hi, i’m river! i’m 19 and i use she/they pronouns. i love watching movies, hockey, knitting, listening to music, playing with my dog, reading comics, playing video games, and guitar.
currently…
obsessed with:
⋆ hockey! i'm a mammoth fan #1, but i also love the sharks and devils.
liking:
⋆ marvel, dc, detroit: become human, my hero academia, criminal minds, stranger things, one direction, 5 seconds of summer, haikyuu, the hunger games, one piece, the last of us, batman
alright: sub!logan who just needs to take his mind off of everything but you and begs you to ride him until his brain is mush 😵💫
Pairing: Logan Cooley x Fem!Reader (Fwb!Reader)
Word Count: 600+
Warnings: nsfw, minors dni, friends with benefits (fwb!reader x logan), sub!logan (i tried my best), dirty talk, unprotected sex
A/N: gif credit to @hat-trick-honey <3 such a beautiful gif!! This is pure word vomit, I'm so sorry! Enjoy!! <3
“Need you to do something f'me,” he murmurs against your neck, one large hand splayed over your ass, the other under the hoodie you stole from him months ago, groping your chest, squeezing, groaning, whining, getting lost as your clothed cunt grinds against him. You're soaked, he can feel it through his boxers, the white cotton of your underwear almost sheer with desperate need, there's a damp patch blooming on his boxers, and he catches a peek of it every time he glances down, making him dizzy, but it's not enough to make his mind go blank. “Make it all go away,” he's begging you, his voice raw and needy, “the loss, the mistakes, don't want to think about it anymore.”
You nod, silently agreeing to, hands fumbling with the waistband of his boxers, his cock springing free, hitting his stomach. He's a mess with precum, beading at the tip, dripping down his shaft, and he twitches violently as you fold over, greedily lapping it up. His breath hitches, one hand fisting into your ear, head shaking against his pillow. “No,” he sounds pathetically weak as he pulls you off, “fuck me - r-ride me.”
Hooking your panties to the side, the blunt head of his cock is hot and thick against you as you line him up with your heat. His mouth opens, a sharp gasp, his hands grabbing your hips as you sink down, eyes already rolling back. You're perfect, slicked walls hugging his cock, clenching so hard around him he whines, head tossing back into his pillow.
You slip off his hoodie, tits bouncing with every movement, his eyes glued to your perked nipples, setting a steady pace. “That better, baby?” You pry Logan's hands off your hips as he desperately tries to get you to go faster. “Hands off,” you say, voice controlled, his cheeks flushed violently red as you pin his wrists to the bed, one either side of his head, “keep them there.”
“S-Sorry,” he whimpers, eyes darting between your face and your tits.
“Look at you,” you coo, mocking him, your hands trailing down his chest, his body jerking as you gently dig your nails into his skin, “don't even know where to look.” A soft sob leaves him, watching you glide your hand up your chest, fingers rolling and toying with your nipple.
“Just d-don't stop,” he begs, his words coming out in a broken whimper, eyes squeezing shut as his cock twitches inside your sloppy cunt, bottom lip caught between his teeth, trying his hardest not to be too loud. “Feels so good,” he opens his eyes again, watching you, a low, helpless whine leaving him, “s-so good to me.”
You smirk, grinding your hips slowly, body bending down, a soft moan flooding his mouth as your clit drags against him. You kiss him, lips moving lazy, and a little sloppy, against his, a hand caressing his pink, blotchy cheek. “And don't you forget it,” you murmur, sucking on his bottom lip, the noise he makes spurring you to move faster.
His hands wrap around the bars of your bed frame, knuckles piercing the skin. “Fuck-fuck-” His body now trembles. “I'm close,” he warns, blue eyes wide, staring up at you, “w-where-c-can-please, can I cum inside you?” You nod and he sobs. “Really?” He blushes hard. “Fuck, I lo-” He cuts him with a sharp gasp, body jolting, sticky warmth flooding your cunt as he cums.
When he catches his breath, he sits up, chest sticking with sweat as he pulls you closer, his cock still nestled inside, a large hand splayed across your lower back as the other cups the side of your neck. “Thank you,” he whispers against your skin, face buried into your collar, kissing you softly.
“For what?” You giggle, carding your fingers through his hair, encouraging him to look at you. A soft, dopey smile tugs gently at the corners of his mouth, his smile widening as you kiss both cheeks.
“Just…for everything you've done these last few weeks.” He's trying to say something he shouldn't. “You've been a great…you know…”
its not necessarily sub!logan but i feel like he would be a fantastic little spoon (even if he wouldn't admit it)
Most nights it's non negotiable, he has to be the big spoon, folding himself around you, that natural warmth he radiates wrapping around you, perfect on those cold winter nights when the covers aren't enough to keep the cold from getting to you. He'll fall asleep with his face burried into either your neck or your shoulder, the scent of your shampoo lingering on every inhale. Without a doubt, a hand manages to find its way underneath whatever you're wearing, caressing your skin, always mumbling about it being unfair that you're so soft and he can't always be touching you.
But, yeah, he'll never admit it, but he secretly loves the nights he's the little spoon. It happens 'accidentally,' because he's too stubborn to out right ask you to be the big spoon. He knows he runs hot, he knows you'll sometimes get too hot in the night because of it. He'll roll away when you start to squirm about, repeatedly kicking your leg out to feel just a bit of cool air on your skin, the soft little huffs you'll make in your sleep his signal to give you some space.
You're never separated for too long though, you'll turn over once you get too cold, arms snaking around his waist, his skin warm to the touch, your cheek pressed against his broad back. You melt into him, like sinking into a warm bath after a long, stressful day, any tension you're holding just eases away, and he always always smiles as you settle back down, fingers lacing through yours, tugging your hand further up his chest so it's tucked under his chin.
And you're not allowed to pull away, the second you try to, his grip will tighten, he'll whine in his sleep, murmuring something about you needing to stay close to him. He sleeps better with you closer, he comes up with the same excuse every time, face hidden in his pillow so you can't see how blotchy his cheeks are, because it's just that much harder for him to just admit that he likes being the little spoon.
Logan's at his clingiest whenever he comes back from a few days on the road, bare feet padding quickly across the kitchen floor, drawn out of bed after noticing your absence, his hands slipping underneath your pyjama top as he finds you at the counter, arms wrapping around your waist. “You left me,” he whines, face buried into your neck, pouting against your skin, folding himself around you.
“I was gone for like five minutes.”
“Five minutes too long,” he counters, pulling your back against his chest, chasing some of that natural warmth clinging to your body. He kisses your neck once, twice and then a third time, and you squirm a little, giggling, tickled by that fuzz on his top lip. “Forget whatever you're doing,” he mumbles, sliding one large hand up your belly, feeling you out, his fingers inching closer, caressing the underside of your tits. It's not sexual, you've done this rodeo enough times with him to know he's just seeking out some comfort. “Don't need breakfast,” he rests his chin on your shoulder, hair wild in his face, “just need you.”
“You do need breakfast,” you say, voice amused as he quickly shakes his head, protesting with a grunt.
“Ten more minutes in bed,” he squeezes, his arm tightening around your waist, “that's what I need.”
You turn, abandoning the chopping board of fruit, the tips of your fingers stained red from the strawberries, the corners of your mouth curling as you're greeted by the soft, sleepy expression on your boyfriend's face. “Ten minutes become fifteen minutes of your drooling and snoring on my shoulder,” you tease, stroking your fingers through his hair.
He pouts. “I don't drool.”
“The wet patch on your pillow says otherwise, baby,” you giggle, tipping your chin, kissing his jaw.
He hides his flamed cheeks in your neck, once again folding himself around you. “I might drool, but you're the one who snores.” You snort, lips twitching. “Fifteen minutes?”
“I thought it was only ten minutes?”
“If you want to do twenty minutes, we can do twenty minutes.”
“It's a good thing you're cute, because you're terrible at bartering.”
i'm fully at work writing this at my desk rn but i just had to get this out bc i've been thinking about it all week. i haven't written in forever so i'm a little rusty 😖
He didn't text first. Didn't call. Just one moment he was... there.
It was odd, seeing him in this space. A space that he'd never occupied before, a space that ordinarily had nothing to do with him. Work, that's all it was. But now that he was here, it felt brighter. Warmer.
He tended to have that effect.
"Hi." He says softly. His cheeks are wind-whipped from being outside in the harsh Salt Lake weather, and when he smiles, you get a glimpse of those adorable little canines.
"Hey." You respond, eyebrows raised in mild bewilderment. "What are you doing here?"
He holds out a cup. A drink. It's not fancy, its not hard to find, but it's your favorite drink. It warms your chest knowing he went out of his way, that he even remembered what you liked.
"Brought you this," He says, glancing around nervously, "Thought you might like a little surprise at work." He lifts his hat for just a second to brush his soft hair back and rests it back on his head.
You smile, bright and happy. Taking the drink from him, you lead him out into the nearest hallway so you don't disturb anyone nearby. And then you just... hug him. Arms wrapped around his wide torso, holding tight even with the drink in hand. He freezes only momentarily, and then you feel his strong arms envelop your frame.
"Thank you, Lo." You say, voice soft with affection. He shakes his head just a little. "Don't thank me. Just like seein' you happy." He responds.
You pull back to meet his gaze, those brilliant blue eyes boring into yours. It's a little dizzying, but in the best way. His hand comes up to rest on your cheek, thumb smoothing over your skin fondly. He leans in and presses the softest of kisses to your lips, and it makes your whole body buzz with love.
When he pulls away, he gives you that same dorky smile you adore so much. "Well, I don't wanna distract you. I'll let you get back to work." You nod even though you want to tell him to stay. "Okay. Thank you, really. You're the sweetest."
The compliment just makes his cheeks even rosier than before, which you didn't think was possible. It's honestly unfair just how cute he is. He pecks your lips one more time before heading out, waving over his shoulder.
You're left there with your favorite drink, a stupidly big smile, and a heart full of love for that perfect, thoughtful boy.
cools wanting to be with fwb!reader at all times!! he makes her go to the gym with him, to do the food shop, just the most domestic shit, he just needs her there all the time
Pairing: Logan Cooley x Fem!Reader (FWB!Reader x Logan)
Word Count: 1.2k+
Warnings: fluff, like one mention of the reader having a soft tummy
A/N: gif credit to @hat-trick-honey <3 look at that cutie!! You know by now I love these two so much, enjoy!! <3
“Tell me again how you passed your driving test?” You grimace, side stepping out of a puddle, turning as you close the passenger side door. He's already looking at you, the extra inches to his height giving him the advantage to look straight over the roof of his car.
“What's wrong with my driving?” He asks, removing his cap to fix his hair, long fingers tucking his hair behind his ears. The ends are mostly damp from sweat, curling slightly, and sticking to his neck. He fixes his cap back onto his head, coming around the front of his car, reaching you in a few long strands. “We got here in one piece, right?”
You take a step back, your tired arm extended out to the side, pointing to his car as you say, “you're barely in the spot.”
He looks and you're right, but he just shrugs. “It's fine. We're like the only ones here anyway. It's not like anyone's gonna complain.”
“There's no one here because they close in thirty minutes.”
“And we'll be out in ten.” You snort, already knowing that wouldn't be true. “I'm not that bad of a driver, right?” He slinks his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side, needing you close to him.
“You're okay,” you wind your arm around his waist, reciprocating the closeness, “but I'm definitely better.”
He fists his hand into his back pocket and fishes out his keys. “You can drive us home then.” You shake your head and push the keys away. “I thought you were a better driver than me?”
“Doesn't mean you should trust me behind the wheel of your car,” you say, giving an awkward but polite smile to a little old lady as she and her husband walked past. “I drive a little, scrappy hunk of metal for a reason.”
He pockets his keys. “I like your scrappy hunk of metal.”
You scoff. “No, you don't.”
“Okay, it might be a little cramped, and it makes that weird sound every time you go above the speed limit, and there's that weird smell in the backseat when it gets too hot,” he pulls away to grab a shopping cart, darting away from your hand as you reach out to pinch his side, “but it's very…you.”
“You trying to say I'm little and scrappy?”
“I just had to drag you kicking and screaming to the gym,” he chuckles, making a come hither motion with his hand. He slips his hand into yours, long fingers intervening with yours, and you let him guide you through the store. “So, yeah, you're little and scrappy.”
“I was happy and warm and comfortable on your couch,” you pout.
“Cardio is good for you.”
“Look at me, Logan, what part of me says cardio and I are good friends?” He just laughs some more. “I have a soft tummy and I like to nerd out about History documentaries.”
“You say both of those things like they are bad.” He drops your hand to fill the cart with fresh fruit - he might have to remind you to workout from time to time, but you have definitely nagged at him a few times for not having enough fresh fruit, which for an athlete was pretty bad. “Red or green apples?” He bags up a few of the Granny Smiths before you can answer, and it brings a subtle smile to your face.
“Some might,” you shrug, grabbing him some bananas.
He leans down, kissing your cheek, the moment quick, but enough to make your tummy flutter. “I don't.” You play it off with a roll of your eyes and he snorts. “Take the compliment.”
You walk down each aisle, Logan's hand slotted into yours, always pulling you closer when you stray a little too far away, his lips twitching subtly when you give his hand a squeeze each time. Between grabbing the essentials and yours and his favourite snacks, he asks you about your classes, sneaking in kisses to the top of your head, temple, cheek or neck, whenever he has to stretch and reach around you. He listens, hanging onto every word, even if he doesn't understand most of what you are saying. He just loves the excitement in your eyes as you ramble on, that little squeaking sound you make, before saying, “oh, that reminds me,” and going off on a tangent about another fact.
But you suddenly stopped, and he frowned. “What?” He grabs a pack of toilet rolls, adding it to the cart. “Why'd you stop?”
You retreat into yourself, cheeks flushed, eyes looking down into the cart as you step around the side. “Because I was talking too much.” Before Logan, there was Colton. He was clingy, but not in the cute way Logan was. You were his to show off, an accessory, more than a person. And would often tune out whenever you talked too much, even going as far to tell you he thought you were prettier when you didn't talk.
“No, you weren't,” Logan grunts, grabbing toilet cleaner and adding it to the cart. You told him once you found the cartoon duck on the front of the bottle cute, and he has been using it since. “I like it when you talk,” he says, thumb touching your chin, the soft touch bringing your eyes up to him. The corners of his mouth curl. “The more you talk means there's less chances of me making a fool of myself.”
“You still do that even without talking,” you giggle, making a point by glancing at the small graze on his left cheek, done after he walked into the bathroom door.
“That wasn't my fault,” he mumbles, shaking his head, both arms winding around your waist, “you distracted me.”
“I distracted you?” You ask, looking back at him.
“That little skirt you decided to wear out last night,” he whispers, chasing your jaw for a kiss, “it was very, very distracting.”
“Lo, we are in public,” you warn, checking your left and then your right.
“Didn't stop you last night,” he replies, giving your waist a squeeze, and dragging your hips back until your body is pressed up against his."
“Well, last night, you looked somewhat handsome.”
“I'm hurt,” he chuckles, letting you go, and grabbing the cart, “I wore my best shirt for you and everything, last night.”
“Should've gone shirtless.”
“I'll remember that for when I'm back.”
You circle your arms around his bicep, holding loosely onto him as you walk down to the end of the aisle. “Are you nervous for the Playoffs?”
“A little,” he nods, steering the cart onto the next aisle, “grab me three bags.”
“Three?” You let go and grab three bags of Sour Patch Kids off the shelf, adding them to the cart. “You know, your nutritionist will kill you if they find out just how many of these you eat?”
He reaches out and grabs another bag. “Then you better not tell him.”
“I think I need a little persuasion,” you pucker your lips, waiting for him to kiss you.
“What was it you said?” He grabs the cart, pushing it away from you. “Oh, right, we're in public.” You gasp, resting your hands on your hips, his little fangs peeking out as he grins back at you over his shoulder. “I guess you'll just have to wait until we get back to the car.”
Warnings: nsfw, minors dni, friends to lovers, reader wears glasses, the softest of soft-soft dom!logan, dirty talk, oral (fem & male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill), artist!reader
A/N: gif credit to @hat-trick-honey <3 I knew I could only rewrite this one for Logan, he's the ultimate sweetheart for friends to lovers and to be friend zoned. Enjoy!! <3
"Gossip Girl? Again?”
"Stop judging my watch list," Logan huffs, resting his arm on the back of his sofa.
There's a pattern of rom-coms and TV series he had already watched in their entirety, with a sprinkle of recommendations from yourself in there. You fought back a smile knowing he took your recommendations seriously. "Give me your right hand," you request, setting the remote on your lap. He raises his eyebrow but doesn't question it. "Just as I thought," you mumble, nodding your head as you gaze down at his hand, inspecting his palm and scanning the long length of his fingers, "you need to stop abusing this hand and get yourself a girlfriend.”
"Oh-" He rips his hand back with a sigh, rolling his eyes. "My dry spell isn't as bad as yours," he makes a good point, welcoming the vanilla and sweet citrus scent that hangs around you as you shuffle closer. Your leg brushes against his and a small smile pinches on the corners of his lips, little butterflies fluttering their wings in the deepest part of his stomach. "When was the last you got laid?"
"Hopefully, this week." You go back to scanning his Netflix account, missing the bridge of his nose turning pink. "Your team is full of gorgeous men," you hum, wrapping your arm around your tummy, caging it underneath as you lean forward.
"Just put your glasses on," he sighs, watching you squint your eyes, "you're making your eyes worse doing that."
You glance over your shoulder. "When did you suddenly change your career?”
He doesn't appreciate your smart mouth, getting up off the sofa in search of them. "It's called being a caring friend," he mumbles, taking one last look at you bent over and leaning forward, before slipping out of his living room.
He hears you call out to him, something about them being in his guest room, but he's already one step ahead of you, opening the bedroom door and taking a step inside. "Don't you mean your room?" He calls back, treading over a pair of heels you had complained about wearing.
Another smile, an even bigger smile, appears as he thinks about last night. Blood stirred and heated his cheeks as he thought about the simple yet beautiful way your dress hugged your body. His skin tingled, remembering the smell of vanilla and how it clung to every inch of your skin, so much that it made him dizzy. And he swallows a hard breath as he recalls being at the foot of the bed, his thumbs stroking over your soft skin, before unfastening the straps and helping you out of your heels.
"Ha! Nice one!" Your voice cuts him out of the memory.
"It can still be yours!”
You were a freelance animator, recently coming off the success of a short film for some company in New York that Logan couldn't remember the name of. It was a dark piece, playing heavily on the tropes of loneliness and trying to find a sense of belonging, told through the POV of a colourless character in a world full of bright colours. Definitely not for children, Logan realised the first time he watched it, wiping away a tear as the credits rolled, a beaming smile on his face as your name flashed on the screen.
It won the company an award, and added a little more attention to your name, making it easier to do the whole "freelance" part of your job description.
It was that part of your job description that Logan used in favour of you moving in with him. Back in Arizona, you were living four streets away from him, and there wasn't really a day he didn't go without seeing you. He missed that. Utah was lonely without you.
Everywhere was lonely without you.
Your glasses are sitting on top of your open sketchbook, partially lost under covers, and Logan clears away a cushion, neatly placing it against the pillows. A hedgehog wearing a mask of sorts has been sketched onto the page, with an owl wearing clown makeup sketched on another area of the page, a knife dripping with blood held in its beak. Cute little woodland animals made to look like something from a horror movie. He didn't know if he should be impressed by your talent or shudder from his own dislike of horror movies.
Both, he had decided, grabbing your glasses and leaving the room.
"No.”
"What?" Your arm hovers in the air, your hand wrapped around the TV remote, with the 'Horror' section of his Netflix up on the screen. "What's the matter?" You ask, with a coy smile, knowing exactly what his grievance was. If there was one rule for any impromptu movie night, it was no horror movies allowed.
Logan's rule, of course.
You, on the other hand, loved horror movies. The blood. The gore. The old classic slashers. Movies with a budget so low they either become cult classics or a painful ninety minutes. You loved it all. You loved the suspense and the anticipation of waiting for the next jumpscare. The adrenaline that pumped through your veins every time that it happened. It left you feeling more alive than ever.
"We are not, and I can't stress this enough, watching a horror movie.”
"I'm not wearing them," you distract him enough to keep flicking through the catalogue. Saw. Don't Breathe. Last Night In Soho. Halloween. You flicked over each one of them, hoping at least one of them would spike your interest. "I hate them," you mumble, ducking and turning your head away from him. He grumbles something about you being stubborn under his breath, his body partially leaning over you as he places his knee on the edge of his sofa. "I don't- Ow!" You gasp, mouth hanging open and head turned up to look at him. "You just poked me in the eye-”
"Because you wouldn't stop moving!"
You readjust your glasses, your head still turned upwards, eyes squinting up at him. "God, is that what you really look like?" He doesn't appreciate your joke, rolling his eyes as you lower your glasses. "Seriously? I should've worn these things the night we met," you continue, adding a second act, "might have thought twice about falling into bed with you."
A deep blush sets on his cheeks, reaching his ears as partial moments of that night come to the forefront of his mind. Hands tracing soft skin. Mouths coming together in feverish exchanges. Him stumbling over his words the next morning, unable to bring himself to ask you if you wanted to get breakfast, settling on remaining as "just friends.”
His teammates had even joked that he had fucked his way into the friend zone.
"Give me the remote," he stretches out his hand. You pull your hand into your body, restricting his access to the remote. "You know we have one rule for a movie night: no horror movies.”
"Oh, come on," you tease, biting the tip of your tongue, the corners of your mouth turning upwards into a smile, "it's not my fault you're a big scaredy cat.”
He rolls his eyes, despite liking the mischievous glint you got in your eyes every time you saw an opportunity to tease him.
"Don't deny it, just remember who shit themselves at the likes of Scary Movie." You point the remote back at the TV, flicking through a subsection of the horror genre until one of them seemed the right fit for tonight's festivities. "It's not even a horror movie. It's a parody!”
"First of all," he reaches back, grabbing a few pieces of popcorn, "I didn't shit myself." He tosses the pieces of popcorn in your direction, the sweet pieces of confection bouncing off your shoulder and your cheek. You pick it up, the tips of your fingers feeling sticky from just one touch, and throw it back at him. He bats it away from him, and you stick your tongue out at him. "It was you who kept purposely making me jump by jabbing your finger into my side."
"I always find it funny how you and I recall events so differently," you mumble, clicking the down button and flicking onto the paranormal section.
"Okay," he talks over you, reaching forward for one of the two beers sitting on his coffee table, "just stick a movie on." He pops the cap off the bottle with a low grunt, flipping it onto the coffee table. It bounces twice, hits the edge of the centrepiece, a decorative glass bowl his parents gave him as a moving away/house warming present, and flips onto the floor. "And just don't pick a super scary one," he mumbles, taking a sip, "I actually want to sleep tonight.”
"Scared you're gonna get nightmares?"
"I don't get nightmares.”
"No, of course you don't," you shake your head, "you're Logan Cooley! How could you let yourself get scared over something that's not even real?" He rolls his eyes, giving you a soft shove to the side with his elbow. You pluck the brown stained bottle from his hand, noticing the not so subtle way he was watching your lips as you take a sip. "Do I have something on my face?" You ask, the bridge of his nose blushing red. He turns his head away from you, mumbling something under his breath but you didn't catch it. "Sorry?" It was like poking a sleeping bear. "What did you say?”
"Come on," he mumbles, motioning his hand in the direction of his TV.
"Don't rush me," you hiss, catching your tongue between your teeth, the tip poking out from between your lips. It amused him greatly how serious you took picking the movies for movie night, but it was just one of those 'little things' that he loved about you. "You wouldn't want to be rushed whilst taking a shootout, or something.”
He pulls a face. "I don't see how those two equate to being the same thing.”
"I-Shut up.”
You settle on an old favourite: Paranormal Activity.
It was scary enough that you knew Logan would jump a few times, but not scary enough to have him crawling into your bed in the middle of the night. A single creak could be a footstep. Pipes cooling down could be a ghost groaning. Silly tricks of his mind and all enough to scare him into your bed, with his tail tucked between his legs like a scared puppy. If you wanted that, maybe you would've picked something like The Ring or The Blair Witch Project.
"Shouldn't be too scary for you," you tease him, grinning over your shoulder.
"You don't use-" Logan lifts his head from the cushion, his mouth turned down into a frown, his focus turned away from his television and now on you. You had moved to the end of his sofa, moving to give him space to stretch out, with your knees pulled up to your chest, toes wiggling as they sat over the edge. "Are you going to sit there the whole time?" He quizzes, meeting your eyes as you turn to look at him.
"Yes?" You pan down to his body stretched out on the sofa. One knee was pointed to the ceiling, his other leg stretching the length, with his foot tapping against you. It wasn't deliberate, almost like he was still checking to see if you were still there. "Where else am I meant to sit?" You fire back your own question. "For a little guy, you sure know how to take up a lot of room.”
"We both know I'm not little," he replies nonchalantly.
"I don't know," you shrug, biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling, "it didn't really leave a lasting impression." You giggle, his foot tapping against you deliberately this time. "But, seriously, where else am I meant to sit? On the floor?" You motion in front of you. "On you?"
He grins, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to hold back his thoughts, but you roll your eyes like you had read his mind. "Just lie with me," he mumbles, patting his hand against his chest.
"What, and crush you?”
It was now his turn to roll his eyes. "You're not going to crush me.”
"I might.”
"Do you see me?" He pans his hand down his body. "Do you see this? I can take my shirt off so you can better look-”
"Please don't.”
He taps your leg again. "We both know you like me better when I have my shirt off," you avoid his eyes as he teases you like your eyes might deceive you and tell him he was right, "But, c'mon, I'm getting cold over here." He pouts, eyes looking rounder as he tries his best at 'puppy dog eyes.' He grabs at the air. "Please?!”
"You're actually the worst," you mumble, giving in to him, "the worst of the worst." Your bodies become a tangled mess, legs wedged between each other, his thigh half-straddled as you rest your head on his chest. His hand travels down your back, his fingers skimming along the band of skin exposed above your jeans. "Also, I call total bullshit on 'getting cold'," you add, unconsciously tucking your hand under his shirt. Your touch makes his skin tingle.
"Yeah?" He raises his eyebrows, looking down his nose. "Why's that?”
"Because you're perpetually warm.”
Logan's attention flickers back and forth between you and the movie, pressing his fingers harder into your skin whenever Katie screams Micah's name, which you didn't mind, even though it would happen a lot. When he wasn't subtly trying to hide the jumping, he was glancing down at you, focusing on the steady and relaxed movement of your breathing. He would half-smile at the way you mumble your reactions under your breath, humming a simple "yes" or "okay" to acknowledge them.
He takes in a deep pull of your scent, closing his eyes as he lets the smell of honey and vanilla wash over him. Everything about you could make him dizzy. From your laugh to your smile. To the way you would always cut your sandwiches into four small squares because it made you think of the nostalgia of the school lunches your mum would make you. But nothing was like that honey and vanilla aroma that managed to stick to you like a second layer of skin.
"You better not be falling asleep, mister!" He grunts as you pinch his hip, his eyes snapping open at the sound of your voice. "I didn't lie down with you just so you could take a nap," you prop your chin against his chest.
"Then why did you?”
"Like I already said, you're always warm, and your apartment is freezing!”
Our apartment, he thinks to himself, knowing he'll bring the question up once more before you have to leave. "It's not cold," he says instead, tucking his free arm underneath his head, "and I wasn't falling asleep."
You raise your brows. "Yeah? Then what just happened?”
"He's just shown her the ouija board and you just commented on them being stupid for using one." Your eyebrows drop and the corners of his mouth twitch. "See," he gloats, giving the small of your back a soft pinch, "I wasn't falling asleep.”
You chew your bottom lip. "I am right though, you should never use a ouija board.”
"No?”
"No!" You shake your head. "You don't know who you could be communicating with, or what you could be inviting in!" He smiles, making you squint your eyes and frown up at him. "What's that smile for?”
"You've thought about this before, haven't you?"
You turn your head down, mumbling your answer into his chest, using it to hide the embarrassment in your voice. Yes, you had thought about it. You had thought about it multiple times and every time you watched a movie where one would be used to contact the vengeful spirit haunting the unsuspecting couple, but it's the last thing you would admit to Logan. It would just be another thing for him to tease you with.
"Sorry," he laughs, his whole chest shaking, "what was that?"
"I said I'm putting another movie on," you lie. He bites his tongue to stop the soft groan that nearly slips out when you straddle his waist, silently praying that his body can stay calm for all of two seconds. "This is getting boring," you stretch across and grab the remote, "I want something proper on."
He lets his hands travel down from your hips and onto your thighs, drumming his fingers against the dark denim. "This is something proper.”
"Babe, this is two tropes away from being a parody!”
Babe. It makes his heart beat twice as fast. He clears his throat, doing his best attempt at dislodging the feeling from his chest. "There's not much left," he mumbles, lifting one hand away and following yours until it's out of his reach. He chuckles, the soft sound growing a little louder as you beam down at him with a triumphant smile. "Just leave this one on.”
"Or," you press pause, silencing the screams, "we could have some fun.”
"Fun?" His throat bops. "You and I have very definitions of what fun is." Your lips twitch. "And I don't like that smile.”
"You shouldn't," you giggle, letting your weight sink further onto him, your core pressed firmly against his crotch. The not-so-subtle way his mouth parts on a slight groan makes your stomach flutter. For a second, you slip back into the memory of his hands grabbing at your hips and guiding them, as he threw his head back into his pillow, groaning your name which back then was foreign to his tongue. "Let's make a bet," you snap back to reality, "the first person to jump has to go down on the other person.”
He mules it over for a second, a deep blush forming on his cheeks and spreading to his ears. "But what if neither of us jumps?" He asks, keeping his focus on something that isn't the movement of your hips as you shift above him.
"Then no one gets to come today.”
"You mean: you don't get to come today," he fires back, "you don't know what I was doing this morning.”
"So, that's why I heard my name coming from your bathroom?" You throw him a wink. "Don't worry, I've basically nicknamed my vibrator Lil Cooley." He rolls his eyes and mumbles a soft 'ha, ha' under his breath. If your current position wasn't already bad enough for him, then hearing about you using a vibrator on yourself was nearly tipping him over the edge. "So, do we have a deal?" You raise your eyebrows.
He shrugs his shoulders. "Why not?" His tongue darts across his bottom lip, looking at you like you might be his last meal. "I've been looking for an excuse to eat your pussy again.”
Logan frowns. "I don't get it." You lift your head from the comfort of his shoulder, unable to hide a half-smile when you catch sight of the crease in his brow and the slight way his bottom lip would pout. Flashes of confusion fill his eyes. "She was the one sucking on his toes?”
"Yep.”
"But she thought it was that...other thing?”
He sighs, running his hand down his face. "This is so confusing.”
You prop your hand under your chin, using your free hand to poke his cheek. He bats your finger away, but the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. "You're very pretty," you mumble, bringing your finger back against his cheek, touching the smooth pale skin. "How are you single?”
"Me?" He slides his hand down your back, bunching up the fabric as he reaches the small of your back. His touch is warm and it makes you shiver. "What about you?" He counters, tucking his head down. His nose brushed against your temple, and you could smell the faint smell of beer and toothpaste on his breath. "You're a lot prettier than me.”
"I go on dates," you shrug, finger drifting down to his bottom lip. It was soft and light shade of pink. And very, very kissable.
"You do?" His body tenses and the jealousy he feels churns in the pit of his stomach. "Oh…”
You wish you could say that your dating life was a story of success and one that involved you finding true love but, unfortunately, that just wasn't the case. The apps were full of guys looking for a night of easy sex or carrying bouquets of red flags. And the dates you were set up with either talked only about themselves, were hung up on their exes, or talked about their mothers at an alarming rate.
Oh, and none of them were Logan.
"But clearly none of them have worked out for me," you sigh, removing your hand and settling your head back down on his shoulder. His body relaxes, pulling you firmly against him. "It doesn't matter though, I don't need them," you mumble, breathing in the smell of the cologne that stuck to his skin. After being apart from him, you had come to realise that it smelt like home. "I've got you.”
"For now and always.”
For now and always.
It was your thing, you could say, a promise that neither would be alone.
You sit up on your elbow. "Logan?" He hums but doesn't look at you. "Lo..."
"What's u-" You silence him, pressing your lips against his, moaning softly into his mouth when you feel him kiss back. "Uh," he pulls back, touching his hand to your face, his fingers softly stroking your jaw, "hi-uh, what?" He nervously laughs, the tips of his ears turning red. "W-W-What was that for?”
"I don't know." You shrug, touching your hand to your mouth. "I'm sorry.”
His eyes widened. "What? No! Don't apologise for kissing me. I liked it.”
"You did?”
"Should that even be a question?" He scoffs, smiling at you. His thumb brushes gently across your cheek, the softness of your skin shooting goosebumps up his arm. "Of course, I liked it. Why wouldn't I have liked it?" His gaze lingers on your mouth. "Come closer and kiss me again, please?”
"Well, since you asked so nicely…”
It's with a smile on both of your lips that you lean in and press your mouth to his. His lips are soft and willing, parting to welcome you as you run your tongue against his bottom lip. At every groan he made, you would whimper, and Logan would swallow each of the sweet little sounds. They were his to keep. They were his to remember when you left at the end of the week.
His hand grabs your thigh and pulls you to straddle him, rutting his hips up as you settle on him. "Feel that?" He grabs your ass, squeezing firmly as he pushes you down onto his bulge. You grind your hips against him, your movements slow and torturous. "That's it, baby," he bites his bottom lip, groaning your praise and grabbing your ass in both hands, "keep grinding like that for me - make us both feel good.”
Your lips roam his jaw and neck, imprinting your whimpers into his skin. "I guess the bet is off then?" Your laugh is sultry and yet still sweet.
"Bet or no bet, I would still love to eat your pussy," he purrs, flipping you onto your back, "can I take this off?" He fingers toy with the hem of your shirt.
"Only if you're taking yours off."
You prop yourself up onto your elbows, watching him sit back on his knees. He grabs the back of his collar and removes his T-shirt with one sharp tug. "Beautiful," you whisper, letting your hands roam freely over his chest. They start at the waistband of his jeans, your fingers stroking over the soft trail of hair, before travelling over his naval and feeling every muscle.
Logan was right; you did like him better with no shirt on.
Your eyes pan back down to the bulge in his jeans. "Can I taste you?" You ask, looking back up at him as his hand nestles firmly on the base of your skull.
"Go ahead," he nods, with excitement in his voice, "take it out.”
Your eyes shimmer with anticipation as you take a better look at the tent in his boxers, his jeans pulled low enough down. Peeling back the waistband, his cock springs free, slapping hard and heavy against his stomach. He was big, bigger than you had remembered, and your face grows hotter as you try to think of a way to fit him all into your mouth.
"It'll fit," Logan says, like he could read your mind, "trust me." He wraps his hand around the base, pushing the tip gently against your mouth. "Give it a kiss." You pucker your lips and lay a soft one against the crown of his cock, tasting the pre-cum as you pull away and lick your lips. "Now open your mouth," he instructs, gliding it against your wet tongue, "already being such a good girl for me.”
You swirl your tongue over the head, smacking your lips as you pull off him. "Definitely the prettiest dick I've ever had the pleasure of sucking," you tell him, replacing his hand around the base.
"Sucked many dicks?" His face quickly drops. "Don't answer that.”
You run your tongue against the underside of his shaft. "Not in a long time," you answer anyway, giggling as he scowls.
You wrap your lips once more around his cock, focusing on the tip, sucking it lazily in and out of your mouth, as your hand works the base. "Fuck, that feels good," he pants, hanging his head back, exposing the column of his neck and the beard that scattered the underside of his jaw to you. "But I'm gonna have to make you stop.”
"What?" You pull off him, a string of spit still connecting you. "Why?”
"Because it's been way too long, longer than I would like to admit since I was last with someone, and if you keep sucking me off like that, this is going to end quicker than it started.”
You wipe your mouth. "Oh.”
"Yeah," he blushes, tucking himself back into his boxers. He tugs his jeans up but leaves them unbuttoned. "Now," he clears his throat, "wanna help me take your clothes off?”
"Fucking gorgeous!" Logan touches your skin, burning his prints into you as he grips your thighs. You are pinned to his mattress, with nowhere to go, looking down at a pair of hungry eyes. His tongue splits your folds and draws a line between your entrance and your clit. "This pussy has been a part of my dreams for years," he confesses, turning his head, kissing the inside of your thigh, "god, I think about it-think about you when I'm touching myself.”
Your lips part on a silent breath. "You do?"
"Every time, baby." He blows hot hair against your clit, grinning as your squirm. "Every. Single. Damn. Time.”
"Good," you giggle, cupping your breast and tweaking your nipple, "because I wasn't lying about nicknaming my vibrator Lil Cooley.”
His cock strains in his jeans at your words. "Don't say that," he growls, rutting his hips into the mattress, "not unless you want to be cleaning the cum off my cock.”
You prop yourself up, looking down at him between your thighs. "Sounds tasty," you throw back, licking your lips.
His lips twitch. "Speaking of tasty..." He drags his tongue back and forth along your slit, groaning as your wetness pools in his mouth. You were intoxicating. A drug for him to get high off. "Tastiest thing I've ever eaten, baby," his praise has you throwing your head back into the pillow, "and the prettiest, too.”
"Oh, my..."
He pushes the air out of your lungs, stretching you out as he slowly works two fingers into your pussy. They twist and curl up to stroke your g-spot, and you feel him grin against your clit when he wrangles out a pornographic moan. No one has made you feel this good. Not in a very long time.
"Logan," you pant his name, pushing your hips up. He groans, flicking his tongue faster over your clit.
He was playing like an instrument and eating you like you were his last meal.
"So fucking tight," he licks his lips, tasting you on him. He twists and scissors his fingers, stretching you some more. "And wet, baby," he purrs, rotating his thumb in circles over your clit. His blue eyes look up at you, roaming every part of your naked figure. "If you could see the mess you're making - just dripping everywhere.”
"I want you to look at me like that all the time," you stare down at him.
"I do." He kneels between your legs, dipping to kiss over the tops of your breasts, the dip at the base of your neck and then your lips. "I look at you like this all the time, baby," he presses his thumb harder to your clit, making you squirm, "I've just gotten good at hiding it." He crashes his mouth against yours, pushing his tongue into your mouth, letting you taste your arousal off his tongue. "I'm gonna grab a condom.”
You stop him as he reaches into his bedside cabinet. "I'm on the pill.”
"You sure?”
"Yes," you answer, kissing over soft jaw, nipping playfully at his ear, "now lose those jeans, pretty boy." He raises his eyebrows, the corners of his lips curving up with amusement. You give a sharp tug on his belt loop. "I said lose the jeans.”
He chuckles, pushing to stand up. "What is this?" He pulls his jeans down, kicking them off as they reach his feet. You bite your lip, eyes zoning in on his cock bulging in his underwear. They were removed next, a smirk gracing his lips. He wraps his hand around his shaft, jerking his wrist a few times, wincing a little when he squeezes the tip. "Think you're in charge here?”
"Maybe.”
He shakes his head, brushing his lips against your temple. "That's very cute." He kneels between your legs, tapping his tip against your clit, chuckling as you whimper. There was nothing worse than being teased. "But that's not happening, baby."
He slips the first few inches inside, watching your pussy swallow and clench around him. He waits, giving himself a second to adjust. "Just remember it's been a while, okay?" His cheeks blush, spreading down his neck onto his chest. "Don't be teasing me if I end up coming too quickly.”
"Hey, look at me." You reach out to touch his face, your fingers brushing over his jaw. He leans into your touch. "We're in the same boat, remember?"
"But what about all those dates you've been on?”
You shake your head. "The last guy I had sex with was Kal." Sliding your hand between your bodies, you sink the last few inches inside. The feeling of fullness has you losing your breath, but you find it again when Logan leans over to kiss you. "Forget about the timestamp on your last time, and stop worrying about blowing your load too quickly," you talk against his mouth, soothing your hands over his chest, "just be here with me, okay?”
He nods, biting his bottom lip. "I can do that." His head dips and kisses the centre of your chest, hands exploring your thighs and the globes of your ass as he ruts into you. "Fuck," his voice is strained, "you feel...you feel perfect, like you're just for me.”
"Yes," you whimper, your heart aching as the words hit your ears, "just for you."
He nuzzles his stubble into your cheek. "Say it again.”
"Just for you," you repeat, now grinding your hips up to meet each thrust, "just for you." You pull his head up and you crash your lips together, exchanging a kiss like it could be your last. Never had you imagined this is where you would be when you got on the plane four days ago. "You," you managed to make out through a moan, breaking apart, nuzzling your face against his cheek.
He chokes your name on a sob, "I'm not gonna last much longer.”
"Let go, Logan," you wrap your legs around his waist, and run your nails down his back, scratching lightly at the muscles that strained, "come for me, baby.”
"Inside you?" His rhythm is sloppy and you have to keep grinding against him. "Can I come inside you?" He grabs your hips and clamps them against him, moaning into your shoulder as his whole body shakes above you. "Oh, god," he whines, his cock twitching and pulsing, "I'm coming-I'm..."
Silence.
For the next few seconds, Logan is silently mouthing your name against his skin.
You soothe your hands through his hair as he finishes inside you, letting your hands roam over his shoulders and down his back. "You okay?" You whisper, tucking your head to brush a kiss to the side of his head. "Logan? Baby?”
"I think I just had an out-of-body experience," he answers, audibly groaning as he pulls out. You giggle, tiredly rolling onto your front, moving with him as he collapses next to you. His arm comes up over his face, hiding his eyes, before ripping away to look at you. He looked worried like he was realising he had done something wrong. "You didn't come?”
You shrug, giving him a reassuring smile. "It's fine." Which it was.
"No, it's not." He tries to sit up but crashes back onto the mattress. "When I have recovered, you are coming," he declares, pulling the pillow over his face. His voice is muffled as he adds, "we are not leaving this bed until I've made you come.”
LH43 Rewrite with Logan, this felt like a him thing to do.
18+ NSFW Themes
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Writing Masterlist
You're pretty certain that kissing Logan Cooley might be a terrifying new addiction.
He doesn't know it but he's the first person you've ever kissed and the way he does it is addictive. You're not sure if it's kissing that's addictive, if it always feels like this...or if it's just Logan and his special brand of kissing that makes you feel like this, stomach buzzy, toes curling, cheeks warming.
Logan kisses you like a form of worship, from the slant of his mouth over yours, the soft bite of his teeth against your bottom lip and the caress of his tongue, to the way his big hands cradle your face, thumbs brushing across your skin like you're the most fragile thing in the world. Like he's scared you're not quite real, like he thinks you'll disappear if he's not gentle enough.
Every swipe of his tongue has him moaning into your mouth and it makes you feel both nervous and powerful at the same time, that you can do this to him. That he's the one leaning over you on the couch, your hands in his hair, tugging on his strands, but you're the one that's bringing him to his knees.
When his mouth pulls away from yours he's heaving in breaths, like you've sucked all the air from his lungs. Logan's cheeks are flushed pink, pupils so dilated that his eyes are almost black, blue disappearing behind his pupils, before he's leaning down again. You chase his lips with your mouth but he doesn't kiss you there, planting open mouthed kisses across your jaw and down your neck, stopping to suck on the spot behind your ear in a way that has your eyes fluttering closed. It's all too much and not enough, unfamiliar sensations rocketing through your body as his hips grind down into yours. Your eyes shooting open at the feeling of his dick, hard and solid, against you through his jeans. It's both delicious and terrifying, a new experience that has your fingers gripping his hair tighter in a way that only has Logan groaning against your skin.
"Wanna take this to the bed?" His voice is a low rumble, raspy from kissing you, raspy in a way that sends a shiver down your spine and a tingle to your toes...but his words? Oh, his words have you freezing, short circuiting, unprepared and unready for such a proposition.
The way you freeze has him second guessing himself, maybe you're not that into him? Maybe you were just kissing him to be polite? Has he made you uncomfortable? Shit...he hopes he's not fucked this up.
Logan's scrambling off you without hesitation, distance being created quickly, not wanting to be a creep who forces himself on someone. Scared he's already made you uncomfortable tonight.
"Not that you have to! It's...this is good! I'm...fuck, I'm sorry..."
"It's fine, Logan...I..." You force yourself to sit up, trying to calm him down because really, you're okay. He's fine it just caught you off guard and maybe you aren't ready for sex yet with him, but you certainly want it to be a possibility in the future.
"No, I'm sorry...shit." He's up and pacing in front of the couch, running his hands through his hair until it's a mess, all over the place. On the 4th lap back in front of you, you reach out and grab his hand to pull him to a stop, tugging until he moves to sit back down next to you.
Your knees are touching, his bouncing up and down nervously, as you hold his hands in your own. You're avoiding his eyes because you're not sure how to say what you want to say without putting him off or freaking him out. But, you also don't want him to think he's done anything wrong because he hasn't.
"You don't have to apologise...I just...I like kissing you." You start there because that's easy to admit even if your cheeks feel warm. Logan's leg stops bouncing at the admission, feeling a little less like he's forced himself on you. A small smile starting at the corner of his mouth.
"Okay?"
"But I...I've never...you're the first person I've ever kissed..." You watch the cogs whirl behind his eyes, the click as he realises that if he's only ever kissed you...then that's probably all you've ever done.
"Oh, okay." There's a relief in him knowing, a relief in his casual response, the way he seems to understand without any judgement. Logan's fingers twist with yours until they're intertwined, reassuring, sweet.
"I just, if we take it to your room I don't want you to get ideas..." It's not that you don't want to have sex with Logan...you do...one day, just...right now even kissing is a lot, it's new, it's big and you're not sure you've worked your way up to anything more yet. You want to, God, you want to because Logan makes your tummy flip and your panties wet but...not yet. Not right now.
"...Ideas?" He looks at you soft, sweet, imploring like he's worried he'll misunderstand you if he makes assumptions, like he's a little worried to fuck this whole thing up.
"I...I'm not ready for that yet." It's silly...how you can't seem to say it to his face. You're old enough, you should be able to say the word sex to a guy's face...but it's Logan and...and you're trying not to scare him off. People always say that guys hate to wait, that sex is something they need. There's part of you that's worried that Logan will decide you're not worth the wait.
"You mean sex?"
"Yeah...I'm sorry, I don't want to disappoint you..."
The way his face drops isn't because you're disappointing him. It's not because he's upset with you. No, his face drops because how could you possibly think that he'd be upset with you for not wanting to sleep with him yet? Like the only thing he was here for was sex...when in reality he really liked you, liked you enough to spent what little free time he did with you, liked you enough to always try to get flowers delivered to your house when he was away on a roadie, liked you enough to tell his parents about you...
"Hey, angel..." He untangles his hands from yours and for a second you think he's going to pull away entirely, until his hands cup your cheeks and force you to look up at him, "I'm not disappointment, it's okay...you set the pace. You wanna just kiss and cuddle?"
You nod, voice gone at the easy way he puts the power back in your hands, the easy way he removes all your worries and fears of rejection in an instant.
"Then we just kiss and cuddle, bed's comfier, doesn't mean we have to go any further. I can keep it in my pants, scouts honour!" Logan lets go of your face briefly to give you a sharp little salute and it makes you laugh, a burble of relief that warms his chest.
fwb relationship w/ logan, every moment spent together it’s just like teetering on the edge of those unspoken heavy feelings. nights spent together in someone’s apartment, watching movies with takeout, not to mention the “causal” hugging and “friendly” forehead kisses lol
Warnings: fwb!reader x logan, reader is lactose intolerant (sorry if you like cheese)
A/N: gif credit to @hat-trick-honey forever providing me with the goods <3 I am sorry that it took so long to write this one, this has been sitting in my ask for way too long.
You look up at Logan confused. “Is this it?” His fridge is empty, except for half a carton of milk you're not even certain is in date, your oat milk, a few eggs, a bottle of hot sauce with barely an inch left in the bottom, and a sad looking lime. “Logan, this is…” Your voice trails off with a sigh. “Know any recipes that use a shriveled up lime, about a teaspoon of hot sauce and eggs?”
“I might have forgotten to buy food this week,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.
“You don't say,” you hum, taking one last pitiful look at the poor lime and bottle of hot sauce, before shutting the door.
“In my defence,” he snakes his arm around your waist, tugging you with ease around to face him, “we do eat at yours most nights.”
You wind your arms around his neck, his lips twitching, a stupid smile spreading across his face before he can stop it as you play with the ends of his hair. “And when you're not at mine?”
“Dinners with the guys,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders, “or just something quick before a game.”
“How on earth did you survive before you met me?” He knows it's a joke, but a deep blush still bleeds into his cheeks, wondering the same himself. “So…takeout?”
“Chinese?”
“Are you trying to turn me on?”
His lips twitch, his hand sliding down to cup your ass, a soft gasp getting caught in your throat. “Is it working?”
“I don't know,” your fingers curl deeper into his hair, giving it a tug, just enough to make him groan, “will you be paying?”
“I might,” he murmurs, chasing the corner of your mouth, pressing a chaste kiss there when you finally give up teasing him.
“Then I fuckin’ wet, baby.” You kiss his cheek, before untangling yourself from his hold, Logan already reaching into his pocket for his phone, as you grab two beers, one for him and one for you. “I'm picking the movie, though,” you say over your shoulder, exiting the kitchen, floating from room to room like you had done it a hundred times before, “I'm not watching another bad movie just because Jack recommended it.”
“You liked the last one.”
He follows behind, head down, ordering your usual, having it already memorised, even adding a note to the order to make sure they know you have an intolerance to dairy. He knew all your usual orders, which places you liked best, which ones to avoid because they didn't have good dairy free options, knowing to always add extra fries, or some form of sweet treat, because he secretly knows you want them, even if you've told him not to.
“Correction, I only liked the last one because it had Lewis Pullman in it,” you say, removing a few of the cushions, tossing them onto the other sofa. He stands at the arm, just watching you, the corner of his mouth curling. “What?” You ask, spotting him, cheeks flushing a little, caught midway through dragging the thick blanket off the back.
“You like to make yourself at home,” he replies, sitting down next to you, his arm winding around your waist, dragging you into his side. He kisses your forehead, before tucking your head under his chin. “It's cute.”
“Ew,” you pull the blanket over the both of you, snuggling in closer, “can't call me cute, if I can't call you cute.”
“Because I'm not cute,” he grunts.
“I beg to differ,” you lift your head up and poke your finger at his upper lip, “this baby stache is very cute.” He squirms, trying to bat your hand away. “No, stop,” you mumble, pulling your hand away, moving to straddle his lap, “I want to count the hairs.”
“You're so weird,” he laughs, catching both wrists and pinning them at your sides.
“Let me count them,” you whine, “I'll give you a kiss.”
“I think you'll kiss me even if I don't let you.”
“Wouldn't you be so lucky.”
“The luckiest,” he lets go of your wrists, bringing his hands to rest on your hips, tugging you further up his lap, his nose bumping the end of yours as he tilts his head closer, “I'll take that kiss now.”
You close the gap, kissing him, ignoring the gooey sensation in your stomach as his hands slip under your shirt, calloused hands needing to feel your warm skin. It's over as quickly as it began, Logan softly whimpering as you pulled away, your forehead pressing against his, one finger drawing a line along his jaw.
“There's definitely five hairs,” you mumble, and he snorts, turning you to sit with your back against his chest. He pulls the blanket over you both, pecking your shoulder, and hands you the remote. “Did you order already?” You ask, flicking through his Netflix.
“I did,” he mumbles, chin tucked into your neck, “I got you your usual. That's fine, right?”
You turn, quickly kissing his cheek. “It's perfect.”
“Not that one,” he mumbles, watching you flick back to Me Before You, “it makes you cry.”
You frown, “How do you know that?”
“Because you told me, remember?” He squeezes your hip under the blanket. “You made a big thing about me having never cried at a movie like the second week of knowing each other.”
“You remember that far back?” You twist to face him, sneakily clicking play as he's distracted looking back at you. He just nods. “What else do you remember?”
“You don't like scrambled eggs because of their texture. You refuse to eat red apples and red grapes. You've never broken a bone, but you have sprained your ankle more times than you would ever want to admit,” Logan lists off, voice calm and his eyes and the rest of his face soft around the edges. He surprises you and he knows it, his thumb stroking you through your top in that way he does to ease you. “I'm not just a pretty face, princess,” he cracks, getting you both comfortable again as you turn away.
“Not pretty,” you correct, “rather grotesque, actually.” He snorts, laughing against your shoulder, and you smile. “If you don't cry at this movie, I'm putting you under a microscope and studying you.”
“And if I do?”
“You've already had your one kiss for the night, don't go getting desperate now.”
Cools or Guenther being out with the team for drinks and they notice hes been on his phone or eyeing a girl at the bar so they make him go talk to her not knowing it’s his girlfriend so when he does go over and kisses her the guys are like “wtf why didn’t you say anything?” and he’s like “you never asked?”
warnings: none.
a/n: gif credit to @hat-trick-honey <3
l: where are you?
you: at the bar.
l: still?!
he looks up from his phone, eyes, already a little glossy from the couple of beers he had sunk back, slowly scanning the bar for you, trying to find you in the crowd of bodies squished uncomforably together. the place is alive, like the whole of the city had come out tonight, people hypnotised by the liquor dancing through their veins, seemingly unbothered by the stale smell of old beer and cigarettes that lingered in the air, no matter how hard the owners tried to get rid of it, a cheer coming from group of guys crowded around the jukebox, carried over as the next song starts to play.
his phone buzzes and glances down, giving up on his search for you.
you: it's a saturday and your friends have picked the busiest bar in the city.
he's typing out his reply when his phone is rudely ripped from his hands and slotted into dylan's back pocket. "you've been on that thing far too much tonight." he jolts to the left as dylan slings his arm over his shoulder, grabbing his shoulder hard. "believe it or not, there's a whole world outside of that little screen. look around you," dylan waves to a blonde that had been taking glances over the group, she turns away, giggling something to one of her friends, "look at all the opportunities you're missing."
"you're one to talk," logan mumbles, shrugging him off, right palm turned up as he reaches out his hand. "come on, give it back," he demands, his voice firm, a rare thing for him, "give me my phone back."
"one game," dylan motions to the pool table they were gathered around, jack celebrating, one large fist bumping the air, as clayton hung in his head low in defeat, "and then i'll think about giving it back to you. deal?" he sighs, accepting the pool cue as jack passes it to him. "i'll break, yeah?"
"whatever," he grunts, picking up the little cube of chalk, "sure, it's not like i'm gonna win anyway."
"then you'll be getting your phone back in no time," dylan grins, tongue between his teeth, pinched in concentration, a satisfying grunt heard as he breaks the rack, pocketing the first ball, "stripes it is." he moves slowly around the table, plucking the cube of chalk from logan's hand, trying to work out his next move. "who have you been texting all night anyway?"
"that's none of your business," he mumbles, curling his hand around the top of the cue, resting his weight against it.
dylan glances back of his shoulder, lining up his next shot. "got something to share?"
"of course he hasn't," jack jabs, laughing into his drink, "when was the last time you saw him approach a girl?"
"pretty sure they don't appreciate being called girls," barrett chipped in, groaning as he received a soft, playful punch to the shoulder.
"girls. women. whatever," jack mumbles, stepping out of the way as logan lines up his first shot, missing the pocket by a fraction of an inch, "but, seriously, when was the last time you got some? and your hand doesn't count; if it did, gunner would have a higher body count than the team combined."
"fuck off, man," dylan pokes him in the rips with his pool cue, "just remember we used to live together."
"exactly," jack throws back, laughing once more.
logan falls back into his original spot, head turned, scanning the bar once more. "just hurry up and win the game already," he mumbles half-assed, the corners of his mouth subtly curling when he finally spots you, leant over the bar, the bartender meeting you halfway so he can hear you better, the guys around the jukebox picking something with a loud, heavy guitar riff.
your head turns, like you know he's looking at you, a soft smile forming as you locked eyes. "hi," you mouth, giggling as he looks down, cheeks blotchy, embarrassed he had been caught.
"she's cute," clayton saddles up beside him, the neck of his bottle gripped between two fingers, hanging low at his side, "gonna stand here all night staring at her?"
"who's cute?" barrett is on his other side, logan shuffling uncomfortably on his feet.
"her at the bar," he waves his free han in front of him, "the one in the black skirt."
barrett frowns, "i can count about four women in black skirts."
clayton sighs, dragging his hand down his face, "the one looking at us, you idiot."
"you mean the one walking towards us?"
logan's head snaps up, the red in his cheeks spreading to his ears, a stupid grin breaking across his face, all tooth and goofy, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle, nearly dropping the pool cue as he fumbled it, handing it off to barrett, his hands holding your firmly at the waist, as you wind your arms around his neck. "took your time," he mumbles, dipping, meeting your mouth as you tipped your chin to kiss him.
"your friends are all staring at us," you giggle, pulling away, hiding your face in his chest.
dylan picks his chin up, "have you got some sort of superpower we don't know about?" logan laughs. "one second your making eyes at her, and the next she's over here kissing you? it doesn't work like that."
logan smirks, tucking you under his chin, "it does when she's your girlfriend."
"since fucking when?!" jack asks, his eyes so wide they were nearly popping out of his skull.
"about five months."
"five months?!"
"please, it's not entirely his fault that you haven't had the chance to meet me yet," you say, with a shy smile, "i've been in london for the last two months, but i've heard a lot about all of you."
"all good things," clayton asks, and you glance over to look at him, "i hope?"
"mostly," you joke, before turning to barrett, pointing to the pool cue, "can i?" he hands it over without protest. "logan has complained to me one too many times-"
"-i don't complain-"
"-about you humiliating him," you say to dylan, wiggling out of logan's arms.
"you can play?" dylan asks, lips twitiching.
you shrug, "i'm better at snooker, but pool is just fine."
"i hope you're better than your boyfriend."
"oh, i'm better than him, and probably you too."
dylan chuckles, chalking the end of his stick. "no hard feelings when i make your girlfriend cry, okay?"
logan creeps his hand onto your waist, kissing your shoulder as he stands behind you. "she won't be the one crying."
i can’t stop thinking about Logan watching you play with like a younger cousin/niece or nephew and losing his mind because holy shit he thinks he might want this for the rest of his life UGHHHH
warnings: none.
a/n: gif credit to @hat-trick-honey <3 enjoy!!
he lingered at the door, hands tucked into his pockets, hip rested against the frame, the conversation members of your family were having going in one ear and out the other, his focus diverting away from your parents and grandparents, your brothers and sisters, to you, sitting crossed legged at the coffee table, your niece, only two years old, half asleep, climbing into your lap the first chance she got, tiny fingers wrapped around one finger. there's a permanent smile fixed on your face as you listened to your nephew talk on and on about his recent trip to an aquarium, the five year old messily colouring in a page of his colouring book, the octopus a mix of oranges and greens.
"the sharks were scary, but i wasn't scared," he said, head titlted, mirroring the angle of the book, tossing the green crayon aside, not caring as it rolled off the edge, landing on top of your parents old chocolate lab, also not blinking an eye.
"no?" you switched your blue crayon for an orange, and began to colour in the body of a clown fish. "you weren't?"
your nephew's head shook rapidly, "eloise was," she was a girl in his class, frequently mentioned by your nephew, "she cried like a baby, but i told her there was nothing to be scared off, because they're behind glass, they can't get to us." the tip of the yellow crayon snapped, pressed too hard into page, but he carried on like it never happened, dragging the blunt stump back and forth along the page. "are you scared of sharks?"
"a little bit," you hummed, unable to ignore logan's stare for much longer, trailing your eyes up to him, mouthing "you good?" the tops of his cheeks go pink and he looked down, his eyes finding you again a beat later, magnetised to you, unable to make himself look anywhere else. "sharks are big," you mumbled, keeping the orange neatly between the lines, whereas your nephew coloured wherever he wanted.
"uncle logan's big, but you're not scared of him."
"you're right," you snorted, a soft giggle, not too loud, your niece stiring a little before settling down again, "but they have lots and lots of sharp teeth, and that's kinda scary; they could snap you in half with one bite!" you mimicked the crunch with your teeth, your nephew laughing.
"not me," he flopped his head from side to side, discarding the yellow and grabbing a red, creating orange as he went over the last bit he filled in, tongue caught between his teeth as he concentrated, "i'd fight them off!"
"yeah?"
he dropped the crayon and lifted up his hands, forming two adorably small fists. "see?!" he jabbed at the air. "uncle logan showed me that."
"did he now?" you arched your eyebrows, flicking your eyes over to your boyfriend, logan's lips twitching, making no show of denying it. "well, he didn't do a good job," you teased, setting the crayon down, the clown fish finished, "you gotta put your thumb here, like this," you show him and he copied you, "very nice!" your nephew grinned, jabbing the air a few more times with his fists. "now you're ready to take on all the sharks you meet."
his head swivelled around, searching for logan, "see?" he does it again, making soft 'pow-pow' sounds.
"looking good, bud," logan nodded, shifting on his feet, flicking his eyes between you and your nephew, a small smile hugging on the corners of his mouth.
you were a natural with your niece and nephew, all bright eyed and soft edges, nodding along to every word that was said, even when it became a jumbled mess, one word melting into the next, never rushing them, letting them take their time, always excited to hear your nephew laugh through a story as he attempted to tell you about this one funny time at the park, or about something he learnt at school.
there's no denying the heat simmering inside, his chest all warm and gooey, the feeling always there whenever he watched you interact with your niece and nephew, or any of his teammate's kids, as a matter of fact, sometimes driving him a little insane because you're both too young to have kids right now. never mind the fact that you're only a year and a bit into your relationship. but he knows, deep down, hidden amongst every other thought he has of you, that you are his future.
i feel like logan and fwb!reader are just so silly and goofy together - they’re both always giggling about some stupid shit nobody else finds funny
warnings: fwb!reader x logan
a/n: gif credit to @hat-trick-honey <3 he's so hot in this interview, like the hottest he's ever looked, i hope he's told daily that he's hot. enjoy!! <3
it's not uncommon for your roommates to walk into the apartment to find you and logan taking up space on the sofa, logan stretched out with you laid across him, your legs tangled, one of his hands rested against your back, dipping underneath your shirt, pulling you tighter against him, your head on his chest, attention focused on his phone as he showed you something dylan had sent to the team's group chat. they share a look, blair's head swivelling back to look at josie, as you break out in a fit of giggles, their lips twitching, both thinking the same thing without needing to say it.
"i thought you had a late class today?" josie asked, juggling a new stack of textbooks borrowed from the library.
"cancelled," you mumbled, without looking up at her, taking logan's phone to look closer at a photo of a dog, "oh, she's cute; when is jack getting her?"
"soon," he replied, letting his lips brush against the top of your head, lingering a kiss in your hair, cheeks flushed, forgetting for a second that your roommates were back.
blair arched her eyebrows, lingering behind the sofa, "so you two have been on the sofa all day?"
"no," you trailed your eyes up to her, "i've stocked up the fridge and the cupboards." you craned your neck to find josie. "i got you some more of those fruit cup things you like." she blows you a kiss. "logan got here like an hour ago," you snuggled back into his chest, "he brought cookies, they're on the table."
"cute. is that your boyfriend's way of trying to make up for eating the last one the other day?" blair asked, still clearly bitter. it wasn't entirely logan's fault, you had shared the last cookie, but you hadn't admitted that to blair, yet.
"you have a boyfriend?" logan asked, lips twitching, chin tucked in, glancing down at you.
you lifted your head, mirroring him, "i have a boyfriend?"
"blair says so."
you gasped. "who is it? is he devilishly handsome?"
"it's definitely not me, that would be gross," he scrunched his nose and you pretended to throw up, your roommate rolling her eyes at both of you, "maybe it's gunner?"
"i don't think so," you shook your head, "blair's more his type." the corners of your mouth turned down, a pout forcing your bottom lip out, logan resisting the urge to kiss it, like he might have if you were both alone. "so, i don't have a boyfriend then?"
"unfortunately not," logan murmured, mouth stretched wide as he now refused to fight back a smile, "sorry, princess."
"you two are weird," blair said, taking two cookies out of the bag, both double chocolate chip, "sadly, it makes you perfect for each other."
"i think their cute," josie disagrees, fruit cup in hand, juggling it with her textbooks, water bottle and bag.
"aw, thanks you two," logan lets out a groan as you sat up, your elbow connecting with his stomach, "but we prefer silly, goofy..."
"comedic geniuses," logan added, giving your side a soft pinch, chuckling low as you squirmed.
you clicked your fingers, "oh, i like that one."
blair leaves muttering something under her breath, you just catch: "stupid idiots...in love...can't even..." before she disappeared down the corridor, her bedroom door shutting behind her, josie followed afterwards, sweetly thanking logan for the cookies, but declining on them since she's strict about sticking to a gluten free diet, and you settle back down across logan's chest, humming as he kissed your forehead.
"comedic geniuses?" you peered up at him. "i think that's the smartest thing you've said."
he hugged his arm around you, tucking your head underneath his chin, something new up already on his phone already to show you. "i have my moments, princess."
Logan who wants to make sure you don't forget him when he's on a roadie so you find random things over your apartment like his hockey card in your cupboard and a note in your fridge on the milk
warnings: none.
a/n: gif credit to @hat-trick-honey <3 a very cute idea, enjoy! <3
it's his first roadie after three months of being sidelined with an injury, three long months of being unable to skate, watching games up in the stands, anxiously fidgeting with his hands, his phone, your fingers or the sleeve of your hoodie, anything that could be touched, a small smile drawn across his lips, temporary, disappearing in the blink of an eye, whenever one of the boys scored, kicking himself mentally when they conceded like it was his fault, counting down the days until he could get back on the ice.
it was three months of being clued to your side, more clingy than usual, logan seeking warmth and comfort, long nights spent with his head on your lap, or on your chest, his hands sneaking under your top or your hoodie, large palm splayed across your tummy, needing that skin contact, as your fingers stroked through his hair, soft whimpers teased out each time your nails dragged against his scalp, all of it just a way of distracting him from the reality of his situation.
and he knows it's silly of him to think you might suddenly forget him in the ten days he's gone, or that you might not miss him as much, but he can't help it.
so he leaves hand written notes for you to find, stuck on the inside of cupboard doors, the fridge, the bathroom mirror, in your car, stuck to the front of your favourite snacks, all stocked up, there being more than enough to last you until he returned - "a sweet treat for a sweet girl" - most were corny like that, or just badly doodled hearts and smiley faces, or something he loves about you, anything really that he would hope would make you smile, perhaps even laugh. and he knows when you've found them, quick pictures snapped and sent to him, "you're an idiot" or "i love you" usually accompanying them.
and then there's the flowers. three bouquets delivered, each different, with more hand written notes and badly doodled hearts.
the first delivered are sunflowers, the note telling you how they represented loyalty, strength and admiration: "i couldn't have gotten through the last three months without you." the second bouquet delivered were red tulips, because, as the note said, they are associated with true love: "for my one and true love." and the final bouquet delivered were white lilies, love in it's purest form, used to convey hearfelt longing: "i'll be home soon."
the last ones made you cry a little, calling him straight away to tell him you missed him too.
do fwb!reader and logan make it official?? if so how?
they do...eventually...but it's something that takes time.
fwb!reader has some insecurities when it comes to romantic love, she has had exes tell her she can be a little too much - too loud, talks too much about her interests, judged for the tiny things that makes her who she is etc, so she's changed herself in the past, done the little things to make herself quieter, seem smaller, moulded herself into a shape that should make her easier to love, but none of that made them stick around.
it's left her wondering if she's capable of being loved in the way she has always wanted.
and then logan comes steaming rolling into her life, introduced to each other through dylan one night at a bar - dylan who only knows her because dylan tried to approach blair, her roommate, months prior to logan's introduction, but her roommate's number one rule is to never date a hockey player ever again - and he is smitten from the second he meets fwb!reader, willingly letting her drag him out of his seat to dance, even with barely any alcohol in his system, and her name still fresh to his ears, something about her makes him feel less awkward in this type of social interaction.
and yeah, that night could've gone different, if her other roommate, josie, hadn't disrupted what could've been a kiss, at least an almost kiss, telling them that dylan was trying and failing to stop blair from starting a fight with a guy.
logan never tells her to shut up, that she needs to work on being quieter, that she's being too much, if she starts going on a tangent and quickly apologises, he'll tell her to keep going, tucking her further under his chin as they take up the sofa in her apartment, an arm protectively around her, every bit of him soft and warm. he gives her hope, shows her she can be completely herself and not feel like she's too much, but the line of friendship is already so blurry, and she'll always have that small voice in the back of her head that logan just wants her for easy sex.
which is false, logan's feelings for her run deeper than just sex, no matter how much he denys it to dylan, jack and the rest of the guys. at the end of the day, it's fear that stops him, the fear that she'll reject his true feelings for her, the fear of just admitting to himself that he does love her - how he is around her at times scares him because he hasn't known himself to really feel like this.
when the inevitable happens, it's not some grand gesture, he's not turning up at her door with flowers, or outside her window with a boom box blasting her favourite song, it's a very soft "i love you" whispered hesitantly into her skin as he kisses over her body, both of them tired, sweaty, the scent of the other sticking to each other's skin, his cheeks blotchy, hers warm, and she doesn't say it back, but she does acknowledge that she heard him, her hand pressing into the spot on his chest where his heart his, a little nod, before kissing him.
my new job is literally sooooo freaking easy i’ve genuinely been watching Olympic hockey and pretending to do important things for three days now i love being a girl
