Briar U Hawks’ notorious forward. And after becoming friends, he wasted no time introducing me to his teammates and their girlfriends, who all warmly welcomed me into their friend group. Up until that point, I was sure I made the right decision agreeing to hang out with Tucker. He was understanding, kind, and most of all, practically carried me through each semester. But on a cool November evening, when I finally met those aforementioned teammates of his, I knew I fucked up. Garrett was nice, Dean was too funny for his own good, Hannah was probably the bubbliest person I had ever met, and Allie was even more extroverted than Tucker. But Logan. Oh Logan. It was like the world paused when I met him. I felt like I was in a 2000s rom-com and was waiting for Six Pence None the Richer to start serenading us in the background. None of the others fully acknowledged me. They were excited to meet me, sure, but they fell back into easy conversation after exchanging pleasantries. But not Logan. He held my gaze and gave me his undivided attention, and when a lazy smile spread across his face as he fully faced me to introduce himself, I knew I was done for.
It didn’t take long after that first encounter for me to start falling head over heels for Logan. He was sweet and funny and always made a point to simply listen to me. When I would trail off while talking after noticing the others stopped listening, Logan would gently nudge me and with an easy grin say, “Go ahead. I’m listening. I want to hear your story,” making my talked-over and often ignored heart swell. He made me feel special and, best of all, heard. But, despite my budding feelings wrapping around my heart like untamed vines, I was too afraid to tell anyone. I didn’t want to tell Tucker that I was crushing on one of his best friends because I didn’t want it to get weird between us. Although it didn’t take long for him to realize that I was completely enamored by Logan. I didn’t tell Allie and Hannah either, too nervous to come on too strong by trying to insert myself into their already established friendship by asking for “girl help.” The last thing I wanted to do was push my only friends away by being too much—something that has haunted me my entire life. And, least of all, I didn’t want to divulge to Logan that I was falling harder and harder for him with every casual wink and slow smile he sent me because I was afraid he didn’t share the same feelings and that he would never like a girl like me. Logan is loud, outgoing, and carefree. I’m quiet, shy, and probably care a little too much what people think of me. I don’t stand a chance against the girls the boys normally surround themselves with. So, I swallow my feelings to keep Logan in my life as a friend, even if it physically pains me.
Tucker sees me first when I finally emerge from the crowd.
“There she is!” He shouts, throwing an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into a hug. “Took you long enough. I thought you were going to bail.”
He doesn’t need to ask to know that I did in fact contemplate bailing. The thought crosses my mind every time the boys throw a party. I shrug as Tucker leans his head a little closer.
“Your boy’s been staring at the door every like 35 seconds. I think he might’ve burned a hole through it,” he says in a quiet voice.
My eyes widen, and I cough at the horror crawling up my throat.
“Tucker!” I say through gritted teeth, elbowing him in the side and whipping my head around in panic. I know my very obvious pining hadn’t gone unnoticed by Tucker, and it certainly wasn’t the first time he made a sly remark about it. But still, I can’t help the way my stomach rolls at the mere thought of Logan finding out about my true feelings.
“Calm down.” Tucker nudges me with his hip and a chuckle. “He and Beau are in the middle of a serious beer pong match.”
My shoulders relax a sliver as I follow Tucker’s gaze just in time to see Logan’s head fall back with laughter. A smile spread across his face, making him glow. God, he really is perfection personified. I let out a breath that speaks volumes over the cacophony of the party and garner Tucker’s attention again. I can feel Tucker’s eyes boring into the side of her face, but I don’t want to look at him. I already know what he’s going to say, and I hate it.
“Would it really be so bad if he knew?” He whispers, and my heart clenches. He really has no idea.
“It doesn’t matter,” I answer, watching Logan send the beat-up ping pong ball soaring over the table and straight into a Red Solo Cup. “He’d never like me like that, Tuck.”
Tucker removes his arm from my shoulders and fully faces me. Dad Tucker activated, I think, as he crosses his arms over his chest.
“How do you know that, though?”
“I just do,” I mutter, dropping my head with a shake. “I just do, Tuck. Now, can we drop it and enjoy the party? I’m really not in the mood for a lecture tonight.”
Tucker stares at me for another beat, and I give him my best exaggerated pout. I can tell that he really doesn’t want to leave the conversation on that note, but he just rolls his eyes and says, “Fine. But if either of you start giving puppy dog eyes from across the room at any point, I can’t promise I won’t say something.”
“Yeah, okay,” I grumble. “Shut up before I dump your ass for a new study buddy.”
Tucker gives a dramatic, horrified gasp.
“You would never.”
“I might,” I tease, my lips ticking upward as I give Garrett and Dean side hugs. “If you don’t keep your mouth shut, you’re gonna force my hand.”
Tucker puts a hand over his heart in mock offense.
“You wound me!”
“It’s all out of love,” I say, shoving him with a light laugh before shifting to place a kiss on Allie and Hannah’s cheeks. When I pull back, my eyes meet Logan’s. Even from across the room, his gaze crashes into me, making me audibly gasp. That lazy grin that makes my knees feel like they might give out melts across his face, sending me into a tailspin. I feel like I’m breathing through a straw, and I’m not sure if the rhythm in my chest is from my rapidly beating heart or the bass from the EDM song blasting from the speakers. Logan reaches for the nearest bystander, handing him the ping pong ball with a shoulder pat, and in one swift movement, extracts himself from the game. Beau’s protests float over the music, and I know Logan can hear them but he doesn’t turn around. Instead, he keeps his stare glued on mine as he saunters through the crowd until he is standing in front of me.
"Hi," he says, the tenor of his voice sending a zing down my spine.
“Hi,” I reply. Garrett and Dean are hollering at him over the music, trying to get his attention, but he doesn’t break my stare.
“Yeah, give me a minute, guys,” he shouts back before dropping his voice again. “I was, uh, starting to get nervous that you weren’t going to come.”
Little does he know, he’s literally the only reason I did come. His fingertips barely brush against mine, and I feel my knees wobble. Oh, god, I think, I might melt. I want to reach out and feel the way his hand would feel in mine, but I swallow down the impulsive urge.
“I would never miss celebrating a Hawks win. Especially not when a certain someone made the winning goal.”
Logan’s eyes widen a bit, and he lets out a breathy chuckle.
“Is that so? Duly noted. I’ll make sure we never lose another game this season then.”
My stomach flips at his words, nearly knocking me over. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, and the way his eyes watch that small movement makes me clench my thighs together. Oh, for fuck’s sake, Y/N, now is not the time to get all hot and bothered, my brain scolds. But I can’t help myself because when his eyes finally snap back to mine, they look two shades darker, and I can feel my neck and cheeks warm beneath his gaze. I take a deep breath through my nose, hoping that he can’t see how nervous he makes me, but judging by the playful smirk that pulls at his lips, I am failing miserably. This is what everyone means, my inner demons shout. You’re literally too much. You come on too strong and now look at yourself? Completely mute and practically drooling over this man at a party. You can’t even handle yourself. I let out an anxious laugh, doing my best to ignore my thoughts and open my mouth to try and save myself from any further embarrassment. But, before I can get any words out, Beau all but barrels into Logan, shattering the little bubble the two of us were in.
“Dude, you coming back or what?” He asks Logan, and when his eyes land on me, he gives me a bro nod. “Oh, hey, Y/N, what’s up? Mind if I steal my boy back? I gotta continue kicking his ass.”
My lips slide into a tight line, and I nod.
“Please,” I gesture toward the pong table, “by all means. Don’t, uh, don’t let me hold you guys up.”
“Perrrrfect.” Beau purrs, “Let's go, man.” He goes to lead Logan away, but Logan dodges him and looks back at me.
“Were you going to say something?”
My heart swells at his attentiveness. Even after a year of spending time with him, it still baffles me that he can somehow make me feel fully seen while being surrounded by so many people. I shake my head.
“No, no. Go ahead.”
He takes a step closer, and his fingertips tangle with mine for the briefest of moments, electrifying my whole body.
“You sure?” He asks in a hushed voice, completely unaware of the effect he’s having on my insides.
My throat seizes up, and the words I once knew die on my tongue. My heart has taken off in a sprint and taken all of my reasoning with it. So, I nod with an “Mmhmm,” that sounds two octaves too high, instead of forming an actual sentence. He gives me a weak smile and a quiet, "Okay," before allowing Beau to tug him away and back to the pong game.
I turn back to the rest of the group and grab a drink as I try to situate myself between Hannah and Allie, who are both nestled in their boyfriend’s sides.
“Oh my gosh, that is such bullshit,” Dean hollers over the music. “I did not try to hit on Professor Masden.”
“Bro,” Garrett says after taking a sip of his beer, “you totally did.”
“No, I didn’t!”
“Dean, you literally told her that if she was ever in the mood for a little fun, you could recommend a really fun amusement park.”
“And I can!”
I laugh and say, “So, that’s what we’re calling it now?” But it goes unacknowledged as the two boys continue their playful bickering. I try to tamp down the self-conscious feeling bubbling in my gut with a swig of my drink.
“Well, what about you, G? Like you haven’t hit on a professor before.” Dean shouts, waving his free arm for emphasis.
“I haven’t, and I pride myself on that.”
“There’s no way.” I state, again without any acknowledgement from the group. “Garrett, you've gotta be lying. I’m almost positive you’re lying.” I try to insert, but nobody hears over the group's laughter.
“What about your math professor freshman year?” Tucker asks. “I vaguely remember you mentioning something about slipping her your number and then almost immediately regretting it when her MMA fighter boyfriend called you and threatened to snap you in two.”
The whole group bursts into laughter as Garrett tries to do damage control.
“Okay, okay, that doesn’t count! She was like 22, and I didn’t know she was my professor.”
“You didn’t know the person teaching the class was your professor?” I ask through my cackles, but no one reacts to what I say. So, I wait for the laughter to calm a bit, then try again. “How did you not know that—”
I don’t get the chance to finish my sentence before Dean shouts, “Oh, shit, what about Professor Menendez!? I watched you wink at her one time in class. You almost sent that poor woman into cardiac arrest.”
“Garrett Graham! Not Professor Menend—”
I’m cut off again, this time by Allie saying something I don’t even register because my mind starts to betray me. They heard what you were saying; they just chose to ignore you. No one wants to talk to you because you always go too far. You’re too much. It’s best if you just stop talking before you say something to really embarrass yourself. If Logan’s friends don’t even truly like you, what makes you think he will?
My chest squeezes. Being nearly sandwiched between Allie and Hannah feels too close now. The music is too loud, and the house is too small. My lungs are like lead, and I instinctively turn to find Logan, but when I find him, he’s leaning against the wall with a very curvaceous brunette pressed against his left arm, laughing at something she said. I hate the way my stomach churns and the way my vision blurs. I stumble on my feet and turn back to my friends, but within those few moments I spent to find Logan, the area where I once stood is gone, swallowed by Hannah and Allie.
My hands shake, and my heart gallops in my chest. My hand tightens around my drink to ground myself, but I’m drowning in a sea of strangers. The current of bodies is too strong, and I’m being pulled further away from my shore. I stare at my friends talking and laughing without me, and, all at once, I come to a sickening realization—I don’t belong here.
I let the crowd of people carry me further from my friends until I’m by the back door, where no one even notices when I slink out of the house. A brisk breeze caresses my skin as I cross the backyard to the bench near the boys’ workout equipment. It’s quiet over here, the crickets and rustling of fall leaves replacing the throbbing bass and tittering of college students. I curl my legs underneath myself and throw my head back with a groan.
“You fucking coward,” I whisper to the moon before downing the rest of my drink and placing the empty cup next to me. My stomach protests, but I swallow down the objection and shake my head. Nothing is better than being so shy that you can’t insert yourself into your own friend group and you make yourself completely unavailable to the guy you’re crushing on. I look at the stars littering the night sky and let out a long breath, letting nature’s symphony sweep my mind clean. It’s peaceful until a familiar voice cuts through the backyard concerto.
“Not in the mood to party tonight?” Logan asks, making me lower my head until I'm looking at his handsome face.
I let out a breathy laugh and shrug. “Something like that.”
Logan ambles over to the bench, and by the time he sits next to me, his easy smile is replaced with a concerned furrow in his brow. He bumps my thigh with his hand. “Hey. You okay?”
I turn my head to fully face him and am struck by how beautiful he truly is. With the moonlight casting shadows over his face, the angles of his jaw are sharper, and the way the wind moves his hair makes his waves look like clouds floating in the darkness. The longer I look at him, paired with the way he progressively gets more and more concerned by my silence, makes me feel like I could scream. He is too perfect. It’s not fair that he is both outgoing and nurturing. He shouldn’t be allowed to be carefree and attentive at the same time. But he is, and my poor, dilapidated heart has to endure the fact that the only way I will get to experience him is platonically.
A part of me contemplates telling him how I truly feel, if only to relieve myself of the burden of carrying the secret. And the more his caring and unwavering gaze holds mine, the more I weigh the option. Tucker’s words echo in my head. Would it really be so bad if he knew? I try to convince myself that it wouldn't, but then my demons rear their ugly heads again. Of course it would be bad. Who do you even think you are? If you tell him you can just wave goodbye to your friendship because there’s no way he’d share the same feelings. Not for someone like you—too shy and too much at the same time. Embarrassing. I clear my throat and shake my head, looking down at my wringing hands.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m—it’s nothing. Really.”
Logan’s forefinger and thumb carefully pinch my chin and guide my stare to meet his. The spot where his fingers touch my skin sends waves of heat through my body, and I shiver when he drops his hand. He leans just a little closer to ensure I can’t look away and says, “It’s not nothing. If it’s important to you, then it’s important to me.”
Logan’s eyes dip to his lap for a brief moment before meeting mine again with conviction. “I care about what you have to say, Y/N.”
His words vibrate through my soul, and I know now is the time to tell him. I lower my gaze in an attempt to control the drumming in my chest and steady my shaky breathing. A part of me screams not to say anything, but when I look back up at Logan, his stare is unwavering, and his worry is so evident I can’t help myself from falling head first into the chasm.
"I—" I hum and let out another breath. “I don’t want to come off too strong. I’ve been told I can be... a little too much sometimes, and I think what I am about to say falls into both categories.”
Logan’s eyes flash something I can’t quite catch before his hand comes up and cups my cheek, anchoring me under his gaze.
“You are never too much, Y/N,” he says, his eyes wandering over every inch of my face before finally landing back on mine. “You’re perfect. Every part of you.”
My skin sizzles where his thumb rubs against my cheek, and my mouth goes dry. This time, he doesn’t immediately remove his hand, opting to slide his fingers against the hair at the nape of my neck instead. The air is thick, and it feels like there is a magnet pulling between us; the force is so strong it almost feels unnatural to resist the drag. Logan’s fingers press against the back of my neck, and my breathing shallows. His gaze matches my longing, and I know I can’t avoid my feelings any longer.
“Logan—”
“I like you,” he blurts, sending my heart into flight like a hummingbird’s wings.
“What?”
I want to smack myself because the second that one-syllable word leaves my lips, I know it was not the right thing to say. Logan’s throat bobs before he drops his head, and I swear I hear him whisper "Fuck" to himself. His fingers loosen as he starts to remove his hand. Panic curls in my gut, and without giving myself the chance to overthink my actions, my hand jerks up and grabs his wrist, keeping him in place. His eyes snap to mine.
“Say it again,” I breathe out.
Logan’s jaw clenches for a brief second, and his eyes fall to my lips before he looks back up with more confidence. “I like you.” He says. “Like a lot... and for a really long time. I’ve just been too scared to, you know,” he gestures between the two of us with his free hand, “ruin what we’ve got going on here. But, I…I can’t pretend anymore. And I think you should know because you make me happier than I ever expected, and when I’m with you, it’s like I’m floating, and I don’t think I ever want to come down.”
Silence blankets us, the only sounds coming from the crickets and cicadas singing our love song. The wind dances around us, cocooning us in place. My eyes dip to Logan’s chest, rising and falling, and the urge to touch him makes my fingers twitch. I wonder what his gray henley feels like. I want to sink my nails into the warmth I feel radiating from his body. I flick my eyes up to his face in time to watch his tongue glide over his bottom lip, and I lose all restraint. My free hand creeps up the length of his torso, feeling the plains and valleys of his abdomen. Logan’s grip on my face and neck tightens with every inch my hand takes. I follow the path my fingers trace, wishing that his very soft henley wasn’t between his bare skin and my touch. My hand slows to a stop right above his heart, and I press my palm flat against his chest. The flutter of his heart beating tells me he’s just as affected by our proximity as I am. I suck in a breath before peeling my gaze from his body and back to meet his stare, where I nearly melt from the heat blazing in his chestnut brown eyes.
"Logan," I begin, barely audible, “I’ve been falling for you since I met you.”
His face splits into a grin, and he lets out a breathy laugh before he brings his free hand up to cup the other side of my face and presses his forehead against mine.
“You mean to tell me we’ve wasted a whole year? Man, we’ve got a lot to make up for, huh?” he says, and I chuckle.
“I guess so.”
He pulls back enough to let his eyes dip to my lips, then back up to mine, and he raises an eyebrow.
“Can I start now?”
I bite my bottom lip in an attempt to contain the butterflies making my body tingle. I nod. “I was hoping you’d ask that.”
Logan doesn’t waste any time guiding me closer to him, and when our lips meet, my fist balls in his shirt. It’s soft and needy. His fingers grip my face tight, and I clutch onto his wrist, holding him close as our lips leisurely move against one another. I’m floating, no longer on this planet. I’m somewhere else entirely. A place where dreams come true until a chorus of whooping yanks me back to reality. I recognize the sounds, and it doesn’t register exactly who is clapping and catcalling until I hear Dean shout, "Fucking finally!"
I go to pull away, but Logan says, “Mm mm,” and tightens his hold on me. I feel him release one hand, and judging by the cackling and cheering, I imagine he used it to flip his boys the bird before bringing it back to rest on the back of my head. I laugh into the kiss and can feel the way his lips turn upward as he continues to press them against mine. The comfortable sounds of the backyard return, and I know now that I was wrong before. I do belong here, and I am good enough—for my friends, for Logan, and for myself. That realization, paired with the way Logan’s fingers brush against my skin, fills me with poised joy, allowing me to finally melt into the moment, inner demons be damned.
Oi 💜 John Logan x Leitora. Elas estão em uma noite de karaokê, e a leitora chama as meninas para cantar "Black Magic" do Little Mix com ela — seria divertido 🤭
Estou usando o Google Tradutor para isso, então, por favor, perdoem quaisquer erros. Mas isso parece tão fofo e eu definitivamente vou escrever! Será em inglês, porém. Tenho outros dois pedidos e depois farei este!
Saw you requested ideas for Logan, so how about him with a gf that’s pretty shy or a girl who’s been talked over/ignored ands maybe told she’s being too much for a lot of her life? Or a girl like that that likes Logan but doesn’t think he’d like her?
(It’s one of my fave tropes :D)
God bless you anon for sending me this 😭😭👏👏❤️❤️ I love this idea! I’m gonna start working on it today and hopefully have it done in a few days! 😊😊
It’s been a very long time since I’ve written anything. Life has truly gotten in the way, and I feel like I’ve been in a creative rut for awhile now. But I’ve been getting that desire again. I want to create and write, and while I want to work on my original story, I want to do something a little more low-pressure and fun to get the gears moving again.
I have been obsessed with Off Campus, Mr. John Logan in particular, since the show came out soooo please please PLEASE send me in some John Logan fic ideas and requests. I want to write again, yall, and I need a little extra assistance this go around. I promise I won’t disappoint!!! And hopefully, after I get out of my rut, I can write for the other boys too. But for now, help a girl out!!
synopsis – the classic trope of liking your brother’s best friend
based on this request
warnings – mentions of past familial abuse, good mix of angst and fluff, friends to lovers, hockey injury, (too) protective!Garrett, reader is referred to as ‘baby G’, as well as she/her, reader is shorter than Garrett and Logan, cheesy ass ending TEEHEE
note – this concept EATS!!! requests are currently closed, thank you for understanding. enjoy ♡
masterlist
✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧
John Logan. The guy you were madly in love with. The guy who’s also your twin brother’s best friend. Tiptoeing around your feelings for Logan became a daily occurrence, while also having a difficult time reading how he felt about you. It wouldn’t surprise you if he only hung out with you because of some obligation since you’re related to Garrett. This not helping your feelings towards him, furthering your fear of rejection.
It did seem like something was there between you two and you knew you weren’t crazy in thinking that. Glances at each other lingering just long enough to not be casual, him going out of his way to get your favorite drink ready for you when you showed up to the hockey house, close proximity always making the air heavy between you two, just like right now.
Logan got a nasty hit during the game tonight, Garrett having texted you that he was on his way back to the hockey house, while the rest of them went out to celebrate the win. You were hanging out in Garrett’s room when the front door opened. Getting up, you walked to the top of the stairs, seeing Logan entering, walking very stiff. He glances up, seeing you standing there, his eyes doing a once over of your, seeing you standing there in a tank top and shorts. Just seeing you made his mood better, a light smile coming across his face.
“Hey baby G,” he sighs, dropping the bag, the nickname making your heart warm.
“Garrett told me about the hit, you okay?”
“Yeah, just got a cut and some bruises, I’m good.”
Something in you didn’t believe him. You walk down the stairs, standing in front of him. Seeing him up close, you noticed the cut on his cheekbone.
“Jesus, what the hell happened?”
“Got checked by someone, must’ve scratched myself when I took my helmet off.”
“Lemme clean it for you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to.”
“I know. I want to.”
Logan obliges, following you up the stairs before he walks to his bedroom, you head to the bathroom. He quickly drops his bag and heads into the bathroom. He finds you in there, squeezing out the excess water in a washcloth before grabbing it and walking up to him. Your eyes scan his face before you bring your hand up, wiping away any excess blood before dabbing the cut.
Logan’s watches you the entire time, this close proximity making him nervous. He exhales through his nose, trying to shake the thoughts as you toss the washcloth into the sink, grabbing some Neosporin to apply to the cut. Smiling as you finish, he smiles back at you before you break the eye contact, the tension becoming too strong for you.
Crouching down, you pull the first aid kit out from under the sink to grab a bandaid, as Logan leans against the other end of the counter, folding his arms, wincing before uncrossing them. You catch the sound, your head whipping to him.
“What else is wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Logan.”
“It’s nothing.”
“John.”
He sighs. “Fine, I may have gotten hit harder than I realized, my side is killing me,” he admits.
Shaking your head, you stand up, motioning your eyes to the spot on him he was talking about, eyebrows raised waiting for him to show you. Logan grabs the bottom of his shirt, raising it towards his chest, just enough for you to see the giant purple bruise forming on his side.
“Fucking hell,” you mumble, noticing not only the massive bruise, but also how damn good he looks under this shirt.
'Not the time', you thought.
You glance up at him and wait for consent before he nods. Your fingers lightly graze the area, Logan tensing at the chill he got from your hand touching him.
Given the circumstances, Logan is trying everything in his power to ignore the dull feeling he’s getting in his groin as you continue to examine him, closely. Had he known he was going to end up like this, he would’ve opted for something else aside from a pair of gray sweatpants. He looks down, seeing the focused look on your face, finding it adorable, as you take the shirt from his hand, holding it yourself as you apply a bruise cream to the area. He drops his hand, wincing as you dab over the bruise.
“Sorry,” you say, the sounds he’s making distracting you.
You finish, leaning back up to stand straight, wiping your fingers on the washcloth. Your eyes trail up Logan’s body to his eyes, him already looking at you. The air feels thick as you both stand way too close, looking at each other way too intensely.
Your eyes make the mistake of dropping to his lips for a split second, just enough for Logan to notice. The tiniest smirk grazes his face as you can’t help the light smile forming on your face. You both are so caught up in the moment, neither of you register the sound of the front door opening or the sound of heavy steps walking up the stairs.
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Garrett freezes when he sees what he’s walked into, looking into the bathroom. His heart drops, mind racing, the way you and Logan were standing eerily mirroring a position you were in as kids. He just sees a younger you, cleaning up a cut younger Garrett had on his face as a result of one of your dad’s rage fits. Minus the shirt bunched up in your hand.
The triggered look on Garrett’s face is something you’re not a stranger to, immediately stepping back and dropping Logan’s shirt, building space between you and him as you look from Logan back to Garrett,
“Hey G, how was Malone’s?” you ask, trying to alleviate any tension that was clearly lingering.
“What were you doing?” he sternly asked.
“Logan mentioned he was still hurting and I offered to help him out…” you trail off, feeling small and lectured.
His eyes move from yours to Logan’s.
“Don’t be putting the moves on my sister, Logan,” he says before leaving the bathroom. Your shoulders relax, exhaling as emotions of embarrassment coursing through your veins. Logan looks back to you, noticing the now dazed and guarded look in your eyes.
“Hey, you okay?” he asked, genuine concern coming from his voice. You look back up at him, blinking some tears away and seemingly snapping out of whatever was bugging you.
“Yeah… hope you feel better,” you dismiss, moving past him and walking out of the bathroom.
Trying to gather your thoughts in the short walk from the bathroom to Garrett’s room felt impossible. You get to his room, knocking on his door. The door swings open faster than you anticipated, him inviting you in. Walking in, you're taken aback by his body language, his face still stern, as you shut the door.
"You can't date him."
"Who said anything about dating? I told you, I was helping him, you were the one who told me he got hit, I couldn’t just leave him in pain!"
"Okay fine, but I saw the way he was looking at you tonight, I've seen him look at you like that for months."
Your heart drops at the unexpected news. The thought of Logan actually liking you back felt so farfetched. Garrett's voice snaps you back out of your thoughts,
"Whatever little crush you have on him too, get rid of it."
"Wow, you're really dogging out your best friend like that?" you snap back. The furrow in Garrett's eyebrows loosens, him not expecting that.
"Even if I liked Logan and he liked me and we wanted to live happily ever after, would you not want me to be happy?! Logan is a great guy, you of all people should know that, but yet you're making him sound like he's some villain."
Silence fills the room as Garrett continues to struggle to find his words.
"Logan is not dad, G."
Garrett's mind races, hundreds of thoughts bombarding him the more you spoke. Deep down, he knew you were right. If anyone were to date you, he'd want it to be with someone who was empathetic, caring, kind. Someone exactly like Logan. He couldn’t help but be overprotective of you, knowing the circumstances you both grew up in. Garrett had adapted the trait of being the protector. He would keep you safe as best as he could. He felt a slight sense of guilt wash over him, never wanting to overstep but feeling like he has in this moment.
"You can't protect me forever, Garrett. I need you to know that I can trust my own instincts and I can take care of myself," you plea, just begging to be heard.
Garrett paces around the room, hands on his hips as you nod.
"No, no you're right. You are. I've spent our entire lives protecting you, it feels like something I've just been wired to always do," he admits, the words leaving him being the first time he's ever admitted them out loud.
"I know. And you know I appreciate you, more than you'll ever know. But if I need you, I will find you," you state, walking over to him, the closeness forcing him to look at you.
He looks down at you, nodding as he smiles.
"I'm not gonna make it easy on him, ya know."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," you reply, fighting the smile on your face, Garrett knowing you're full of shit.
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Logan had been hanging out downstairs, playing video games, unaware of the conversation taking place upstairs. He had a good idea of what was being said though, making him feel conflicted himself. He heard a set of footsteps climbing down the stairs. Pausing the game, he looks back, seeing you coming down. He hangs his arm off the back of the couch, smiling at you before he sees Garrett following behind you.
You give him a shy smile before opening the front door and presumably, heading back to your dorm. Garrett reaches the bottom of the stairs, Logan's eyes meeting his. He walks over to lock the door before joining Logan on the couch.
"You good bro?" Logan asks.
"Do you like my sister?" Garrett blurts out.
Logan's heart drops at the suddenness of the question. The obvious answer, yes. The more complicated and real answer, yes but I know you don't want your sister dating any of us for some reason so it's incredibly difficult because every time I'm around her, I feel like I'm floating.
"I think she's cool."
"Not what I'm asking."
Logan's silence prompts Garrett to continue.
"She deserves the best. I'm not gonna let anyone jeopardize that."
"Why are you giving me some protective dad talk?"
Garrett's jaw clenches. He didn't think it was fair to tell Logan all of your personal business and gripes about the abuse you personally had gone through during your childhood. That was your story to tell. Garrett had told Logan a bit of his history, so surely Logan had some idea of where this was coming from.
"I just don't wanna see her hurt."
"Neither do I," Logan quickly states, honestly riddled in his voice.
Guilt creeps back into Garrett's body, feeling bad for doubting his best friend. These feelings truly had stemmed from his upbringing and his need to want to protect you. He couldn’t help these defense mechanisms being his go to. But he was willing to work on it if it meant not only his best friend, but his sister, would be happy.
"You know..." Logan starts, "I'm sure she can handle herself," he says, reaffirming what you had said earlier to him.
“I know she can. She deserves the world. So. If you want her, prove it.”
Garrett gets up, heading back upstairs, leaving Logan on the couch, deep in his own thoughts. Logan knew he liked you the moment he met you. While you shared similar traits to Garrett, he was attracted to your personality and the way you lit up any room you walked into. A soft chuckle left his lips.
Challenge accepted.
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As the days passed by, conversations between you and Logan continued, mostly through texts. You both found yourself passively avoiding each other, especially when Garrett was around. This seemed to be a tender time for everyone. You and Logan, both trying to figure out how to navigate these feelings for each other without confessing to the other. Garrett, trying to learn to swallow his pride and trust you and Logan.
Friday night approaches, game night for the Hawks, and you’re seated in the front row behind the Hawks bench, the ‘friends and family’ pass hanging from your neck. A few friends joined you as the game kicked off, the guys playing tough per usual. Your eyes bounce from jersey 44 to jersey 22 throughout the duration of the game, finding 22 more than you’d like to admit.
Time passed and before you know it, the game is tied 1-1 with minutes left. Nerves break out inside you, along with the rest of the crowd as the timer ticks down. Your eyes track the puck, Briar maintaining control before Logan gets the puck, swinging it back and forth with his stick, distracting the goalie as he strikes the puck, smacking it straight into the net just as the buzzer hits 0:00.
The crowd, you included jumps up in cheers, screams heard as the alarms sound signally a Briar goal. The team rushes the ice, surrounding Logan, all celebrating his goal and the team’s win. Eventually, the team makes their way back to the bench. Logan’s eyes find yours, him pointing at you with a wink. Blushing, you smile at him, the interaction noticed by Garrett, glancing at both of you.
An idea crosses Logan’s mind as he skates back onto the ice, motioning for you to come down to meet him. You furrow your eyebrows, laughing lightly as you weave your way through the row, stepping down to the other side of the stand blocking fans from going into the ice. As you’re doing this, Logan skates over, taking his helmet off and flicking his hair back before skating right to where you are.
He towers over you in his skates, him looking at you the same way Garrett described. Like you mattered. Like he wanted you. Without any words being physically exchanged, your brains had the same thought as you met each other in the middle, Logan leaning down to connect his lips with yours. His hands move to your face, holding your cheeks delicately as your hand grabs his upper arm. You both break away from the kiss, a smile being impossible to hide for either of you.
Garrett, who had witnessed the whole thing, found himself not feeling anger or hesitance, but peace in seeing two of the most important people to him happy.
synopsis – a scary incident reveals that your boyfriend is a lot closer to your friend group than they realize, and Logan takes care of you as you recover
based on this request
warnings – language, angst, detailed descriptions of a car accident and injuries, ambulance, hospital, mention of death, reader is referred to as she/her, protective!Logan, Hannah has her bluebaru
note – I’m a sucker for this type of fic, I absolutely loved writing this! if you’re sensitive to any of the warnings above, please read with caution! requests are currently closed, thank you for understanding. enjoy ♡
masterlist
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A girl’s trip with Hannah and Allie was exactly what you needed. Renting a cabin with a fireplace, a hot tub, staying in the middle of nowhere, it was the winter-y getaway of your dreams. A freak snowstorm made its way into town, but you three still decided to head out anyway, hoping you’d get lucky and beat the storm.
Deciding to take two cars, you drove alone as Hannah and Allie followed behind you in Hannah’s car. As you continued to drive, the snow became heavier and heavier, the visibility lessening for you. The girls decided to pull over for a quick pee break, you letting them know you were going to keep going.
Seeing the snow finally let up, a sigh of relief comes from you, as you can at least see now. Maintaining a fair distance from the car in front of you and not going too fast, you were determined to get there on time and safely.
It was only a matter of time before the familiar feeling of your tires skidding makes your heart drop in your stomach. You try gently turning the wheel, foot hovering over the brake as your car eventually reaches the stop sign, coming to a complete stop at the divided highway.
Slowing your breathing down, you exhale, thankful nothing too scary happened. Seconds later, a car rear ends you, most likely unable to stop properly on the ice as well, causing your car to be pushed into the middle of the highway. Attempting to turn your wheel and move was a lost cause, the gas pedal doing nothing as your tires skid in place. A loud horn sounds as you look out of your driver’s side window, seeing bright headlights coming straight for you.
Your heart lurches in your throat, the car slamming into the center of the driver's side your car. Your head whips to the side on impact, your car now being pushed by the truck, unable to stop. Eventually, you separate from the truck as they successfully hit their brakes, only to send your car ping ponging off a metal pole as your car slides into a ditch.
Snow starts to pour down again as you finally stop, angled awkwardly in the ditch, the car tilting to the right. Your right foot managed to get stuck under the now busted brake pedal, any movement sending waves of pain through your foot and up your body. Airbags deployed, every light on your dash on or flashing, your seatbelt locking you in place. Being too scared to unbuckle it and do more damage, you leave it alone.
Trying to breathe and stop the tears, you try and reach for your purse. Your phone peeks out, just out of your reach, a loud groan leaving your lips as you realize you're trapped. A sense of lightheadedness creeps up on you, not knowing how severe your injuries were, you closed your eyes, focused on your breathing, praying that someone would help you.
Hannah and Allie weren’t too far behind you, confusion finding them as they still haven’t seen your car. They approach the divided highway, Allie noticing some slight debris in the road.
“What the hell?” she says, looking around, seeing a truck stuck in the middle of the road. She watches as the guy who presumably was in the truck runs towards the ditch. Allie’s heart drops, seeing a strange brush of the grass and snow paved out as if something slid through it, leading into the ditch.
“Hannah, pull over, they might need help.” Allie says. Hannah doesn’t question her, pulling off to the side of the road, putting the car in park. Allie rushes out, not caring if she slips on ice. Snow continues to fall as she runs to the top of the ditch. Her heart sinks, seeing a Briar U bumper heart shaped sticker, distorted from the initial hit but still visible on the right side of the back of the car.
The bumper sticker she gave you.
“Fuck! Call 911!’ Allie shouts out to someone, anyone, as she runs down the hill, Hannah on her trail, grabbing her phone. Allie finally reaches the car, her heart sinking once again, seeing you passed out in the driver’s seat. She yells out your name.
“Shit! We’re here, okay?! We’re gonna get you outta there!” she yells, not even knowing if you can hear her.
After what feels like hours, the police and fire rescue arrive, safely extracting you from the car, getting you onto a stretcher as you groan in pain at any sudden movements. The girls get the approval to leave Hannah’s car as they both get in the back of the ambulance with you, one of the firefighters handing Allie your purse with your belongings. Hannah holds your hand as Allie pulls your phone out to start calling your family. After notifying your family, she puts your phone away, grabbing hers from her pocket. Before she can call Dean, your mumbles catch her attention.
“Shhh try not to talk, okay?” Allie soothes.
“Logan…” you mumble, “someone… has to tell Logan,” you finish, your eyes slowly blinking, slightly loopy from the morphine given to you to help ease your pain. Allie and Hannah’s eyes leave yours to look at each other, both incredibly confused, thinking you’re just extra loopy. Hannah looks back down to you, leaning in closer to you.
“John… Logan?” Hannah asks. You nod ever so slightly.
Logan’s hanging out with the guys at the house, complaining once again about Tucker’s massive Christmas to-do list when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He laughter dies down, smile fading, confused when he sees the caller ID as ‘Allie Dean’. They were chill with each other, sure but never really interacted too much unless she was with Dean, hence the contact name. Unsure if it’s a butt dial, he answers.
“Hello?”
Logan’s chest tightens hearing Allie’s stressed voice, rambling as she explains what she knows about your situation and mentions that although strange to her, you asked her to call him. The guys look at Logan with concern, seeing the way his face dropped and the color seemed to wash away from his face. Allie drops the name of the hospital you’re headed to.
“You gotta get here now.”
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Logan enters the hospital faster than humanly possible, scouring the waiting room until he finds the girls sitting there, nervous looks on their faces. Garrett, Dean and Tucker follow behind him, the same stressed looks on their faces.
“Where is she?!” Logan asked, worried out of his mind. Hannah reassured him that you were currently in surgery and most importantly, that you were alive. Logan runs his hands through his hands as he sits down, his head now sitting in his hands as he tries to slow down his breathing, the adrenaline consuming him.
“What the fuck happened?” Dean asked, rushing to hug and comfort Allie.
Hannah tries to explain everything they know, not knowing how you ended up in the ditch. They described your injuries, Allie explaining how she found you, tears welling up in her eyes. The energy in the waiting room is heavy, not just from the stress of your unknown status, but of everyone but Logan looking at each other, confused yet intrigued about what was going on between the two of you.
No one brought it up, obviously wrong place, wrong time, but the thoughts did circulate, along with waiting, hoping and praying you’re okay.
After what felt like hours, the surgeon enters the waiting room, calling out your last name. All six heads snap towards the sound of his voice, Logan getting up the fastest as the surgeon walks over to the group.
“She’s stable,” he starts, exhales and sighs of relief leaving everyone.
“She did break her right foot and she’s got some minor fractures in her leg, along with some torn muscles, some cuts and bruises from the impact. Fortunately, there were no signs of spinal injury or any internal bleeding, but we did find signs of whiplash and the few broken bones. She’s incredibly lucky,” he finishes.
Logan rubs his sweaty palms against his pants, his body still shaking from the overwhelming anxiety. The surgeon continues,
“We’ve got her in the ICU now. We’re going to keep an eye on her for a little bit before we can move her to a room, then she can have visitors,” he finishes. Everyone says their thanks before sitting down.
The longer the wait, the more nervous Logan got. His leg bouncing at a rapid rate, him constantly standing up and pacing around the room. His heart raced in his chest at the thought of anything happening to you. Although he felt relief knowing you were okay, not being able to physically see you, to physically touch you, was killing him.
After what felt like days, into the late hours of the night, a nurse comes out, saying your last name, once again, grabbing everyone’s attention.
“She’s finally settled in her room, we can start bringing you guys back, but it’ll have to be one at a time,” she explains.
Garrett pats Logan on the back, “Go. Go see your girl.”
Logan nearly tears up, not even caring that everyone knows now. Everyone nods in agreement as Logan follows the nurse back into the inpatient rooms area. His heart races, not knowing what to expect. Eventually, he and the nurse arrive at the door, opening it softly.
Logan’s body tenses up, anxiety bubbling up inside him. You lay on the bed, peacefully sleeping, an oxygen mask sitting lightly in your nose. A small cut on your left temple, scrapes on your arms, your foot elevated in a sling and wrapped in a cast.
He didn’t think he hated anything the way he hated seeing you so hurt, so vulnerable, so quiet. The nurse leaves, shutting the door behind him as he approaches the bed. You lie there, another wave of nausea coming over him, his mind thinking the absolute worst. He finds the spare chair in the room and gently pulls it over so he can sit at your bedside. His hand reaches up to find yours, being careful to not touch any wires. Slight redness graces your knuckles as Logan brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles, wishing he could take away all of your pain.
“I’m so fucking glad you’re okay,” he mumbles into your hand, before dropping both your hands on the bed. As if his words had some magic touch, your brows furrow as you shift slightly, your eyes opening slowly, a groggy, glazed look in your eyes.
“Hey, hey…” Logan says, standing up so you can see him without having to move your head too much. “You’re okay.” he says, for you but also for him.
“Water… please,” you croak out, Logan letting go of your hand, finding the cup of water sitting on the counter. He grabs it, extending the straw for you as you try and sit up, grunting in pain.
The ice cold water washes into you like you had been dehydrated for weeks, instantly feeling better before nodding to signal you were done. Logan puts the cup down before coming back to you, sitting down in the chair. Despite the pain in your neck, you turn your head, a tear that was sitting in your eye falls down your cheek, bottom lip quivering.
“I thought I was gonna die,” you say, voice breaking, fighting more tears that threatened to spill.
Logan’s hand comes up to your head, lightly moving the hair from your forehead before kissing it, soothing you with gentle hands, his thumb lightly grazing your temple.
“I know, baby, I know. But you didn’t. You’re here and you’re safe,” he reassures, his thumb moving to your cheek. With a light nod, you agree, thankful that this didn’t go where you thought it was going to, being trapped in that car for so long.
After a few moments of a now more comfortable silence, Logan speaks up again,
“Allie called me, she and Hannah found you,”.
Tears refill your eyes, guilt washing over you knowing you had probably traumatized both of them, them having to see you like that. Logan immediately clocks it, shutting down those thoughts.
"Hey, this was not your fault. Thank God they were there and were able to get help, right?" he reassures. You nod, Logan's thumb coming to wipe the tears off your cheeks.
“They all know.”
“Good. It was about time we told them,” you joke, a light giggle leaving your lips, your eyes still full of tears. Logan had never been happier to hear your laugh, joining you in laughter.
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After the overnight stay, your vitals looked good and you were cleared to go home. After seeing everyone, you insisted that they all went home and got some sleep. Logan had immediately said no to that, staying with you the entire night, camping out on the guest chair in your room. Once you got discharged, the nurse wheeled you out on a wheelchair to the front drive, Logan pulling his truck around the front. He and the nurse both worked to get you in the truck, saying your goodbyes and thanks before heading to your apartment.
You hobble off the elevator on your crutches, muscles still sore as you approach your apartment door. Logan opens your front door for you as you enter, you immediately finding your couch. Sighing, you plop down, thankful for finally be rid of that hospital bed.
“You hungry?”
“Oh my god, yes, I’m so tired of hospital lasagna and Jello cups.”
Logan stayed with you at your place for the first week of your recovery. The way he always took care of you, doing everything you needed - half the time without you even needing to ask - made this recovery process so much lighter and less stressful. No matter how frustrated you got, he always knew exactly what to say to calm you down and comfort you.
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Following that first week, after your energy came back, you and Logan made your way to the hockey house, hanging out with everyone, you needing desperately to get out of the house. A hangout with your friends is exactly what you needed.
You all sit on the couch, Logan setting a pillow down on the coffee table for your foot, helping you hike your leg up before he sat down next to you as you both explain, well, everything.
"You guys have been dating?"
“For months??!”
"No way."
“And you didn’t tell anyone?”
“Why wouldn’t you say anything?”
Questions bombarded both of you as you laughed. “In my defense, I was gonna tell you girls at the cabin,” you say, giggling.
Despite this very traumatic event, you found yourself incredible grateful for not just your boyfriend, but the group of friends you had surrounding you. This was going to continue to be a long and frustrating recovery process, but knowing you have the support system behind you that you do, alleviated some of that pain for you.
visiting Logan at the garage when he's dirty from oil and shit
For this one, we are following Logan’s book backstory. I hate that they changed his father for a mother in rehab, and that he has a sister instead of a brother working at the garage. (just like I hate how they watered down Phil’s abuse…)
Summary: You visit Logan at the garage…in a skirt
Warnings: 18+, suggestive content,
—
You pulled outside Logan & Sons Auto Repair, spotting Logan's truck parked along the side of the building where he always left it. The familiar sight tugged a smile onto your face before you had even turned off the engine.
The afternoon sun was beating down on the cracked asphalt as you climbed out, the scent of warm pavement, motor oil, and rubber already drifting through the air. The wide garage doors were rolled open, exposing cars up on lifts and the organized chaos of tool chests, air hoses, and half-disassembled engines.
The rhythmic clank of metal echoed from inside, followed by the whir of an impact wrench.
You stepped through the open bay, weaving around a stack of tires.
One of the older mechanics glanced up from beneath the hood of a pickup truck. ‘’Well, look who decided to stop by,’’ he said with a knowing grin.
‘’Hi George,’’ you greeted, smiling at the man in his early fifties.
‘’No clicking noise this time?’’
You shook your head. ‘’Car is doing good.’’
He wiped his grease-stained hands on a rag before jerking his chin toward the far end of the shop, already knowing you were looking for Logan. ‘’Last bay. He’s been under that Mustang since lunch.’’
‘’Thanks.’’
As you made your way deeper into the garage, familiar sounds filled the space — classic rock humming from an old radio, compressed air hissing, muffled laughter between the mechanics.
You spotted him a second later, half hidden under a red car that looked far too fancy to be here.
You reached for the creeper and yanked hard, causing him to roll out from under the car, spanner in hand.
‘’What the fu—?’’ Logan trailed off, looking up at you from his perch with his bandana tied over his head and oil smeared on his cheek. ‘’Hey, babe.’’ He smiled, pleased to see you. ‘’Got any car trouble?’’
‘’Nope,’’ you replied. ‘’I was just stopping by to see you.’’
The garage was thirty minutes from Briar, but you didn't have anything else to do this afternoon. And you secretly loved to see him in his mechanic overalls. Bonus points if it was dirty or open at the chest.
‘’I’m kind of in the middle of something here… Jeffrey was supposed to have this Mustang ready for 3PM, but he called to say something came up and couldn’t come in to finish the job,’’ Logan explained, tired of his unreliable brother. ‘’This client leaves good tip so we can’t afford to lose him.’’
You hummed in understanding as he wheeled himself back under the car.
‘’I get it. But you should tell Jeffrey to go fuck himself.’’
Logan snorted. ‘’I wish!’’
A familiar tune came on the radio and you found yourself humming to it while Logan worked on the Mustang. Ever so often, he would peek one eye out from under the car, catching your silhouette standing there — patient and pretty in your skirt and flowy blouse —, and it hit him all over again how lucky he was.
‘’You wanna make yourself useful, baby?’’ he asked as the music changed, voice teasing but warm. ‘’Grab me that 10mm socket from the tray?’’
You turned toward the rolling tool cart, scanning the neatly organized sockets until you spotted the 10mm. Picking it up, you walked back to Logan and, with one leg on either side of his body, handed it over to him.
He rolled out from under the car to grab the tool and swore. ‘’Can you please not stand like that?’’ he said, gesturing to the perfect view up your skirt that you had unintentionally given him. ‘’You know I can’t focus with that pink thong right in my face.’’
A soft laugh left your lips. ‘’Close your eyes.’’
‘’Close your legs.’’
‘’No.’’ You crossed your arms, looking down at him. ‘’You’re looking up my skirt.’’
‘’Because you’re flashing your pussy in my face!’’
The sound of a tool clattering on the concret accompanied by a loud ’Ow, fuck!’ coming from one of the other mechanics echoed in the garage. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but his space was right next to Logan’s so he had heard everything.
‘’You did not just say that… Jesus, this is a garage, kid.’’
Logan groaned in embarrassment and moved to roll back under the car.
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t tired. No, you were currently fighting for your life in lecture. You’ve nodded off too many times to count, the culprit? Your deliciously hot boyfriend. Said boyfriend had kept you up all night last night.
“Are you okay?” Hannah asks. You blink rapidly, trying to wake up.
“What? Me?” You ask sleepily. She stares at you like you have two heads before looking down at your notes that are illegible due to the fact that you’re half asleep.
“Uh, yeah, your notes look like a toddlers art project.” She says. You look down, blinking your eyes into focus.
“Fuck, can you send me pictures of yours later?” You ask. She nods.
“Of course, but like are you sure you’re okay?” She asks again looking concerned.
“Yeah, I was just uh, up late last night.” You say, a blush coming to your face.
“Fuck, Logan don’t stop!” You moan. His hand grabs a fist full of your hair causing your back to arch even more. Logan’s hands on your hips pull you further back against him, nothing but the sound of your combined moans and skin slapping against skin.
“Oh, were you studying for that Ethics exam we have next week?” She asks. Okay you had originally been studying before your sexy ass boyfriend got back from hockey practice looking delicious with his hair still damp and his sweatpants slung low on his waist.
“Uh… a little.” You admit. Hannah looks at you, her eyes narrowing as she smirks.
“Were you having sex all night?” She asks. You blush, looking around to make sure no one heard her.
“Maybe.” You admit. She lets out a cackle, you roll your eyes playfully.
After class, you and Hannah had promised to meet your friend group in the dining hall for lunch. Normally the walk would leave you feeling refreshed after sitting in a lecture hall for an hour but today not so much.
“Damn, why are you limping?” Tucker asks as you set your book bag down next to the chair that Logan has saved for you. He grins up at you, a knowing look in his eyes.
“One more baby, come on.” He coos. You thrash underneath him. His pace is unrelenting, his fingers deftly working your clit.
“Can’t Johnny, too sensitive.” You whimper. His thrusts slow, still deep and hitting every sensitive spot inside of you. He taps your clit.
“One more pretty girl, know you can do it. Let me feel you.” He coaxes. His praise and unrelenting attention to your clit does the trick, sending you over the edge for the third time.
“Oh fuck!” You moan, eyes screwing shut as the pleasure runs through you.
“That’s it, good girl. So pretty when you cum around this cock.” John murmurs, his thrusts slow grow erratic as he spills himself inside of you.
“Probably pulled something a Pilates.” You say shrugging. Allie frowns.
“You didn’t come to Pilates with me this morning? Are you still hurting from yesterday?” She asks voice full of concern. Beside you Logan snorts. Tucker quickly puts two and two together.
“Oh my God! Geez Logan you don’t have to take it out on the poor girl.” Tucker says as you sit next to your boyfriend.
“Okay so it was you two who kept me up last night. I thought it was Allie and Dean.” Garrett says with a shrug. Allie rolls her eyes.
“I am not that loud.” She says gesturing to you.
“Are you seriously limping from sex?” Dean asks laughing. You stare at him.
“Are you seriously asking me that?” You say mocking him before adding, “Dude you guys share a house and the whole locker room situation, you know exactly what’s going on down there.” Dean considers your statement.
“Fair enough.” He says. Dean leans back in his chair, still looking entirely too amused.
“So…” he says, pointing his fork at you. “Hypothetically.”
You already know you aren’t going to like whatever comes next.
“How long before you stop walking like that?” He asks.
You drop your forehead onto the table with a groan. Allie smacks his arm.
“I’m transferring.” You say.
“No you’re not,” Hannah laughs.
“I am. Effective immediately.” You say exasperatedly.
Logan, the traitor, is sitting beside you trying, and failing, not to smile.
“You think this is funny?” you mutter to him narrowing your eyes.
“I think you’re cute.” He says with a grin.
“You are the reason I’m being publicly interrogated.” You tell him.
“I’ll buy you lunch.” He says with a wink.
“You can’t buy my complacency with meal swipes Logan.” You say sassily.
“I’ll buy you dinner.” He offers.
“You already do that anyway.” You say. Garrett snorts into his drink.
“Damn, Logan’s negotiating for his life.” Garrett says. Tucker points at Logan.
“No, because look at him. Dude hasn’t stopped smiling for like… twelve hours.” Tucker says raising his eyebrows at Logan.
“I smile all the time.” Your boyfriend exclaims.
“No,” Dean says. “You smirk all the time. This is different.”
Allie squints. Staring at Logan.
“He’s glowing.” Allie confirms.
“People don’t glow.” Logan tells her.
“Hockey players after a win do.” Dean says.
Garrett nods.
“And apparently after whatever happened last night.” Dean adds with a cheeky grin. You make a strangled noise into the table. Logan casually reaches over and steals one of your fries. You smack his hand away without looking.
“You’ve done enough.” You inform him.
“I said I was sorry.” Logan shrugs, popping the fries in his mouth.
“You absolutely did not.” You tell him.
“I was thinking it.” He says grinning at you.
“Oh, good. That fixes everything.” You say sarcastically. The table erupts into laughter. Dean wipes a tear from his eye.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her roast you this hard.” Dean laughs. Garrett nods.
“She’s got him on a leash today.” Garrett says. Logan narrows his eyes at his best friend.
“Like you’re one to talk, G.” Logan simply shrugs, looking entirely unbothered. Garrett just laughs to which your boyfriend replies,
“Totally worth it by the way.” Your head snaps toward him.
“John Logan.” You scold, your face heating with embarrassment.
“What?” He says innocently.
“You cannot say things like that in front of our friends.”
“I wasn’t talking to them.” He says coolly. “I was just making a statement.” He says.
“You were absolutely talking to them.” You laugh. He presses a kiss to your temple. He grins, completely unapologetic. Garrett points across the table.
“He’s never beating the whipped allegations.” Dean says.
“I’m not whipped.” Logan says. Dean raises an eyebrow.
“Dude.” Garrett says.
“You made her latte yesterday and delivered it to her in class.” Tucker says.
“So?” Logan says.
“You drove across campus because she forgot her favorite pen.” Dean offers.
“It was important.” Logan says.
“It’s a pen.” Dean says.
“It was her lucky pen.” John clarifies. The entire table falls silent before everyone bursts out laughing. You reach over, squeeze Logan’s hand under the table, and shake your head smiling at your sweet guy.
“Okay,” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “That one was actually kind of sweet.” You say. Logan squeezes your hand back.
“I know.” He says grinning at you. “Not as sweet as you though.” He adds cheekily. Dean groans dramatically.
“Oh great. They’re flirting now.” Tucker stands up with his tray.
“I’m leaving before these two get even more insufferable. And I have class, but mostly because you two are insufferable.” He says.
“You love us,” Logan calls after him.Tucker doesn’t even turn around.
“I love her. I tolerate you.” He says. The table erupts in laughter again as Logan good heartedly flips on of his best friend’s off behind his back.
looking through an x reader tag when you’re in a fanfic reading mood only to find out you’ve read all the fanfics that could possibly appeal to you has got to be one of the most devastating experiences. like damn i’m RAN THROUGH😭
synopsis – feeling like you’re stuck with the title of ‘Allie’s little sister’, there was no way John Logan would ever reciprocate feelings for you… right?
based on this request!
warnings – mutual pining, slow burn, friends to lovers, good mix of fluff and humor, language, a cheeky kiss, reader gets called ‘Lil Hayes’, Allie is cracked out in the best way, some moments are taken from the show but are out of order (just go along with it pls!!!)
note – this one was so fun to write, thanks for sending it in! if you want to request something, you can submit it by clicking the ‘♡’ button on my page or commenting under this post! enjoy ♡
masterlist
✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧
Ever since you started attending Briar, you and your older sister Allie have gotten closer than ever. She took you under her wing the second you arrived at Briar. You integrated into her friend group with ease, however, feelings of insecurity and intimidation couldn’t help but seep in when you found yourself comparing yourself to your sister all the time.
Allie Hayes – the confident, beautiful, outgoing girl who managed to lock down Dean fucking DiLaurentis just by wearing a J-Lo costume at a party.
And sure, you shared the same confidence and beauty as her, but following her around like a lost puppy, literally and figuratively, only seemed to reinforce the idea that you were really just known as ‘Allie’s little sister’. The thoughts race through your head as you bike over to the hockey house, Allie insisting you come by and hang out. Music plays loudly in your headphones as you pedal down the street before arriving at the house, pulling up to the steps.
Climbing off your bike, you unbuckle your helmet, running your hands through your hair. Your back faces the front door as you take your bag out of the front basket of your bike. Taking your phone out, you pause the music, removing the headphones and putting them in your bag. Before you can lock your bike up, the front door swings open.
You turn around, seeing Logan rushing down the stairs.
“Lemme grab that for you,” he insists as you step back, hiking your bag up on your shoulder.
“Oh hey, thanks,” you smile. You toss the lock in the basket as he effortlessly lifts the bike, walking up the stairs as you follow him. He perches your bike up against the house.
“I… haven’t seen you around lately,” Logan says, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.
“Oh, you know with finals around the corner, studying is taking up most of my time,” you say, nervously laughing, half telling the truth.
The full truth being you’re harboring the world’s biggest crush on John Logan, and you know he’d never feel the same way about you so you’re avoiding him as much as possible in the hopes that your crush will eventually go away. A mission that’s currently failing as his brown doe eyes look into yours, captivating you.
“Huh, I can’t imagine you struggling with finals, or anything really,” he says, the compliment going straight to your heart, a confidence boost radiating through you at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he was flirting with you. A light smile crawls onto your face, the blush on your cheeks definitely noticeable.
“Well, I gotta keep that scholarship somehow, right?” you joke, trying not to blatantly flirt with him, just in case you’re misjudging this entire conversation.
“Right…” he trails off. He looks as if he’s about to say something, when the front door swings open, a mop of blonde hair peeking out behind Logan’s shoulder.
“What up Lil Hayes,” Dean says, peeking out the front door, immediately killing the moment, that same feeling of feeling small rushing over your body once again, depleting any confidence you had. Logan notices the subtle shift in your body language as you press your lips in a fine line before meeting Dean’s gaze.
“Hi Dean,” you reply.
“Allie’s looking for you,” he says, looking from you to Logan before heading back inside. Your eyebrows raise for half a second before your eyes meet Logan’s again. He turns to the side, holding his arm out, motioning to let you walk in first. You smile at him as a ‘thanks’ before he follows you in, shamelessly letting his eyes trail down your body as you walk inside.
Logan knew he liked you after your first interaction. The way your smile lit up the room, your confidence and personality had him whipped from the start. As bubbly as you were, you were a bit hard to read. He struggled to gauge how you felt about him, and the thought of ruining the friendship you had already developed scared the shit out of him, so he just felt it was better to keep these feelings to himself. In the meantime, he resorted to little flirty comments here and there, going above and beyond for you, not just to impress you.
But because he wanted to.
Clearly, he didn’t keep his feelings hidden well enough, Dean winking at him as he makes his way into the kitchen. Logan slightly shakes his head at him in confusion, walking past you and Allie on the couch, chatting about something you clearly had interest in. Your smile big and your eyes widening, him truly thinking your eyes could sparkle if they wanted to. Dean’s eyes follow Logan’s to the couch before looking back at Logan when the realization dawns on him.
Logan approaches Dean in the kitchen, questioning the very smug grin on his face. “You like Lil Hayes, don’t you,” he says, the first time those words ever leaving someone’s mouth making his heart drop into his stomach.
Logan didn’t know why, but he didn’t like the nickname. Sure, it was cute and quirky, but something about it rubbed him the wrong way. It was almost as if it made you seem like you weren’t your own person, you were just Allie’s sister. But you were so much more than that. He could tell you didn’t like it either.
The subtle way your body would tense up when you hear it, trying to hide any discomfort as you swallow down the emotions, it happening just moments ago on the porch. After he saw your negative reaction to it the first time, he made a promise to himself.
He would never call you that.
“She’s really cool and we get along, how does that mean I have a crush?” he asks Dean, trying to deflect.
“I know what it looks like to be captivated by a Hayes,” he says, a hint of humor in his voice as he continues, “And she definitely likes you too, so you should go for it,” he says, making Logan’s head whip towards Dean.
“What?” he says, unsure he heard Dean correctly. Dean just shrugs, taking a sip of Gatorade and patting Logan’s chest before heading out to the backyard where Garrett and Tucker already are, working out. Logan’s eyes find you again, laughing at something Allie said. Your eyes glance over to him, the smile staying on your face that he gladly returns, before he heads up to his room to change to join the guys for a workout.
“You so like him!!” Allie says, grabbing your hands and bouncing lightly on the couch.
“Will you keep your voice down?! And no, I don’t” you deny, the lie falling a little too easily off your lips.
“I love you, but you are so naive if you think he doesn’t like you back,” Allie sternly says. One of the many things you admired about your sister was her bluntness to call things like she sees it. And Allie was never one to lie to anyone. About anything.
You and Allie go back and forth as Logan eventually catches your eye once more, rushing back down the stairs, before he heads to the backyard. Your eyes follow him as he walks through the living room, the cut sleeveless hoodie allowing your eyes to be blessed with the sight of his arms flexing, while he ties the red bandana behind his head as he continues walking outside.
“Yeah, that wasn’t subtle at all,” Allie sarcastically states, watching you basically eye fuck him. You look back at her, rolling your eyes, laying your body onto the back of the couch, hugging a pillow close to your chest.
“I don’t like him.”
“Whatever you say…”
✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧
“Thank you all for coming,” Allie says, having a presentation style hangout a few days later as Hannah, Garrett, Dean and Tucker sit around the couch watching her.
“Aren’t we missing two…? Tucker asks, looking around noticing you and Logan missing.
“No no my sweet Tuck, they are the reason we are all here right now.” Allie says very adamantly before continuing, “It’s so obvious they like each other but they’re both too scared to do anything about it. We have to intervene,” she finishes. The rest of the group looks around at each other, waiting for someone else to speak up.
“I’m in,” Dean says, “I talked to Logan about it the other day in the kitchen and he clammed up. He totally likes her,” he says. The rest of the group nods, more than willing to help their friends out. Allie’s eyes widen in excitement.
“Exactly. I love my sister, but I also know her, she’s gonna clam up the second he makes some cute comment, which is his passive way of trying to let her know he’s into her and then that stupid voice in her head is gonna sike her out and she’s gonna shut down,” she rambles, exhaling at the end.
“Okay, so how do we do this?” Hannah asks.
“It’s gotta be something good, no inviting her to a game or any of that crap,” Garrett chimes in.
Allie smirks, “I have the perfect idea.”
✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧
“You stole her fucking bike chain??!”
Allie stands there, having not been gone 30 minutes, her hands now all greased up, a bike chain dangling in one hand, a pair of pliers in the other. “Just trust me, okay? She’s gonna get out of class, realize it’s stolen and go to the one person we all know who can fix it. We all just need to be out of the house when it happens so they’re alone when they get back here,” Allie says, a smile on her face.
The group looks at her with a mix of emotions – impressed, shocked, concerned – as Garrett checks his watch.
“Logan’s probably still at the rink,” he says, mentioning how lately he’s been staying after practices to get extra skating time.
“Perfect, she gets out of class any minute now, that’s enough time for Logan to still be there while she realizes she’s screwed and reaches out to him all ‘damsel in distress’ like. This is gonna be great you guys, trust me!” she exclaims, the group just nodding in agreement, not wanting to hurt her feelings at the extremity of her way of trying to get the two of you together. It really was sweet how she just wanted you to be happy.
✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧
Your heart sinks as you approach your bike, the chain clearly missing from your bike. Who the hell even robs someone of a bike chain? The bike route from the campus building to your place was long enough as is, having to lug a broken bike all that way definitely not an ideal situation. You sigh, eyes darting around as you try to come up with a solution.
Logan’s phone buzzes repeatedly in his hockey bag, him catching the tail end of it after his shower before rushing over to his bag. Pulling his phone out, a light smile on his face seeing your name. Then, a wave of concern. You never call him.
“Hey, what’s up?” he asks. The panic in your voice sets alarm bells off in his head.
“Hey, sorry, are you free right now? I just got out of class and some asshat stole my bike chain. It’s a long way to my place to have to drag the bike with me. I didn’t know if you had a spare chain or anything to help me…” you trail off, sighing, embarrassed at your rambling.
“I’m actually still at the rink, I don’t have any tools or anything with me, but I can come by and take a look at it,” he offers. He grins, hearing the sigh of relief that came from the other end of the call.
“You’re a lifesaver,” you say, telling him which building you’re at before the calls ends. Logan arrives about ten minutes later, the sad look on your face making his heart ache before that look turns into your face brightening up when you see him. You greet each other before he takes a look at the bike.
“Yep… It’s definitely missing,” he says, a hint of sarcasm in his voice as you look down at him blankly, trying not to laugh. “Wow, thanks” you reply sarcastically, crossing your arms.
“It’s weird, it looks like it was yanked it out with pliers or something,” he says, confused.
“Yeah, who steals a fucking bike chain?” you rhetorically ask, rubbing your hands over your face, this being the last thing you need right now. The tense sigh that leaves your lips catches Logan’s attention, him standing up, wiping his hands before coming up to you. Your hands go back down to your sides as he speaks.
“Hey, we’ll figure it out. We can just take the bike to the hockey house, I’ll stop by the shop on our way to get a chain and it’ll be as good as new,” he reassures you, a light smile arriving on your face, incredibly thankful for his willingness to help you.
“There’s that pretty smile. Alright, let’s go,” he says, turning his back to you to grab the bike and put it in the bed of his truck.
Your brain nearly malfunctions, replaying that in your head, making sure you heard him correctly. He pulls the passenger door open for you. You hop in and before he can shut the door, you turn your body towards him. “Thank you so much, seriously, I owe you,” you say sincerely.
“I’d help you any time,” he replies, closing the door gently, the butterflies swarming inside your stomach.
✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧
One new bike chain later and you and Logan are sitting on the hockey house couch facing each other, the conversation flowing effortlessly. Your elbow is perched on the top of the couch, your head resting in the palm of your hand as Logan’s arm is sprawled across the top of the couch, his fingers dangerously close to your arm.
“I don’t know that we’ve ever hung out just the two of us… It’s nice,” you admit, his eyes softer than ever as he looks at you.
“It is nice,” he reaffirms, adjusting his arm as his hand gets even closer to you. Your eyes flicker down to his hand before quickly making eye contact with him again. The tension in the air feels incredibly thick, you both soaking in the moment.
“You are so beautiful,” he says, the intention in his voice clearer than ever, all the negative thoughts swarming in your head dissipating as you look down shyly, a blush creeping up on your cheeks, smiling as you look back at him.
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
Before you can come back with any self-deprecating comments hidden inside a joke, Logan continues,
“I know sometimes it can feel like you’re living in your sister’s shadow. But I want you to know that I see you for you. And I think you’re incredible,” he finishes, the warm feeling in your body radiating all throughout as your eyes slightly well up, lightly smiling at him.
“Thank you,” you say, your eyes telling a much larger story. And Logan was an expert in reading.
Logan’s position on the couch changes, him still facing you as he sits up, scooting even closer to you. You sit up too, the air getting heavier as he leans in slightly, gauging your reaction. Your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips as Logan leans in, connecting your lips.
Describing the kiss as fireworks would be an understatement, his hand coming up to hold your face as you lean into him, deepening the kiss. His other hand finds your waist, pulling you in even closer, your hand placing itself on his shoulder, slowly trailing down to his arm, squeezing his bicep, taking full advantage of the opportunity.
Smiling into the kiss, you slowly pull away, giggling lightly. Fighting the smiles growing on your faces was a lost cause, the both of you feeling giddy like kids again.
A smack on the window snaps the two of you out your bliss, your heads whipping over to the window, catching several heads quickly ducking, including a very delayed duck by a bright blonde mop of hair. You stare in bewilderment,
“Are they fucking watching us?!”
✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧
note – NEED ME A JOHN LOGAN NOW!!! also, thank you to everyone who's sent in requests, I promise I'm working on them as quickly as I can, I'm trying to juggle work and writing right now so bear with me, they're coming!!!🩷
Ummmm I don’t know if this is how I make a request but … oh well
Could you please make a John Logan fic where it’s his long time girlfriend (like from high school) and she meets Hannah for the first time and hannah gets like jealous thinking she’s after Garet but after when she finds out that she’s Logan’s girlfriend she’s like really embarrassed and apologises
Thank youuuuu
Logan's GF visits | John Logan
John Logan x F!reader, Garrett Graham x F!reader (platonic) | word count: 1k
NOTE: hehehe this was such a cute idea and thx sm much for requesting it! i love it when random drama starts but fizzles out before smth bad/stressful can happen lol (it's def my anxiety talking 🥲)
Off Campus Masterlist
The late afternoon rush at Malone's had finally started to thin out.
The coffee pot hadn't stopped brewing since noon, and Hannah was pretty sure the smell of grease had settled into her uniform for good. She wiped down the counter out of habit more than necessity, eyes drifting toward the same corner booth she'd been glancing at for the better part of an hour.
Garrett hadn't moved much.
Every few minutes he'd rewind the same clip on the tablet, scribble something onto a legal pad, then look across the table at the girl sitting opposite him.
Hannah didn't recognize her.
She looked about their age, dressed comfortably, sleeves pushed to her elbows with a stack of papers spread between them. Every now and then she'd steal Garrett's pen without asking, circle something on one of the stat sheets, then slide it back across the table.
Garrett would groan. She'd grin.
Then they'd go right back to arguing over whatever they were looking at. From across the diner, it looked easy. Familiar.
Hannah tried to tell herself she was reading too much into it. She and Garrett were fine. More than fine.
But still.
She caught Garrett laughing at something the girl said, and before she realized what she was doing, she'd already wiped the same section of countertop three times.
The bell over the front door chimed.
"Please tell me my order's almost ready."
Logan shrugged off his jacket as he walked in, looking far more awake than anyone should on a Tuesday afternoon.
"It'll be another couple minutes," Hannah said. "You picking up dinner?"
"Yeah. Y/N got into town earlier than I expected."
Hannah nodded absently, her attention already drifting back toward the corner booth. Logan followed her gaze. The second he spotted the familiar head of hair, he laughed under his breath.
"Well...there she is."
Hannah frowned.
"You know her?"
Instead of answering, Logan headed straight across the diner. Hannah watched him weave between the tables before stopping behind the booth. The girl didn't even look up.
She simply reached one hand back without thinking.
Logan slipped his fingers through hers.
"Hi."
That finally made her glance over her shoulder.
"There you are."
Her face softened in a way Hannah hadn't seen all afternoon. Logan leaned down, kissed her temple, and slid into the booth beside her like it was the most natural thing in the world. She immediately shifted closer, making room without either of them saying a word.
Garrett looked up from the tablet and let out an exaggerated sigh.
"Finally. Please take your girlfriend back."
"I'm trying," Logan said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders anyway.
"You've had her all afternoon."
"I borrowed her."
"You kidnapped me," she corrected.
Hannah stared for a beat longer than she probably should have. Heat crept up the back of her neck. Oh.
Oh, no.
She grabbed the coffee pot mostly to give herself something to do before making her way over.
"You guys need anything?"
Logan looked up first.
"Hannah, have you two met?"
The girl smiled.
"I don't think so."
"This is Y/N."
Logan glanced between them.
"My girlfriend."
Hannah felt every ounce of embarrassment settle squarely onto her shoulders.
Well. That explained everything. She let out a quiet laugh at herself before rubbing a hand against the back of her neck.
"I owe you an apology."
Y/N looked up from the scattered stat sheets.
"For what?"
"I've spent the last hour convincing myself there was something going on over here." Hannah gestured vaguely between her and Garrett before shaking her head. "Turns out I was just making myself look ridiculous."
Understanding crossed Y/N's face. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth before she glanced across the table at Garrett.
"I mean..." she said with a soft laugh. "Looking at us right now, I probably would've thought the same thing."
Garrett leaned back against the booth.
"See?" He gestured toward the mess of papers spread across the table. "I've been the victim here."
Y/N reached over without looking and flicked the edge of his notebook closed.
"You panicked."
"I did not panic."
She only raised an eyebrow.
Garrett held out for all of two seconds before rolling his eyes.
"Maybe a little."
Logan laughed under his breath as he reached for one of the fries sitting forgotten on Garrett's plate.
"So you actually play?" Hannah asked.
"Grew up with it," Y/N said, absentmindedly straightening one of the pages Garrett had scribbled all over. "Garrett wanted another set of eyes before this weekend, so I came by for a couple hours."
"A couple?" Garrett scoffed. "You've been roasting me since lunch."
"Somebody had to."
Logan bumped his shoulder against hers. Y/N smiled into her coffee as Hannah laughed.
"I definitely owe both of you an apology."
"You really don't," Y/N said.
She reached for her mug, turning it slowly between her hands before looking back up.
"If I'd walked in and seen Logan sitting this close to another girl, I probably would've wondered what was going on too."
That earned a small smile from Hannah.
"Thanks."
Her eyes drifted over the papers covering nearly every inch of the table.
"You know," She pointed toward the hallway behind the kitchen. "We've got a private room in the back that's usually empty on Tuesdays. If you're planning on turning Malone's into a film room again, you'd probably be more comfortable back there."
Garrett looked at the mountain of papers spread across the booth.
"That actually sounds amazing."
"I'll go make sure nobody's using it."
As Hannah walked away, Garrett gathered the loose pages into one pile while Logan reached over to help, sliding stray papers back into a neat stack before Y/N could stop him.
(NOTE: i've opened up a google form to manage the taglist! if you wanna be tagged pls answer the form so i know which series/fic you'd want to be included in. thankiesss)
☄︎ Warnings: Arguing. Reader being stubborn. Heavy alcohol consumption. Light angst.
☄︎ Pairing: F!Reader x John Logan
☄︎ Rating/Genre: PG. Hurt/Comfort
☄︎ Words: 1847
☄︎ Summary: You get into a petty argument with Logan on the way to a party.
💭: super original title cause i couldn't think of anything else lol
Original request here. 〣 Off Campus Masterlist here.〣 Logan Masterlist here.
It started as most stupid arguments did, a mild annoyance that snowballed into something unnecessarily bigger.
Logan had been late picking you up for the party. It's not like he hadn't messaged you to let you know, he had. It's not like he didn't have a valid excuse, he did. But you were already in a foul mood, already lowkey feeling like hockey took priority over everything, and his late arrival was the cherry on an already shit cake.
"I'm so sorry, babe," Logan said the second you climbed into the passenger seat, his eyes heavy with exhaustion.
"No problem," you replied, your voice clipped.
But there was a problem, and you both knew it. Logan knew you well enough to pick up the subtle signs in your texts and body language. Your reply to his text had been short; your clipped response now was unusual; you looked unimpressed, all clear signs. But the biggest one was the fact that you hadn't leant over to give him a kiss. Hadn't tried to soothe the tired lines in his face.
Logan noticed it all, but he chose not to press. He'd had a long day too and was wound just as tightly as you were at the minute.
The silence in the car stretched as he pulled away from the curve, driving you to the party hosted by the Lacrosse team. The silence allowed your thoughts to ruminate unnecessarily over the situation, working yourself up until the irriation boiled over. Under your breath, you muttered a tight "I should have just walked."
It was meant as a throwaway comment, a petty jab to vent, and you truly didn't mean to start something, but it hit its mark.
"I said I was sorry." Logan's grip on the steeting wheel tightened.
"I know."
"Then what's that supposed to mean?" He snapped, his already low patience wearing thin.
"Exactly what I said," you snapped back, crossing your arms. "I just meant I should have walked."
"Yeah, because I was late, right?"
You knew you should have stopped the conversation there, apologised, let him know you'd had a bad day, and moved on. But a stubborn part of you needed this fight, needed to get out the emotions you were bottling up.
"I don't know why you're being like this. I wasn't trying to start anything."
Logan let out a sharp exhale through his nose. "Kinda feels like you were."
"Well that doesn't make it true," you retorted, continuing to stare straight ahead through the windshield.
"Look, I'm exhausted," Logan said, voice dropping low. "I barely slept last night. Practice was hell. Coach was on my ass the whole time. I got stuck in traffic on my way here, and now the only thing I'm hearing from you is that I should have gotten here quicker."
"There's no need for that tone, Logan."
Logan's head snapped to look at you, his eyes flashing before he forced his attention back to the road. "I'm only giving you a tone because it seems like nothing I'm saying is good enough for you."
"I never said that!"
"You've been in a mood since you got in the car." You were about to protest when he interuppted, "Don't deny it. You're picking a fight. What am I supposed to think?"
"Maybe think that I was just frustrated."
"And so was I, but I didn't take it out on you."
That made you pause. Deep down, you knew that Logan was right. He hadn't taken out his crappy day on you the way you were with him. But, at the same time, the longer this conversation went on, the more unheard you felt.
"Okay, but I am allowed to be frustrated too," you muttered.
"I didn't say that you weren't." Logan pressed his foot on the brake, pulling the car over to the curb with more force than necessary. Turning in his seat, he shifted to look at you.
"What do you want me to say?" He asked, throwing a hand up. "I apologised. I texted you. I told you practice ran over. What more do you want from me?
"A text twenty minutes later than you were supposed to be here."
"Did you want me to pull out my phone while coach was talking?"
You opened your mouth before closing it again. "Obviously not," you admitted. "Maybe I just wanted you to understand why I'm upset, rather than acting like I'm attacking you."
"I do understand," he said, voice softening a little. "But every time I apologise, it feels like you find another way to tell me I screwed up."
Your stomach dropped.
"Forget it." Stubbornly, you turned your hear away, staring out of the passenger side window.
Logan sighed heavily, turned the engine back on, and drove you both the rest of the way to the party. As he pulled into crowded driveway of the party, he broke the silence that had settled over you both, keeping his eyes glued to the steering wheel.
"You don't need to come in if you're just going to be pissed at me all night," Logan muttered.
You folded your arms tighter across your chest, his words leaving you seething. "If you don't want me to come with you, just say that."
"Can you stop twisting my words?" You could hear the frustration in his voice, and it only made you more frustrated. "I never said that."
"Whatever, Logan."
"Have fun," he said flatly as he shut off the ignition.
"Oh, I will."
You slammed the door to his car a little harder than necessary and stormed into the party.
Inside, the party was in full swing. Someone called your name, but you only offered a tight smile before disappearing into the kitchen. Within seconds, a drink was in your hand. Less than a minute later, the first drink was gone and you were pouring a second, heavy on the booze, light on the mixer.
You welcomed the burning heat of the drink as it hit the back of your throat. It felt better than the ache in your chest. As the drinks, and music, kept flowing through you, you forgot why you even needed it in the first place.
But the alcohol could only make you forget for so long. Every couple of minutes, you found your eyes scanning the crowd to find Logan. And when you finally did, your chest tightened. He was standing with Garrett and a few of the lacrosse team, head thrown back in laughter, unaffected and carefree.
'He hasn't even looked for me,' you thought, a bitter lump forming in your throat. 'He didn't text to see if I wanted to talk. He doesn't care. As usual, he'd rather drink with his buddies than deal with his emotional girlfriend.'
Suddenly, every emotion you'd been trying to bury came bubbling to the surface. Tears blurred your vision, turning the fairylights into halos. You stumbled towards the exit, desperate for fresh air.
"Whoa, steady there. I gotcha."
Strong hands caught your forearms, holding you steady as you practically fell into a chest.
Blinking hard, your vision focused on Tucker's worried face.
"Hey, what happened?" Tucker's brow furrowed as he took in your dishevelled state, mascara streaked down your flushed cheeks and eyes brimming with tears.
Before anybody else could notice, he carefully steered you toward the kitchen.
"Here," Tucker said gently as he handed you a cup. "Drink this, it's water."
You frowned at the cup as if it had offended you. "I don't want water."
"Please? For me?" He coaxed, using that soft gentlemanly tone he was so good at.
"Fineeeee." You downed the first cup, and let him refill it. By the time you finished the second, your head was pounding slightly less, but the emotional dam was still broken, stray tears still running down your face.
Tucker guided you to a quieter hallway near the downstairs bathroom, leaning against the wall. "Do you want me to go and get Logan for you?"
"No," you wailed, the sound muffled as you hid your face in your hands. "He doesn't care, he hates me."
Tucker sighed sympathetically, you were obviously shit-faced drunk, so he didn't expect much logic from you. "I don't think that's true. Tell me what happened."
"He hates me," you repeated, a hiccup interrupting your words. "He's gonna break up with me for being difficult."
"What makes you say that?" Tucker asked, completely baffled.
"Because he said I was pissed off and picking fights," you cried, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand.
Tucker stared at you for a minute, fighting the amused twitch of his lips. "And... were you?"
"Yes," you hiccuped loudly. Falling into Tucker's arms, you buried your face into the front of his shirt.
Tucker wrapped his arm around you, rubbing your back in soothing circles as you began dramatically retelling the car ride. Between slurred and jumbled sentences, you explained how he arrived late because he only cared about hockey, how he 'yelled' at you, and how he basically told you to go away.
Tucker listened patiently, nodding along, knowing damn well that this was a result of two tired people knowing how to push each other's buttons, rather than the hateful breakup you were telling him it was.
"Alright, let's just breatheeee," Tucker said slowly, gently pulling you away from his shirt. "Listen to me, that boy is crazy about you, like literally crazy. You're just really drunk, alright?"
You nodded slowly, wiping the snot from your nose.
"Come on, let's go get your boy."
Half-carrying, half-guiding your body, Tucker navigated you through the sea of college students. You stumbled along, clinging to his arm and still crying softly and mumbling about how Logan wouldn't want to see you.
Logan was still standing where you'd last seen him. He was talking to Garrett, but he wasn't really paying attention. His eyes were scanning the crowd, clearly looking for you.
The moment he spotted you clinging to Tucker, tears streaming down your face, his posture changed. He pushed through a couple of people to get to you.
"What happened?" He asked frantically, scanning your body for injuries. "Did someone hurt you?"
He didn't wait for you to answer, he pulled you from Tucker's hold into his arms, tucking you against his chest.
"She's fine, man," Tucker said gently, "she just missed you and is very sorry about earlier."
Before you could say anything, Tucker turned back into the crowd, giving you both space.
Your tears had stopped the moment you were in Logan's arms, instantly calmer. "I'm sorry," you mumbled into his shoulder. "Don't be mad anymore and please don't break up with me."
Despite himself, Logan laughed softly. "It's going to take a lot more than a stupid argument for me to even consider breaking up with you. You're stuck with me."
"I'm so sorry," you slurred, eyes closing as you swayed. "I-."
"Let's talk about it later," he interrupted, already pulling you towards the exit. "First, let me take you home."
💭: oh how i crave an argument then comfort w logan. sigh. i really enjoyed writing out the argument cause (in my mind) they both have a point and it gets like that sometimes but let me know what you thought about this one xx
Synopsis: You overheard Logan dismiss your relationship as 'nothing serious' at a party. So you break up with him. He realizes he's made one of the biggest mistakes of his life, and he just has to win you back.
REQUESTS ARE OPEN
Word count: 4.8k words
Warnings: Light swearing, Logan being a coward and hurting you because of that, suggestive at the end. Angst. Hurt. Comfort as well. Happy ending. Allie driving but after just one drink.
Notes: This is the first request I've written for, and I enjoyed it so much. No use of y/n. All constructive criticism is appreciated, encouraged actually, and all the engagement is greatly appreciated! Thank you guys so muchh!
The past three months have been the happiest of your life.
It’s an embarrassing thought. Not because it isn’t true, or because of some stupid reason, but because 3 months is too little time to fall head over heels for John Logan. It’s too soon to get this attached, too soon to be smiling every time you see a notification from him on your phone, too soon to be unconsciously making space for him in your future plans.
And yet, every small thing reminds you of him. You smile when you see his favourite cologne on the shelves of a shop. You laugh as you make toast in the morning, remembering that one time he tried (and miserably failed) to make you breakfast in bed. You send him reels on instagram with the message “saw this and thought of u”.
And he makes it so easy.
You don’t have to second guess yourself around him. He listens when you speak, remembers the little things, and never makes you feel unsafe or uncomfortable. He always makes sure that you know that being with you is exactly where he wants to be.
So maybe that’s why it hurt more than it should have, that Friday night.
You were at the hockey house for yet another party, not that you minded. This was your zone. The music, the dancing, you were in your element, and you really loved it. You were currently dancing with Allie, having the time of your life. She left to go get more drinks, so you turned around to find your boyfriend. You spotted him sitting on the couch beside a head of blond hair that could only belong to Dean. Grinning to yourself, you crept up behind the couch, planning to scare him, when you caught your name in their conversation.
“So, what’s the deal with you and her?” Dean asked Logan seriously. “I’ve never seen you stick around with one person for so long. Are you guys serious?”
The air stills as you wait for Logan’s answer, still hidden. For a brief second, you smile to yourself. You don’t know why you’re nervous, you already know the answer. You know what you and him are. Atleast, you thought you did.
He laughs.
That sound is sharp enough to drive itself into your chest, sharp enough to stab straight through your heart.
“She’s just a puck bunny, man.” Logan says dismissively. “You know the routine. It’s nothing serious.”
The party suddenly seemed too overwhelming. The blinding lights. The suffocating crowd pressing in from every direction.
You don’t hear what Dean says next. You can’t hear anything, your ears ringing and your head pounding.
Just a puck bunny.
That’s all that you were to him.
Nothing serious.
That’s all the past three months, some of the happiest of your life, were to him.
You feel sick. Your stomach churns, your chest aches, your head reeling and overwhelmed. Your feet are rooted to the spot for one endless moment before you find the smallest shred of strength to turn around and move, rushing to the front door.
You hear someone calling out after you. Allie. She catches up to you outside, concern evident on her face, the drinks abandoned on some nearby table. She says your name so softly, her laced with the utmost concern, and just that’s all it takes for the dam to break.
Your vision blurs as tears spill down your face.
“What happened?” Allie asks gently. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”
You shake your head, unable to form coherent words.
“John, he-”, the words catch in your throat as another wave of tears crashes over you.
Allie’s expression hardens. She knows all about you and Logan; it’s not exactly a secret.
“What did he do?” she asks, her voice tight.
“He- he said that I’m just another puck bunny.” You sniff, trying to steady your breath. “We’re not serious, apparently.”
“This is the same John Logan that got you soup last week when you were sick?”, she asks incredulously. “Not serious, my ass.”
At that, the flow of tears starts again. Allie winces as she realises that might not have been the best thing to say.
“Okay” She says even more softly. “Let’s get you home first.”
She guides you down the porch steps and to her car, helping you in first before seating herself in the driver’s seat.
“Luckily I haven’t had much to drink.” she mutters as she puts her keys in the ignition.
An idea pops up into your brain, and you act on it before doubt can creep in. With shaky hands, you pull out your phone from your pocket and unlock it. Your thumb hovers over the screen before you open your chat with Logan. The empty text box stares at you. You look at the last message he sent in reply to a mirror selfie of your fit for the party.
You look absolutely gorgeous, love.
You sit there for a few seconds before you begin typing. Then delete. You write another word, before scrapping that as well.
Eventually, you settle on a small, concise message. Simple. Nothing overly emotional, but it says everything that needs to be said.
Hey. I think we’re both looking for different things, and maybe it’s not the best idea to continue… whatever this is. It was fun while it lasted. Goodbye, Logan.
You read it over once. Twice. And then press send before you second guess yourself.
For a long moment, you do nothing but look at the small ‘delivered’ under your text. You lock your phone and let it fall onto your lap.
You see Allie glancing at you from the driver’s seat. To her credit, she waits a minute before your tears have calmed down and your breathing is steady before asking you questions.
“You wanna tell me exactly what happened?” she asks quietly.
Your chest tightened for a second before you spoke.
“I heard him talking to Dean.” You say quietly, throat hurting with every word you push out. “He said that I’m just a puck bunny with whom he has nothing serious going on.”
There’s silence for a minute in the car before Allie curses under her breath.
Logan feels his phone buzz with a notification from you. For a split second, warmth blooms in his chest. He opens the message and the warmth disappears.
It feels like a bucket of ice cold water has been poured over him.
His heart starts racing, and panic fills every inch of his being as he reads the message again.
“No…” he whispers, more to himself, but Dean hears.
He turns to Logan in concern, a frown replacing that easy going smile for the first time that night.
“All good, man?” he asks. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Logan tries to say something but the words catch in his throat.
“She-” he tries again, voice cracking. “She broke up with me.”
Silence hangs between them for a second before Dean speaks up, clearly confused.
“Who?” he asks, brows furrowed. “The puck bunny? Didn’t you just say that you guys were like, a casual fling?”
Logan lets out a hollow laugh that sounds more like a choke.
“No… I mean, yes, I did just say that, but-” Logan stumbles over his words. He runs a hand in his hair before speaking again. “Fuck. I think-”
His everything hurts. His chest hurts so sharply that it hurts even to breathe.
“I have to talk to her.”
He presses the call button in your chat, not surprised when, against all hopes, it goes to voicemail.
He calls again.
Voicemail. Again.
Nothing.
“She’s not answering.” he says, panic rising with every call directed to voicemail. “Fuck, Dean, she’s not answering!”
He shoots a few quick texts to you, all left on delivered.
‘Please pick up, baby.’
‘Let’s talk this through, what happened??’
‘Are you okay?’
“What did I do, sweetheart?’
‘Please tell me’
He frantically looks for you everywhere in the house, pushing through the suffocating crowds of people as Dean follows. He checks the kitchen, the backyard, the bathrooms, and his room upstairs. You’re nowhere to be found, and nor is Allie. He goes out onto the road outside and notices that Allie’s car is gone, which confirms that you both have left.
“She’s gone.” he says to Dean, swallowing painfully. “She’s not here, nor is your girlfriend. Can you call Allie?" Logan pleads him.
As Allie pulls into the parking lot outside your dorm building, your phone starts buzzing. You glance at the screen and huff when you see that the incoming caller is none other than Logan, before silencing your phone and shoving it in your pocket. A few moments later, it buzzes again. And again. You can feel the constant vibrations from more missed calls and texts, but you ignore them as both of you climb out of the car and head up to your room.
The room is dark, only the light of the tv illuminating Hannah and Garrett’s faces. They hadn’t gone to the party because Hannah wasn’t feeling well, and Garrett had stayed behind to take care of her.
The moment you step inside, both of them look up.
You know you aren’t exactly at your best right now. Your eyes are rimmed red and dried tear tracks over your face. It’s clear from one look that something is horribly wrong.
Garrett’s the first one to speak. “What happened?”
You open your mouth, but instead of words coming out, your bottom lip trembles and before you know it, the tears you’ve been trying very hard to keep at bay start falling again.
Hannah is on her feet in an instant.
“Oh, honey…”
She crosses the room and envelopes you in a warm hug. A quiet sob escapes you before you can stop it.
Behind Hannah, Garrett looks at Allie, who’s still standing at the door behind you. His expression becomes more concerned by the second.
“Logan.” Allie says like that explains everything.
You pull away from Hannah, and explain the entire thing for the umpteenth time.
For a moment, the room is silent. Then Garrett speaks.
“He wouldn’t do that…” He says, but it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of that fact.
“Well, he did.” You say, voice stoic. “And I ended things with him. He’s been blowing up my phone ever since.”
As if on queue, you feel your phone buzz again repeatedly. It finally stops, before there’s a different buzz.
Allie pulls out her phone. “It’s Dean.” She says.
You groan as you slug your feet to the kitchen, desperate for a glass of water. Your throat feels painfully dry from all the crying. Behind you, you hear Allie answer the call.
“What, Dean?”
A pause.
“No, Dean!”
Another pause.
“Well, I don’t care if he wants to talk to her!”
You fill a glass with water and take a long drink, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.
“Well, maybe Logan should’ve thought about that before he opened that big mouth of his!”
When you walk back into the living room, Hannah’s already waiting ready for you with a huge, fluffy blanket, and Garrett ordering your favourite ice cream.
You sit down and stare blankly at the wall as Allie continues yelling.
“No, I’m not putting her on the line! She clearly doesn’t want to talk to him right now!”
She suddenly scoffs
“What do you mean he doesn’t know what he did? He’s- is that him in the background?” Her voice rises by an octave. “Give him the phone, I wanna give him a piece of my mind!”
You hear muffled voices on the other side before Dean apparently gives in.
Meanwhile, Hannah is making sure you’re comfortable on the couch, before sending Garrett to the kitchen to get ‘supplies’.
“You’re devastated? Why?” Allie asks the phone. “The thing between you and her isn’t anything serious, is it?”
She waits for a reply from Logan, who is now speechless. He realised what this entire thing is about.
Another muffled sentence before she continues, exasperated.
“No, I’m not going to give her the phone!”
You grip your glass a little tighter.
“I’m not going to make her talk to you.” Allie continues. “She decides whether she wants to talk to you or not, and currently, her answer is…” she trails off with a questioning look to you.
“No.” You speak without hesitation.
She nods before lifting the phone back to her ear. “You heard her.”
It was a rough week going forward for you. Of course you had your entire support system around you, Hannah and Allie skipping class with you to watch chick flicks, eating buckets of ice cream and other junk food that they sent their boyfriends to get, and completely inhaling your favourite pasta that Tucker made for you.
“Logan’s an idiot. Hope you feel better soon.” the note on the box said.
You let out a wet chuckle at that and ate.
These weren’t the only packages you received at your door, though.
The night of the breakup, Logan wanted to come to your dorm until Dean helped him realize that not respecting your boundaries won’t win him any points. Day 1 post breakup, he sent your favourite coffee along with Dean. Day 2, texts Garrett to get an oil change for your car, simply because you’d complained about the warning light a while back. He also constantly badgered everyone asking if you’re okay, and also continued texting you.
Sometimes it was an apology, sometimes he was wishing her luck on the day she has an important submission. But he never stepped over the boundaries, he always respected them.
You got updates about him as well.
Garrett told you how he was playing like shit on the ice, how he’s always moping around their house like a sad dog. That his eyes are filled with anguish whenever he sees any of them leaving for your house.
You finally meet him in person on the Wednesday after your breakup. You’re walking towards your physics class when you spot him through the park you usually cut through. Your heart softens a bit. Of course he remembers this route, even though you mentioned it off-handedly only once.
You didn’t even expect him to remember. But of course he did, and that’s a problem. It’s a problem because you wanted to jump into his arms right now. You want to melt into his warm embrace and forget anything bad ever happened.
But you don’t. Instead, you stop six feet short of him.
“Well?” you ask him, raising an eyebrow. “I’m on my way to class, do you need anything?” you ask him coolly.
Logan swallows, his eyes flickering over your face before he speaks.
“Uh…” he looks down at his feet for a second before completing his question. “Can I carry your bag?”
The question catches you off guard. It’s not an apology you don’t want, or him trying to get you to listen to what he has to say.
His voice is as deliciously smooth as you remember, and that sincere look in his eyes makes you really want to forgive him. But, baby steps.
“Sure.” you slip your bag off your shoulder and hand it to him. His fingers brush yours for the briefest moment, and you hate how familiar and comfortable that feels.
Without a word, you march forward to your class, hearing his footfalls a second later as he falls into step behind you.
For a few minutes, neither of you says anything. The silence isn’t as uncomfortable as it is… unusual. Normally, your walks with him were filled with jokes, laughter, or just the comfort of each other’s presence.
Now every quiet moment feels like something fragile.
“I, uh…” Logan interrupts the silence. You turn your head to look at him, and he looks like he wants to say 10 different things at once.
“I bet you’re wondering why I haven’t apologized yet?” he asks with a small, nervous smile.
You just give a small nod in reply.
“Well, I figured, an apology just won’t cut it.” He explains. “If I did what I wanted right now, I'd just beg for you to hear me out and take me back. Which would probably not be the best for me..." he scratches the back of his head. "I'd beg you to let me make amends, and let me show you exactly how much you mean to me.”
He looks at you before talking again.
“I have a million different things to say, but I know that’s not what you want to hear right now.” he continues again. “I will say this though…”
He waits for you to stop him, and when you don’t, he resumes talking.
“I was an ass. When Dean asked what we were… I- I said we weren’t anything serious. It’s not because I believed that we were casual, but- but because I was afraid confirming it would make it real.”
You give him a look over your shoulder, and he realizes his mistake, because he quickly backtracks.
“No, it already was real- It was real to me the second something good happened to me, and you were the first person I wanted to tell. It was real to me when I was sick, and you were the only person I wanted to talk to.”
You look behind again, but he looks straight ahead, not meeting your eyes, and continues speaking.
“It’s just- things were good between us. Really good. Honestly, it felt like a dream I’d wake up from soon.” He lets out a shaky breath. “But, if I admitted it out loud, actually said those words to another person… there was no pretending that I wasn’t all in anymore.”
He laughs bitterly. “And that scared the hell out of me. If something happened after that, if I screwed things up, or we fell apart…” he takes a deep breath before continuing. “I couldn’t tell myself that I didn’t care. It would hurt more. All my life, in all situations, I’ve always kept one foot out the door. Telling myself ‘its casual, its temporary, don’t get attached’.”
A humourless smile tugged at his lips. “And when I met you, you… you were like this light, and you were one of the happiest things in my life. Something I convinced myself I don’t deserve. I felt like I was soaring high, and that I was bound to fall at some point.”
As you reach the building of your physics class, he finished his little monologue.
“I realized that, if something went wrong between us, it would hurt more… because I wouldn’t just be losing something that makes me happy, but… someone I love.”
Your eyes widen a bit at that, and he lets out a small chuckle as he gives you back your bag, and points to your class.
“You should probably get going.”
Before you could process your shock to get any words out, he turned around and walked away, leaving you rooted to that spot outside the door, people rushing in for class as you stared at his retreating figure.
The next day was Thursday. When you got home from your last lecture, you saw Hannah, Allie, Dean, and Garrett sprawled in your living room. You smile. Over the past few days, you’ve gotten used to this. Coming home to your friends waiting for you, making sure you’re not alone.
As you dropped your keys on the side table, a cardboard box caught your eye. Your name was written on top. You peeled off the tape and opened up the box to see your polar bear plushie. Puck. (Guess who named it that)
Your chest tightened. You’d completely forgotten that you’d left him at the hockey house.
A small smile graced your lips as you walked fully into the living room with Puck in your hands.
Dean noticed first. “Now where’d you get that from?”
Everyone’s attention diverted to Puck.
Hannah blinked. “Didn’t Logan win that for you at the carnival last month?”
“Yes.” You admitted, trying to sound indifferent.
“Oh my god, I remember that!” Garrett lets out an incredulous laugh. “That basketball game was rigged, and everyone knew that. But Logan saw you staring at that stupid bear and… just kept playing.”
“He lost for what, an hour?” Dean snorted.
“At least.” Garrett agreed. “The stall attendant eventually got so fed up of Logan’s miserable playing that he gave him the bear just to get rid of him.”
Despite yourself, you laugh. “That was a good day.”
Dean suddenly sat up straighter.
“No, you know what’s worse? Remember when you thought you’d failed that math test, so he skipped practice just to sit and watch trash tv with you?”
“It wasn’t that bad.” you mutter under your breath.
“It was 5 hours straight of love island.” Dean deadpanned.
Allie laughed before speaking. “No, his most down bad moment was when she mentioned she’d never been stargazing.”
You think back to that moment. “Right! He drove me like, two hours out of the city at midnight just because the forecast said that the stars would be more visible there.”
Allie’s eyes widened. “Two hours??”
Everyone looked deep in thought before Hannah spoke.
“My favourite was when you convinced yourself you lost your grandma’s necklace. You were hysterical.”
“And then”, Garrett grins. “After dragging the poor guy to three different places, you found it in your nightstand drawer.”
“And he didn’t even get pissed that you wasted his time”, Allie chimes in. “He was just relieved that you found it.”
You looked down at Puck, absent mindedly tracing his stitched smile with your thumb. You’d spent the past week replaying his words in your head, but now that these memories were going through your brain… you couldn’t stop remembering his actions instead.
Friday. game day. You’d opted not to go, but somehow managed to convince your friends that they should still go and support their boyfriends.
So instead, you were draped across your bed, doomscrolling through tiktok when your phone suddenly rang. The caller ID read ‘HanHan’. You frowned, glancing at the time. The game had barely started 10 minutes ago.
You answered immediately. “Everything alright, Han?” you ask her.
The roar of the crowd nearly drowned her out, but you still heard her practically shriek your name. “You have got to come here!”
Your stomach dropped. “What happened?”
Its nothing bad, just… come quickly!” she urged.
Confused, you slip on your shoes, grab your purse, and head to the rink. Walking in, you see a few people outside give you knowing looks. Your brows knitted together. ‘What the hell?’, you thought.
The moment you enter, your eyes instinctively look for number 22 on the ice. You find him immediately, then freeze. Something wasn’t right.
Your gaze drifted upwards. Realization makes you freeze at the top of the steps. Instead of the usual ‘Logan’ stamped across the jersey above his number… it was your last name.
Your breath caught.
The noise of the arena faded to the background.
Just last week, he was scared to call you his girlfriend in front of dean. He was scared to admit that the relationship was real. And now… he was skating in front of his teammates, coaches, the entire university, hell, even live tv, with your name on his back.
And just like that, the last bit of anger that was stuck in your chest slowly began to fade away.
You find Allie and Hannah, both of them grinning ear to ear as they move to create space for you to sit. Neither of them say a word. They don’t need to.
You don’t take your eyes off of Logan. A couple minutes later, he slams the puck into the net.
The stadium cheers like crazy.
Logan’s eyes flit across the stands with a lazy grin, doing a double take when he sees you.
He smirks, and, while raising his leg, he extends one arm forward while simultaneously drawing the other back, snapping his fingers like he’s releasing an arrow in your direction.
Your cheeks heat up, and you can’t help but laugh as he skates around before joining the game again. “Idiot”, you mutter to yourself with a grin.
After the game ends, you linger near the tunnel, waiting for Logan to come out. Dean exits first, whistling as he makes a beeline for Allie. Tucker followed, offering you a knowing look before he heads to Sabrina and Jamie. Then Garrett emerged. He caught your eyes, winked, and continued walking forward towards Hannah before you see Logan near the exit. You move to head towards him before some other guy in a suit strikes up a conversation.
You wait patiently by the side, surprised when Logan gestures towards you, saying “I hate to cut this conversation in half, but I have someone waiting for me.”
The guy in the suit looks at you, nodding. “And this is?”
You look at Logan, thinking this may become awkward. But he doesn't falter.
“She was my girlfriend.” His voice is steady. “I was lucky to have her. Then I fucked up, and now…” He looks at you.
“And now his girlfriend again.” you finish smoothly.
Logan’s eyes widened. The guy laughs, claps him on the back, and gives him a congratulations before excusing himself.
“Girlfriend again?” he asks, his voice breathy around the edges.
“Well, if you don’t want to, I suppose-” you start, but get cut off.
“No, of course I want to.” He answered so quickly you almost laughed. “It’s just… I thought I was going to have to spend the next few months begging for you back.”
Your eyes narrow and you raise a finger. “Don’t think this lets you off the hook. I am still very pissed at you, but… I miss you. So I’m going to give you another shot.”
“Another shot?” Logan smiles like Christmas came early.
“One.” you repeat. “Not because you put my name on your jersey. Not because you told me you love me…”
Your voice softens at the end.
“But because my problem was the fact that you were hiding. You couldn’t admit, even to your best friend, that you were in a committed relationship with me. But now…” you trace your fingers across the back of his jersey. “I don’t think that problem really exists anymore, do you?”
Logan lets out a sigh of relief. You shake your head, smiling again.
“Logan. If we’re doing this again…”
His face immediately sobers.
“Talk to me. No keeping one foot out of the door. I need to know what’s going on in your head, okay?”
He nods quickly. “Yes ma’am”
You study his face for a second before you reach for his hand. “Now, are you going to ask me properly?” you tease him.
His head snapped up. He took a slow breath, ran his hand through his hair, and asked.
“Will you be my girlfriend?”
You pretended to hesitate for a moment.
Logan groaned. “Don’t do this to me!”
“Well, I don’t know, I’m actually not looking for anything serious right now…” you bite your lower lip, acting all innocent and sincere.
With a pained expression on his face, he speaks quickly. “Honey, please. If you tell me to get on my knees right now, I will. I’m ready to prove that I’m 100% committed to you. I-”
“John…” you interrupt him softly. “Shut up and kiss me.”
With a relieved grin, he leans down and his lips hover near yours, unsure, before you surge up and meet him halfway.
You hear Allie’s excited cheer from somewhere to your side, while Dean whistles again, really loudly this time.
Laughing, you pull away and look at your group of friends, feeling Logan’s gaze burning a hole through the side of your face.
You look back at him, fisting your hand in his jersey and pulling him down so you can whisper in his ear.
“Now, why don’t you take me back home… and maybe keep the jersey on for a bit longer?” you murmur. “I really like seeing my name on you.”
You let out a squeal as Logan picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you out of the stadium.
“You’re not taking this off tonight.”, you say with a suggestive tone, making Logan nearly stumble.
His voice drops an octave. “Well, that wasn’t the plan.”
“Too bad.” you tell him. “You have a new plan now.”
He laughs, his arms tightening around you as he heads towards his jeep.
premise: logan continues to follow up with you, even when you try to put some distance between the two of you. one night, you make the ultimate error of sleeping over at his place, and you're forced to confront your own feelings for him.
category: some fluff, mainly hurt/comfort, ANGST CENTRAL BABY, john mf logan has been officially appointed as the mayor of yearningdon (and i stand by that)
word count: around 6.6k
content/trigger warnings: vivid description of a night terror (brief mentions of a jail cell, blood, screaming), vivid description of a panic attack (brief mentions of strained breathing, hyperventilation), mention of PTSD, self-deprecating comments (reader is not nice to herself but she's working on it trust), mention of family fights.
context notes: i'm pretty sure that logan still has an older brother in the show, right? i think in an interview they talked about how logan is now a middle child (jeff is the oldest and jules is the youngest). but i could be wrong, please let me know! i also kept up with the show's changes regarding his mother. and there's no smut in this (sorry). also i haven't played poker in a while so lmk if anything sounds off lol. and if any of y'all spot the J. Cole reference i casually slipped in there...i love you.
author notes: holy shit, i was not expecting that level of engagement on part i. my heart was bursting at every like, every comment, every reblog, every person who asked to be tagged for the next part. this is officially the first off campus fic i have posted, and it will certainly not be the last. i'll start working on some more soon! thank you guys again for all of the love. i love y'all so much <3 (also this was not proofread at all, i will edit it in a bit. hopefully it's not too messy).
i also want to preface that not everyone's experiences with PTSD (like any mental health disorder) will look the same. i got diagnosed with it some time ago and i'm still having to adjust to it. i would love to hear your thoughts on how it is displayed in this fic.
“You know, I don’t know if I told you, but I got an 85 on the last test?”
“No way! You did not tell me,” You smile at Beau, giving him a playful shove as you walk him out of the tutoring center. “You see? Intro to Genetics is not that bad. It’s actually pretty fun once you get the hang of it.”
The football player quickly whipped his head towards you, staring at you with a look of mock horror. “Oh, absolutely not. I’d much rather streak across campus than relearn the steps of DNA replication.”
You scoff and roll your eyes at him, the two of you inching closer to the main entrance. Tutoring Beau was your last session of the night, and you’re the last worker inside the center. Even the receptionists dipped out an hour ago.
Before you say bye to Beau, his eyes flicker towards a familiar figure leaning against at the main door, lips stretching into a grin.
Your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach.
“Logan! How’s it going?” You watch as the two of them greet each other, and suddenly you feel as if you’re underwater, because everything comes out muffled. While tuning out their conversation, you fix your gaze on the clock conveniently located behind Beau’s head, restraining yourself from looking at the man that you’ve been avoiding for a week.
You don’t even notice that the two of them are trying to get your attention until Beau waves in your face.
“Hey, Earth to Y/N?” He chuckles, and you revert your gaze back to the football player. “All good?”
You stammer for a moment, and despite your tenacious attempt to ignore his warm eyes and crooked smile, you greedily sneak a look at Logan as you struggle to string together a coherent sentence. “Sorry, it’s been a long week.”
Beau gives you a side hug. “All good. Thanks again for the help,” As he exits the center, he gives a nod towards Logan. “Nice seeing ya.”
You follow Beau’s retreating body as he leaves through the glass doors, unable to fully look at the hockey player in his eyes.
“Hey,” His gentle voice snaps you out of your trance, and as your heart races to a rate that’s bordering on tachycardia, your mind conveniently goes back to Beau’s words.
Yeah, you would rather streak across campus than talk to John Logan right now.
“Hey. Um,” You bow your head to your shoes, trying to muster up the confidence to look him in the eyes. You never told him about your schedule on Thursday nights, yet here he is, showing up exactly when your shift is over. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
He shrugs, stepping closer to your body. You have bravely updated your stance from staring at your shoes to staring at his tattered Briar Hockey sweatshirt. Progress.
“Yeah, I just wanted to check in on you,” He confesses, and then lets out a chuckle that doesn’t have much humor to it. “I feel like I haven’t heard from you all week.”
Shit.
He’s not wrong. After last Friday, you haven’t texted Logan at all. And of course, as if he purposefully wants to add fuel to your self-inflincted anguish, he continues to message you, asking how you’re doing, and even sending the occasional meme on Instagram.
Suddenly, you feel the oxygen escape your lungs as he rests his index finger on your chin, tenderly lifting your head. A sharp ache thumps across your chest as you finally meet his gaze. You can’t quite pinpoint the emotion painted in his eyes.
“Is everything okay? It’s just me, you know.”
You internally scoff at the latter sentence, hoping that the self-pity doesn’t reflect on your face. It’s “just” Logan. It’s “just” your situationship. It’s “just” the man that your mind flickers back to as you lie on your bed. It’s “just” the man you think about after a particularly hard night, longing for his comforting arms and sustained body heat.
It can never be “just” Logan. That sounds too casual. Too relaxed. Too ridiculous.
“Yeah,” You breathe out shakily, hoping he doesn’t notice the uneasiness coursing through your body as you shift your weight from one leg on to the other. “I’ve…I’ve been swamped this week. I’ve barely been on my phone.”
To truly send you into ventricular tachycardia, he has the audacity to wrap a callused hand around your waist, pulling you even closer like it’s second nature. As if the two of you have been dating all along.
At least it’s just the two of you in the center. And if Logan has to decency to walk out the front door right now, you could self-combust by yourself, in peace.
“All good, I just wanted to make sure that you were still alive,” He jokes, but the sarcasm hits hard in your chest. His dimples don’t help with the desire churning deep inside of your heart either. “Are you free tonight?”
For what seems to be the millionth time in the past few minutes, you struggle again as you scramble through the English dictionary of your mind to figure out what exactly you want to say to him. To increase your self-misery, you decide to torture yourself by laser-focusing on the beads of water slowly dripping down the veins of his neck. He must have driven to the center right after his post-practice shower.
“Um, not really. I’ve barely slept at all this week,” And that wasn’t a lie. “I want to go home, take a shower, and fall asleep before the clock hits 10:00 PM.”
“Ah, isn’t that the dream,” Logan muses, and the twinkle in his molten eyes can disintegrate your trembling body right on the very spot. “Let me walk you to your car.”
You furrow your eyebrows at him. “You came all this way from the rink to ask me how I am? And now you want to walk me to my car?”
“You know, Y/N, if you just tilt your head up just slightly to look at the clock, it’s after 9:00 PM. And if you look outside, you’ll see it’s quite dark,” He teases, and you’re undeniably certain that your cheeks are as red as the feathers of the Briar University hawk. “I’m just fulfilling my duties as a gentleman.”
“Right, I forgot about that.”
And to shamelessly place the final nail in the coffin of your tightly-wound agony, he has the nerve to stick his arm out, gesturing for you to hold on it. And in an act of complete, utter selfishness, despite your effort to distance yourself from this man, you wrap a tentative hand around his bicep, greedily feeling his muscle tense beneath your fingers.
As the two of you walk through the parking lot in a “not too uncomfortable” sort of silence, you take the opportunity to lean against his shoulder, inhaling his scent. You breathe in his crisp cologne, cedar and pine bundling you to him like a tight-knit blanket. He smells like home. Like comfort. And that’s a dangerous feeling.
When he opens your driver-side door, you open your mouth to say goodbye. To rip off the bandaid. But he cuts you off.
“I missed you,” He confesses, exhaling a deep sigh as if he’s been holding on to that piece of information for years. “Truly.”
You recognize the sincerity in his eyes, and his lips part lightly and his eyebrows dip down and he looks…kind of sad.
You can’t bring yourself to come up with a half-assed lie as your hand still cradles his bicep. “Me too.”
“You said you aren’t free tonight,” He says in a resigned sort of tone, his other hand coming up to scratch the bank of his head. And then he throws another curveball at you. “But how about tomorrow? We’re throwing a game night. It’ll just be us and some guys from the team. It won’t be a party or anything.”
“Um, I don’t know,” You pull your hand away from his arm, trying to regain the tiniest bit of self-control, if that’s even possible at this point. “What kind of games will there be?”
“Some board and card games. Monopoly, blackjack, poker,” He accentuates the last word as he smirks at you, teasing dimples on full display. “And if I recall correctly, you were the reigning poker champ when we played together last Halloween.”
Your mouth stretches into a smile as you remember that night, but your eyes quickly widen as all of the details come back to your mind. “Wait, will it be strip poker again?
“No! No,” He frantically and adamantly confirms, his curls bouncing around as he tenaciously shakes his head. His frightened face stirs a loud laugh out of your chest, and you notice his eyes glimmer at the sound. “It will not be strip poker. I already see Dean in his boxers on a regular basis. I will not subject you to that image.”
“Thank you for the clarification. I appreciate the precautions that you take to prevent me from seeing that happen,” You allow yourself to joke, enjoying the current banter you have with him. “Very gentleman-like.”
“Anytime,” He tilts his head as if he’s taking off a hat, laughing with you. “You absolutely dominated last time. I would love to see you kick Garrett’s ass again.”
“Well, Mr. Graham needed to be humbled,” You jokingly put your hands up in self-defense, shrugging. “And I was honored to put him in his place.”
Logan’s smile has not wavered in the slightest. “It was awesome. And this night will be totally chill, I promise. The guys would love to see you as well.”
His mention of the boys warms your heart. “What time is it at?”
You didn’t think it was possible for this man’s eyes to light up even more. “Starts at 8:00. We might go on for a while though. Might be good to stay over,” Logan suggests with a casual shrug of his shoulders. He slips the last sentence in so quickly that you’re positive that you misunderstood what he said.
You sigh, biting your bottom lip. “Well, um…I’ll think about it.”
Logan sneaks a gaze to your lips, then returns to meet your eyes. “You know what? I’ll take that.”
You look back to your car, trying to signal to him that you wanted to go home. “Alright, I should start driving back now. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“See ya,” He grins, slyly pressing a quick kiss to your temple before walking away. Your mind only registers the kiss once he’s more than ten feet away, and you brush your fingers over your temple as if his kiss was still lingering.
You have his beaming smile imprinted in your brain as you drive back to your apartment.
You quickly scanned the living room and kitchen after Tucker let you into the house the next night. Logan was right, the game night seemed pretty chill. Other than the core group, along with Hannah and Allie, you recognized Birdie and Simms, as well as a puck bunny that you interacted with once at a game before. Carly, you think her name was.
Everyone gathered around the dining table, with Logan right by your side, of course. He pulls up a chair next to Tucker, who was sitting next to you, and tells him to “scooch” while casually handing you a beer bottle.
“You like pilsners, right?”
You stare at him, tilting your head at him in amusement. You don’t remember mentioning to him that you preferred pilsners over other kinds of beer.
“Yeah, I do.”
You grab onto the bottle and murmur a soft “thanks,” watching as his mouth twitches. The two of you don’t exchange any words. Logan just beams at you with that familiar glimmer in his eyes, and you laugh into the bottle.
“Huh, I was wondering why Johnny here got a whole eight pack of pilsners, considering none of us like ‘em,” Dean loudly mocks Logan as he sits across the two of you, grabbing onto Allie’s hand for her to sit next to him. You definitely think that there’s something going on between them.
Logan just reaches over and lightly shoves at the blond hockey player, muttering “idiot” underneath his breath. Hannah raises her eyebrows at you as she helps Garrett with shuffling the cards. You look at her in confusion, not understanding her reaction. She shakes her head, mouthing the words “we’ll talk later” to you.
As everyone gets settled around the table, Garrett proposes a game of Rummy. And over the next few hours, as you transition between Rummy to Speed to Crazy Eights, you try to tune out the presence of Logan beside you. But his breaths hover close to your neck, and his left ankle wraps around your right one, and his fingers brush around your shoulders as he leisurely rests his arm on the back of your chair.
And unfortunately for you, you perform poorly in the first three games, and you selfishly blame him for distracting you. In your head, of course.
Finally, you guys play a game of good old-fashioned Texas Hold’Em. The two cards that Garrett deals you at the beginning are strong, but you won’t go all in right away. Not yet.
As the game progresses, the majority of the players fold, including Logan. At the end, there’s only three people: you, Tucker, and Dean.
“Alright, let’s go,” Garrett drums his hands on the dining table, shaking the table so hard that the beer bottles on top start to wobble. Hannah rolls her eyes playfully, “Showdown time.”
Tucker goes first, a resigned expression on his face as he shows his hand. A regular flush. Not bad, but not good enough to win. Logan pats him on the back, muttering “next time, Tuck” as he looks dejectedly at the table.
Dean, already sporting his cocky “I won” face, dramatically flips over his cards. “And, that my friends, is what? A straight. Mother. Fuckin’. Flush. Boom!” He howls so houd that Hannah covers her eyes, lifting his beer bottle up high. “Read it and weep.”
He then leans over the table, pointing in fake menace towards you, the competitive streak still firing up in his eyes. “And what does little Ms. Y/N have? You don’t have a straight flush, don’t ya?”
All eyes turn expectantly towards you, watching as you sigh and look at your cards with a glum face. Logan’s arm is still lingering on the back of your chair. In its natural place, of course.
You slump your shoulders. “Yeah, Dean. You’re right, I don’t,” You finally flip your cards, looking back at the overconfident hockey player with an incredibly controlled expression. “I have a royal flush, actually.”
Cue the hollers. The hockey house goes haywire.
Tucker immediately bursts out laughing, slapping his hand on the table and pointing at Dean. Allie’s jaw drops. Hannah joins in on the laughter, her eyes wide as she looks at you in excitement. Garrett chuckles, shakes his hand, and gives you his own personal round of applause. And Logan, within the same vein as Tucker, also points towards Dean and yells, with his full chest, “Loooooooser!”
Meanwhile, Dean looks like he just got slapped in the face, his cheeks flushing so hard that you almost feel bad for the guy.
“No. No fucking way. You checked the entire time. You barely fucking raised!”
You shrug your shoulders, looking up at him with a sly grin. Your casual silence only tips Dean over the edge.
“Oh hell no. Garrett, shuffle the cards,” He orders his captain, who just looks at Dean with a straight face, completely dismissing him. “We’re replaying.”
You let a tired sigh, peeking at the time on your phone and rubbing the exhaustion out of your eyes. 12:14 AM. You’re junior in college and yet, you are the epitome of a grandma.
“Dean, for the love of God, just GOMD.”
As the letters slip out before your brain can catch up with your mouth, you halt and everyone looks at you in surprise. Dean just groans. You don’t even want to look at the satisfaction on Logan’s face right now.
“Jesus Christ, not you too,” He stares pointedly at Logan. “You got her saying bullshit acronyms now too?”
Logan shrugs at his roommate, sipping his beer and remaining silent. His other hand goes to rest on your upper thigh, and you try to not flinch in surprise.
Dean looks at you in pure exasperation. “And what the fuck does that even mean?”
At last, you stand up from your chair, playing with the chips in your hand. “It means to get off my dick, Dean.”
The house loses it again. Garrett’s composure completely breaks as his chest rumbles with laughs. Tucker is on the brink of fucking tears, walking over to Dean and shoving him, and Logan just looks at you in childish amusement, shaking his head as he laughs.
Dean chidishly huffs, turning his head away fron you and putting his palm to your face. “God, I can’t even look at you right now. I have half a mind to banish you from this house.”
“As if you would ever do that,” Allie remarks, rolling her eyes and patting Dean on the chest.
Garrett asks the group if they want to play another game, and even though a chorus of yes’s emerges, you shake your head at the captain, looking at the beer bottle you finished at least two hours ago.
“I’m spent. And I don’t feel like schooling Dean’s ass again,” You joke, and Dean rolls his eyes to the back of his head. “I might leave here in a bit.”
Once your comment registers to him, Logan instantly stands up with you, brushing a hand over your forearm. “You sure? You don’t want to stay a bit longer?”
His soothing eyes could melt you into a puddle. You’re calling it: John Logan is going to be the death of you.
“I’m not going to lie, I’m pretty tired. I’m not too in the mood to play another game right now,” You explain as the two of walk away from the dining table, getting farther away from the group’s chatterings.
“Honey, I’m not gonna lie, I don’t know how I feel about you driving late at night. Especially when you’re tired,” He confesses in a low voice, his hand wrapping around your shoulder.
You’re not my boyfriend, you desperately yearn to say.
“You don’t trust my driving skills?” You opt to say instead, joking with him, but the stern look on his face doesn’t waver.
“I do, but I don’t want you to drive when you’re tired. And it’s late on a Friday, and I really don’t want you to run into any drunk drivers,” He adds, and his concern for you tugs at your heart. He then begins to knead at your shoulder, feeling how tense you are. “I was thinking we could chill for a bit. We can go upstairs, watch a movie, unwind a little. You definitely need to relax. Your shoulder’s crazy stiff.”
You tilt your head at him in confusion. “Yeah, and what are you going to do about it?”
He raises an eyebrow at you, his mouth twitching into his typical smartass grin. “Well, Y/N, I don’t know if you know, but I am an athlete,” You let an exasperated sigh, which only makes him smile wider. “And I’ve been given a lot of massages by PTs before, so I know some basics. I can definitely give you one.”
“A massage? Really?”
“Yeah,” That cheeky grin finally gets you, and you can’t control the blush plastered on your flaming cheeks. His fingers push a bit deeper into your shoulder and damn, that feels good. “See? You’ve been needing this.”
You look at him, really look at him, and you give him a resigned expression.
“I hate when you’re right.”
As soon as he hears the words fall from your lips, he’s grabbing your hand and leading you up the stairs.
Once your body hits the mattress, your self-restraint completely unravels. You shed some of your clothes, curling up into your unofficial side of Logan’s bed, getting yourself comfortable as he watches in amusement.
And right after he places his hands back on your shoulders, you feel your body sinking deeper and deeper, fighting with your life to keep your eyes open. But as Logan mutters sweet nothings into your ear, you can’t help but let the slumber overtake you.
You lie motionless on a concrete floor, your eyes frantically darting around as you try to recognize the walls of your enclosure. Groaning, you slowly pull yourself onto your knees, feeling your bones sink to the ground. You feel unbearably weak, trying your best to keep all of your limbs upright. It’s almost as if a huge weight is tied to your ankles, pulling you down as you try to stand up. You ultimately succumb to your fate as you use your elbows and knees to crawl on the grimy floor.
Everything is eerily silent. The only noise you hear is the sound of your own heavy breathing, hoarse exhales climbing from your trachea. You turn to your side and take stock of the metal bars holding you in your jail cell. Groaning, you slowly crawl to the bars, knees against scraping the rigid floor. Though the movement seems relatively easy, your lungs pound with a burning soreness, and your legs ache as if you’ve just run a marathon. It’s all in slow motion.
Finally, you reach a shaky hand up to one of the bars, shaking it so loud that your ears start to bleed. Gasping, you bring your face to the metal, mouth trembling as you let a scream.
“Help!” You cry out, banging on the bars. “Help me, please!”
The sobs spewing out of your body are uncontrollable. As the tears overwhelm you, an ache in your head begins to throb violently, the pain spreading like a virus to your temples. Completely and utterly debilitated, you roll your head as it bangs against the metal, surrendering yourself to the pain.
You let out a final scream for help, feeling your throat practically tear itself into two.
And then, you hear another voice.
“Y/N!” You hear the shout, but it’s rough and muffled and feels impossibly far away.
You let out a cry to signal your presence, but the voice only gets quieter and quieter. You try to call to this being, but they say your name one last time, before the room turns silent again.
“No! No!” You repeatedly try to scream, but you feel your lungs collapsing as your mouth abruptly begins to fill itself with blood.
Suddenly, before your body caves in and topples onto the ground, you hear your name. Again. As if it wants to taunt you.
“Y/N!”
But now, the voice is loud and clear. You open your eyes and practically flinch when you notice the wide eyes and parted mouth and furrowed eyebrows of the familiar face right above you.
No.
“Hey, hey, Y/N,” Logan calls out to you, his firm hands grasping onto your shoulders as the fear rocks through your body. You fix your eyes onto his bare chest, where you see him inhaling and exhaling at practically the same rate as your breathing. “Hey, it’s me. It’s Logan. It’s just me.”
No. This can’t be happening.
He brings a gentle hand to your cheek, but you recoil from his touch. The tears overwhelm your vision, but you can see the hurt plastered across his face.
“Y/N, you’re safe, okay? You’re with me.”
This can’t be happening.
You barely register his words as you scramble out of his bed, the jarring movement clearly taking him aback, and rushing to the nearest closed space. Away from him. Away from all of this.
Quick footsteps follow behind you, a “fuck” coming out under his breath.
The sound of the bathroom door slamming shut jostles you even more, and after you lock the door, your quivering body sinks below to the freezing cold tiles, and you wrap a hand your mouth to silence your wails. But you’re not sure it’s totally effective.
The rattle of the doorknob sends shock waves throughout your body, and you muster up all of the energy you have left to inch away further from the door, legs violently shaking.
“Shit. Y/N, can you please unlock the door?” Even though the door acts as a barrier and suppresses his voice, you can still hear his unsteady breaths. “Please. I’m really fucking worried.”
Everything burns. Your eyes sting. Your throat’s on fire. Your head pounds with an incessant and intolerable buzz.
You had a plan, and you didn’t stick to it.
Your mind immediately sends you into a turbulent spiral, convincing yourself with a terrifying intensity that you messed everything up. You placed another burden on him. You are the reason that this casual relationship will end.
It’s all your fucking fault.
And as you helplessly drown into the vortex of your mind, your ears still cling on to the pleas coming out from the other side.
“Y/N, please. Let me in,” He repeatedly calls out, frantically rattling the doorknob, and you hear a “thud” against the door. The sound initially makes you flinch, but you realize that it’s probably from his head leaning against the door. “Baby, please.”
Suddenly, you hear a commotion in the hallway, voices from various people all blending into each other.
Great, now you woke up several people. As if this night could get any worse. You begin to hyperventilate and wheeze, seeing stars form out of the corner of your eyes.
But Garrett’s captain voice comes out loud and clear, even though you can’t exactly hear what he says. You then hear an even louder, “don’t you fucking tell me to calm down” and “can’t you hear? She can barely fucking breathe right now.”
And as you rock yourself back and forth on the tiles, you realize that the booming voices feel farther and farther away, until you hear another knock.
“Hey, Y/N. It’s Hannah,” You freeze in surprise, head whipping towards the door. “Um, I don’t know if you can hear me. But Garrett took Logan downstairs for him to cool off. I think the loud noises just make everything worse, right?”
You don’t say anything back, but your breaths don’t feel as shallow anymore. The stars from your vision have faded away.
“Logan said that you had a pretty bad nightmare. Is that true? I trust Logan, but I also wanted to confirm with you. And to see if you needed anything.”
You crawl towards the entrance, your hands gripping onto the sink to pull yourself up. You swallow for at least a full minute before you decide to finally speak.
“Is there anyone else with you?” God, you hate how croaky your voice sounds right now.
“No, Y/N. It’s just me. I swear. I’m pretty sure Garrett and Logan are outside now. They can’t hear us—”
The words die down on Hannah’s lips as you open the door. You watch as her face visibly saddens when taking in your damp cheeks and bloodshot eyes. But she doesn’t say anything, waiting patiently for you to speak first.
“I had a night terror,” You confess, your voice coming out as a whisper. “I have them quite often, but I haven’t told him, or anyone at Briar, about them.”
Hannah nods, slowly and carefully. “Okay. Is there anything I can do for you right now? What do you need?”
Your bottom lip wobbles as you take in her kindness. “Uh…I don’t know. I needed some space, which is why I locked myself in there. I never planned on Logan seeing me like this,” Your throat throbs as you chuckle without humor. As if you could plan out your night terrors. “I didn’t know how he’d react.”
“He was very worried,” Hannah says with full sincerity while looking into your eyes. “He actually wanted to grab a screwdriver and unlock the bathroom door that way. But Garrett persuaded him not to. It probably would’ve freaked you out even more.”
Garrett’s not wrong. You sigh, trying to search for your phone, figuring you left it in Logan’s room. “What time is it?”
Hannah fishes her phone out of the pockets of her sleep shorts, the brightness of the screen overtaking her face. “A little bit after 4:00. But don’t worry about that. It’s Saturday, and they don’t have a game tomorrow.”
You let out a relieved sigh at her reassurance. When you shift your eyes to looking downstairs, Hannah follows your gaze. “You want to go down?”
After you nod, she extends her hand towards you, and you allow yourself to take it. The two of you walk down the stairs, and through one of the living room’s windows, you see Garrett leaning on the wall while Logan paces on the grass.
“I’ll talk to him,” You tell Hannah, and she gives you a supportive smile, and asks for your permission to give you a hug. You grant it, of course. And you really needed the hug.
“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything, okay?” She tells you, and hands you a jacket. “The cold is not anything like last week, but it’s still chilly out there.”
“Thank you,” You whisper to Hannah, and she nods back at you as if to say “anytime.”
You walk into the backyard, and the sound of your feet hitting the grass makes both of the boys’ heads turn around. Garrett looks at you with an expression that you can’t quite pinpoint; it’s stern, yet kind at the same time.
Logan, on the other hand, has completely disheveled hair after running his hands through his curls multiple times. His jaw twitches, and the corners of his eyes have the tiniest hint of redness surrounding them. He places one foot ahead of the other, but stops before completely heading to you, practically restraining himself from hugging you immediately.
He looks fucking wrecked.
“Garrett, um, I need to talk to Logan alone. If that’s okay,” You’re the first one to speak, and the hockey team captain crosses his arm and nods.
“Alright. I’ll be inside if you need anything,” He spares one last look at Logan, sighs, and supportively pats your shoulder as he heads back into the house.
God, you would rather lose miserably to Dean at poker than open up to Logan right now.
But you still take the first step. You walk by and take a seat onto one of the lawn chairs, sighing as you look down at your lap. Logan still hasn’t moved, clearly waiting for your consent before he gets close to you.
You turn towards him, nodding your head at the other chair, and he takes the hint, slowly taking a seat facing you.
Your heart rattles fiercely against your ribs.
“This is…really, really hard for me to do,” You confess, staring at the ground and focusing on the sounds of cars driving past the neighborhood. “I didn’t think it would come to this point.”
His face visibly blanches, hands trembling as he nervously wrings them together.
Okay, maybe you shouldn’t have worded it like that.
“I haven’t told anyone at Briar about this. Hell, I even just now told Hannah briefly when we were upstairs,” You let a huge exhale, and pull your knees to your chest. “But I think you deserve to know. We’ve been…fooling around for a couple of months now, and we’ve gotten, you know…close.” You wince as you hesitate on saying the last word.
When there’s silence from Logan, you take that as your sign to go ahead.
“Ever since I was four, I have been having night terrors. On and off. Some months, even some years are worse than others. One time in high school I went two years without them, and suddenly in senior year, they came back,” You ramble on, and you force yourself to inhale in order to center yourself. “And they’re different than nightmares. Much more intense. Nightmares usually occur in REM sleep, whereas my night terrors happen when I’m in a deep sleep, and it’s so, so hard for me to wake up. I thrash around, a lot. I’ve been to several doctors for it, even a somnologist,” You explain, and when you lift your head, you see his eyebrows furrow in confusion.
You quickly clarify. “A somnologist is a doctor who specializes in sleep disorders. But, yeah. Children usually grow out of their night terrors, but I never did. And it’s…debilitating. It’s fucking horrible.”
You fix your gaze on him, and you watch as he takes in every word that you say, his forehead wrikling with concern.
Finally, he speaks up.
Alright, Y/N. Your situationship is about to end things with you. Deal with it.
“The doctors that you went to…” He clears his throat, his voice coming out all ragged and rough. “Have they found the underlying cause for these?”
In all of the scenarios you went through in your mind in the thirty seconds before he spoke, you definitely did not consider one where he asked a question.
“They haven’t pinpointed an exact cause. But they have identified some triggers,” You sigh, looking up at the sky to prepare yourself to utter the next words you’re about to say. “Mainly stress-related. They believe that my PTSD plays a huge part in them.”
Immediately, his eyes widen and his lips part when he registers the last sentence. He lets out a shaky breath, looking down at his hands as he continues to wring them together.
“You have PTSD?”
You nod, biting into your lip. Remember, Y/N. Control.
“Yeah. I’ve been working through it since high school. Met with a therapist and everything. You know, trying not to let it define me. I spent my whole life being the mediator in my family, constantly solving other people’s problems instead of identifying my own. It was rough. Hell, I used to have panic attacks all the time in class,” You laugh mirthlessly, playing with the hem of your shirt. “Now I’ve upgraded. I just have them behind closed doors, when no one else is awake. I used to have both panic attacks and night terrors, luckily now I…only deal with one.”
Nothing about your situation is lucky.
The sheer magnitude of what you’ve revealed to Logan finally hits you. You grip the back of your thighs to hide your shaking hands.
Y/N, that was the opposite of control.
“I-I’m sorry,” You sputter out quickly, but Logan only stares at you in confusion. “I…I shouldn’t have unloaded all of that onto you. It’s a lot, I know—”
“Y/N,” He rasps out, and he presses his fingers into his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose before he looks at you again. “Can I take your hand?”
You nod wordlessly, giving your right hand to his left one. He draws soothing circles onto the back of your hand, even though his fingers are shaking as well. He bites his lip as he stares at you, looking utterly destroyed.
“Is this why you never stay over?”
The breath quickly escapes your lungs. You can’t find in yourself to speak, so you nod.
And Logan tightens his grip on your hand, his breaths coming out wobbly and unsteady.
“Thank you,” He enunciates, and you can’t help but look at him in surprise. “For…for trusting me with this. I had a feeling you were going through something, but I didn’t want to push you to say anything.”
You can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. “You’re not uncomfortable with me unloading all of this onto you? Even though we’re just casual?”
“Oh, baby,” He breathes out, and wraps his right hand around your cheek. You instinctively nestle into his warm touch. “There’s nothing casual about the way I feel about you.”
Before you can stop yourself, you reach out and wrap your arms around his torso, pressing your face into his neck to hide the incoming tears. Logan immediately welcomes your touch, settling your body onto his lap and tenderly cradling your head with his palm. His whole body relaxes as he runs his fingers through your hair, pulling you even closer. You feel your shoulder starting to get a tad damp as well.
“I was so fucking worried,” His voice trembles into your hair, which only makes your tears flow even faster. “I just needed to make sure you were alright. God, I was going crazy when Garrett pulled me aside.”
You don’t say anything, only breathing a watery sigh into his neck and tangling your fingers into his waves. Your heart rate finally slows down, and your muscles gradually loosen against his protective grip.
You’re safe.
The two of you remain in each others’ arms for a while until you twist around in his lap, turning to face him. He gives you a small closed-mouth smile, and you lazily trace his dimples. He turns his head to your palm, gingerly kissing your hand, feeling the stubble around his chin.
You could stay like this all night.
Logan then clears his throat, even though you’re sure that his voice is still raspy.
“You know, I kind of related to what you said earlier. About being the mediator,” He sighed, sneaking a hand under your shirt to rest his palm against your stomach. “I used to be the mediator in my family. We had so many fucking fights in our house. Between Jules and Jeff, Jeff and my mom, Jules and my mom…I got so sick and tired of it.”
You nod, listening intently. A few months ago, he gave you some information about his childhood and upbringing, about how early he had to start working and how he frequently argued with his mother. Ironically, it didn’t sound too different from your childhood, either.
“It’s the worst,” You add on, playing with his curls. “It feels like you have no space to breathe. Everyone vents to you, but you have no one to talk to. Their problems slowly drain you, even when you’re drowning in your own sorrows.”
“That’s exactly how I felt,” He tells you earnestly, his palm still resting against your stomach. He dips his head slightly to press a kiss onto your forehead.
“Yeah, I remember you telling me about your problems at home. I thought about sharing my own experience as well, but I didn’t want to be a burden. You already have enough on your plate,” You confess, eyes nervously darting to your hands. You felt like you needed to let him now.
But as he grasps the back of your head to pull you in for a much-needed kiss full of passion, serenity, and comfort, you know deep inside your heart that you do not have to fear for his response.
“Y/N, you are the absolute furthest thing from a burden in my life,” The emotion that exudes from his eyes is enough to send you back into tears, but you don’t feel your throat closing up. “Baby, you can always talk about your problems with me. Air out your frustrations and vent all you want. I’ll be here.”
And as the two of you hold on to each other, lingering outside long enough to see the sunrise, you know that your comfort zone is not necessarily a place, but the person who wraps his arms lovingly around your body and flashes that beautifully crooked smile for you. Only for you.
premise: you're in a "casual" relationship with logan, but you continuously refuse to spend the night at his place. in fact, you force yourself to never fall asleep in his bed. falling asleep next to him risks exposing him to your demons. and the last thing you want to do is place a burden on the man you're deeply in love with.
category: super super super light smut (minors dni), mostly fluff and yearning (incoming hurt/comfort in part ii)
word count: around 3.2k
content/trigger warnings: the lightest smut ever at the beginning (again, minors dni), vivid description of a night terror (brief mentions of blood, gunshots, screaming, suffocation in the night terror, but no other mention outside of it).
context notes: reader works at Briar's tutoring center. i originally was only going to make her a Psych major, but i added Bio because i wanted her majors to reflect her interest in figuring out how night terrors work (i never explored this angle in part i, but i will in part ii)
author notes: i've been in a creative writing rut for two years and off campus has pulled me out of it. sooo there's definitely room for improvement, please bear with me :) i'm also super inexperienced in writing smut, which is why you can barely consider the smut scene "smut" in the first place lmao. i originally wanted to write this fic all in one go, but i'm having some writer's block with the latter half, which is why i'm publishing it in two parts. feedback is much appreciated! (also very lightly proofread as of 06/02/26)
The afternoon sun slowly filters into his bedroom, basking your bodies in a soft, gentle glow. Though the entirety of Briar’s student body is still recovering from the brutal winter storm, you found shelter in his arms, feeling nothing but warmth while pinned beneath his body. As the end of February approaches, the promise of Spring weather reinvigorates Briar students as they deal with the exhaustion brought on by their grueling midterms. After all, the new season brought blooming flowers, brilliantly sunny days, and new beginnings.
Perhaps, the onset of Spring could mark a new beginning for you as well. Maybe you could experience a fresh start in your life by ending this bizarre arrangement that you have with this dazzling hockey player. Ending this “casual” relationship would be good for the both of you.
But ever since you stumbled into his bed on one October night during some Halloweekend festivities, Logan quickly became your comfort zone. And right now, as you restlessly writhe between his sheets, you have absolutely zero desire to leave this comfort.
“Fuck,” the man of the hour rasped and grunted, his head dropping unceremoniously onto the crook of your neck. He breathes frenzied exhales into your shoulder, hot air drifting towards the bottom of your ears. His body weight practically crushes you, leaving you with just the tiniest slot of air to supply your lungs. But you’re not complaining. You’re exactly where you want to be.
You gasp into his brown curls as his thrusts quicken, your hands desperately fisting and grabbing onto the fitted sheet as some sort of pathetic attempt to anchor yourself. Watching you twist underneath him with heavy-lidden eyes, Logan grasps your hands, carefully interlocking your fingers with his, your palms firmly sealing against each other. Like the satisfying connection of the final pieces of a puzzle.
The loving gesture tugs at your heart. This “casual” intimacy is too much to bear, but you can’t bring yourself to let go.
“Y/N,” He rasps into your skin, his frantic breaths imprinting themselves like love bites onto your neck. You know that he’s close, and judging by the tension breeding underneath your belly that’s threatening to release itself, you know that you’re not that far off either. With your elbows digging into his mattress, you arch your back, slightly lift your hips just a tad higher, and the sound that emerges from your throat reverberates off the walls of his bedroom. Logan immediately finds his own release as he moans your name into your neck, his stubble etching a mark onto your skin, and his own body shaking from head to toe.
After he takes off the condom, Logan’s chest makes its way on top of yours as you sink into his bed, trying to catch your breath as he lazily draws circles on your thigh. Though your mind flinches at the “casual” nature of your relationship with Logan, your heart eventually learns to return to slow resting state while around him. He’s a steady presence, and his company is much needed as you try to navigate around the various stressors in your life.
Already, your tortuous coursework and demanding work-study stint are clearly draining you. Hannah frequently points out the dark bags under your eyes and the sluggish, lethargic nature of your gait as you force yourself to attend class.
But you had another stressor that completely robbed the last morsels of life clinging on to your body. A hidden, yet dangerous stressor that you kept snapped shut in the corners of your mind, only giving the key to your therapist for her to unlock.
The reason why you always refused to sleep at Logan’s place.
“So beautiful,” Logan’s voice pulls you from your reverie, his hoarse whisper tickling your collarbone. He kisses over the hickeys he proudly implanted near your breast, admiring his view. “All for me.”
You bite your bottom lip at his comment, pressing down so hard that you’re sure blood will ooze out any minute now. You’re technically not “all for him.” Even though he skips hockey practice to help jumpstart your car on the side of the road. Even though he now uses a fragrance-free laundry detergent because his sheets would irritate your sensitive skin. Even though he looks at you with those eyes that compel you to answer his text every single time. Even though his bed feels so comfortable right now.
Control yourself.
“Back at ya,” You awkwardly laugh, delivering a very nervous and spur-of-the-moment reply. So smooth, Y/N. Did you flirt this badly when he tore your Tinkerbell costume off?
Chuckles rumble from his chest, pressing down onto your heart. You could play his laugh on repeat. Hell, even set it as your ringtone. “Still not used to receiving compliments, I see.”
You don’t offer a response. Suddenly, the bed feels way too warm and way too inviting. As his pillow swallows your head, your eyes start to close.
But you quickly force yourself to wake up, remembering that you do not, in any circumstance, want to fall asleep in his bed. You will not make that mistake.
Instead, you lean over to check the time on your phone. 4:09 PM.
“I need to get going to my shift,” You slide out from underneath him, removing yourself from his grap. The sudden loss of warmth feels like whiplash.
His dark eyebrows furrow as you grab the haphazardly laid clothes on the wooden floor. “Doesn’t it start at 5:00? You still have some time,” He pats your unofficial side of his bed, watching you shimmy yourself into your jeans. “Come ‘ere. Stay a ‘lil longer.”
You bite your lip even harder, using it like a stress ball, and you try to forget that your situationship remembers that tiny detail of your work schedule. Of course he does.
“I like getting there early, though. It’s much better than arriving five minutes before a session starts,” You zip up your jeans, chuckling softly when he flashes his signature sad puppy eyes at you. “I like to quickly refresh myself on the content beforehand.”
“As if you would need any refreshing, Mrs. Bio and Psych Double-Major,” He teases, and yep, you’re pretty sure that’s blood you’re tasting right now.
“Trust me, I don’t always remember the ins and outs of signal transduction.”
Logan tilts his head to the side, staring at you with those confused eyes that you find so absolutely endearing. “And what the hell is ‘signal transduction?’”
You sigh, kneeling onto the floor and tying your shoes. “That’s a story for another time. I better get going.”
“Wait, I’ll walk you down,” He says as he jumps out of the bed, rapidly putting on his sweatpants and grabbing a random flannel from his desk chair.
You roll your eyes as you open his bedroom door, hearing the noises of his roommates from downstairs. “I’ve been here plenty of times, Logan. I know my way around the house.”
He shrugs, buttoning up his flannel. “So? God forbid a guy wants to be a gentleman.”
“A gentleman?” You stifle a laugh, and he has the gall to put on a mildly offended face.
“Of course, my lady. I’m always on my best behavior for you.”
More blood seeps from your lip. You give him a playful shove on his shoulder, but he brandishes that signature crooked "John Logan smile" at you, and fuck, you’re in deep.
As the both of you walk downstairs, your peer at the living room and say a goodbye to the rest of the boys. Tucker and Dean were sitting on the couch, pouring over a textbook that you knew all too well. By the looks of it, Garrett wasn’t home. He was probably hanging out at Hannah’s dorm, per usual.
“Good seeing ya, Y/N,” Tucker smiles at you, lifting his head from the textbook.
“Yes, very good seeing ya,” Dean drawls, suddenly jumping up from his spot on the couch and making his way over to you. “And we are in desperate need of your guidance. This bio class is killing us.”
All of the boys knew you already. Though you and Logan weren’t “serious” by any means, neither of you kept your situationship a secret from others. At least Logan spared you the hurt and discomfort that comes from sneaking around.
Then again, all of his charming, boyfriend-coded compliments haven’t made the situation any better either.
You shake your head jokingly at Dean. “You guys have Professor Ragner, right? He’s chill. You’ll be fine.”
Dean gasps in fake shock, puting a hand to his heart as if he were in a melodramatic soap opera. “Wow, so you’re just leaving us to drown with no support? I see how it is, Y/N.”
You scoff. “No offense to y’all, but I don’t have time for free tutoring. I’m getting paid minimum wage, which is practically nothing to begin with, to tutor jocks like y’all in the first place. I’m sure as hell not doing any unpaid labor.”
“I can pay you in a different way,” Dean unabashedly flirts, blond waves falling over his eyes, voice dropping to a lower tenor. You raise an eyebrow in amusement, knowing that he’s joking.
Then someone behind you loudly clears their throat. You turn around to Logan, who is adorning an expression that you can’t quite decipher.
“Jesus, relax, Johnny,” Dean comes around and pats him on the back, which Logan rejects in fake disgust, pretending to flinch. “I was just suggesting an alternative method of payment.”
“Uh-huh, sure you were," Logan replies with a chuckle, though his smile doesn’t reach all the way to his eyes.
Tucker rejoins the conversation. “I don’t know about cash, but I’ll pay you back with free meals. I make a mean pasta carbonara.”
“Now that, I can get behind,” You point finger guns towards Tucker. “Well boys, I’m off to work. I’ll see y’all later.”
Tucker and Dean say their goodbyes. With a light touch of his hand on the small of your back, Logan leads you to the porch. He opens the door, and as you step outside, he wraps a hand around your wrist, wanting to say one last thing before you leave.
“Have a good shift,” He presses a kiss to your forehead. You force yourself to not bite your lip for the hundredth time. Control. “I’ll see you on Friday, yeah?”
You don’t know what to say. You knew that the team was throwing a party before their game on Saturday. A sharp inhale exits your nose.
“Yeah, sure,” You smile at him, starting to walk to your car. “See you, Logan.”
As you drive to the tutoring center, you chastised yourself for how close you were to falling asleep in his bed. This pathetic attempt at a situationship was going to tear you apart. And if you need to distance yourself from those warm eyes and beaming smile, then so be it.
Friday was two days away. You decided to not come over to the hockey players’ house for their party before playing Eastwood. Not only did you want some space between you and Logan, but you also had an upcoming midterm that made up a good chunk of your grade for your Psych class. You thus planned on devoting your entire weekend to studying for it.
So when Friday night came along, giving excuses to Logan felt easy. Somewhat easy.
(9:21 PM) Logan: Hey, I haven’t seen you yet. Are you on the way?
(9:46 PM) Y/N: I have a huge midterm on Monday. I need to study. Sorry, I forgot to tell you :/
(9:48 PM) Logan: Ahh I see, no worries.
(9:51 PM) Logan: I looked forward to seeing you.
(9:52 PM) Logan: I’ll see you after the midterm? Good luck, you got this.
(10:23 PM) Y/N: Thanks, good luck with the game.
A twinge of guilt spread through your chest and hammered at your heart when you didn’t confirm the rendezvous. You always came to the boys’ parties before their games, even though you continuously stuck by your rule of never sleeping over, which definitely took Logan a little bit of time to get used to. During Halloweekend, you surprised him when you slipped out of his bed at 3:00 AM, grabbing your car keys and opening his bedroom door.
“You don’t want to stay the night?” You recall his gravelly voice, utterly rattled with sleep, as he watched you put on your shoes. “It’s kinda late.”
“I have an early morning. And I didn’t drink at all, so…” You explained, giving him a tight smile before closing the door so that you didn’t have to stare any longer at his bare, toned chest. “See ya.”
Starting with a clean slate was necessary. After all, you needed to keep your commitment to both your grades and your job. Logan would only serve as a distraction.
That’s what you kept repeating to yourself as you went to bed later that night, putting your phone on the other side of your room in order to stop checking it.
The first thing that you notice is that you can’t speak.
You bring a palm up to your mouth, but your face feels completely numb. Anything you say just comes out extremely muffled, as if you never had a mouth in the first place. You gaze around your environment with blurry eyes, looking at the four corners of the dingy room. You try to touch one of the walls, but as soon as your hand comes into contact, the wall becomes translucent, your hand just floating around in open space. But as you pull your hand back, the wall comes up again, inching closer and closer to your face.
Your breath hitches as you try to find an escape—a trapdoor, a window, just anything will do. But the room starts to resemble a box the more you look at it, as if you were an inanimate object shoved inside a carton to never be seen again. The lump in your throat grows as your vision subsides with each passing second, complete murk and darkness clouding up your eyes.
You try to bang on the walls, but your balled up fists just fall into air. You try to scream for help, but you feel chains wrapped around your mouth, silencing your cries and greedily swallowing up any remaining shred of air needed for your survival.
The sound of falling objects tears your gaze away from the walls. You eyes widen as you watch clumps of your hair disintegrating into the floor and massive droplets of blood emanating from your fingertips. You frantically search your whole body for any sign of a cut, a wound, an injury, but your hunt is fruitless.
And that’s when the walls start closing in, devouring every inch of space that’s not covered by your trembling body.
You sink to the floor as your knees helplessly buckle, crawling up into a ball as a fresh flow of tears sprint down your cheeks. Soon those tears also turn to blood, drowning your limbs in a sea of red. And the ceiling feels so fucking close to you, you’re certain that it’s going to collapse.
Sounds of whining sirens and howling wind and quick gunshots and terrified screaming all fuse and merge tightly together in perfect storm, a cacophony where you can hear each individual occurrence happening at once. The walls are up to your nose, and you try so hard to scream. To cry for help.
The sound of a door slamming shut finally wakes you up.
You’re heaving as you sit up in your bed, your fists rapidly unclenching to rest your palms on your chest. Your body feels so unbearably hot, outlines of your sweat etching themselves onto your sheets. A fearful whimper tears out of you, and you wrap your hands around your curled-up body as you begin to frantically rock yourself back and forth on your bed. The sobs pour out of you in an instant, breaths clawing themselves up your throat in such a sharp, stiniging manner that you’re sure there’s clawmarks scarred across your trachea. You’ve had night terrors ever since elementary school, but you’ve never really adjusted them.
The tears completely wreck you. You move your hands from your body to the sheets, fists digging into the fabric, helplessly searching for security. What a stark contrast to your time with Logan, where you desperately fisted at his sheets while waves of pleasure cascaded through your body.
Both times, however, you were looking for control.
Nevertheless, as your sobs gradually begin to subside, you inhale shaky breaths to center yourself back to reality. When your vision starts to clear up, you go back to the 5-4-3-2-1 coping technique that your therapist suggested to ground yourself.
Five things you can see. Four things you can touch. Three things you can hear. Two things you can smell. One thing you can taste.
As you slowly list through the four things you can touch, your mind goes back to the hockey player you’re trying so desperately not to think about. But all you desire is to feel his callused palm on your cheek, his long arm around your waist, and his mouth trailing kisses on your neck.
And you hate how much you yearn to be in Logan’s arms right now. You ache for his comforting presence, but you know you can’t place this trouble on him, this overwhelming burden to bring you back to Earth after a night terror. He already has enough on his plate.
Sighing, you make your way to the bathroom to splash some water on your face. On your way there, you grab your phone, looking at the date and time. 2:38 AM, Monday, February 23rd.
So you had a night terror the morning of your big exam. Great.
At least you can thank your neighbors’ rowdiness for pulling you out of your dream. They loved to slam the door after a night out, and unfortunately for you, they seemed to go out every fucking night. You kindly asked them to close their door more gently, but clearly, your words had zero effect.
After wiping your face and staring too long at your bloodshot eyes in the bathroom mirror, you walk to your desk, deciding to fit in a last-minute study session now that you’re awake. You definitely don’t want to go back to sleep now.
After five minutes of flipping through some flashcards, you make the mistake of scrolling through the notifications on your phone. Your eyes immediately lock on to some notifications from Instagram. Specifically, some DMs from Logan.
When your trembling fingers open your message thread with him, the slight shaking in your body stops when you browse through his messages. All of them were either the silliest of reels or the stupidest of memes. And under each and every one of them, he wrote a message: This made me think of you; or you definitely need to watch this; or even this is so stupid, but it made me laugh so hard that I had to send it you.
As you laugh while watching cat videos and overplayed vines, the desire for Logan seeps through your veins. He has no idea of the effect you have on him.
But you’re still going to keep your distance. You have to, even when you watch all of the reels he sends you, despite telling yourself that you need to go back to studying any minute now.
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