But like swimming with logan and you guys are just on that flirty friendship and he finds out your nipples are pierced and can’t stop staring and you tease him
Pairing: Logan Cooley x Fem!Reader
Warnings: a little bit of suggestive content, kinda bsf!logan but flirty bsf!logan
A/N: gif credit to @hat-trick-honey <3 look at that smile!!! This kinda fits to the request, I'm struggling to write Logan rn and I don't know why, it hurts lol.
“Perv,” you playfully tease, catching him glancing down at your tits, the cherry red bikini drawing his attention as you shed your hoodie. It's late, the moon high in the sky, reflecting off the calm pool, disrupted as you slowly sink into the water. “Are you coming in or not?” You call over your shoulder, taking a peek, jaw dropping as you watch him remove his shirt. His chest is more toned than the last time you saw him, shoulders and arms a lot stronger. Everything was bigger.
His lips twitch, chest flexing, a rare flicker of smugness washing over his features. “Now who's the perv?” He lowers over the edge, the water reaching waist height, before reaching for you as he wades through the water, a surprised gasp escaping you as he pulls you against his chest. “I invited you to the Playoffs,” he murmurs, kissing the spot behind your ear, soft touch, forming goosebumps along your arm, “but you didn't come.”
“I would've come,” you mumble, letting yourself melt into him, “but I was too busy.”
“Too busy getting these done?” His thumb brushes gingerly across your ribs, eyes pointed down over your shoulder, the barbells straining against your bikini.
You smirk, head turning just enough to look at him. “So you were looking?” He rolls his eyes. “But, no, I was in…actually, I don't remember.” You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. “It was either Amsterdam or Prague.”
“What's his name?”
“Why?” You spin around to face him, arm circling his neck, keeping your feet steady in the water. “Jealous?” Your mouth curlis, one hand breaking away from his neck to tip his chin up. “My eyes are up here.”
A soft blush darkens his cheeks. “When did you get them done?”
“October, after I saw you last,” you reply, stroking your fingers through his hair, tucking it behind his ear, “but you didn't answer my question.”
He bends just enough to grab the backs of your thighs, lifting you up to wrap your legs around his strong waist. You melt into his warmth, pressing into your body as he holds you close, one hand holding your waist, the other splayed across your ass. “Jealous? Am I jealous?” His mouth twists, head tilting to the left. “Maybe.”
“Just maybe?” You glance at his mouth, thumb coming around to stroke under his bottom lip. You could kiss him, but you don't. That's not how this dance goes. “I think you can do better than maybe.”
“Did he get to see these?” He looks down at your chest, and you nod. “Then I'm jealous.”
“There's a simple solution to your little problem.”
“And spoil the mystery?”
“We'll spoil it one day,” you say, fisting a hand into the back of his hair, just tight enough to make him whimper.
He barely kisses the corner of your mouth, mostly your cheek, his lips lingering. “But not tonight.”
“Boring,” he snorts, pulling back, eyes glossy with amusement, “they're really sensitive, you know?” Logan's grip on your hip tightens. “And very pretty too.”
“Carry on, and I'm gonna dunk you under the water,” he warns, his tone playful.
You mock gasped. “Now, that's just mean.”
“Teasing me is mean.”
“Teasing?” You counter, lips twitching, the corners of your mouth hugged by a grin. “No, inspiring.” You lean in closer, a shiver racking his body as your mouth touches his ear, whispering, “I'm giving you something to think about later; can't keep reusing last summer's skinny dipping every time you fuck your own hand.”
Summary: With summer on the way and the off season looming, you get to spend it all with your favorite hockey player(and fictional character)!
This one is a lot more spread out compared to flufftober, nine players and six characters throughout the three months of summer during the selective days(imagines posted on fridays and blurbs posted on mondays) at 10am EST.
The asterisk(*) means it'll be posted on my sideblog and will be posted as blurbs.
June 12th - Hike It Up, Sidney Crosby
Nathan joins you and Sidney for a hike back at home, he quickly realizes he shouldn't have.
June 15th - Save A Horse, Jason Todd*
While out in the west, you meet a pretty cowboy with a sexy accent. (Cowboy!Jason)
June 19th - Toasted, Laila Edwards
Making smores late at night reveals deep feelings you and Laila kept hidden. (Counselor!Laila + Counselor!reader)
June 22nd - Morning Jog, Kara Danvers*
You meet Kara on your morning jog on one of the hottest days of the year as she takes Krypto on a walk.
June 26th - Burning Sun, Logan Cooley
Logan hates putting on sunscreen and usually forgets, today he wishes he hasn't
July 10th - CPR, Catherine Dubois
Having to deal with a flirtly lifeguard sucks, does she actually reap what he sows? (Lifeguard!catherine + Lifeguard!reader)
July 13th - Nice... mall, Joaquín Torres*
You meet an interesting yet awkward customer on your first day. (Cashier!reader)
July 17th - Cozy Day, Victor Mancini
You and Victor have a nice and relaxing day at the beach.
July 20th - Scrapbook, John Shen*
You and John make a scrapbook of the first summer you're spending together.
July 24th - Coldest Date, Michael Kesselring
Michael takes you out for ice cream with the sun beaming hot, it takes a unique and cool twist.
August 7th - World Tour, Gwyneth Philips
You and Gwyneth travel to France, one of the many stops on your summer travels.
August 10th - Smitten, Clark Kent*
Clark checks in on you after you missed dinner. (counselor!Clark + counselor!reader)
August 14th - Wild Ride, Lukas Reichel
With the off season coming to an end, Lukas takes you to an amusement park as a farewell.
August 17th - Festival, Mel King*
You take Mel to a festival and have loads of fun.
August 21st - Ride The Wave, Cole Rodrigo(OC)
At the beach, you meet a surfboarder with a wicked grin to match his natural charm.
Hear me out… Logan Cooley with forensic investigator! reader. Like after a game he’s tired and she’s studying and they just are together quietly. Or he’d just lay on the couch head in her lap while she rambles on while watching criminal minds or something “how that’s not realistic”
DID YOU KNOW THAT YOUR NAME IS IN THE SKY?
WATCH THE SUNRISE AND SET AT THE SAME TIME
It’s supposed to be snuggle time in Logan’s mind. Mostly because he’s in that post win haze; a need for affection, your attention. You’d gotten home twenty minutes ago, achy from taking photos, running samples and talking with police, “movie?” He asks, already moving to the couch.
You perk up at the idea, because there’s a new episode of criminal minds. And as much as you hate it. It’s a guilty pleasure. You toe your shoes off, “I’m just gonna change, but yeah” you nod, quickly moving upstairs to throw your clothes into the laundry basket and pull on shorts and a t-shirt. Your hand brushes past the soft swell of your stomach. Subtle enough to notice if you’re looking for it, but no one is.
You meet Logan on the couch, he’s laid on his side, head perked up to make room for you to sit. Where he then lays his head against the meat of your thighs his hand reaching up to touch the curve of your stomach, “hi baby” he mumbles softly, “how was your day?” He asks you, passing you the remote to play the episode.
“Busy, bloody crime scene. Jane almost caught onto me because when we stepped in I almost threw up” you admit, “just so nauseous lately” you shake your head, shivering as Logan brushes over your bump again, sliding his hand under your shirt to touch the bare skin beneath.
You lean back, hands reaching towards Logan’s hair. Braiding and twisting at his hair. Logan hums in pleasure, you look back up at the tv, tsking in disappointment, “you can’t get dna from a sweaty towel” you grumble, “total bullshit” you curse
Logan flicks a finger against your knee, “no swearing with the baby”
You huff in annoyance, “it can’t even hear anything yet” you frown, “plus- this is such a stupid method to get evidence- especially DNA identification”
Logan glares at you again, “no swearing! I don’t want her to come out swearing like a sailor”
You raise an eyebrow, “you think it’s a girl?” You ask, choosing to look away from the inaccuracy on the TV
Logan nods confidently, “yeah. 100% full confidence”
You smile, moving your hands back to touch at his hair, “I like the playoff beard” you admit. Thumbing at the stubble that crosses his cheek and chin, “makes you look handsome”
Logan smiles to himself, “I might keep it” he admits. You hum in approval.
“Oh that’s so fucking dumb- it implies guilt you can’t ask that question” you jerk a hand out and point at the tv, “Logan! I was watching that!” You cry out as he turns the TV off
“Stop swearing! She’s gonna have such a potty mouth!” Logan complains
“She’s got Clayton as a godfather- if her first word isn’t ’Fuck’ it’d be a miracle” you grunt as Logan moves his head up and off your lap.
“Don’t say that. I’ll revoke his godfather privileges- and you said ‘her!” He grins. You playfully smack his thigh, “you said it- you think it’s gonna be a girl too”
You roll your eyes, “I’m gonna make dinner”
Logan grins, “say it- admit it. You think it’s gonna be a girl” he coos
You get up off the couch, “ok.. maybe I think it’s gonna be a girl..” you shrug, “do you want pasta with chicken cutlets? Or do I make steak and potatoes?”
Logan sits with the choice, “is this a real choice or are you cooking what you want for dinner?”
You grin, “I’m making pasta with chicken cutlets but I thought I’d give you the choice”
Logan sits up from the couch. Tired, sore. But there isn’t anything he loves more than cooking with his wife.
jst random headcanons that i’ve had lingering in my notes app for weeks :)
dating macklin is the epitome of puppy love. delicate kisses when no one is watching, hand holding when everyone is watching. it’s gentle, and soft. something you dream of.
connor as your muse. whether it be candid photos taken in the dead of night, or scratchy sketches on notebooks, his face, his presence, his mind, has become something to be pressed into old books.
fraser is a firm believer of the “never go to bed angry” principle. even if your thousands of miles away from each other and still mad, he’ll still be waiting for your response to his sweet dreams over text.
logan as a bf is perfect if you’re a homebody, because he is too! nights spent huddled up by the coffee table, maybe your colouring and he’s building a lego set. maybe there’s soft music playing or a movie turned on. whatever it is, it’s quiet. easy. something peaceful and perfect, just with him.
you knew thomas was the one when his toothbrush appeared next to yours in the bathroom of your small apartment. despite his identity as a multimillionaire hockey player, he was humble. he has no problem spending his nights in your queen-sized bed despite his being californian king. the neon green toothbrush was just the nail on the head. he knew you were the one when you drunkenly used it as yours.
you told michael about how much your cat hates out people on your first date. with cats of his own, he believed you. when you brought him around to your apartment one day, the little shit switched allegiance. you hardly see your cat anymore, as they spent their lazy days curled up on michael’s lap.
Logan Cooley who has a slightly older gf who teases him about being a baby but he has to remind her that he's fucking big and broad and he's 100% not a kid and she's only a couple years old than him anyway so like chill out you brat
Or like Logan who turns up to the locker room scratched and hickeyed (is that even a word) to death but he's so proud of it lol
nsfw content below
you only ever teased him when you wanted to get fucked. not consciously maybe, not out loud, not at first, but logan knew. he always knew. the second your voice dipped all syrupy sweet and you let that little smirk bloom across your lips, that look like you were just so amused by him and his twenty-something testosterone fog, like he was cute for trying, not dangerous—he’d go still. not angry. not even annoyed. just that razor-fine pause, like a predator in tall grass, when you said shit like “aww, are you gonna pout?” or “you know you’re just a baby, right?” while lounging across his lap like you didn’t weigh anything, swinging your foot like you weren’t begging to be grabbed, pinned, reminded. he didn’t always snap back right away. sometimes he let it hang in the air, let you dig your little hole deeper. because you would. you always did. grinning like you were older and wiser and untouchable, like a couple years mattered when you were the one in his bed every night, your toothbrush next to his, your panties tucked into the drawer in his nightstand because you never remembered where you left them.
and he’d let you play the brat for a minute. let you rest your chin on his shoulder while he watched tv, flutter your lashes while you called him “rookie” in that condescending voice that made him wanna bite, tug at the neck of his shirt and ask if he needed help lifting his heavy gym bag, say something smug like “no wonder your mom still babies you, poor thing.” that one? that one always did it. because logan didn’t see himself as young, not with the way he carried you to bed when you fell asleep on the couch, or the way he paid your damn rent once when your bank account got hacked and you were too stubborn to ask. he was bigger than you, broader, more muscle than boy now, and his hands could wrap around your wrists like nothing. he didn’t need to prove that, not usually. but sometimes—sometimes you made him. without saying the words, without asking, you’d poke the bear until he caught your ankle mid-swing and dragged you into his lap like a ragdoll, chest to chest, your breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a yelp. and he'd look at you, real calm, real slow, mouth twitching like he was holding back a grin but his eyes weren’t playing.
“you done?” he’d ask, voice low enough to rumble. and you’d try to smirk, still squirming a little, but his hands were already on your thighs, thumbs digging in, arms flexed from the way he held you down like it was second nature. “you think just ‘cause you got a few extra birthdays you get to talk down to me?” he’d murmur, dragging his nose along your cheek, lips brushing your ear. “you think bein’ older means you don’t gotta respect me?” and yeah, you’d roll your eyes, maybe even give him a fake little shrug like you were still in control, but the second he adjusted his grip and pressed you down onto the couch, the bed, whatever surface was closest, you stopped playing. because he wasn’t teasing anymore. he was warm and hard and heavy on top of you, thighs bracketing yours, one big hand on your neck—not squeezing, just holding, just reminding—and his mouth curved up, but it wasn’t sweet. “you forget whose making you come every night?” he’d whisper, dragging his fingers up the back of your thigh, slipping under your shorts. “you forget how loud you get beggin’ for it?” and when you didn’t answer, when you blinked up at him with that stubborn glint still flickering in your eyes, he’d laugh. low and mean. “yeah, that’s what i thought.”
he didn’t fuck like a rookie. didn’t move like someone who needed to prove anything. logan moved like he already knew he had you—like your body was something he’d studied long enough to understand every twitch and tremble. like he could pull you apart with his hips pressed flush to yours, his hands gripping under your knees to fold you open, breathless groans into your mouth while he filled you. and you could still tease, sure—you could try. throw in a breathy “you’re such a boy when you get like this,” but it’d only make him rougher. deeper. “and you’re such a fuckin’ brat,” he’d bite back, snapping his hips hard enough to make the headboard rattle. “but that mouth always shuts up when i’m this deep in you, doesn’t it?” and you’d whimper, because he was right, because your thighs were shaking and your hands were scrabbling at his arms like he might pull away too soon. “what was that?” he’d taunt, grinding in slow. “you had so much to say earlier. c’mon, old lady, use your words.” and you’d hit him for that—weak little slap to his shoulder that made him laugh again, all teeth, all smug dominance. “yeah, that’s what i fuckin’ thought.”
afterwards, when your legs were limp over his, when you were sweat-slick and sore and still trying to catch your breath, he’d press his lips to your temple and murmur something smug like “still a baby, huh?” and you’d groan, burying your face in his chest because he was too damn proud of himself. but you’d let him have it. let him glow in the aftermath because he earned it—because the heat in your belly and the ache between your legs didn’t lie. he wasn’t a kid. he wasn’t even close. he was a man who fucked like he owned you, who held your face after and kissed your nose like you were fragile, who wiped the sweat from your brow and tucked your hair behind your ear like you weren’t the one who’d been bratty all night. and as much as you liked pretending otherwise, you liked being reminded. you liked the way he got when you pushed him, the way his body felt caged over yours, the way he whispered your name like it was both a curse and a confession. you liked being ruined by someone who was too young to rent a car but still knew exactly how to make you break.
uknow how every time cooley and mack play each other they get into a fight or theres like tension could you write something about that? looveee all ur ideas btw
hii soo I actually don’t know much about cooley or that him and mack go at it every time they play 😭 but this sounds like prime setup for the jealousy trope so I can offer you some mischaracterization and self indulgent thoughts
excuse the unedited writing im hitting post on the bus home
I can almost imagine it as a love triangle situation where you and Logan were definitely a thing once. Definitely not casual or short, yall definitely had inside jokes and plans for the future and pictures up on the fridge that stayed up a little too long after the breakup.
he didn’t cheat, because I hate cheaters and they’re irredeemable in my eyes 😭, but he sort of pulled away, got distant and you ended up letting him go without every really getting closure
and mack. well sweet, adorable mack is steady where logan was hot and cold. he doesn’t make you guess or leave you on read. and of course when mack puts his arms around you in public it’s intentional, and logan notices . like immediately
the next time they face off, you’re in the stands, wearing a sharks scarf or a hat or something but logan hasn’t even seen you yet. just the sight of mack is enough to set him off, to make him play like he’s angry at the ice.
and yeah cheeky mack over here knows what he’s doing. but he’s the guy who doesn’t start things but def finishes them. a little extra pressure along the boards, a slow release of logan’s jersey after the whistle.
and you’re watching from the stands and you just know this is bound to blow up any minute now. it’s not like you’re still into logan but at the end of the day you two shared a long part of your lives with each other and you definitely still care about him to some extent. on the other hand, mack feels like forever. if it comes down to picking sides you’re on his without doubt
it isn’t really about the hit but more about the way mack doesn’t flinch, about how secure he is. on the ice, in your life. the two have been dancing around each other all night so logan guesses now’s a good time as ever to drop the gloves
for him it’s reckless, emotional and mack is well, mack is calm. he’s completely in control of himself and when they both head off to the box and mack looks up at you once and just nods he’s perfectly content
and that’s part of what hurts logan too. because yeah you moved on but you moved on welllll. with someone who does everything he can’t. who even when he’s playing a hockey game and an inch from getting a tooth knocked out, makes sure to check in on you and be present for you
and every time they play it comes back to him. even though he tells himself it won’t. that it can’t. even though all the guys are trying to get through to him, help him get over whatever it is that makes him lose it. every time they play logan thinks about the history, the regret, the what ifs
JH86 Rewrite: I feel like once i've re-written all my Hughes Bro stuff I'll feel lighter so sorry if I'm focusing on that right now, but I need to do this <3
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Writing Masterlist
Logan's always been clingy. Tactile. Touchy feely. Some might call him grabby.
This is only made ten times worse when he's missed you. He's under your feet every time he comes back from a roadie. He's a tactile person by nature, always reaching for you on any given day, but it's made 100 times more severe when he's been gone for a few days or worse a week. That 14 day roadie at the start of the season? Evil. Diabolical to him.
In a lot of ways it's sweet and flattering that Logan cares and misses you so much that he has to be on top of you the moment he’s home, has to be under your feet. In other ways? It's a bit of an inconvenience, and depending on your mood can actually make you a little grumpy and overstimulated, needing some space, some air to breathe.
It starts with him just being in the same room as you, whether it’s watching you cook or watching you fold laundry, Logan’s eyes follow you wherever you go. Baby blues tracking your movements like a cat following a laser pointer or a particularly tasty bug.
It never stays like that for long, maybe 5 minutes tops. Soon he starts physically following you around the room, not quite under your feet, but close enough that he’s in your peripheral vision, your shadow. A very big, very broad shadow that seems to think he can go unnoticed. You can feel him behind you, can sense where he is at all times even when he isn't talking to you. This is manageable, he’s not in the way and he’s never stopping you from doing what you need to at this point, but it never lasts long. Usually within 20 minutes of Logan being home he’s on you like the plague, arms latched around you, chest to your back, face nuzzled into your neck. His neck craning down to get as close to you as possible, thick tree trunks squeezing you tight to him.
It’s sweet but impractical, you’re trying to go about your day and he refuses to let go of you, he has to be physically attached to you in some way whether it’s wrapping you in his arms and waddling behind you or putting his chin on your arm or a hand on your leg. Sometimes it's his fingers looped through your belt loops, a singular tiny point of contact but enough to ease the ache in his chest that had grown from the distance between you.
"Logan, I'm trying to make my lunch," You can't help but laugh as you try to cut up some veggies, arm movements somewhat restricted by the band of arms wrapping around your chest. He is so close to you he's practically pressing you into the counter.
"You can still make lunch like this..." He grumbles into your neck, pressing kisses to the skin there, the kisses are so light that you can't help but giggle at the ticklish sensation. This only draws a smirk from him, encouraged by the giggle, a smirk that you can feel widening against your skin as time passes.
"Logan..."
"Babbyyyyy...."
"Logaannnnnn," Nothing you say or do will get him to let go, he waddles around the kitchen with you, waddles to the kitchen table. Even when you sit down, he drags a chair so close to you that your legs are touching from hip down to ankle. Logan wraps his arms around your waist from the side, twisting in his seat, chin pressed into your shoulder the entire time you eat. You can't help but feel a mite embarrassed at him watching you so intently with those baby blues while you eat, the only thing making it bearable is the fact he's smiling with rosy cheeks the whole time like you're doing something amazing. Not just eating lunch.
Even when you try to shower later in the evening, he's there, unable to detach himself from you because he's been gone so long and don't you love him? Didn't you miss him? He just wants to be around you...and Dylan will more than happily confirm that Logan has been unbearable the entire roadie, nonstop talking about how he can't wait to get back home to you when he isn't talking about hockey.
“Logan, baby, I need to shower…” Your hands are pushing at his shoulders in an attempt to get him to unlatch from you, but he's a hockey player. He's strong and if he doesn't want to be moved then he's not moving. He's too big for his own good, face pressing into your shoulder, shoulders of his own hunching to lean down.
“Can’t I just shower with you?” Mumbled into your shirt, muffled by the fabric.
“As if you could keep your hands to yourself..." You scoff at him trying to peel his arms off you, Logan only squeezes your waist tight. His grip unwavering, too solid for his own good. He's pouting down at you like you're being mean for wanting to have a shower without his arms attached to you for five minutes.
"I promise I can, I promise, baby..."
"No."
"Then I'm sitting in here." It's like watching a toddler sit on the floor of a supermarket refusing to get up because they can't have the thing they wanted. The way he points at the closed toilet lid to further illustrate his point, that he's not going anywhere.
"You're going to sit there and watch me shower? Like a creep?"
"Like a boyfriend who's missed his girlfriend and who's girlfriend won't let him help her shower because she doesn't trust or love him." He's ultimately joking, you can see it in the twinkle in his eyes. You know if you told him that you wanted him to leave, that he was making you uncomfortable, he would. It's what makes the whole thing sweet and endearing because you don't mind him wanting to constantly be under your feet, you actually kind of love it. You didn't want a nonchalant, uninterested boyfriend. You didn't mind clingy.
"I trust you..." you pause for a second before grinning at him, "I just don't trust you to keep your hands to yourself."
"Baby..." He whines at you, almost throwing a tantrum, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. You're tempted to film it and send it to Kells and the guys, knowing Logan would never live it down.
You know this phase will go soon, after a day back he'll still be clingy but not to this extent, so you find it cute and endearing rather than irritating while it lasts. Knowing tomorrow he won't be quite as attached at the hip.
"Do you promise to help me wash my hair and not make any untoward advances?"
"Yes! Yes, I promise!"
"Okay, you can help me shower you big baby."
And he does help you wash your hair, but maybe his hands do wander a little...because he's Logan and he's missed you...and your ass is like his favourite thing in the world except for maybe scoring a hatty with you in the stands.
