Omg could you pretty please write something with John Logan!! I loveeee your writing and need the reader cleaning his bruises after a game and just being angsty and hot omggg.
love the idea of logan getting his shit rocked during a game and still being hot
John Logan x nursing major!reader
Ahead: Mentions of blood/injury, Logan being horny, making out
The game against Yale was not turning out to be a good one for Briar. While Yale was known to be a tough opponent in the past, this year they were on a different level.
The puck was whizzing around the ice, rarely hitting a Briar stick without promptly being intercepted by a Yale player. To add insult to injury, the Yale players were enjoying it. The laughter and smiles after each goal was enough to grind anyone's nerves, but it was seriously getting to Logan.
With each failed goal or pass, Logan was getting more and more in his own head. By halftime, he was like a newborn deer, completely unaware of the impending doom coming towards him. As he attempted to pass the puck, a large body hit his own. He slammed against the plexiglass of the boards and Logan bounced off like a cartoon character. All he could feel was the cold ice below him as he was left with the wind knocked out of him.
Coach and his teammates appeared soon after as he was peeled off the ice and directed to medics. Logan kept his head down as he felt the eyes of the Yale players and fans alike. They were laughing at him like he was some kind of pussy. Like he couldn't take a hit.
If he was any other player, he would have started a fight. The kind that proved he was a "real man" and left the audience speechless.
Logan wasn't that kind of player. He didn't have the infinite chances of other players and wasn't willing to let one emotional moment ruin his career. So, he let the medics check him for a concussion and give him an ice pack. They tried to clean up his slit lip and check his abdomen for bruising, but he refused. Instead, he disappeared into the locker rooms.
In the locker rooms Logan peeled off his jersey with a hiss. His shoulder and side were aching from the impact, and his lips was still bleeding. Maybe he should have stuck around to let medical clean him up, but just as he thought the click of your boots approached.
You threw your hands up when you saw him, "Are you kidding?" You hurried towards him, examining him quickly with your eyes, "That guy should be out of the game. That was so unnecessary."
He sucked in a harsh breath when your index finger skimmed his lip making your hand retreat quickly.
"Sorry!" You apologized quickly, "Why didn't the medic give you anything but an ice pack?"
Logan shrugged, "I didn't want to be checked further."
You scowled at him, "Logan, I swear-"
He grabbed your hand with a small smile. "Why would I need a medic when I have the best future nurse right in front of me?"
You rolled your eyes, suppressing a smile. "I'll get the first aid kit, dummy."
Logan leaned back as you disappeared to find the kit. He slowly unstrapped his gear from his body, grunting as he did so. Unbeknownst to him, you watched with an amused yet turned-on expression as you watched your boyfriend grunt and flex his muscles as he carefully maneuvered the equipment. You hugged the first aid kit as he unbuckled his hockey pants, shimmying them down his tanned, lean legs.
"Are you going to just watch me strip all night?" Logan's voice brought you back into reality. He looked far to happy with himself as he stood there in only his black briefs and several blooming bruises across his shoulder and side.
You cleared your throat, opening the first aid kit. "I was just watching you regret leaving the medics."
You sat next to him on a bench, quickly getting to work on his lip.
Logan watched you carefully work on him, his warm breath tickling your fingertips and eyes boring into you.
"I don't regret it." Logan said so softly it was almost a whisper, making you look up from the cut and into those pools of chocolate. You raised a brow at him and he leaned even closer to you if that was even possible, "I can't do this with the medics."
He pressed his lips to your own, ignoring the sting as lips open up to his tongue and the kiss deepened. His lip could be gushing blood for all he cared as he moved you onto his lap, thighs framing his hips. You broke apart, catching your breath.
"Logan!" You hissed at him as you realized what he had done. The cut was split even more so now, bleeding again. You quickly hopped off his lap while he protested. You slapped his hands away as he attempted to pull you back towards him by your waist. "No!" You wagged your finger in his face, a stern look crinkling your forehead.
Logan smirked, "I kind of like when you're bossy. We could do a whole hockey player, sexy nurse thing. Maybe you-"
You shush him, trying to regain your focus despite the flush in your cheeks. "You're hurt. You need to sit still and knock it off."
Logan nodded, giving you a teasing, "Yes, ma'am."
Soon, the two of your compromised. You cleaned his lips and took care of his bruises while you straddled his lap. He got to use your thighs as a stress ball, and you got to clean up your ridiculous boyfriend.
pairing – garrett graham x reader
summary – a suspicious number of shoulder checks leads garrett to finally ask for dinner.
warnings – fluff, sports injury mention, athletic training setting, flirting, suggestive jokes
notes from me – based on this ask!! such a cute idea, thank u babe!!
word count – 0.7k
navigation – masterlist |
Garrett Graham’s shoulder is, by all professional measures available to a work-study student in the Briar athletic training office, absolutely fine. Not perfect, maybe, but fine enough that she’s starting to take his repeated appearances personally.
The first time, he’d needed ice after taking a hit into the boards. Fair. The second time, he’d wanted someone to check the mobility because it felt weird, which had been suspicious mostly because he’d demonstrated full range of motion while explaining it, arm moving smoothly through the air while she stared at him over the top of her clipboard. The third time, he’d come in for tape before practice, even though there were three rolls in the locker room and at least two actual trainers capable of using them.
Now he’s sitting on the edge of the treatment table again, shirt off, hair still damp from the shower, one hand braced behind him like he’s posing for some very niche campus safety brochure on shoulder instability.
The room smells like antiseptic wipes, athletic tape, and that cold rink smell that seems to cling to him no matter where he goes. She stands between his knees with a roll of tape in one hand, her thumb pressing lightly along the front of his shoulder as she checks the angle, and Garrett, who’s been hit by men twice his size without blinking, goes very still.
She glances up. “That hurt?”
His eyes come to her face, mouth already threatening a grin. “No. I’m being brave.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“Those can overlap.”
She huffs a laugh and tears off a strip of tape with her teeth because the scissors have vanished again, probably into whatever black hole also consumes pens and dignity in this office. Garrett watches her do it with an expression that’s trying for casual and missing by several miles.
“You know,” she says, smoothing the tape down over his skin, “at some point, people are going to start thinking you’re getting injured on purpose.”
Garrett’s brows lift. “People?”
“Me. I’m people.”
“Pretty serious accusation.”
She laughs softly before she can stop herself, and Garrett’s grin softens into something stupidly pleased, like getting that sound out of her has been the actual rehab goal all along.
It makes her look back down too fast, fingers pressing the edge of the tape into place with more care than strictly necessary. His skin is warm under her hands, solid and distracting, and she can feel him watching the concentration settle over her face.
“There,” she says, stepping back half an inch. “You’re good.”
Garrett looks at his shoulder, then back at her. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“So I’m cleared?”
“For practice? Yes.”
“For dinner?”
Her hands pause around the tape roll. Garrett’s grin wavers just slightly, which is the first interesting thing he’s done all afternoon.
“With me,” he adds, like she might think he’s asking her to dinner with the entire men’s hockey roster and a bag of ice packs.
She looks at him for a second too long. The office hums around them, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, someone laughing down the hall, a skate blade clattering somewhere in the equipment room. Garrett sits there half-taped and too handsome for anyone’s academic focus, trying to look like this doesn’t matter when the tips of his ears have gone faintly pink.
Her mouth curves before she can make it behave. “Is your shoulder going to survive that?”
His grin comes back, bright and relieved. “Might need supervision.”
“Mm.” She reaches out and presses one last firm piece of tape down, mostly because his face does something lovely when she steps close again. “One date, Graham.”
“One date,” he says, nodding like he’s negotiating a contract he already intends to renew. “Very medical. For continuity of care.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling now, warm all the way through her chest. “Pick me up at seven.”
Garrett slides off the table, careful not to brush her and absolutely aware of how close he comes anyway. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And stop faking injuries.”
He pauses at the door, looking back over his shoulder with that stupid golden-boy grin doing terrible work in the middle of his face. “After dinner?”
She throws the empty tape core at him.
He catches it, because of course he does, laughing as he backs into the hall. “Worth a shot.”
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You were smarter than this, but five weeks ago you hadn’t really been focused on logic. No, you were a little more preoccupied with your hot ass boyfriend bending you over the bathroom counter at a frat party. Antibiotics interfering with your birth control pill hadn’t really crossed your mind. Besides this was Dean’s fault anyway, he’d been the one to give you strep throat in the first place, claiming it was allergies.
“Fucking hell.” You mutter to yourself, checking your cycle app.
“You good?” Hannah asks from the couch. You close your eyes for a second looking to see where the guys are at, from the sounds of it outside working out.
“I’m late, like two days late and I’m never late.” You ramble. Hannah’s eyes widen before she schools her features into a calm expression.
“You’re probably really stressed, you had that big exam yesterday didn’t you?” She asks. You nod.
“Yeah but I wasn’t nervous, I have a 99 in that class I could have bombed it.” You say running a hand through your hair.
“Okay.” Hannah says thinking. “What about um, I don’t know what else, maybe your app is wrong.” She suggests. You shake your head.
“No I use two of them.” You say.
“But you’re on the pill right? I mean I am and Garrett and I don’t use anything else and we’ve been fine, so you’re probably fine.” She offers.
“I was on antibiotics last month.” You say.
“Oh.” Hannah says. “But like that’s not super common, and what are the odds you actually ovulated. That’s like a very low percentage.”
You didn’t hear the back door open, or the refrigerator. Dean pops his head into the living room, downing a bottle of water.
“What’s a low percentage?” He asks scaring both you and Hannah.
“Dean! Geez, you scared me!” You say, hand over your beating heart. You look to Hannah but she gives you a supportive smile.
“I’m gonna go find Garrett.” She says. Deans brows furrow in confusion as he plops down on the couch next to you.
“That’s weird.” He says before turning to you. “What were you guys talking about?” He asks. You hesitate, maybe you shouldn’t tell him. Then again your boyfriend of eight months definitely had the right to know if he fathered a child in a frat house bathroom.
“I’m late.” You say quickly. You stare at Dean waiting for his reaction.
“Late for what?” He asks, tipping his head to the side in confusion and looking very much like the golden retriever of a man that he is.
“Dean.” You say incredulously. He stares at you waiting for an explanation. “My period is late and I was on antibiotics last month and we definitely had a lot of unprotected sex.” You ramble.
“Oh, oh fuck, we’re having a baby?” He asks reaching for your hands. You laugh.
“I haven’t taken a test but I’m freaking out a little bit.” You admit.
“Let’s go get one then.” Dean says getting off the couch and pulling you with him. Dean yells something out back to the rest of the guys letting them know you’re leaving as you make your way to his car.
The trip to the pharmacy is quiet. But not in an uncomfortable way, Dean’s hand rests on your thigh the entire ride, his thumb rubbing your soft skin. Dean parks the car and grabs his hat and sunglasses from the back seat.
“I’ll go get it.” Dean says, putting on his glasses and hat. You laugh at his disguise. “What we don’t need anyone being in our business.” Dean says. You nod pulling him to you for a kiss.
“Thank you, baby.” You whisper. You wait in the car, Dean returns ten minutes later with a plastic bag in tow. He gets in the drivers seat, handing you the bag. You peek in, there’s six tests all different.
“I didn’t know the difference.” He shrugs. You nod, fear settling in your belly. Dean notices. “Hey, hey…” he coos. You look up at him tears welling in your eyes.
“Whatever that says we’re gonna handle it together, okay? It’s you and me, baby.” Dean says, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple. You nod, wiping at your eyes.
“Yeah.” You agree softly. The ride home feels like it takes forever.
“Just go straight up to the bathroom, I’ll be right behind you.” Dean says getting out of the car. “And let me see these.” He says grabbing the bag and shoving it in his jacket. The two of you make it in the house and up the stairs without drawing any attention. You reach the bathroom, Dean right behind you, he shuts and locks the door and pulls the bag of tests from his jacket.
“Okay,” you say looking at all of the tests. “I think this one is supposed to be the most accurate.” You pull it from the bag and read the instructions.
“Okay turn around I can’t pee in front of you.” You say. Dean raises his eyebrows at you.
“I’ve literally seen every inch of your body.” He says. You stare at him motioning for him to turn around.
“Dean.” You say.
“You’ve peed in front of me before, just pee on the stick.” He says motioning for you to go on with your business..
“Dean Sebastian Kendrick Heyward-Di Laurentis, turn around.” You say. Dean throws his hands up in mock surrender.
“Damn pulled the legal name on my ass.” He mutters as he turns to face the door.
“Shut up.” You say but there is no real bite to it. You pee on this stick, finish your business and go to wash your hands.
“What’s it say?” Dean asks turning to peer over your shoulder at the test.
“It takes a few minutes babe.” You inform him. You take a look at him, anxious and wanting as you look down to watch the digital screen. Time passes slowly.
Not Pregnant
You let out a sigh of relief, and Dean drops his head to kiss your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you from behind.
“False alarm.” You say. Dean nods, pulling you into him. He presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“You’re probably just stressed baby.” Dean says offering some support. “You okay?” He asks. You nod.
“Yeah, I’m relieved. But also having your baby wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. You know eventually.” You say looking up at him. Dean grins.
“Yeah?” He says staring down at you with nothing but love in his eyes.
“Mhmm.” You reply.
“I was kind of excited, scared shitless, but excited. I think we’d be good parents.” Dean says. You smile up at him.
“Yeah, but let’s get through college first.” You say. Dean nods.
“Agreed. Then I’d like to marry you, so babies will have to wait a bit.” He says casually.
“You wanna marry me?” You ask. Dean smiles at you.
“Of course baby. There’s no one else for me. Just my girl.” Dean says. You hug him tightly. Feeling his lips against the top of your head.
“I’m so stupid in love with you, Di Laurentis.” You laugh. Dean chuckles and you can feel the rumble of his laughter in his chest, his big arms wrapped around you.
“I’m so stupid in love with you too.” He mutters, tilting your chin up and kissing you softly. A pregnancy scare may not be ideal but with Dean you’re pretty sure you could handle anything life throws at the two of you.
Summary: Logan meets you, a burnt out ice skater, one night and can't stop thinking about you. When he finds out someone as talented as you isn't even ice skating for Briar, he goes on the hunt to find out why.
Ahead: John Logan x fem!reader, mostly fluff and angst with some mentions of smut in later parts, strangers to lovers, mentions of depression and anxiety, Logan being your number one supporter without even knowing you
Logan was somehow managing to stress you out and make you smile so bad your cheeks hurt.
Your date was turning out great. Logan was kind and witty, a deadly combination when you're already that pretty. He made you laugh so hard you the two of you got a dirty look from a nearby table at Malone's, something that Logan was a bit too proud of.
You lightly smacked his arm, "Stop." You warned, but the laughter still bubbling up and twinkle in your eyes said otherwise.
Logan grinned, loving this version of you. It was hard to imagine the ice princess he met a few days prior was the sitting in front of him, cheek flushed and eyes crinkled as she laughed. He wanted to savor it. He glanced behind you, catching sight of the photobooth in the corner.
"I have an idea," Logan's face lit up, like a light bulb was igniting in his mind. He stood, holding his hand out to you.
Your eyebrows rose in surprise, yet you took his hand with a second thought and let him pull you into the nearby booth. It was extremely cramped in the small booth. The two of you sat so close you could feel Logan's warm skin through his shirt and his cologne lingering in the air.
Logan turned his head towards you as the booth lit up, beginning to give instructions. Even Logan seemed surprised by how close the two of you were, licking his lips as his eyes traced your soft features.
"Pictures," He exclaimed stupidly.
"Huh?" You were distracted too, your own gaze lingering on his pink tongue as it poked out between his soft lips.
The first flash went off, surprising you both, your head whipping around in a comically fast fashion.
"Pictures!" You repeated his words, quickly posing with a sweet smile as the flash went off again.
Logan's eyes were still lingering on you, smiling. He noticed you slowly slipping off the bench in the booth, grabbing your waist and tugging you closer. Your face flushed slightly, now actually in Logan's lap.
"Oh!" You yelped in surprise, but not pushing him away by any means.
The camera flashed again.
"This okay?" Logan inquired, his flickering from your eyes to your lips, waiting for either to flash him even a sliver of uncertainty.
You sucked in a breath, whispering, "Perfect."
This time, his eyes didn't leave yours. Gently, he brought up a hand and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.
"This too?" Logan pressed, soft brown eyes unmoving from you.
You didn't respond, a little noise coming up your throat before leaning forward and connecting your lips in a soft kiss. The camera flashed again as Logan's hand held your neck, deepening the kiss and letting out a groan. You melted into Logan, letting him take the lead as his tongue met yours. He tasted like the sugary Coke he was drinking earlier, insistent that he wasn't drinking tonight because he needed to drive you home later.
His hands slithered lower, one gripping your thigh and the other your waist. He tugged you up to fully straddle his lap, your lips disconnecting for a moment as you gasped. The moment of surprise didn't last though as you quickly pulled him back into your passionate exchange. You let out a soft whimper as he tilted your head back, letting his lips travel across the soft skin of your neck.
"Hey!" A voice came from outside of the booth, making you jump in surprise. A girl with wavy dark hair popped her head into the booth. "No fornicating in the photobooth!"
Logan rolled his eyes while you looked positively scandalized. "Like you and Dean don't bang one out in here every weekend, Allie."
The girl, Allie, gasped incredulously. "Fuck off, Logan," Her eyes slipped over to you, smiling. "I'm Allie by the way! Nice to meet you. We've heard so much about you-"
"Alright, Allie! Thank you!" Logan cut her off, giving her a 'are fucking kidding me' look.
Allie just smile evilly as she disappeared behind the curtain again. Logan ran a through his hair, a stressful sigh escaping his lips. You just watched him, a smile that matched Allie's on your face.
"Want to go somewhere else?" Logan piped up after a few moments.
"Are you kidding me?" You were vexed, staring at the ice rink as your pulled up in Logan's truck.
Logan cut the engine. "Thought we could do a couple of laps," He gave you that sheepish smile like he didn't understand your reaction. "Unless..."
You raised a brow, "Unless?"
Logan shrugged, sighing, "You can't handle a challenge."
If there was one thing Logan could tell about you the second he saw your Instagram profile it was your love of winning. You were competitive, and your vast amount of titles was evidence of this.
"Can't handle it?" Your eyes narrowed into slits and your hands tightened into balls.
That's how Logan got you onto the ice. He grabbed his own skates from the locker room and a pair of women's skates in your size from the storage room.
Initially, you let him skate circles around you. You watched him with amusement as he skated forwards and backwards, and did a few sloppy little twirls.
"This how it's done, princess?" He asked you, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he did a mess of a jump and nearly landed on his ass.
You giggle behind your hand, "Not quite."
He stood up, smirking. "Show me how it's done, then."
You never backed down from a challenge. It was one of your fatal flaws. So, you just smiled and slid into a past figure skating routine. It was one you loved from when you were a kid, the music still lingering in your mind as you glided around the ice.
As you finished your routine, the world came back into focus and Logan's clapping hit your ears.
"God damn!" Logan cheered just like the first time he saw you skate. He was stood back near the boards, letting you be the center of the ice.
Unlike the last time you skate in front of Logan, you smile brightly at him. You skate towards him, his arms wrapping around you in a way that made you feel safe.
"You are amazing." Logan spoke honestly.
You looked down at your skates, "I guess."
This made Logan frown. "You are. You always have been."
You looked up at him, curious. "Okay, stalker."
Logan scoffed, trying come off as nonchalant. "I mean-"
"It's okay," You told him, holding one of his calloused hands in your own. Both of your hands were cold to the touch but it felt like sparks were igniting when they touched. "I had a feeling you might have found some stuff on me. I mean, if you just look me up you find all that... stuff."
Logan scoffed, "You mean that bullshit."
You gave him a look of surprise, but he continued before you could speak.
He skated backward angrily, letting out every thought in his mind. "So you make a misplay. Your head wasn't in it. I could tell without even really knowing you. And those assholes weren't exactly encouraging you. They're absolute goons! You can't let them ruin everything you worked for. Everyone makes a burger now and then. Doesn't mean you stop letting yourself love the game!"
You watched him in awe, your eyes stinging with tears. You forced them back as you dashed towards Logan, blocking his path. He opened his mouth to speak, as you grabbed his jacket pulled into a hard kiss. As you pushed him off, he stared at you with a smirk.
"You give great pep talks, stalker." You quipped, eyes lit with passion.
Logan pulled you back into a kiss, whispering as your lips touched, "I'm glad I could help, princess."
Note: There will definitely be a part four/final part! I hope you enjoyed and feel free to leave a comment! I love reading them!
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