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she looks so perfect (part 5) | john logan x reader

summary: john logan was your best friend and the guys, allie, and hannah were your family. everyone knows that you had liked logan for forever but you knew that he didn't feel the same way about you. logan was with grace and you respected it. you couldn't even hate her for it - she's perfect and she's perfect for him. it's okay though, your family's got you. but you and logan had a secret, you swore you'd never tell anyone and he kept that secret faithfully. Series: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

warnings: sad, angst, sad logan, angry garrett and logan yelling at each other, heartbreak, anxiety, unprotected sx, birth control, drinking, lying, smut

author's note: okay whoa, they have a secret? there's lore okay. here's more context about why logan and yn are the way that they are okay

_______________________________

After everything had went down with you and Logan, and then Grace overhearing Garrett and Logan fight about how unwell you were around Logan - he shut down for a couple weeks. He went to hockey training, conditioning, he tried to apologize to Grace on multiple occasions even though he knew it would do more harm than good - he had to try. He knew Grace didn't deserve what happened.

In a span of a few weeks Logan had lost two of the most important people in his life, and grieving people who were alive and in close proximity to him at school was the most painful things he'd ever have to experience. Him watching you sit down at your usual spot at the library pained him - and he almost waved, but you didn't see him so he started going the long way around so he wouldn't run in to you.

He stayed home a lot. He had tried to text you a few times to check in and you'd give him short answers, avoiding him and definitely avoiding any mentions of the fight with Garrett that Hannah and Allie told you about. You pretended not to know.

If you were honest, you were worried about Logan. You had seen him buying a coffee at Lucky's - a place that you, Logan, Hannah and Garrett would study at. He looked exhausted and he didn't look like he was eating. It pained you to see him. He didn't see you and you had snuck out of Lucky's before he had even remotely saw you.

You almost went by the hockey house a few times, you'd walk half way and turn around. You knew that it would make things so much worse if you were the one to try to even begin to offer comfort, and you didn't want to hurt Grace. You felt guilty that this happened and you were apart of it - you were the reason, although you hadn't done anything. It was the nature of it all. You would never want her to think that while she was suffering from heartbreak, you'd try to make any advancements towards her ex boyfriend - you'd never do that to her.

You kept your distance to protect your heart and whatever might be left of you and Logan's friendship - if it could ever be fixed, you had to get over your stupid fucking silly crush. All this for a dumb crush - you thought to yourself, you felt dumb as fuck.

-----------

On Saturday, Logan stayed home to try to study for his economics final that was coming up. He couldn't focus at all. All he could think about was you. All he could think about was how horrible Grace was feeling because of him and there was nothing he could do to fix it.

In an undistracted, quiet moment alone in Logan's room, he sighed. His mind was being cruel to him and dragged him back to his memory of you from freshman year.

Everything had been so easy at the beginning. Being friends with you was so seamless and natural - it was like you knew each other since you were kids. You lived down the hall from Logan in the same freshman dorm. Like two jagged pieces of a puzzle that fit in a funny way - you two became inseparable. From late night studying at Malone's, watching hockey games, brutal morning electives you both survived together, football games, and your cheerleading routines.

At the time, your evil highschool boyfriend who stayed in your state three hours away was cheating on you. Logan had been there for you for that break up a few weeks after thanksgiving. Seeing you so unwell scared him and he made a little quiet promise to himself that he would do whatever it took to always made sure you were okay. So with all this silence and Logan hurting people he cared about - he was kicking himself and his self condemnation was more of a consequence than what anyone could say to him, or what anything Garrett could scold him about or call him out for.

By Spring of freshman year, you were doing really well on the varsity cheer team, you were under the stadium lights, you cheered at your friend Beau Maxwells' football games and you'd see Logan, Tucker, Dean and Garrett smiling and grinning at you from the student section. In return, you lived at the Briar hockey rink where Logan and Garrett tore up the ice with their natural-born star freshman hockey scrimmaging.

After you and your high school boyfriend had broken up for good, you spent the rest of the semester hooking up with random juniors and senior guys from the football team. It was easy. No one got hurt and you didn't care about them at all. As Logan got more familiar with the older hockey teammates who would throw big parties, Logan would cycle through hot campus girls who wanted to fuck a guy in a jersey - and he let them. Garrett was like that too before he met Wellsey.

When Logan is alone and the house is quiet, he remembers this one night of freshman year and it replays in his mind episodically. He can't control it - he can never get you out of his head even if he tried.

Saturated in warm, golden-amber hues of a humid spring night in Boston - Beau's frat was throwing a regular Friday night party. The house was loud, crowded and reeked of cheep alcohol, weed and vapes. You had too many drinks, way too many shots and you forgot to eat dinner before you had gone out with your friends and ended up here. Logan was also extremely drunk - the older hockey guys had pregamed before at one of their houses and they downed a bunch of god knows what at the party. "y/n, come here," he whispered against your hair as he laughed with his cheeks flushed and warm - he was just so happy to see you and so happy you were with him. His voice was low. His hand had brushed your bare hip that the band of your short skirt just rested right under, sending a shiver through your body. His eyes dropped to your lips a few times - which he couldn't help, it was the substances that he had downed earlier and the way you looked so pretty in the hallway light.

He interlocked his fingers with yours, holding your hand, bringing you close to his side, he pulled you through a crowd of drunk, wild and happy students, and you went up the stairs and down a quiet hallway. You had tried a few doors that were locked and then pushed opened the door to an empty spare bedroom in the end of the house and locked it behind you. You giggled like a little kid scheming up a plan.

The lights were off except for the amber glow of a street lamp seaping through the windowpanes. Drunk you wanted John Logan to fuck you. Still holding hands, Logan closed in the space between you, smiling down at you with the biggest grin. You swore you saw him almost love you by the way he was staring into you.

He stepped so close to you, towering over you, feeling his breath against your skin. You backed up until your calves hit the edge of the mattress and your breath hitched. The scent of him, mixed with cheep alcohol, cool air pushed you over the edge.

"Logan," you breathed, a breathless warning, a dangerous game.

"Y/N," he whispered back, kissing your forehead and you closed your eyes. God, your name sounded like a prayer on his lips. He looked at you for permission to kiss you and you gave him a gentle nod with a drunken happy smile on your face. "Please," you whimpered. He wasn't thinking at all at that point. His large hands came up to frame your face, with his calloused thumbs brushing softly over your cheekbones with a reverence that knocked the wind out of you. When his lips finally met yours, it was so natural, like kiss of two drunk college kids who had nothing real to lose.

He laid you back on the mattress gently, him hovering over you. "You're so beautiful," he whispered as he looked down at you in your lace tank top, "Shut up, you idiot," you rolled your eyes. You were sure he said that to every girl he fucked that week. Which he did - but with you he really meant it. You were the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. You tugged at his t-shirt signalling that you wanted it off and with one swift motion he pulled it off and quickly after he had undid your shirt, playing with your lace thong that was probably too sexy for any freshman to own. He laughed, and kissed you deeper. Like it meant something to him.

Every single touch was amplified. The way his mouth dragged from your lips down the sensitive sweet spots of your neck wasn't just passionate; it was agonizingly deliberate. He kissed you as if he were trying to leave a permanent mark, tracing your collarbone with a reverence that made a sob catch in your throat.

You had never been loved properly before, and this might have been the closest thing, John Logan on top of you.

Your lips moved together, with hunger, kissing you all over. When he entered you, it was a slow, him not wanting to hurt you ever. The agonizingly deep burn that made your knees weak. You tangled your fingers in his thick dark brown hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more of him and for him to move. Logan groaned into your mouth, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief, his hands sliding down to hold his large hand around the side of your neck and the other trailing down your bare back to grip your waist, him moving in a paced rhythm between your legs and closer to your core.

As Logan whispered your name into the crook of your neck—his voice thick, desperate, with small gasps escaping your lips every time he went deeper. His fingers tangled tightly with yours, pressing your hands up against the bed, you arched into him bringing you deeper, he pulled out slightly and pushed himself back in, your head tilting back into the pillows, your body reached closer to its high.

As he drove deeper and deeper into you again, rocking into you on the bed, pulling out and pushing in deeper at a quicker pace, feeling your body tense, "Oh my, L-Logan," you gasped. A sudden, dizzying wave of warmth crashed over you. Your fingers dug into the hard muscle of his shoulders, your back arching off the mattress as the climax broke, making you dizzy and warm. He kissed you again as you moaned against his lips.

Logan let out a low, ragged groan into the crook of your neck. His entire body went rigid, his muscles straining against yours as he surrendered to the same weightless, crashing as he came and released in you. With heavy breaths slowing, he pulled out of you gently - causing you to whimper from the loss of feeling him.

He then pulled you closer, wrapping his strong arms around you with your back against his chest, and held you so closely like he was afraid to lose you, peppering you with kisses along your neck. It was like only you two existed then and there - nothing else mattered.

---------

The next morning, what felt like a total fever dream evaporated, leaving behind a cold, blinding reality.

When your eyes flickered open, your head was instantly pounding, a sharp ache pulsing behind your temples. The golden glow of the night before was gone, replaced by the harsh, piercing morning light slicing through the lines of the window panels. It illuminated the dust motes dancing in the air and the messy, beer-can-strewn reality of a hockey house bedroom.

But beneath the comforter, the heat was still there. Logan was holding you. His bare body was warm and heavy against your back, his strong arms wrapped around you so tightly, pinning you flush against his chest, feeling his chest rise and fall as he slept. He had held you like that all night, refusing to let go even in his sleep.

A sudden, sharp spike of panic hit your chest. Your vow to never get hurt by a guy again cause an avoidance that kept everyone at arms distance. That included John Logan. Fuck, what did we do last night?

Carefully, holding your breath, you began to peel yourself out of his grip. You disentangled your yourself from his arms slowly, sliding out from under the heavy comforter as gently as possible so you wouldn't wake him. Standing up in the cool air of the bedroom, you shivered, your hands shaking slightly as you scrambled to find your clothes scattered on the floor.

As you pulled your top over your head, your brain was working overtime to rationalize everything. You were stunned, and terrified of him thinking you were just a slut. You didn't want him to look at you with shame or condemn you for sleeping with him.

So, you did what you knew best; deny and minimize.

It was just a hookup, you lied to yourself. We’ve both been hooking up with random people all freshman year. This is no different. It was just a fun, drunken night.

A soft rustle of the sheets broke the silence. Logan stirred, blinking heavily against the bright light filtering through the blinds. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, his face soft and sleepy, entirely devoid of his usual campus-heartthrob persona. Still half-asleep, his instinct kicked in—he reached his arm out across the mattress, searching for you.

When his hand found empty sheet, his eyes fully opened, landing on you at the edge of the bed, shimmying on your skirt back on.

"Y/N?" he mumbled, his voice thick and gravelly from sleep, reaching out toward you. "Where are you going?" he mumbled.

You said laughed softly, "Home, Logan," your voice clipping the air, putting up an invisible wall between you. You forced a casual, breezy smile that didn't reach your eyes. "That was fun! I can't even-can't really remember." You said it so matter a fact and nonchalant.

Logan froze. The hand that had been reaching for you dropped slightly onto the mattress. You watched his expression shift from sleepy warmth to a sudden, guarded blankness, but your own panic prevented you from seeing the quiet heartbreak shattering behind his eyes.

"We were just drunk," you pressed on, desperately trying make it so clear that you didn't care at all. "Lo," you said in a sweet tone in your voice that you did when you needed to get your way, "We don't have to make it weird, it was fun, it didn't mean anything. And you have to promise you won't tell anyone, okay? Not even Garrett. The last thing I need is your gross idiot friends objectifying me and I have to fuck another hockey player," you said jokingly to deflect. He had no idea what was happening. You were so easy going about the fact that you two had just fucked all night. You didn't even give him a chance to make any decisions about how he felt about it. You just decided for the both of you.

Logan stared at you for what felt like a long, agonizing moment. He cleared his throat a bit, and his jaw tightening as he forced his own walls back into place. If this was how you wanted to play it, he would play along just to keep from losing you entirely.

You stared at him for a response. "Yeah, uh-" Logan finally muttered, his voice dropping into a flat, casual tone that mirrored your own. "We were so drunk. It doesn't mean anything to me - either. We don't have to bring it up, I wasn't going to mention it," he lazily made a gesture of a locking and throwing away the key. He didn't look at you.

You nodded in agreement and smiled at him, with relief in your eyes and your body relaxed that he agreed. You leaned in to kiss him on the cheek with gratitude. "Good thinking," you chirped, as if he had initiated the plan himself. You left Logan in the room and snuck away quickly to purchase over the counter birth control by yourself at the campus CVS. You both were way too drunk, you can’t remember if he had used a condom or not. You took a plan B just in case.

And that night you shared was a secret. You both kept it faithfully, burying it deep beneath years of friendship, laughs, friend groups, casual boyfriends and serious girlfriends.

The night that Logan knew he was done for - that he was sure he would never get over you in this lifetime. You'd always be the girl he loved, he wanted to love you then but you were so out of reach.

And that was the night where you vowed to keep only close enough to have you but never really see you, even if you were closest and intimate as two people could ever be.

Even now, through the college years that followed, through all the parties, partners or flings, and the internal longing, neither of you dared to ever breathed a word of that night to another living soul. Not to Hannah or Allie.

Not even Garrett Graham.

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