No More Hiding, Baby | John Logan x reader
summary: John Logan may be deeply, hopelessly in love with you. The only problem? You are Garrett Graham’s younger sister. And if Garrett ever finds out that his best friend and teammate has been breaking his number-one rule behind his back, Logan is a dead man walking.
warnings: swearing, fluff, explicit and detailed sexual content (smut).
The move to Briar University was supposed to be your first real taste of total independence. But when your older brother is Garrett Graham, absolute freedom is a myth.
Garrett was a god on campus. He was the star captain of the varsity hockey team, fiercely protective, and notoriously loud about his loyalty to his inner circle. Your very first evening at Briar wasn't spent quietly unpacking boxes. Instead, Garrett practically dragged you straight to the sprawling, chaotic house he shared with his teammates.
"Listen to me very carefully, okay?" Garrett muttered. His massive arm was slung heavily over your shoulders as he guided you through the crowded, beer-scented living room.
You had always been the quieter, more reserved sibling. You were perfectly content to stay completely out of the blazing spotlight that seemed to follow Garrett everywhere.
"The guys on the team are great. They’re my brothers, but off the ice? They’re complete idiots," Garrett said, his voice dropping slightly. "Hockey players have exactly one thing on their minds when it comes to girls, and I’m not having any of that near you. You’re my little sister. That means you are completely off-limits. Untouchable. No flirting, no hitting on her, no puck-bunny nonsense. Treat her like a sister, or answer to me. Am I clear?"
The inner circle of the Briar hockey team was gathered around the large central island. Dean Di Laurentis raised his red solo cup in a mock salute with a lazy, arrogant smirk. "Perfectly clear, Captain. Hands off the royal family."
Tucker gave a polite, reassuring nod from the stove. "Nice to meet you. Don't worry, Garrett, we'll keep her safe."
But then your eyes drifted to the fourth person in the room. John Logan.
When your gaze collided with his, the ambient noise of the kitchen seemed to instantly fade away. Logan didn't smirk, and he didn't join in on the casual, locker-room banter. Instead, he offered you a genuinely warm, gentle smile.
"Hey," Logan said, his voice a low, friendly rumble that instantly made your racing heart steady just a bit.
Your breath hitched. You felt a sudden, electric shiver rush down your spine. You were far too shy to maintain such a heavy gaze for long. You quickly looked down at your sneakers, a deep, burning blush painting your cheeks crimson.
Logan cleared his throat, his eyes lingering on your blushing face for a second longer before looking at Garrett. "Yeah. Perfectly clear, Garrett. We'll look out for her."
In the months that followed, you became a frequent fixture around the hockey house. John Logan was consistently the sweetest, most genuinely attentive person in your new campus life.
He didn't hit on you, and he carefully respected the strict boundary Garrett had drawn, but he never made you feel like an outsider. In fact, Logan went out of his way to make sure you felt comfortable, always greeting you with a bright smile the second you walked through the door.
"Hey, look who it is," Logan would call out warmly whenever you entered the chaotic living room, immediately making a spot for you on the couch. "How was your morning class?"
Whenever you sat at the kitchen island trying to study through the chaos of the team's post-practice energy, a fresh cup of coffee would quietly appear right next to your notebook. You'd look up, and Logan would give you a soft, encouraging wink, tossing a casual, "You looked like you needed a break" over his shoulder.
When the house got too loud during a rowdy game night, he’d find you sitting alone on the quiet back porch. He wouldn't push your boundaries or try to smooth-talk you. Instead, he’d just lean against the railing near you, offering a quiet, comforting presence. He’d hand you his own oversized hoodie if he noticed you shivering in the autumn chill.
"You're going to freeze out here," he’d mutter softly, his fingers brushing yours for a brief, electric second as he handed over the fabric. "Garrett would kill me if you caught a cold on my watch."
"Thanks, Logan," you’d whisper, wrapping yourself in his scent.
He’d give you a small, gentle smile—the kind he only ever saved for you—before slipping back inside. It drove you completely insane. He was so sweet, so attentive in those small, quiet moments, yet he never made a real move. Because he was always so naturally nice and brotherly, you were completely convinced that he just saw you as a sweet friend. You thought he wanted absolutely nothing more, strictly adhering to Garrett's rule out of genuine loyalty.
The tipping point arrived at a massive, rowdy house party in mid-November. The bass was vibrating through the floorboards, and the living room was packed with sweaty bodies and flashing lights.
You were standing quietly near the edge of the hallway, nursing a cup of cider, feeling entirely out of your element. Your shy nature made you want to blend into the woodwork. But then you saw him. Logan was leaning against the far wall, looking effortlessly handsome in a dark jacket. But he wasn't alone. A stunning, blonde puck-bunny was pressed entirely too close to him, her fingers tracing the collar of his shirt as she laughed loudly, leaning her weight fully into his chest.
A sudden, sharp spike of pure jealousy stabbed directly into your chest. It was hot, ugly, and entirely overwhelming. For months, you had cherished his sweet smiles and his gentle kindness, believing you were special to him in some small way. But seeing another girl effortlessly invading his space—the very space your own shyness kept you from approaching—made your heart ache violently.
Unable to bear the sight for another second, you quietly set your red cup down on a nearby table, turned on your heel, and hurried down the dim hallway toward the back exit, desperate to escape the noise and the suffocating feeling in your throat.
Logan, whose eyes had unconsciously been scanning the crowd for you the entire night, caught the exact moment you turned away. He saw the hurt expression on your face, the slight tremble of your shoulders, and the way you practically fled the room.
The casual indifference instantly melted off his face. He didn't care about the blonde, he didn't care about the party, and he completely forgot about Garrett.
"Excuse me," Logan muttered bluntly, cutting the blonde off mid-sentence. He pushed past her without a backward glance, his long strides taking him down the hallway in seconds as he followed your path.
He found you just as you stepped into the dim, quiet sanctuary of the empty garage, trying to compose yourself in the cool air.
"Hey," Logan’s voice was rough, breathless, completely stripped of his usual easygoing tone. He stepped into the garage, shutting the heavy wooden door behind him to block out the roaring bass of the party.
You jumped slightly, your back to him as you quickly wiped at a stray tear. "Logan. You... you shouldn't be out here. Someone is waiting for you inside."
Logan walked closer, his heavy footsteps echoing in the quiet space until he was standing right behind you. He didn't push you; he just stood close enough for you to feel his warmth. "I don't give a damn about her. I saw your face. Talk to me."
You swallowed hard, your natural shyness fighting against the raw hurt inside you. You kept your eyes locked on the concrete floor. "It's nothing. I just... I felt out of place. You should go back to the party. She was really pretty."
"Hey, look at me," Logan murmured softly. He reached out, his large, warm hand gently cupping your jaw, his thumb wiping a fresh tear from your cheek with infinite tenderness. He forced you to meet his eyes, which were filled with an intense, quiet vulnerability. "Don't say that. Don't ever look at another girl and think she matters to me. I’ve been trying so hard to be the nice guy, to respect Garrett, but it’s killing me."
Your breath hitched, your heart hammering wildly against your ribs. "Logan..."
"I don't want anyone else," he whispered deeply, his forehead coming down to rest gently against yours. His breath fanned across your lips, making you shiver. "I've been falling for you for months. Every sweet smile you give me, every time you wear my clothes... I'm completely gone for you. I just didn't know how to tell you without ruining everything."
A wave of intense relief and warmth washed over you, melting away the last remnants of your shyness. "You really mean that?"
"With everything I have," Logan groaned softly. He slid his hands down to wrap securely around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. "I can't pretend anymore. I want you. Only you."
You leaned up on your tiptoes, your hands finding the back of his neck as he crashed his mouth down onto yours. The kiss was deep, slow, and incredibly sweet, filled with all the unspoken words and longing of the past few months.
Three months had passed since that night in the garage. The forced secrecy had only served to deepen the roots of what you and Logan shared, and now that you were finally together, he couldn't stop showering you with affection.
On a quiet, overcast Thursday afternoon, Garrett and the rest of the boys were locked in a mandatory, three-hour team video-analysis session at the campus arena. Logan, who had been dealing with a nagging, minor shoulder strain from Tuesday's practice, had been officially excused early by the coach to rest.
Naturally, the very moment the rest of the team was accounted for at the rink, Logan had dragged you straight to the hockey house, locking his bedroom door securely behind you.
Before anything else, Logan just wanted to hold you. He pulled you onto the unmade bed, fully clothed, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and pulling your back flush against his chest. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the sweet vanilla scent he loved so much.
"I missed you today," Logan murmured, his voice a low, happy rumble against your neck. His hands lazily rubbed soothing circles over your stomach through your shirt. "All I could think about during morning practice was getting back here to do exactly this."
You smiled softly, leaning back into his solid, comforting warmth. Your usual shyness melted away completely whenever you were locked away in his room like this. "You see me almost every day, Logan."
"Doesn't matter," he whispered, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your shoulder, his lips warm through the fabric. "It's never enough, baby. I want you around all the time."
He rolled you over gently so you were facing him on the pillows. Logan looked down at you with so much warmth and adoration it made your chest ache. He reached up, his long fingers carefully tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw.
"You look so beautiful today," he whispered, a tender, lazy smile breaking across his face. He leaned down and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to your forehead, then to the tip of your nose, making you let out a quiet, happy giggle. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect."
You reached up, your smaller hands gently tracing the strong line of his collarbone, feeling the steady, calming thud of his heart beneath your palms. "You're too sweet to me."
"I'm only sweet to you, baby," Logan corrected softly, his eyes darkening with a deep, affectionate intensity. He captured your lips in a slow, lingering kiss that tasted like pure devotion. It wasn't rushed or frantic; it was just a quiet, gentle confession of how deeply he cared for you.
As the kiss deepened, the easy warmth slowly shifted into a thick, undeniable heat. Logan’s hands moved down to grip your waist, his large palms incredibly warm against your skin as he pulled you closer, aligning your bodies perfectly.
The soft afternoon light peeked through the sheer white curtains, casting a warm, hazy, golden glow over the bed as Logan shifted his weight smoothly, pinning you beneath him. His thick forearms braced themselves on either side of your head, taking his weight so he wouldn't crush you, his bare chest hovering just a scant inch above yours.
"Personally, I think I get the much better end of the deal," Logan murmured, his breath fanning across your lips. "I love looking at you like this, baby. Just you and me. No hiding."
"Logan..."
"You are so fucking beautiful, do you know that?" he murmured rawly.
He leaned down slowly, catching your lips in an agonizingly deep, lingering kiss. His tongue slid along your lower lip, parting them effortlessly as he drank you in, tasting you fully. This was rhythmic, deeply deliberate, and incredibly intimate.
His hands moved beneath the heavy sheets to grip your bare hips, lifting you slightly. You let out a quiet, breathable whimper into his mouth, feeling the friction of his skin against yours. The heat building between your thighs was a slow, intoxicating ache.
"Logan, please," you whimpered against his lips. Your hips instinctively arched upward off the mattress, seeking the completion you both desperately wanted.
"Ssh, take it easy, baby," he whispered against your mouth. His eyes were locked entirely onto yours as his fingers gently spread your thighs wider, settling his weight firmly between them. "We have all the time in the world today. No one is coming home for hours. There’s no rush."
When he slowly, smoothly slid inside you, your eyes widened. You gasped loudly, your fingers digging hard into the thick muscles of his shoulders as your body adjusted to his size.
The sensation was completely overwhelming. Logan let out a low, ragged grunt, burying his face deep in the crook of your neck as he began to move. The rhythm he chose was agonizingly slow and incredibly deep, designed to make you feel every single inch of him inside you.
You closed your eyes, losing yourself entirely in the heat, the heavy, rhythmic sound of his breathing, and the sweet, quiet moans that escaped your lips.
"Open your eyes," Logan pleaded in a rough, strained whisper. His pace quickened just a fraction as the coiled tension reached a critical boiling point. "Look at me, baby. Please. I want to see you when you break."
You fluttered your eyes open, your vision swimming with tears of pure pleasure as you looked up at him. He was watching you with an intensity that felt completely consuming.
"You're perfect," he groaned, his jaw clenching tightly as he delivered a succession of deeper, harder, faster thrusts that had you arching completely off the bed. "So fucking perfect for me, baby."
The climax hit you like a massive, crashing wave. Your internal muscles clamped tightly around his length. Logan let out a loud, completely undone groan at the tight sensation, burying himself as deep as possible inside you one last time as his own release overtook him, his entire body trembling violently with the sheer intensity of it.
For several long, quiet minutes, the bedroom was completely silent save for the ragged, heavy sound of your shared breathing. Logan relaxed his heavy body, shifting his weight to the side so he wouldn't weigh you down, pulling the heavy comforter back over your tangled limbs. He leaned over, pressing a flurry of sweet, deeply grateful kisses to your nose, your closed eyelids, and your swollen lips.
"I'm assuming you're not planning on taking me back to my apartment anytime soon, are you?" you murmured after a while, resting your cheek comfortably against his bare chest.
Logan let out an amused, deep chuckle, his long fingers gently stroking your tangled hair. "No way in hell. You stay right here in this bed for as long as you want. I'm never letting you leave, baby."
The peaceful, golden sanctity of the bedroom was shattered exactly fifteen minutes later.
You were still completely tangled together under the heavy sheets when suddenly, the deafening, violent sound of the heavy front door downstairs slamming open echoed right through the floorboards.
"Hey! Logan! You in there, man? You dead?"
Your blood instantly turned to pure ice in your veins. It was unmistakable. It was Garrett.
"Oh my god," you gasped, bolting upright in the bed and frantically clutching the grey sheet to your chest. "He’s back. He’s back early, Logan!"
Logan’s eyes went completely wide. "Fuck," he hissed under his breath. He threw the heavy covers off his body and leaped out of bed, frantically pulling up his low-slung grey sweatpants over his hips. "Garrett! Yeah! Yeah, I'm in here, man! Just... taking a nap!"
"I need to grab that extra roll of heavy grip tape from your closet!" Garrett’s heavy footsteps were already pounding up the wooden stairs.
"No, wait—Garrett, don't come up!" Logan scrambled, but he was far too late.
The brass bedroom door handle jiggled violently, swinging wide open with a loud, echoing creak. Garrett stepped into the room and froze completely solid.
The silence that followed was absolutely deafening.
Garrett’s sharp eyes scanned the bedroom. First, he saw Logan, bare-chested, breathing heavily, and adjusting his sweatpants. Then, his gaze slowly drifted to the large bed. He saw you, his quiet, fiercely protected younger sister, clutching a single sheet to your bare chest, your hair beautifully tangled, and your lips visibly swollen and red. The color entirely drained from Garrett’s face before a deep, terrifying crimson flush surged up his neck. The roll of hockey tape slipped from his fingers, clattering loudly against the floor.
"What... what the absolute fuck is this?" Garrett’s voice was dangerously, terrifyingly quiet.
"Garrett, please, just let me speak," you started, your voice trembling violently as your natural shyness returned full-force. "It’s... it’s not what it looks like..."
"Don't you dare lie to me!" Garrett roared. He stepped fully into the bedroom, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. "You? With my little sister? In your fucking bed?!"
Logan immediately stepped directly between Garrett and the bed, completely obstructing his view of you. "Garrett, listen to me right now. I know you're angry. But just calm down for a single second and let us explain—"
"Calm down?!" Garrett looked completely unhinged. He took a massive, menacing step toward Logan, his towering frame dominating the room. "I gave you one rule, Logan! She was completely off-limits! And you brought her into your bed behind my back?!"
"I’m not just sleeping with her, Garrett!" Logan shouted back, his own voice cracking with raw emotion as he stood his ground. "I love her! Okay? I fucking love her, Garrett! It’s not some casual fling!"
The heavy confession hung suspended in the quiet air of the room. Garrett, however, was completely blind to the romance of the admission. With a loud, guttural shout, Garrett lunged forward, grabbing Logan by the collar of his shirt and slamming him back against the wall.
"Garrett, stop it right now! Don't touch him!" you yelled at the top of your lungs, completely panicking. You scrambled out of the bed, desperately grabbed Logan’s oversized black hockey hoodie from the floor, pulling it over your head in one swift motion before running over.
Logan didn't fight back. He kept his hands raised, his eyes locked onto Garrett's furious face. "Hit me if you want, man. I deserve it for lying to you. But I'm not apologizing for loving her."
Just as Garrett raised a fist, Tucker and Dean sprinted into the room, having just walked into the house and heard the shouting. They immediately grabbed Garrett's shoulders, pulling him back a few inches.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Holy shit, break it up! Garrett, stop!" Tucker yelled.
"He was sleeping with my sister!" Garrett roared, trying to shake them off. "In his bed! I walked in on them! He broke the fucking rule!"
Dean’s jaw dropped completely open. His eyes flitted from a furious Garrett, to a disheveled Logan, and then slowly over to you, swallowed whole by Logan’s giant black varsity hoodie. A slow, stunned smirk began to spread across Dean's face. "No fucking way. The mystery girl Logan’s been blowing off parties for... was little Graham this whole time?"
"Shut the fuck up, Dean!" Garrett roared.
You stepped right between them, placing your small body directly in front of Logan, effectively acting as a human shield. "Garrett, stop it right now!
Garrett stopped thrashing for a split second, breathing heavily. "Get out of the way. He took advantage of you."
"He didn't take advantage of anyone!" you shouted back, your natural shyness entirely vanished. "It’s my life, Garrett! I am an adult! I make my own choices, and I chose to be with him! You cannot murder your best friend because your ego is bruised!"
Garrett went completely still. The blinding rage in his eyes slowly, painfully began to melt away, replaced by a deep look of profound betrayal. He looked at you, taking in the fact that you were wearing Logan's clothes. Then his gaze dropped to Logan, whose large hand had gently, reassuringly settled against the small of your back in a quiet show of absolute solidarity.
"You lied to me," Garrett said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Both of you. For months."
"We were terrified of this exact reaction, Garrett," you said softly, taking a small step closer to him. "We didn't want to hurt you. But Logan... Logan treats me better than anyone ever has in my entire life. He protects me, he respects me, and he loves me. If you actually care about my happiness half as much as you claim to, you’ll stop fighting and just listen to him."
Garrett let out a long, deeply heavy breath, his massive shoulders slumping forward. He straightened his shirt, his dark eyes locking onto Logan’s with cold finality.
"This is not over, Logan," Garrett warned. "You and I are going to have a very long conversation tomorrow morning. And if you ever do anything to make her cry, or if you break her heart, I swear to god there won't be enough ice in North America to soothe what I do to your face. Am I understood?"
Logan didn't flinch. Instead, he tightened his strong grip around your waist, pulling you firmly against his bare chest. "Perfectly understood. I'm not going anywhere. And I am never going to hurt her."
Garrett scanned him one last time, let out a loud scoff, and stormed straight out of the room and downstairs, slamming the front door behind him.
Dean and Tucker looked at each other, then at the two of you. Dean let out a loud whistle. "Well, congrats on surviving the wrath of the Graham, Logan. You’re officially a legend."
As Dean and Tucker disappeared downstairs to give you space, the bedroom finally fell into a quiet, calm stillness.
Logan turned you around slowly to face him. His large hands came up to gently cup your face, his eyes filled with a profound mixture of intense relief and absolute adoration. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours.
"Are you okay, baby?" he whispered rawly. "I'm so sorry he yelled at you like that."
You let out a long, shaky breath, a soft smile finally breaking through your lingering fear as your fingers clutched the fabric of his hoodie. "I'm fine. But since you just told my brother you love me... I think you officially owe me a real, public date this weekend."
Logan let out a deep, breathtakingly beautiful chuckle, wrapping his arms tightly around you to pull you into his warmth. "Anywhere you want, beautiful. Anywhere you want."