#the others laughing at him😭😭😭😭
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sonarspace ¡ 2 days ago
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⋆✴︎˚。⋆STUDY BREAK (FT. GOJO)
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꒰ synopsis. being in the same class as gojo satoru was bad enough; having him as the professor’s insufferably smug assistant made it worse. content. college au. nsfw. (teasing. slight praise kınk. fıngering. oräl. p in v. multiple ōrgasms.) wc. 5.3k. an. to clear up any confusion 😭.. satoru’s a senior student + the professor’s assistant in the course you’re both taking. (fic is kinda all over the place so idk if this works but let’s pretend like it does).
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there’s something about gojo satoru that drives you insane. not in the fun, heart-fluttering way that comes with a secret crush or the thrill of banter. no—this is the kind of insane where you want to hurl something, preferably at his stupidly smug face.
“class,” he drawls, leaning lazily against the desk at the front of the room, his shirt slightly rumpled like he doesn’t give a damn—and he doesn’t. “these papers? a mixed bag. some of you really impressed me. others… well.” his lips curve into a smirk. “let’s just say the recycling bin was hungry.”
you groan inwardly, already sensing where this is going. he’s done this before, holding your work hostage like it’s part of his routine entertainment.
“and here,” he continues, brandishing a paper like a prop. your paper. “is a prime example of someone… almost getting there. strong ideas, decent execution, but the conclusion? oof. fell harder than my GPA sophomore year.”
a few students laugh. your jaw tightens, the heat in your chest bubbling up into something sharp and biting. he doesn’t have to name you; everyone knows exactly whose paper he’s waving around.
“anyway,” he finishes with a shrug, tossing the paper onto the desk like it’s disposable. “there’s potential. keep at it.”
you don’t even wait for class to end before your resolve solidifies: you’re going to kill him. maybe not literally, but metaphorically? absolutely.
you don’t plan on storming to his dorm room. it just… happens. one moment, you’re replaying his smug grin and the way his eyes gleamed when he mocked your paper, and the next, you’re standing outside his door, your fist raised to knock.
he answers quickly, and the sight of him makes you falter. his hair is damp, sticking out in soft tufts like he just got out of the shower, and his plain white t-shirt clings to him in a way that’s almost—no. you shake the thought away.
“well, this is unexpected,” he says, leaning against the doorframe with a grin that’s all teeth. “if you wanted private tutoring, you could’ve just asked.”
“don’t flatter yourself,” you snap, brushing past him into the room without waiting for an invitation.
he whistles low under his breath. “feisty tonight. to what do I owe the pleasure?”
you spin to face him, your hands clenched at your sides. “what is your problem with me?”
he blinks, his smirk faltering for a fraction of a second before returning full force. “problem? sweetheart, i don’t have a problem with you.”
“you humiliate me in class,” you say, your voice rising. “you make these comments, you single me out—what, are you that bored with your life?”
“humiliate?” he echoes, feigning a wounded look. “i think you mean ‘motivate.’ you’re one of the smartest people in that class. if i don’t push you, who will?”
“that’s bullshit,” you fire back, stepping closer. “you don’t ‘push’ anyone else.”
“because no one else is as fun,” he replies easily, his grin tilting into something sharper. “the way you react, the fire in your eyes—it’s addictive.”
your breath catches, the heat in your chest spreading to your cheeks. “you’re insufferable.”
“and yet, here you are,” he says, his voice dropping just enough to make the air between you feel heavier. “in my room. alone.”
“because you drive me crazy,” you snap, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.
his eyebrows lift slightly, as if he’s genuinely intrigued by your outburst. “good crazy or bad crazy?”
he takes a step closer, too close. the kind of close that makes your pulse stutter and your instincts scream at you to step back—but you don’t. instead, you stand your ground, your jaw clenched as he waits for your answer, his gaze steady and almost daring.
“what does it matter?” you mutter, your voice quieter now, the heat of your earlier anger ebbing into something more uncertain.
“it matters,” he says, his voice low as his eyes flicker to your lips. “because I need to know if I can do this.”
before you can ask what he means, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. but you don’t. his hand finds your waist, tugging you closer as the kiss deepens, his mouth hot and insistent against yours.
it’s like a dam breaking. weeks—months—of tension and unspoken words all come crashing down in a rush of heat and urgency. his other hand slides into your hair, tilting your head to kiss you deeper, and the sound you make in response is embarrassing and needy, but you can’t bring yourself to care.
you should stop this. you should push him away, tell him he’s crossed a line. but the way his thumb brushes against your waist, the way he tilts his head just right, the way he kisses like he’s been waiting for this moment as long as you have—it’s addictive. you can’t stop. you don’t want to.
but then reality slams into you like a cold gust of wind. what are you doing? your chest tightens as the weight of it crashes down all at once, the heat between you dissolving into something sharper, more terrifying.
you pull back abruptly, your breathing uneven. “i can’t.”
he blinks, his expression softening from one of heat to confusion. “what?”
“this—this is a mistake,” you stammer, backing away. your hands feel clumsy as they fumble behind you for the door. “i shouldn’t have come here.”
“wait.” his hand reaches out, almost instinctively, but you’re already opening the door, your chest tight and your mind racing as you step out into the hall. you don’t look back, even as the warmth of his touch lingers on your skin.
────
you avoid him after that. in class, you sit as far from him as possible, claiming a seat in the back corner, close to the door. the usual tension he brought to the room—his teasing remarks, his piercing gaze when he caught you rolling your eyes—feels conspicuously absent. he doesn’t call on you, doesn’t glance your way, doesn’t even acknowledge you.
it’s been weeks since that night in his dorm, and as the semester nears its end, the distance feels heavier with every passing class. his silence, once the thing you desperately wanted, now presses on your chest like a weight. you wonder if he regrets it, if he’s just as caught in the what-ifs as you are—or if he’s already forgotten.
the final project looms, deadlines creeping closer, but the distraction isn’t enough to stop the quiet ache that’s settled in your chest. you remind yourself it’s for the best. boundaries were crossed, a line you know you shouldn’t have stepped over. it doesn’t matter how he made you feel, how his kisses left you breathless and yearning. none of it matters.
and yet, every time you leave class, you rush, head down, praying he won’t stop you. and every time he doesn’t, the ache grows.
when class ends today, the air feels heavier than usual. your peers chatter around you, their voices blending into background noise as you pack your things quickly, eyes fixed on the door. if you can just slip out unnoticed, avoid another day of walking the tightrope you’ve been balancing on since that night—
but then a hand wraps gently around your wrist, warm and familiar.
“you’re avoiding me,” he says, his voice low and steady. there’s no edge to it, no teasing grin or smug undertone. just quiet certainty, like he’s stating a fact.
you freeze, your heart thudding in your chest. it’s been so long since he’s said anything to you that the sound of his voice directed at you feels foreign.
“i’m late,” you mumble, tugging your wrist weakly in an attempt to free yourself. “let me go.”
“you don’t have any classes after this,” he says, his grip loosening but not letting go. his eyes meet yours, calm but resolute. “i checked your schedule.”
your jaw tightens, irritation flashing through you. “you shouldn’t have access to my schedule.”
“probably not,” he admits with a shrug, a hint of the old satoru creeping into his voice, “but i’m me.”
you open your mouth to snap at him, to tell him to back off, but he cuts you off first. “come have coffee with me.”
you blink, caught off guard by the casual offer. “what?”
“coffee,” he repeats, his tone light, as if this is perfectly normal. “you like coffee, don’t you?”
“that’s not the point,” you snap, yanking your wrist free from his grasp. “what is this, some weird apology?”
“it’s not weird,” he says, his smirk faltering slightly now, his expression open and strangely earnest. “it’s just coffee. with me.”
you stare at him, struggling to find the right words. “gojo,” you begin, your voice heavy, “you and i are not friends.”
his face falls, the shift so quick and unexpected that it makes your stomach twist. you see the way his shoulders tense, the way his gaze drops for just a moment, but you force yourself to look away. without giving him a chance to reply, you turn and push past him, your steps quick and unsteady as you leave the classroom.
the ache in your chest grows with every step, and even as you round the corner, out of sight, the image of his expression lingers. there’s no relief this time. only guilt.
────
you don’t know why you’re here. no, that’s a lie—you know exactly why you’re here. the memory of his expression, the slight drop of his shoulders at your retort, has been looping in your mind, making it impossible to focus on anything else.
your feet carry you down the familiar path to his dorm, the ache in your chest twisting tighter with every step. before you can talk yourself out of it, your fist is already knocking on the door.
it opens almost immediately, and the sight of him steals the breath from your lungs. his white hair is a mess, sticking up in chaotic directions, and his glasses are perched crookedly on his nose. there’s a faint crease on his cheek, like he’d been leaning against a book, and his shirt hangs loosely off one shoulder, rumpled from sleep or hours spent working. he looks… soft. disarming. almost painfully cute.
“coffee,” you say, holding up the cups like a white flag. “can i come in?”
his lips twitch, a hint of a smile breaking through the haze of surprise as he steps aside. “bribery, huh? didn’t think you had it in you.”
his dorm is as cluttered as you remember—papers and notebooks sprawled across his desk, a blinking laptop shoved precariously to one side. you set the coffee down on the edge of the desk, your gaze catching on the scrawled notes and dense blocks of text.
“grading?” you ask.
“research,” he replies, dropping onto the edge of his bed with a tired sigh. his hand rakes through his already-messy hair, making it stick up even more. “finals prep. you know, glamorous TA things.”
you hand him a cup, your fingers brushing against his as he takes it. the simple contact sends a jolt up your arm that you stubbornly ignore. “thought you could use it.”
he hums as he takes a sip, his lashes fluttering briefly before he lets out a quiet sound of approval. the noise is so low, so soft, it makes your stomach twist. you glance away quickly, your grip tightening on your own cup.
“about the other day,” you start, the words quiet and tentative.
he glances up, the coffee still in his hands. his expression is unreadable, but his fingers still against the cup, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. “you don’t have to explain,” he says, setting his cup down on the desk. “if you don’t want this—if i got it wrong—just say so.”
“it’s not that,” you blurt, the words tumbling out too fast, too raw. warmth floods your cheeks, creeping down to your chest. “i just… i don’t know what this is.”
he doesn’t respond immediately, doesn’t fall into his usual teasing deflection. instead, he stands, crossing the small space between you with deliberate steps. his gaze holds yours, steady and unguarded, and it makes your stomach flip in a way you can’t control.
“let me show you,” he says softly, his voice low, uncharacteristically serious.
he’s so close now, his hand brushing against yours, his touch light, almost hesitant. and then his lips are on yours, and everything else fades away.
this kiss is nothing like the first. there’s no uncertainty, no restraint. his hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him as his mouth moves against yours, hot and insistent. your grip on the coffee slips, the cup hitting the floor with a dull thud as your hands find his shoulders, clutching at the fabric of his shirt.
when his hands slide under your shirt, the roughness of his palms against your bare skin makes you shudder. he guides you backward, his body pressing into yours until the backs of your knees hit the mattress. you sink down, the weight of him grounding you as he follows, his lips trailing fire along your jaw and down your neck.
his hands are everywhere—tracing the curve of your waist, brushing the underside of your ribs, exploring like he’s memorizing every inch of you. when he pulls back to look at you, his lips are curved in a wicked, breath-stealing grin.
“you’re infuriating,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough as his eyes rake over you, drinking in every detail.
“you’re worse,” you manage, though your voice is barely more than a whisper.
his grin widens, and his laugh is warm against your skin as he dips his head, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. “you’re already so worked up. it’s cute.”
“shut up,” you snap, though the way your hips arch into his touch betrays you.
“make me,” he challenges, his lips brushing against yours before descending lower, kissing down your collarbone and tugging your shirt higher with every inch. his hands roam greedily, tugging the fabric over your head and tossing it somewhere behind him without a second thought.
his mouth is back on you immediately, nipping and kissing along the swell of your breasts as his hands work the clasp of your bra. when it comes free, his lips part in a satisfied hum, his hands kneading your soft skin like he’s savoring every second of this.
“so fucking perfect,” he mutters, his voice husky as he leans back slightly to take in the sight of you. his gaze is heavy, filled with something dark and hungry that makes your stomach twist in the best way.
“stop staring,” you grumble, though the heat in your cheeks betrays the sharpness of your words.
“can’t help it,” he says, his grin tilting into something softer, more genuine. “you’re gorgeous.”
before you can respond, his mouth is back on you, his tongue flicking over your nipple as his other hand trails down your stomach, fingers dipping just beneath the waistband of your pants. your breath hitches as he pauses, his gaze flicking up to meet yours.
“can i?” he asks, his voice quieter now, his expression serious.
you nod, and he wastes no time. his fingers hook under the fabric, tugging your pants and underwear down in one swift motion. the cool air against your bare skin makes you shiver, but the warmth of his hands is there immediately, coaxing you to relax under his touch.
“look at you,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick as his hands part your thighs, his gaze drinking in every inch of you. “so fucking pretty.”
your cheeks flush, and you try to turn your head away, but his hand cups your chin, gently coaxing you to meet his eyes. “don’t hide from me,” he says, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “not tonight.”
his other hand slides between your thighs, his touch featherlight at first, teasing. when his thumb brushes over your clit, a jolt of heat shoots through you, and your hips buck involuntarily.
“sensitive,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a wicked grin. “i barely touched you, and you’re already squirming.”
“shut up,” you snap, your voice shaky as your fingers clutch at the sheets beneath you. but the way your body reacts—arching into his touch, chasing the pressure—makes it clear that his teasing isn’t far from the truth.
“you don’t really want me to, do you?” his voice is low, almost a growl, and the sound of it sends a shiver down your spine. “i think you like when i talk to you like this. when i tell you how good you’re doing, how fucking beautiful you look right now.”
your chest heaves as his fingers dip lower, sliding through your slick folds with infuriating slowness. every movement feels deliberate, calculated, like he’s savoring every second. when his fingers finally slip inside you, the stretch makes your head fall back, a gasp tumbling from your lips.
“that’s it,” he murmurs, his thumb circling your clit as his fingers begin to move, slow and deliberate at first. “you feel so fucking good, baby. so perfect.”
your hands fly to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he curls his fingers, hitting a spot that makes your vision blur. “oh my god—gojo—”
he tuts sharply, his fingers pausing inside you, his thumb stalling its maddening rhythm. your head snaps up, breathless and confused, to find him staring down at you with a dark look, his lips curving into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“no,” he says firmly, his voice low and commanding as he tilts his head. “say satoru.”
“w-what?” you stammer, your heart racing as his fingers remain perfectly still, the tension building with every passing second.
“not ‘gojo,’” he says again, his free hand sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your face toward his. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, his grin sharpening. “say satoru.”
you hesitate, your breath hitching as your body trembles beneath him. he presses his fingers deeper, curling them just enough to make your toes curl, and your resolve shatters.
“satoru,” you gasp, your voice breaking on the syllables.
his smirk widens, something dark and triumphant flickering in his eyes. “good girl,” he murmurs, his thumb resuming its slow, torturous circles on your clit as his fingers pick up their rhythm again, harder this time, deeper.
your head falls back against the mattress, your body arching into his touch as the pleasure builds again, higher and hotter than before. his name tumbles from your lips like a mantra, breathless and needy as he drives you closer to the edge.
“that’s it,” he coaxes, his voice dripping with praise as his free hand slides down your body, his touch possessive. “just like that, baby. let go for me.”
the coil in your stomach tightens to the breaking point, and when he curls his fingers just right, pressing against the perfect spot, it snaps. your orgasm crashes over you, white-hot and overwhelming, and his name spills from your lips in a broken moan.
“satoru—fuck—”
“that’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice rough with approval as he works you through the waves of pleasure, his movements slowing but never stopping until your body goes slack beneath him, trembling and spent.
he pulls his hand away slowly, his gaze fixed on you as he brings his fingers to his lips, licking them clean with a deliberate, satisfied hum. “even better than i imagined,” he says, his voice dripping with arrogance, his eyes gleaming as they roam over your flushed, trembling body.
you blink, your breath still uneven as his words settle over you. “wait—” you say, your voice catching slightly. “you’ve thought about this?”
his grin widens, slow and deliberate, and he leans down, bracing himself on his forearms so his face is just inches from yours. “oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, “you really think i haven’t?”
your cheeks flush even hotter, your pulse racing as his words sink in. “you’re—” you stammer, at a rare loss for words. “you’re ridiculous.”
“ridiculous?” he repeats, feigning offense, though the wicked glint in his eyes never falters. “i’d say i’m a man of focus. you’ve been in my head for weeks, driving me insane with that sharp mouth and the way you look at me when you think i don’t notice.”
“i don’t—” you begin, but his lips curve into a knowing smirk, cutting you off.
“you do,” he insists, his tone softening just slightly. “and every time you glared at me, every time you rolled your eyes or bit back some little retort, all i could think about was how much i wanted to shut you up. like this.”
his lips capture yours again, and this kiss is slower, heavier, laced with an intensity that makes your toes curl. his hands roam, sliding over your bare skin with a reverence that feels almost out of place against his words.
when he finally pulls back, his gaze is still on you, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “and now that i’ve got you,” he says, his voice dipping into something darker, “i don’t think i’ll ever get enough.”
the weight of his confession leaves you breathless, and before you can respond, his lips are trailing down your body again, his hands parting your thighs as he settles between them.
“what are you—” you start, but his eyes flick up to meet yours, and the look in them steals the rest of your words.
“relax,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a soft, almost mischievous smile. “i’m not done tasting you yet.”
his hands slide to grip your thighs, pulling you apart with ease as his lips descend, brushing over your inner thighs, teasingly slow. his tongue flicks out, hot and wet against your skin, and when his mouth finally finds you again, you feel your body arch instinctively, your breath leaving in a sharp, unrestrained gasp.
he’s relentless. his tongue drags up your folds in a languid stroke before circling your clit with maddening precision. his mouth is hot, the slick, wet sounds mingling with your soft moans, and his breath—warm and uneven—fans against your skin with every movement.
his hair brushes against your thighs, soft and messy, and your fingers thread through it again, tugging sharply enough to make him groan against you. the vibration of it sends a jolt of pleasure straight through your core, and your hips buck against his mouth.
“satoru,” you gasp, but it’s barely coherent, your voice breaking as he latches onto your clit, sucking just enough to make your toes curl. “oh my—”
the cold press of something against your inner thigh pulls you out of the haze, just barely. it’s sharp, unfamiliar, and you glance down—his glasses. they’re still perched on his nose, slightly crooked, the metal frame fogging faintly from the heat of his breath. he’s so lost in the moment, so focused on the way his tongue works against you, that he hasn’t even noticed.
your hand drifts down, brushing against the cool frame, and you slip them off without a word. the absurdity of it—the way he’s been eating you out with his glasses still on—makes you want to laugh. the corners of your mouth twitch, and a soft sound bubbles up in your throat, but then his tongue presses flat against your folds, dragging up in one slow, deliberate motion, and the laugh dissolves into a sharp moan.
your head falls back against the pillow, your hand tangling back in his hair as you toss the glasses onto the bed with the other. the noise they make as they hit the mattress is faint, drowned out by the obscene wet sounds of his mouth, the low hums of satisfaction he lets out as he devours you.
“fuck,” you whimper, your thighs trembling as his tongue flicks against your clit again, faster now, more insistent. your body arches instinctively, chasing the pressure, and his hands tighten on your thighs, pulling you even closer to his mouth.
he growls against you, the sound low and rough, vibrating through you in a way that makes your toes curl. his tongue dips lower, teasing your entrance before sliding back up, and the sharp scrape of his teeth against your swollen clit has you seeing stars.
“so fucking sweet,” he mutters, his voice muffled against your slick skin. “can’t get enough of you, baby.”
you can’t respond, can’t think. the only thing you can focus on is the way his tongue works against you, precise and relentless, building the heat in your stomach until it’s unbearable. your fingers twist in his hair, pulling harder, and the groan he lets out in response sends you spiraling.
“satoru—” his name falls from your lips like a prayer, breathless and broken. he doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, his mouth dragging you closer and closer to the edge until you can’t hold on any longer.
your orgasm hits you hard, ripping through you in waves that leave your entire body trembling. your hips jerk against his hold, your moans loud and unrestrained as you ride it out. his tongue slows, working you through every aftershock until you’re left panting, boneless against the bed.
when he finally pulls back, his chest is heaving, his lips and chin glistening with your slick. his hair is a mess, strands sticking up where your fingers had tugged, and his eyes—those impossibly bright blues—flick up to meet yours, gleaming with satisfaction.
“twice,” he says, his voice low and teasing as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
he sits back on his knees, his hands smoothing over your trembling thighs as he takes in the sight of you—flushed, panting, your chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath. his grin is lazy, self-satisfied, like he knows exactly what he’s done to you.
“you’re staring,” you mutter weakly, your voice barely above a whisper.
“hard not to,” he replies, his tone low and full of amusement. his fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, his touch soft, teasing. “you look so fucking good when you come.”
your cheeks burn, and you want to glare at him, to tell him to shut up, but the words catch in your throat as he reaches for the hem of his shirt. in one fluid motion, he pulls it over his head and tosses it to the side, the movement effortless and maddeningly confident.
your eyes follow the shift of his muscles, the way they ripple under his skin, lean and defined. a faint sheen of sweat glistens across his chest, catching the dim light, highlighting every sharp line and curve. your gaze drifts lower, down to the sharp ridges of his abdomen. the faint trail of white hair starting just below his navel draws your attention, leading your eyes further, until his hands move to the waistband of his boxers.
he doesn’t rush. he hooks his thumbs under the fabric, dragging it down slowly, deliberately, letting the anticipation coil tighter in your stomach. as the fabric falls away, your breath hitches.
he’s fully bare now, and your mouth goes dry.
his cock is… breathtaking. thick and flushed a deep pink at the tip, already leaking beads of precum that catch the light as they drip down the length. it’s long, the kind of length that makes your thighs press together instinctively, wondering how he’ll fit, but the heat pooling low in your stomach burns hotter, overriding any hesitation.
his hand wraps around it, and he strokes himself slowly, his thumb swiping over the head to collect the wetness there. the motion is deliberate, almost lazy, and the soft groan he lets out sends a shiver down your spine.
you’re staring—you know you are—and he notices, his lips curving into a wicked grin as his eyes flick up to meet yours.
“don’t worry, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing as he leans forward, the head of his cock brushing against your folds, slick and hot. “i’ll make it fit.”
his words send a shiver through you, his voice low and dripping with confidence. the weight of his cock against your folds, hot and heavy, is enough to make your hips twitch instinctively, chasing the friction. but he doesn’t push in right away—of course he doesn’t. instead, he drags the head up and down your slick, letting it catch on your clit with every pass, teasing you until you’re squirming beneath him.
“satoru,” you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. you’re not above begging at this point. “please.”
his grin widens, his head dipping to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “what’s the rush, baby? we’ve got all night.”
“satoru,” you repeat, more insistently this time, and he groans at the sound of his name on your lips, his cock twitching against you.
“fuck,” he mutters, his voice tight now, losing some of that smug edge. “you sound so pretty when you beg.”
he lines himself up, his hand still wrapped around the base as he presses the head against your entrance. the stretch is immediate, a sharp, overwhelming mix of pleasure and pressure as he pushes in slowly, inch by inch.
“holy shit,” he breathes, his voice rough as his head falls forward, his hair brushing against your cheek. “you’re so fucking tight.”
your fingers clutch at his shoulders, your breath catching as he sinks deeper, the fullness stealing every coherent thought from your mind. he pauses halfway, his free hand sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your face toward his.
“you okay?” he asks, and there’s something softer in his voice now, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.
you nod, your voice shaky as you answer. “yeah. just—keep going.”
his jaw tightens, and he exhales slowly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he starts to move again. every inch feels impossibly deep, your walls stretching around him, and when he finally bottoms out, you both pause, your breaths mingling as you try to adjust.
“fuck,” he groans again, his voice strained as his hips twitch against yours. “you feel so good. better than i ever—” he cuts himself off with a shaky laugh, shaking his head. “shit, you’re perfect.”
you can barely respond, the stretch and fullness leaving you trembling. but then he starts to move, pulling out almost entirely before sliding back in with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips. the drag of his cock against your walls is enough to have you moaning, your head falling back against the pillow.
“that’s it,” he murmurs, his voice rough and approving as he sets a steady rhythm. “good girl. taking me so well.”
your hands trail down his back, your nails scraping lightly against his skin, and the groan he lets out sends a fresh wave of heat through you. his movements quicken, the sound of skin against skin filling the room, and every thrust has him hitting that perfect spot deep inside you, making you cry out.
“satoru—” his name falls from your lips again, and he leans down, his teeth grazing your neck as he thrusts harder, deeper.
“you’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips tighter, holding you in place as he drives into you. “you feel so good—so fucking perfect for me.”
the coil in your stomach tightens with every roll of his hips, the pressure building higher and higher until it’s unbearable. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing in tight circles that make your vision blur, and your moans grow louder, more desperate.
“come for me,” he demands, his voice rough and low in your ear. “let me feel you.”
the command sends you over the edge. your orgasm rips through you, your body arching into his as you cry out, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer. your walls clench around him, and the sensation makes him groan, his thrusts growing erratic as he chases his own release.
“fuck—” he gasps, burying himself as deep as he can go as he comes, the heat of him spilling into you, thick and warm. his head falls to your shoulder, his breath ragged against your skin as he rides out the last waves of pleasure.
the room is quiet except for the sound of your heavy breathing, the air thick and charged as he finally pulls back, his weight pressing into you as he collapses onto the bed beside you. his arm slides around your waist, pulling you against his chest as he presses a soft, lazy kiss to your temple.
“told you i’d make it fit,” he murmurs, his voice still rough, but there’s a hint of smugness there, his lips curving into a small grin.
you can’t help the laugh that escapes you, your body still trembling against his. “you’re such an asshole.”
“yeah,” he agrees, his tone light, teasing, as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “but you like it.”
you roll your eyes, but there’s no heat to it, your lips curving into a faint smile as you bury your face against his chest. “shut up, satoru.”
“never,” he replies, and the warmth of his laughter vibrates through you, grounding you as your breaths slowly even out.
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an. gojo with glasses... *hnnggghh*
DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!
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cheeseceli ¡ 2 days ago
Text
Skz meeting a pretty fan
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Pairing: Ot8!skz × Gn!reader (individually)
Genre: fluff, just a tiny little bit of angst, headcanons
Description: their reaction to meeting a pretty fan during a fan meeting
Warnings: kind of love at first sight trope, delusional, some of them are dramatic, they are all idols, not proofread
A/n: the way it's been over a year that this has been in my drafts | daily click
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Bang Chan
He was kinda of tired already so he was zoning out
When he sees you he is like "...oh"
He is so invested in your conversation
If you comment about the production behind the music he will be so happy
Genuinely loves when someone acknowledges his work so his eyes will shine and he will smile so hard while explaining everything to you
He is upset when you need to move on to the next member
Sees you laughing with the other members and he's like 🤨
Wonders what they did that managed to make you laugh that much
Lee Know
He would stare at you
You know when his mouth is open and you can see his eyes shining?
Yeah, that's him right now
You say hello and he would give you his nervous laugh before looking at you again with those stary eyes
I swear he is such a softie
Would listen to every single word that you say, you can tell he is paying so much attention
Autographs something for you and makes a funny drawing as well hoping you'd laugh
Side eyes the staff when they say the time is up
Even when you move to the next member and other fan is talking to him, he would still look at your direction sometimes and get so flustered if you catch him looking at you
Changbin
Starts small talk right away
Will 100% compliment you
You ask him an autograph and he wonders how bad would it be if he gave you his number instead
Like he knows he cannot do that
But maybe if he was sneaky enough...
Doesn't do it by the end but he low-key regrets it for the rest of his life
He will wake up one day after five years and be like "damn I should've given them my number"
And he will make that everyone's problem
The boys can't stand it anymore because they've heard enough about you by now 😭
Convinces himself that he will see you again one day
Hyunjin
He sees you before you see him, so he is panicking
Is looking at the line all the time wondering if you will want to talk to him
Asks han if his hair looks good before it's your turn to talk to him
No but fr, he can't take his eyes off you
When you start talking he is like 😯
You look and sound like an angel, he must be in heaven
Even after the fan meeting he can't stop thinking about you
If he's feeling bold enough, he will definitely flirt with you
Low-key forgot he was an idol and was ready to risk it all for you
Han
Might believe in love at first sight after your meeting
Compliment him once and he will get so shy
Like sir, weren't you the one flirting like two seconds ago🤨
Would feel so betrayed if he isn't your bias LMAO
He has like a minute and a half to convince you he's the best stray kids member and he WILL try that
And he hopes that someone will record his flirty antics and post it on tiktok just so he can find your socials
He will make all the boys stalk the internet to try to find you
"but you can't contact them even if you find their account, so what's the point?" idk bro but he wants to see you again somehow
Felix
SUCH A FLIRT
The moment he looks at you he is already trying to win your heart
Kinda forgot he was an idol pt.2
Except he didn't forget
He just doesn't care
He wants to flirt with you and that's precisely what he will do
Will even flirt through his autograph if he can
Uses any kind of excuse to make physical contact with you ✨
And side eyes the staff when they tell him it's time to move on
Like no it's not??
Seungmin
Actually pretty good at hiding his new crush??
The most normal one out here surprisingly lol
He will be able to cover it up as just "good mood" but let's be for real
It's because of you
Anyways
Will smile so much
If you compliment his smile (please do!) he will get shy but so so happy
Also steals glances when you go to the next member
He'll be talking to the next fan but ends up laughing because of something he heard you say to another one of the boys
The fan is like ?? but Seungmin is able to play it off
I.N
So dedicated to give you a good impression
If you tell him your favourite skz song is one of his solos (or that your favourite has that title because of his vocals) this man is in heaven
Forgot he was an idol pt.3 except he didn't forget
He just lowkey very lowkey didn't want to be an idol in that exact moment
Had it been on any normal occasion he would probably try to charm you over
But this was his job
He couldn't possibly get delulu over a fan 😭 although he was already midway to that
Ends up covering a song you said you thought would fit his voice
Sees the comments of the cover wondering each one of those were yours
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Masterlist | you'll probably like: unrequited love
Reminder that this is all fiction, this does not represent the members in real life!
Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji @jinnie-ret @sheraayasherrecs
Dividers by @thecutestgrotto | Images 1, 2 and 3
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beloveds-embrace ¡ 2 days ago
Note
Can we get that dark version of graves 💀. Sorry no hate to him but I like how this men operates lowkey like mafia in the dukedom au. Also is Konig still her personal guard in the regular au?
In the regular au, no, I don’t have König for her in there lol fyi i wrote this while spaced out during a lecture im sorry if it sounds rushed lol 😭
Referenced post
As for Graves: god, he is so smug. So, so smug, arrogance and pride growing each second he spends with you and over you. It shows in his gait when he walks, when he begins lording over the other servants and staff, when he begins latching to you, joining you on your free time when he checks beforehand that no one else is there with you. All of this even before you tell John your request.
After you do, and after you insist you really do want Graves, he becomes almost like a blown up balloon. He wants to monopolize all your time, all your interactions, and why would you say no when he gives you the love and affection you long for?
You don’t say no; but the same can’t be said for them.
It doesn’t matter if Graves truly loves you back. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t love you and only wants to desperately hold on to his one chance of rising in society. Nothing about Graves really matters to them except how to break his connection to you.
Graves thinks that the reason the rest of the staff slowly begin to distance themselves from him, ill-mannered towards him in general, is out of jealousy due to his closeness to you. He thinks that the reason John adds more stable hands is because you want to have others help him and who he can lord over. He thinks the reason bland and spoiled food he gets is because the cook is jealous of him, as well. Who wouldn’t be, knowing it’s only him who has your affection?
He thinks everything is done for him, due to you. It makes him latch all the more to you, and you love it even if you sometimes look confused by it.
When you send him a letter, askinh to meet him privately late at night in the woods behind the duchy, it’s the first time he’s considered saying no to you. But as it is, Graves thinks you are a spoiled thing, born with a silver spoon, and he doesn’t want to spoil his standing with you. The woods behind the duchy are a bit… unconventional. He’s heard rumors of servants sometimes dying in there, a long time ago, but there was no solid evidence of it ever.
Whatever it is, he can deal with it. His confidence builds when Kyle greets him formally, a little smile on his lips compared to the previous days. The food he’s presented with is delicious and warm, and Duke Riley even gives him a nod when passing by him. He gets called into John’s office to talk about a payrise, as well.
Everything’s well. Going into the woods, therefore, shouldn’t be a problem.
It shouldn’t have been a problem.
Stumbling through the dark woods in question, cradling his bleeding leg, Graves begins to realize that he’s made a horrific misjudgment.
Why would you, of all people, want to meet here? You, soft and delicate? You, who has never known what it feels like to have a single scratch on your body?
This place isn’t meant for you. You wouldn’t even consider this place.
You didn’t send him that letter.
And Graves is realizing it just now.
He lets out another pained shout when his foot catches onto a bear trap, falling forward. Hands and knees scratched, blood pooling under him, and covered with the dark canopy of the night sky with nothing to guide him except the dim light of the stars, Graves has never felt more hopeless.
The snapping of dead twigs and leaves, loud in the suffocating silence of the woods, makes his twist his neck to see-
Beasts. Snarling, deep dark beasts, gaping maws and rows of twisted, sharp teeth. They laugh and bark, snapping at him and there is nothing he can do to struggle back because the damned trap is still holding him down.
Behind those beasts, there is a figure. The eyes that peer at him in hatred are familiar, but Graves cannot recall their owner at this moment. Tall, blond hair, at the manor ever so often-
“You should not have touched what doesn’t belong to you, Graves.”
He is not granted enough time to think about how familiar the voice is.
And so, on a dark January night, Philip Graves disappears.
“Still no sign?” You ask, twisting your handkerchief between your hands again. Your days have been hard, lately, and grow harder the longer your lover remains missing. Though you aren’t even sure if he is truly missing. If he was, then how come the rest of the servants all said that they couldn’t find any of his personal belongings?
He had seemed so happy with you… you don’t understand.
“I’m afraid not,” Simon tells you softly, coming to stand beside you. He holds a hand out for you, and despite knowing it wouldn’t be proper, you do not stop him from drawing you into a hug. “The dogs didn’t find any traces of him, either.”
Your eyes move over to the two dogs curled on their respective pillows, one napping and the other chewing on a bone. You loved them; they were all over you the second Simon had brought them to you, rolling over to get stomach rubs from you. They provided a temporary retrieve from your dark and depressing thoughts, just simply holding them making you feel better.
“They are good hunters.” Simon had told you, his knuckles gently wiping away your tears. “If he is anywhere lost nearby, they will find him.”
But now, there wasn’t a trace of him. You hated to admit it, but perhaps Philip’s leave might have been his own choice…
“Do not cry.” Simon whispers softly when he hears you sniffling, arms warm around you. You melt against him, just clinging to this comfort. “John will still search, but you still have all of us to help you get through this, sweetheart.”
Get through this, and get over Graves. The rest of the staff all agreed that he wasn’t good for you, anyways, and the dogs had their fun.
And Simon now gets to hold and comfort you, after he’s already had quality time with the rest of his beloveds.
Your tears will dry, eventually, and your heart will open up again.
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milktiicup ¡ 18 hours ago
Note
Helloooo! I love your writing so much! I read it all day every time you post, especially your homicipher ones 🥹🫶 I hope you're doing great today btw!
If it isn't too much to ask, can you write the homicipher cast's reactions about the baby of Mr. Crawling and Mc? 👀
I imagine some would be very funny 😭
Have a lovely dayyy! Mwamwa!
little hands, dark hearts!
homicipher cast meeting you and mr crawling's baby! > scarletella, silvair, chopped, hood, machete mr crawling baby saga! chapter 1 chapter 2
‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🌊 ⋅ ˚✮ i think you can tell i have favs by the amount of length and detail some of these have dkjfhkdhdgj
warnings. lol just pure angst in mr. scarletella's
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MR. SCARLETELLA
He stares. And he stares. And he stares.
The silence is suffocating, weighing heavier than the shadows beneath his feet. Dull, grey eyes bore into yours, searching for answers that you couldn’t give. 
Of course, he brought you here to be with him. You gave him all these lovely offerings, shedding beautiful blood in his name, stared directly into his eyes as he enveloped you, taking you to his domain- but you wouldn’t give him your name. You stand there, swinging your crowbar, defiance burning in your eyes. It’s not fear he sees, not submission, but anger- a raw, searing thing that slices through the quiet like a blade. And it confuses him. No, it infuriates him.
His grip on his umbrella tightens, the knuckles whitening. His lips twist into a scowl, but behind it, something softer flickers- an ache he doesn’t know how to name. He’s used to taking. Claiming. But you… you’re not like the others. You’re still standing. Still staring. Still resisting.
And it only makes him want you more.
But then there’s him.
That thing. That crawling, pathetic thing that dares to share the space you once offered to him.
What does that creature have that he doesn’t? What pull does it hold over you, to make you look at it like that? Mr. Scarletella hates him. Oh, how he hates him. He hates your baby. Hates the way its small hands grasp at you, the way you cradle it against your chest as if it’s the most precious thing in your world. He hates the way your smile softens when you whisper to it, the way you laugh when it coos.
You look so happy. How could he take that away from you? And yet- how could you do this to him? You like him. He likes you. Why did you pick him?
The resentment pools in his chest like ink, sticky and dark. He wants to scream, to tear down this fragile illusion of happiness you’ve built, to drag you back into his arms where you belong. And yet, his hands tremble. His scowl falters.
You look so happy.
And the thought guts him. How could he take that away from you?
His lips twitch, caught between a sneer and a sigh, as he looks away. For the first time, he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to take what he wants.
Mr. Scarletella’s chest rises and falls, his breath unsteady. His umbrella clatters to the ground, forgotten as his hands flex and curl into fists at his sides. He steps closer, the air around him rippling with suppressed fury.
“Why?” The question tears from his throat, jagged and raw, barely above a whisper. His crimson eyes gleam with something between desperation and rage. “Why?”
He’s staring at you again, but this time, there’s no pretense of control. Just pain, naked and wild, burning in the shadows of his gaze.
You don’t answer. How could you?
So, he waits. And he stares. And he waits.
MR. SILVAIR
Mr. Silvair holds your baby, careful and learning. His bandage gaze peers into the little eyes, baby babbling and cooing and reaching for his hair. He smiles, soft and curious. 
His infatuation with your child is endless. How was it possible for you two to procreate? To create something from something undead, a ghost, a monster- and a perfectly normal human. Questions that he will never have answers for- questions he doesn’t dare act upon. The baby is fragile, soft, and defenseless. He couldn’t take it apart and put it back together- he can’t break something that could never be fixed.
And the question eggs him at the back of his mind- what if it could?
His hands steady yet soft, as though he’s cradling the most fragile thing in existence. The baby babbles, tiny fists reaching for the loose strands of his silver hair, and when their fingers catch hold of it, she giggles with pure delight.
“Them like,” he observes, his voice unusually tender.
You stifle a laugh. “Of course she does. It’s shiny. Babies love shiny things.”
His head tilts slightly, silver hair brushing against the baby’s chubby cheeks as they continue their determined mission to grab at more strands. “Shiny good?” he asks, his curiosity genuine, as if this is just another puzzle he’s determined to solve.
“Very good,” you assure him, stepping closer to watch the two of them. “She’s clearly a fan.”
The baby lets out a happy squeal, wriggling in his grasp. Silvair’s gaze flickers down to her, and though his eyes are hidden, there’s something warm in his expression. “Strong grip,” he notes, “Healthy.”
You smile softly, leaning against the counter. “She’s got her father’s energy, that’s for sure.”
Mr. Silvair doesn’t respond immediately, instead focusing on the baby as they try- and fail- to stuff one of his fingers into their tiny mouth. He gently redirects their hands, careful and patient. “Small,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Important.”
His words catch you off guard, and you glance at him. “Important?”
He looks up, tilting his head. “From you. Important. Interested in them.”
The simplicity of his statement warms something in your chest, even if he was purely fascinated with your child out of sheer scientific interest. You’re not sure if he fully understands the weight of his words, but at this moment, it doesn’t matter. You’ll take the softness of the moment. 
The baby lets out another squeal, this one more demanding, and Mr. Silvair bounces them slightly in his arms, an action so natural it makes you blink in surprise. The baby quiets immediately, snuggling into his chest with a content sigh.
“Good,” he says, more to the baby than to you. 
You can’t help but laugh, the sound light and genuine. “She likes you,” you comment with a shuffled laugh. Of all the monsters here, your child just has to like the one who tears you apart. 
Mr. Silvair tilts his head again, his smile returning faintly as he glances down at the now-sleepy baby. “Me like them.”
“Cute?”
“Cute.”
MR. CHOPPED
“Want carry them,” Mr. Chopped pouts, cheeks puffed. “Them cute.”
“She’s so cute, isn’t she?” you chuckle.
The baby giggles, a toothless, gummy smile as bright as the sun. He frowned, his eyes narrowing in a mix of frustration and wistful longing. “Me carry. Want carry,” he repeated, his tone almost petulant.
“You’d need arms for that,” you tease, bouncing the baby lightly on your hip. The baby squeals, her laugh infectious, and you couldn’t help but grin down at her. “She’s so happy to see you, though. Look, she’s waving!” You guide her tiny hand in a slow wave toward Mr. Chopped.
His face lit up with exaggerated enthusiasm, his head tilting as he “leans” closer, as if proximity would help convey his affection. “Cute,” he said with deep conviction. “Many cute. Little human.”
The baby gurgles in response, her toothless smile lighting up her face. She reaches out as though she wants to grab him, her tiny fingers opening and closing in that delightful way babies do.
“See?” you laugh. “She wants to hold you!”
Mr. Chopped’s pout deepens dramatically. “Unfair. No arms. No hold. No carry. Me sad.”
You shook your head, amused. “You’re fine, Mr. Chopped. She can’t even hold her own head up for long; I’m sure she’s not judging you for not having arms.”
“Baby not judge,” he said solemnly, his voice tender. “Baby happy.”
“She likes you,” you reassure him with a smile. “You’ve got that big, friendly face, and you’re always talking to her like she’s the most fascinating thing in the world.”
“Them are,” he said matter-of-factly, his tone so earnest it made you laugh again.
“Well, maybe one day we’ll rig up some kind of… carrier for you,” you offered jokingly. “So you can hold her. Or at least let her sit in your lap- if you had one.”
Mr. Chopped perked up at that, his cheeks puffing out again with excitement this time. “Yes! Make lap. Make arms. Then carry. Hug!”
“She’d probably love that,” you said, kissing the baby’s soft head. She giggled again, her tiny hands reaching out toward Mr. Chopped, her eyes bright and full of wonder.
MR. HOOD
“Not understand,” Mr. Hood repeats.
You sigh. “You have to support the back of her head,” you say, guiding his ghostly arm to the baby’s nape. “Gentle. She’s fragile.”
“Weak,” he observes. “Much small.”
“Yeah,” you agree, “so we have to protect her.”
Mr. Hood’s form shifts as he processes your instructions, the faintest hint of curiosity flickering through his voice. “Protect... small weak thing.” His hand hovers near the baby’s head. It trembles slightly, not from lack of strength but from hesitation- like a predator trying to handle something delicate for the first time.
You place your hands over his, guiding him with care. “That’s right. Support her head. Babies can’t hold their heads up yet.”
He tilts slightly, as though trying to look closer, though his featureless head offers no expression to read. The baby gurgles softly, her tiny fingers curling around one of his. The textureless appendage seems to surprise her, and she coos in delight, kicking her chubby legs.
“Why small thing hold?” Mr. Hood asks, his voice edged with wonder.
“She’s curious,” you explain, smiling at the sight. “She doesn’t know what you are, but she wants to hold on to you.”
“Not wise.” His tone is flat, but there’s no malice in it. He shifts slightly, his massive frame dwarfing her. “Me danger. Not afraid?”
“She doesn’t know fear yet,” you say softly. “She only knows what feels safe.”
His hand rests under the baby’s head and back now, cradling her with surprising gentleness. The contrast is almost surreal- his immense strength and amorphous form against the fragility of a newborn. The baby giggles again, wiggling in his hold.
“Small thing… trust,” he murmurs, his tone almost contemplative.
“She does,” you say, watching them with a warmth blooming in your chest. “And that’s why we protect her.”
“Protect,” he repeats, as if testing the word. His grip shifts slightly, more confident. “Protect small thing. Understand.”
It’s strange, seeing someone- or something- like Mr. Hood in this role, but in the quiet moment, his usual air of detachment seems to melt away. The baby yawns, her tiny body sinking deeper into his hold, completely at ease.
MR. GAP
“Give little thing,” Mr. Gap says from the vent, his voice more curious than menacing. You freeze, hand still cradling your baby close to your chest as his long, dark arm stretches out, holding something soft and fluffy- a teddy bear.
Your baby, who has been cooing and kicking her legs happily in your arms, notices the movement. Her bright eyes widen, and she reaches out toward the stuffed bear with an eager little giggle.
“Give them?” It’s such an innocent request. He’s just offering the bear, his dark figure so out of place in the light of the room, but there’s something almost endearing about it.
You laugh softly, a smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, she’d love that,” you say. “She’s been really into cuddly things lately.”
The baby coos again, her tiny hands reaching for the bear, almost as if she recognizes the gesture as a gift. She touches it gently, then pulls it closer to her chest in a little snuggle, her face lighting up with joy.
“See? She likes it!” you say, glancing at Mr. Gap, your voice teasing. “Thanks to you.”
Mr. Gap pulls back slightly, his hand retreating into the vent, but you catch a glimpse of a subtle shift in his posture- a pleased air about him, as if he’s satisfied with the outcome.
“Them happy?” he asks.
You smile warmly, watching the baby continue to clutch the teddy bear like it’s her new best friend. “Yeah, she’s happy. And that makes me happy.”
A soft, quiet chuckle seems to come from the vent, and you can almost imagine a small, pleased grin behind the shadows. “Good,” Mr. Gap says, his voice full of pride. “Me good.”
The bear is now in the baby’s tiny hands, and her sleepy eyes begin to flutter shut, the soft comfort of the stuffed toy pulling her into a drowsy stupor. You gently rock her back and forth, watching as she drifts off to sleep, clutching the bear to her chest like it’s the most important thing in the world.
“Thank you, Mr. Gap,” you say softly, though he’s long disappeared back into his shadowy realm. You’re not sure if he heard, but you still find yourself whispering it anyway.
And for a brief, fleeting moment, everything feels a little bit lighter.
MR. MACHETE
“What… that?” he asks, a finger lazily pointing at your baby nestled in your arms.
“It’s my baby!” you reply, pridefully, and cradle her for exaggeration. Within a second, your face falls firm, and you sternly say, “No fighting little thing.”
“Not fight?” Mr. Machete’s jagged smile turns into a comical looking frown. He scowls, and turns away. “Not interested.”
“Mr. Macheteee,” you whine, “Just look at her! Isn’t she just so cute?”
Mr. Machete pauses mid-step, his broad shoulders tensing at your words. He lets out a huff, loud and exaggerated, before reluctantly glancing over his shoulder. “Cute?” he echoes, the word sounding foreign on his tongue. His tone is skeptical, almost offended. His machete falls to his side, an ear-scratching ‘clang!’ that disturbs you more than your baby.
The baby coos, her tiny hands waving aimlessly in the air. Her bright, gummy smile beams up at him, and for a moment, Mr. Machete looks genuinely stumped. 
“Them small. Shape wrong,” he notes, leaning in closer. His massive frame looms over her, but he makes no move to get too close. “Weak. No teeth. Cannot hold attack tool.”
He stares at the baby a moment longer, his scowl softening ever so slightly as the baby giggles, a bright, happy sound that cuts through his rough demeanor like a blade. She reaches toward him, her tiny fingers grabbing at the air, and for reasons you don’t quite understand, he doesn’t immediately pull away.
The baby’s determination seems to intrigue him. He tilts his head and extends a single finger- not a threatening move, but cautious, almost testing. Her tiny hand catches his finger, and she grips it tightly, her toothless grin growing impossibly wider.
“Them strong,” he finally admits, his voice low but tinged with what could almost be considered respect. “When little thing big, fight.”
You roll your eyes. Well, at least he gave your baby some attention.
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jeonginsleftcheek ¡ 2 days ago
Text
Close your eyes
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pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader
genre: smut, angst
wc: 1.6k
synopsis: a stranger becomes an acquaintance, an acquaintance becomes a friend, a friend becomes a lover, only for the lover to become a stranger again.
warnings: light bondage, temperature play, oral (m)
a/n: this came to me in a dream last night and i had to write it idk what this is but anyways i hope you like it?😭
~ masterlist
divider by: @kodaswrld
Close your eyes.
The handsome stranger whispered in your ear as he gently took your hands in his, bringing you closer to his warm body, swaying you softly.
The music was anything but soft, the crowd of sweaty bodies moved much faster than the two of you did, stuck in a moment of slow motion where it seemed like time had stopped and only you and him existed.
"What's your name?" you had asked as his cheek pressed against yours.
"Hyunjin." he had whispered, the name rolling off your tongue easily then, the feeling was right, like it was meant to be, like you were destined to slow dance with this beautiful man in a rowdy club.
Your name rolled off his tongue equally as easily, from the moment he whispered it into your ear, it was already written into his heart.
You hadn't seen him for months since that night, having to help out your drunk friend, you rushed away from him, leaving him standing there as he stared after you wistfully.
As days passed by, he plagued your mind less and less and you were sure you'd never run into him again, that you'd forget him even though his name still rolled off your tongue easily, whenever your hand would travel between your legs.
The soft touch of his lips as he kissed your temple was something you couldn't forget.
He never asked to kiss your lips, never touched your waist, never looked at you like you were just a piece of meat to take home and forget in the morning.
No, he held your hands close to his heart like he needed you to feel it beating, his eyes gazing at yours like you were some kind of wonder and that too you could never forget.
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Close your eyes.
Hyunjin had whispered, startling you as you concentrated on your canvas.
"What is it now?" you chuckled, still in disbelief that you ran into him of all people, in a random painting class you decided to take, him as the teacher of it.
"Do you trust me?" his breath tickled your ear as he stood behind you.
"I do." you nodded, a sense of safety enveloping you.
"Let your heart guide your hand." he whispered, his lips grazing your ear as he took your hand in his, guiding it over the canvas before he let it go, still hovering behind you as your eyebrows knitted together in concentration.
"It's so wonky." you laugh at the painting and Hyunjin giggles as he stands next to you.
"Give it some time and it'll all fall into place."
Somehow, you knew his words had double meaning.
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Close your eyes.
Hyunjin had chuckled excitedly as you celebrated your birthday with him.
Something was placed in your hands and your fingers ran over it, feeling the texture of dried paint.
He had painted something for you and your heart swelled at the thought.
"You can look."
Your eyes fluttered open and you stared at a painting of you, in a field of flowers, your body bathed in the sun, your dress flowing around you, almost as if you were dancing.
You were happy, your head lifted towards the sky as you smiled with your eyes closed taking in the warmth of the sun.
"H-Hyunjin..." your eyes teared up.
"That's how I see you, y/n."
"What are you trying to say?" you whisper.
"I love you." he says it so easily like he said it a hundred times before, maybe in another lifetime.
Your heart explodes as your hands tremble, tears of happiness sliding down your cheeks.
"Close your eyes. I wanna give you my other present."
You feel his soft lips press into yours and your heart flutters as your hands find each other, fingers entwined.
"I love you." you whisper against his lips.
Again and again, you exchange your love with your lips, craving him more and more with each touch, never wanting to be away from him.
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Close your eyes.
Your lover had whispered with a seductive smirk on his face, his eyes dark and narrowed at you.
Your hands were carefully bound together with satin rope and as soon as you obeyed his command, fluttering your eyes shut, Hyunjin gently placed a blindfold over your eyes.
The world around you disappeared in that moment, your only guidance was through Hyunjin, your entire trust put in his hands.
You couldn't see it but there was so much love in Hyunjin's eyes, seeing you be so vunerable with him ignited a fire in his heart that made him believe he was going to love you forever.
Anticipation built up inside you as his slender fingers danced on your soft skin, teasing you before you heard some shuffling and then the bed dipped again.
The rose he brought earlier was gently pressed against your cheek, caressing you, the gentle petals making contact with your soft lips.
A quiet gasp left your lips as Hyunjin slid the rose on your neck down to your breasts, pressing the flower softly into your nipples.
"Hyu-"
"Shh." he shushed you as he continued stimulating your nipple with the soft flower.
Your whole body was worshipped slowly and teasingly until you were dripping sweet juices, trembling and begging for him to touch you where you need him the most.
Hyunjin had waited with a smirk, teasing you with light brushes of the rose over your center before he pressed it against your core.
A loud whimper left your swollen lips, bruised with the way you were biting at them as Hyunjin made you grind against the flower.
"It's okay, doll. Let go for me."
"I- I can't." you needed more, more pressure, more movement, more of him.
"I know you can." he wanted you to cum on the rose, not caring how long it'll take you to get yourself there.
You struggled, your tears gathering at the blindfold, Hyunjin decided to show you some mercy as he leaned down and wrapped his lips around your nipple, his hand moving the rose faster against you.
Euphoria took over your senses, every touch of his felt heightened and you exploded, spilling on the flower.
"Beautiful." Hyunjin sighed against your lips before kissing you breathless.
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Close your eyes.
You said to him, this time he was the one with his hands tied, splayed on the bed and looking pretty for you.
You put the blindfold on him, securing it in a knot before you leaned down to place a kiss on his lips.
"Relax, my love." you said, noticing by his body language that he was a little nervous.
Your hands were gentle on his body, your lips even more so and Hyunjin was soon melting into the bed, almost forgetting what's about to come.
"I'll be right back." you disappeared suddenly, his chest heaving as he throbbed in arousal, desperate for more.
Hyunjin listened to the sounds of shuffling before you finally settled above him again, taking one half-melted ice cube in your hand.
A shaky breath left his lips as you placed it on the side of his neck, slowly sliding it down to his collarbone, pressing the ice into his hot skin.
When it melted on him, you grabbed another one, sliding it over his nipples as he breathed hard, his middle lifting up towards you, his length twitching and leaking, begging for attention.
You repeated the process over and over again, teasing his body and watching goosebumps rise on his skin.
With your mouth cold from an ice cube you let dissolve on your tongue, you took his hot length in, making Hyunjin's legs tremble.
Hyunjin begged and whimpered as you continued, not stopping for a moment until you've milked him completely.
"I love you." he kissed your fingertips when you untied his hands.
"I love you." you whispered, kissing the corners of his lips.
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Close your eyes.
You shut your eyes tightly, in an attempt to stop the tears from falling.
When did everything go wrong?
You had no answer to that question but you knew deep down it wasn't the same as before.
And he knew it too.
"I can't keep doing this." you couldn't stop the tears, not after another fight.
"Me neither." he said quietly, avoiding your eyes.
"Maybe it's best if we took a break." you suggested, not capable of saying you're leaving him.
"Yeah, maybe it is." he said, and finally glanced up at you, breaking your heart with the look in his eyes.
"You know I love you, right?" his lips trembled.
"I know. I love you too. But sometimes love isn't enough." you had answered, watching his figure disappear down the street after he kissed you goodbye.
It was the last kiss you shared.
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Close your eyes.
You said to yourself, just to calm your nerves before blind date your friends put you up to.
With eyes shut tight, you tried to envision a peaceful memory, something to soothe your anxiety and involuntarily your mind drifted to him.
It was only in snippets now, sometimes you'd remember Hyunjin's touch, his laugh or the late night talks you shared, imagining your future together.
A future that never happened as he faded away into the past.
Sometimes you'd remember the pain you felt as you watched him walk away on that night two years ago.
As you opened your eyes, your heart jumped out of your chest as you saw him standing in front of the cafĂŠ, looking at his watch before he glanced up at you.
A shocked expression on his face mirrored yours, and though you wanted to flee the scene, your legs led you to him.
Maybe fate has more in store for the two of you.
Or maybe it was all plotted by your friends.
Close your eyes.
Then open them once again.
To make sure this isn't just a dream.
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taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust
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perdidosbucky-yyo ¡ 3 days ago
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OHMYGOOOOOOD
Thank God this wasn't as sad as the others 😭 I needed a break from crying.
"Maybe it’s fate," she joked, but her tone had a hint of seriousness.
The way I almost screamed bc IT IS FATE 🥺🩷
Logan followed without complaint, falling into step beside you as you made your way to the car. The streets were quieter than usual, but the tension between rival families was palpable—something was brewing, and everyone knew it.
Istg when I read this I was so sure y/n would end up with a bullet between her eyes, that's how scared I am😂
You laughed, standing up and dusting your hands off. “Sorry to disappoint. I’ve got a weakness for strays.”
Logan being the ultimate stray😅🤭 she's always drawn to him
Mr. Russo gave Logan a once-over, then grinned, his false teeth gleaming. “You any good at cards, tough guy?”
This was so precious to me!! Logan playing cards with y/n and her friends ❤️
“Yeah?” You took a step closer, crossing your arms with a playful grin. “And here I thought I’d be driving you crazy.”
“You do,” he murmured, almost too quietly. His lips turned up slightly, but he looked away, that unspoken wall going back up.
This has so many meanings, not only flirting but I can imagine after over 100 years loving and losing the same person over and over, that would definitely drive him crazy
You glanced down the hall and shrugged. “Guess I can live with that. For now.”
Logan’s lips twitched, just barely. “For now,” he echoed, and there was something heavier in those words, something he wasn’t sharing.
MY HEART ACHED💔💔💔💔
The kiss was desperate, wild, like he was making up for lost time. His lips claimed yours with a roughness that sent a shiver down your spine, his hands moving to cradle your face, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand the distance. You gasped against his mouth, your fingers finding their way into his hair, tugging him down harder.
Logan groaned into your mouth, a deep, almost pained sound, and the desperation in it made your blood race. He kissed you like he was starving, like he needed this, needed you, and you felt your body melt into him.
Omfg I've never seen them so passionate it's making me feel things 😮‍💨 the smut was perfect balance of passion and desperation
And this time, he was determined to make it last as long as he could. Maybe, just maybe, even put that ring to use.
Screaming crying throwing up 😭🥺🥺🥺 bc I desperately need to see when he proposes but I can't even imagine how it would go
You felt a surge of affection for him then, this man who’d somehow become both your protector and your closest confidant. He was rough around the edges, guarded and distant with everyone else—but with you, he was different. You brought out a softness in him, a warmth that felt as though it had been buried for a long, long time.
This might be one of the best dialogues I've read, bc it's so true 🥺 for decades this man has tried everything in his power to cherish and protect the love of his life, she's the only one that brings out a resemblance of peace on him😭💔
Logan’s gaze darkened. “It’s not. You know that. And anyone who tries to take it without your say? They got me to deal with.” His voice was low and dangerous, a promise just for you.
Forever obsessed with this story and the way he will do anything to help and adore y/n❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1973 - we meet again my dear...
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chapter summary: After leaving Team X behind, Logan finds himself back in New York City working as a bodyguard for various people. Until he finds himself acting as a bodyguard for you, a mobster's daughter.
word count: 18.3k+
pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader
notes: i'm a sucker for the bodyguard trope (and also just dofp logan in general, that man makes me go feral), so you know i had to do it when given the chance! i had so much fun writing this version of reader, especially because this is the closest to 'modern' times that we've gotten and i didn't have to do a ton of research about this year. the tags might give away a little bit of the plot, but i promise it's gonna be a fun ride ;)
warnings/tags: fluff, angst, 70s!logan, mafia/mob, implied age gap, flirting, smut, thigh riding, unprotected piv, creampie, arranged marriage
series masterlist - chapter 4 → chapter 6
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He left Stryker, Victor, and Team X behind, settling in New York City as a bodyguard, hired by various people: politicians, the mafia, anyone.
Logan was now getting his fifth job, protecting a mobster’s young daughter.
He was used to jobs like this by now, but something about this one felt... different. As he walked through the large estate, the details blurred around him. His focus was on the job—until the moment he saw you.
You were standing by the window, the sunlight filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow over your face. There was something familiar about the way you held yourself, the way your hair fell over your shoulders. For a second, it felt like the air was sucked out of the room.
Logan’s chest tightened.
It was you.
Same face. Same presence. Same pull that had haunted him for over a century.
But you were different, too. This time, you weren’t a schoolteacher, a nurse, or a coal miner’s wife. You were his new job.
You turned, eyes meeting his, and for a brief moment, it felt like you recognized him too. That sense of familiarity flickered across your face before you smiled—polite, but distant.
“Y/N, this is Logan,” the mobster—your father—introduced. “He’ll be your new bodyguard.”
Your father’s voice faded into the background as Logan’s gaze remained locked on you. You gave a small nod, extending your hand. “Nice to meet you, Logan.”
Logan stared at your hand for a beat too long before taking it. That brief contact sent a shock through him, an old memory he couldn’t quite shake.
“Likewise,” he muttered, his voice rougher than he intended.
Your father clapped Logan on the back. “I expect you’ll keep her safe. There’s been some... tension with a rival family.”
Logan only nodded, but his attention stayed on you. You were right in front of him, alive. But you didn’t know him. Like always.
After your father left the room, you leaned against the window frame, crossing your arms. “So, how long have you been doing this?” you asked, your tone casual.
Logan leaned against the wall, watching you closely. “Long enough.”
You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “That’s vague.”
He didn’t respond, and for a moment, silence settled between you two. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was something unsaid hanging in the air.
“What about you?” Logan asked, more to fill the space than out of curiosity. “How do you feel about having a bodyguard?”
You shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”
That earned a faint, almost imperceptible smile from Logan, but he quickly covered it with a grunt. “Glad to hear it.”
A pause. Then you looked at him, your eyes narrowing slightly, like you were trying to figure him out. “You seem... familiar.”
Logan stiffened. “Don’t think we’ve met before.”
You tilted your head, studying him. “No, but... I don’t know. Something about you.”
Logan’s heart pounded in his chest, but he kept his expression neutral. He couldn’t tell you. Not about the past lives, not about how many times he had watched you die.
You shrugged it off, smiling again. “Maybe I’m just imagining things.”
“Maybe,” Logan muttered, not meeting your eyes this time.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of introductions, schedules, and instructions from your father. Logan followed at a distance, keeping an eye on you, but his mind was elsewhere.
That night, Logan sat on the balcony just outside your room, staring out at the city lights. His thoughts raced, the weight of the engagement ring in his pocket feeling heavier than usual.
You were alive. Again.
But for how long this time?
---
You plopped onto your bed, the wire from your rotary phone stretching with you, “he is good looking though.”
You could practically hear Jennifer’s grin through the phone, “oh, yeah? Man, all your bodyguards are good looking. It’s not fair!”
You laughed, twirling the phone cord between your fingers. "He’s… different though. I can’t quite put my finger on it. He’s quiet, but not in the usual 'I’m-paid-to-watch-you' way."
"Is he mysterious?" Jennifer teased, her voice light. "Maybe he’s got some dark, brooding backstory. Mob families always hire guys like that—‘strong and silent.’"
You snorted. "Maybe. But he’s not like the others." You hesitated, leaning back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. “There’s something familiar about him… like I’ve met him before.”
Jennifer paused on the other end of the line, then her voice softened. "You think he’s one of your dad’s guys from back in the day?"
You shook your head, even though she couldn’t see it. "No, it’s not that. It’s… weird, Jen. Like I know him, but I don’t. It’s been bugging me since I met him."
"Maybe it’s fate," she joked, but her tone had a hint of seriousness. "You’ve been going through bodyguards like they’re tissues. Maybe this one’s here to stick around."
You rolled your eyes but smiled. "Fate? You’ve been reading too many romance novels."
"Hey, a girl can dream!" Jennifer laughed. "But seriously, if you feel something, maybe it’s worth looking into. He’s hot, right?"
You smiled at that, though your thoughts wandered back to Logan. The way his eyes lingered on you, like he was seeing something no one else could. "Yeah," you admitted softly. "He’s definitely that. He’s probably as old as my dad or somethin’. But man, Jen, if you saw him you’d lose your mind.”
You twirled the phone cord around your finger, still smiling to yourself, but your thoughts kept circling back to Logan. Something about the way he looked at you—like he knew more than he was saying—stuck with you. It wasn’t creepy or overprotective. It was... familiar. Comforting, even.
Jennifer’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “Hey, don’t overthink it, okay? Enjoy the view for once. Not everyone gets a hot bodyguard with a mysterious vibe. Maybe he’s the silver lining to your dad’s whole ‘paranoia’ problem.”
You laughed quietly. “Yeah, maybe.”
You hung up not long after, still feeling the weight of that odd, lingering sense of dĂŠjĂ  vu.
---
The next morning, Logan was waiting for you downstairs. Dressed in his usual dark clothes, he stood near the front door with his hands in his pockets, posture relaxed but alert. His eyes flicked toward you the second you entered the room.
There it was again—that heavy gaze that made it feel like he could see right through you.
“Mornin’,” you said, offering a small smile.
“Mornin’,” Logan replied, his voice gravelly.
Your father wasn’t home—out dealing with ‘business’—which gave you a rare moment to yourself. Well, mostly. You slipped on your leather jacket and glanced at Logan, your lips quirking up in a teasing grin. “What’s the plan, bodyguard? Gonna follow me around all day?”
Logan grunted, something close to amusement flashing in his eyes. “That’s the job.”
“You always this chatty?”
“Only when I meet interesting people.” His tone was dry, but there was the faintest flicker of a smile beneath it.
You snorted, heading for the door. “C’mon, hope you like running errands.”
Logan followed without complaint, falling into step beside you as you made your way to the car. The streets were quieter than usual, but the tension between rival families was palpable—something was brewing, and everyone knew it.
Still, Logan’s presence made you feel... safer. Like nothing bad could happen as long as he was there. It was strange. You barely knew him, but being around him felt easy. Natural. Like you’d known him for a lot longer than a day.
---
When you said you were going to run ‘errands,’ Logan hadn’t expected you to walk straight into an animal shelter. He followed you through the entrance, nodding politely at the woman at the front desk as you greeted her like an old friend.
“Morning, Lorraine!” you said with a bright smile.
Lorraine, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, smiled back. “There’s my favorite troublemaker. The pups will be glad to see you.” She cast a curious glance at Logan. “And who’s this?”
“My latest babysitter,” you said with a smirk, glancing at Logan. “Logan, meet Lorraine. Lorraine, Logan.”
Logan gave a curt nod. “Ma’am.”
Lorraine chuckled. “A man of few words. I like him already.” She waved you both toward the back. “Go on, they’ve been waiting for you.”
As soon as you walked past the front desk and entered the back area, the sound of excited barking filled the air. Dogs of all sizes pressed their noses against the bars of their cages, tails wagging furiously at the sight of you.
You crouched down in front of one of the kennels, talking softly to a scruffy little mutt as it whined and pawed at the bars. “Hey, buddy. Miss me?”
Logan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the way you scratched behind the dog's ears. There was something easy about the way you moved here, something soft. For a mobster’s kid, you had a surprisingly gentle touch.
"Didn't expect this to be part of the job," Logan muttered after a moment, his voice low but teasing.
You glanced up, grinning. "What, thought I’d be shopping for fur coats or shaking people down for cash?"
Logan raised a brow. "Somethin’ like that."
You laughed, standing up and dusting your hands off. “Sorry to disappoint. I’ve got a weakness for strays.” You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out a small bag of treats, tossing some into the kennels. "These guys have it rough enough without me skipping out on them."
Logan watched as the dogs practically fought over the treats, barking happily at your attention. You moved from cage to cage, giving each dog a little affection. It was... unexpected.
Logan watched you toss the last treat into one of the kennels, the scruffy mutt practically vibrating with happiness. He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, an amused glint in his eyes as you turned and dusted your hands off with a grin.
"You’re full of surprises," Logan muttered.
You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you folded your arms. “Oh, yeah? Disappointed?”
"Not exactly." His lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile.
You took a step closer, tilting your head. "Well, what did you expect?"
Logan shrugged, keeping his expression neutral. "Spoiled. Entitled. Maybe a little dangerous."
You laughed, the sound light and easy, and Logan’s chest tightened in a way that felt too familiar. "Dangerous, huh? Guess I’ve got some layers." You gave him a playful once-over. "What about you? Big, scary bodyguard with a brooding vibe. Got any surprises I should know about?"
Logan snorted. "Not really."
You narrowed your eyes like you didn’t quite believe him, but instead of pressing, you motioned toward the door. "C’mon. I’ve got one more stop."
Logan fell into step beside you as you exited the shelter and made your way toward the car. You chatted casually, filling the silence with stories about your favorite dogs at the shelter. But Logan stayed mostly quiet, his mind racing. It wasn’t just your voice—it was you. The way you carried yourself, the way you teased him like it was second nature.
He stole a glance at you as you drove. God, it felt the same as always. Like gravity pulled him toward you whether he wanted it or not.
---
Logan should’ve expected the second time around that you weren’t taking him to a normal place for errands. He was even more surprised when you parked in a nursing home parking lot and got out with that same pep in your step.
The sliding doors opened as you walked up to the front counter, where a middle-aged woman with tired eyes peered over the top of a blocky computer monitor. Her name tag read Carol.
“Morning, Carol,” you chirped with an easy smile, tapping your fingers on the desk.
Carol looked up and brightened at the sight of you. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite visitor. Here to cheer up the old-timers again?”
“Always,” you said, flashing a grin. “And I brought backup today.” You gestured behind you to Logan, who gave a brief nod.
Carol gave him a once-over and arched an eyebrow. “Well now, you didn’t tell me you’d be bringing a tall drink of water.”
You smirked, glancing over your shoulder at Logan. “Yeah, figured I’d mix things up.”
Logan just grunted in response, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly—half amusement, half something else. Carol winked at you before waving toward the hallway. “You know where to find them.”
You led Logan down the hall, your steps light and familiar as if you'd been coming here for years. He followed quietly, his sharp gaze flicking between doorways and hallways, always alert.
“You spend a lot of time here?” Logan asked as you slowed near a door marked Activity Room.
You shrugged. “Yeah. Most of these folks don’t get many visitors. It’s nice to stop by and remind them they’re not forgotten.”
Logan gave a small grunt of acknowledgment. It was such a simple thing—volunteering at a nursing home—but it hit him hard. It was just like you to find the overlooked parts of the world and give them your attention, like the dogs at the shelter, like the people here. You always had that streak of kindness, no matter which life you were living.
You nudged open the door, stepping into the room. A group of residents sat in mismatched chairs, some knitting, others half-watching a daytime soap on an old television. At the sight of you, faces lit up.
“There she is!” one of the older women called, setting her knitting aside with a delighted clap of her hands. “I thought you forgot about us!”
“As if I ever could,” you replied warmly, walking over to give her a light hug.
Logan lingered near the doorway, watching as you moved through the room like you belonged there, chatting with each resident, asking about their week, their families—if they remembered them. His heart twisted, both with admiration and an ache that wouldn’t quit.
You noticed him standing off to the side and shot him a teasing grin. “Don’t be shy, Logan. They won’t bite.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Not worried about them.”
You laughed, turning back to an older man with a deck of cards spread out in front of him. “Logan, meet Mr. Russo. He’s got a mean poker face.”
Mr. Russo gave Logan a once-over, then grinned, his false teeth gleaming. “You any good at cards, tough guy?”
Logan shrugged. “I can hold my own.”
You slid into the chair beside Mr. Russo, motioning for Logan to join you. “Care to test your luck?”
Logan hesitated for only a moment before pulling out a chair, the legs scraping against the linoleum. As he sat down, you dealt him a hand, your fingers brushing his in the process—a fleeting touch, but enough to send a jolt of familiarity through both of you.
You caught Logan’s gaze over the cards, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you. There it was again—that sense that you knew him somehow, though you couldn’t quite place it. It nagged at you, but you let it pass, offering him a playful smirk instead.
“Careful,” you warned. “I don’t go easy on anyone.”
Logan returned the smirk, something dangerous glinting in his eyes. “Neither do I.”
---
After the game, which you won—barely, you said your goodbyes to the residents, promising to visit again soon. Logan followed silently as you made your way back to the car, the soft clinking of your keys the only sound between you.
“Not what you expected for today, huh?” you asked as you slid into the driver’s seat.
Logan leaned against the car door, arms crossed. “Not exactly.”
You smiled, starting the engine. “Bet you thought being a mobster’s kid would be more... glamorous.”
“Something like that.” He gave you a sidelong glance. “You like keeping people guessing, don’t you?”
You grinned, shifting the car into drive. “It’s one of my many talents.”
The two of you drove in companionable silence, the hum of the city filling the space between you. Logan rested his elbow on the window frame, glancing at you every so often. You were like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve—different from the others, yet still unmistakably you.
“Why do you do it?” he asked after a while. “The shelter, the nursing home. You don’t have to.”
You shrugged, your expression thoughtful. "Dunno. Just because I was born into this life doesn’t mean I like what my dad does. I guess sometimes I feel like I’m tryin’ to balance the scales."
Logan leaned back against the seat, his sharp gaze on you, but he didn’t respond right away. You could tell he was chewing on that—probably picking apart your words, trying to figure you out. He always seemed like the kind of man who noticed everything, even if he didn’t say much about it.
You flashed him a teasing grin, trying to lighten the mood. "What about you? Any skeletons in the closet? Or are you just a man of mystery with perfect timing?"
Logan snorted softly, his lips twitching in that almost-smile he had. "I’m no mystery. Just do my job."
"Oh, come on," you pressed, throwing him a playful look. "You gotta give me something. Favorite food? Ever been married? Deep, dark secret?"
He gave you a sidelong glance, amused but guarded. "Steak. No. And not a chance."
You huffed in mock disappointment, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel. "You’re no fun, Logan."
"Never said I was," he muttered, but there was warmth in his tone, like he didn’t mind your teasing at all.
The conversation paused for a moment, the soft hum of the engine filling the space between you. Logan’s eyes lingered on you a little longer than they probably should have—taking in the curve of your smile, the way your fingers tapped a rhythm on the wheel.
And damn, if you didn’t make it hard to stay detached. You were so... alive. Every glance, every smile, every little laugh. You carried yourself like someone who knew how fleeting things could be—and even though Logan knew you couldn’t remember, he remembered every time you’d slipped through his fingers. That thought settled heavy in his chest, like a weight he carried everywhere.
You shot him a grin. "You know, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna think you’re interested."
Logan’s lips twitched. "What makes you think I’m not?"
The boldness of his response caught you off guard for a second, but you recovered quickly, leaning a little closer, eyes glinting with mischief. "Careful, tough guy. You’re supposed to be protecting me, not flirting with me."
"Who says I can’t do both?" His voice was low, rough, and it sent a small shiver down your spine.
You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. "I think my dad might disagree."
Logan’s eyes darkened slightly, though his expression didn’t change. "Your dad’s not here."
There it was—that pull again, the quiet, unspoken gravity between the two of you. It was like standing on the edge of something dangerous and thrilling all at once. You felt it in the way his gaze lingered, in the weight of his words. He wasn’t just playing along.
You cleared your throat, breaking the tension with a teasing smile. "Well, if you’re planning on making a move, Logan, you better make it good. I’ve got high standards, y’know."
Logan let out a low chuckle—quiet, but genuine—and for a moment, you thought you saw something softer in his eyes. Something like... affection.
But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that familiar guarded expression.
"Noted," he muttered, shifting his gaze back to the road ahead.
You grinned, satisfied that you’d managed to chip away at his walls, even if only a little.
---
The two of you finished your errands without any trouble, stopping by a grocery store for some essentials and grabbing a late lunch at a small diner tucked away from the main streets. It wasn’t much—just burgers and fries—but sitting across from Logan in the booth, you felt surprisingly content.
He was quiet most of the time, but not in a way that felt awkward. It was... comfortable. Like he didn’t need to fill the silence just for the sake of it. And every now and then, he’d throw out a dry, sarcastic comment that made you laugh harder than you expected.
You leaned back in the booth, sipping your soda and watching him over the rim of your glass. "Y’know, Logan... you’re not half as scary as you look."
Logan raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "Disappointed?"
"Not at all," you replied, your smile turning a little softer. "I like surprises."
He held your gaze for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind those sharp blue eyes. And for a second—just a second—you thought maybe, just maybe, there was something familiar about the way he looked at you. Like you were more than just a job to him.
But before you could dwell on it, Logan glanced at his watch and cleared his throat. "We should head back. Your old man’ll be expecting you."
You sighed dramatically, sliding out of the booth. "Guess my fun’s over."
Logan chuckled, tossing a few bills on the table for the check. "For now."
You gave him a playful nudge as you walked past him toward the door. "Don’t sound too excited."
---
By the time you got back to the house, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting the streets in a soft orange glow. Logan followed you inside, his quiet presence grounding you in a way you couldn’t quite explain.
"Thanks for today," you said, tossing your jacket onto a chair.
Logan gave a small nod, leaning against the wall near the door. "No problem."
You hesitated for a moment, then shot him one last grin. "You know, you’re not as bad as I thought."
"Same to you," he replied, that almost-smile creeping back onto his face.
And just like that, the unspoken connection between you simmered beneath the surface, waiting.
Maybe Logan was right. Maybe your dad would be pissed if he knew how much you enjoyed your new bodyguard’s company.
But standing there, watching Logan’s gaze linger on you for just a beat too long, you found you didn’t care all that much.
"Goodnight, Logan," you said softly, turning toward the stairs.
"Goodnight, Y/N," he replied, his voice low and steady.
And as you climbed the stairs, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the first time you’d said goodnight to him like this.
Not by a long shot.
---
Your dad told you not to leave the house today, which was fine by you, you had laundry to do anyways.
It had become habit to do your own laundry, even if you did have maids around the house. Nancy, one of the older maids, was the one to teach you that, along with cooking and cleaning since your mother has been gone since you were little.
You had a radio set on the washer, the familiar croon of 70s tunes filling the small laundry room as you pulled warm clothes from the dryer into a basket. You’d been at it for the better part of the morning, the simple domestic task giving you a sense of normalcy. The soft hum of the machines, the crackling radio, and the scent of clean laundry— it was all routine.
Routine helped keep your mind off the storm brewing outside your little bubble.
You sighed, swaying your hips a bit to the music as you lifted the basket. The house felt quieter today, with your dad off dealing with ‘business’ as usual. And Logan? He was somewhere nearby, probably lurking in the shadows like the brooding protector he was.
As if on cue, Logan appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. He was dressed in his usual dark clothing, looking as stoic as ever. You wondered if he ever wore anything other than flannels and a leather jacket.
"You know, I didn’t take you for the laundry-doing type," he remarked, his gravelly voice cutting through the music.
You raised an eyebrow, throwing a playful glance over your shoulder. "What, you think I’m too spoiled to do my own chores?"
Logan's lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "Something like that."
You smirked, grabbing the laundry basket and turning to face him. "I like to surprise people."
"You’re good at it," he replied, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual. There was something behind those eyes, something deeper, but as always, he kept it hidden beneath that calm, impenetrable exterior.
You tilted your head, leaning your hip against the dryer. "You sticking around or just checking on me?"
Logan shrugged, though his eyes never left yours. "Just making sure you're not running off anywhere. Your dad was pretty clear about staying put."
You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips softened the gesture. "I’ll be a good girl. Promise."
Logan grunted in response, pushing off the doorframe and walking closer. "You’re a lot of things, Y/N. Not sure ‘good girl’ is one of them."
You let out a laugh, swatting at him with a towel. "Hey, I can behave when I want to. It’s just more fun not to."
He caught your wrist with ease, holding it for a second too long before letting go. There was that familiar tension between you again, the unspoken something that crackled in the air whenever the two of you were close. He probably didn't mean to linger, but you could feel it—that pull.
"Maybe it’s the company," you teased, grabbing your laundry basket. "You bring out the best in me."
Logan didn’t respond immediately, but there was something in his eyes, something that made your breath hitch. He was quiet, but not in the usual way bodyguards were. With Logan, there was a weight to his silence, like he was always holding back, always watching.
You pushed past the lingering tension with a grin, heading toward the door with your laundry. "Come on, broody. Let’s get out of the laundry room before we both go stir-crazy."
As you passed by, you brushed against him—just lightly, but enough to send a small jolt through you. He didn’t move, but his eyes followed your every step, that silent intensity never wavering.
You stopped in the hallway and shot him a look over your shoulder. “You’re making this way too serious, you know. I’m doing laundry, not sneaking out of prison.”
“Old habits die hard,” he replied, crossing his arms with a slight smirk. “Besides, I think your dad’s idea of ‘safe’ is pretty different from yours.”
You rolled your eyes, hugging the laundry basket closer. “Right. Next, he’ll say I need an escort to the mailbox.”
Logan raised a brow, clearly amused. “You wouldn’t be the first.”
That earned him a laugh, and you shook your head, settling the basket on the table in the hall. “Guess you’re stuck with me then, bodyguard.”
“Doesn’t seem so bad,” he said, his voice softening as he glanced at you. His gaze was familiar in a way you couldn’t place, like he’d looked at you this way a hundred times before.
“Yeah?” You took a step closer, crossing your arms with a playful grin. “And here I thought I’d be driving you crazy.”
“You do,” he murmured, almost too quietly. His lips turned up slightly, but he looked away, that unspoken wall going back up.
“Good,” you teased, reaching out to poke him in the chest. “Keeps things interesting.”
Logan caught your hand before you could pull it back, holding it just long enough that you could feel the warmth of his touch, the quiet strength in it. There was something in his eyes that hinted at… more. Like he’d known you far longer than you could’ve ever guessed.
“Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Your heart thumped, but you kept your tone light. “Depends on what you’re offering, doesn’t it?”
His gaze dropped to your hand, still caught in his. He let go, but there was something in his expression that lingered. It was like he was searching for the right words, something he couldn’t quite say. Or maybe didn’t want to.
Instead, he settled back with that guarded look. “Better get used to me being around,” he said, nodding toward the front of the house. “Your dad won’t have it any other way.”
You glanced down the hall and shrugged. “Guess I can live with that. For now.”
Logan’s lips twitched, just barely. “For now,” he echoed, and there was something heavier in those words, something he wasn’t sharing.
You lingered for a moment, the silence stretching between you, before you picked up the basket again. “Well, I’ve got more laundry to fold. But if you feel like helping out…”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nice try, sweetheart.”
You rolled your eyes, shooting him a wink. “Fine. I’ll let you off easy this time.”
“Appreciate it,” he said with a smirk, but his eyes softened as he watched you turn to go, like he was holding back something he couldn’t quite name.
As you walked away, the light-heartedness of the moment stayed with you, but so did something else. It was that look Logan had, the one that made you feel seen, like he knew you better than anyone else ever had.
Maybe he did.
Or maybe, in some impossible way, he always had.
---
“No, no, no, cara. Give it to me.” Nancy took the mixing bowl away from you, stirring the batter while muttering something in Italian.
You leaned your hip against the counter, placing your head on Nancy’s shoulder with a pout. "I was doing what you’re doing.”
Nancy shook her head, stirring the batter with a practiced hand, her warm, familiar presence comforting. “No, cara mia, you were doing what you think I’m doing.” She shot you a look, one of those fond, chiding glances she’d perfected over the years. “And it was not the same.”
You laughed, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Fine, but you’re teaching me bad habits. This is how I stay spoiled, you know.”
She chuckled, patting your cheek affectionately. “You think you need me to be spoiled? You do just fine on your own.”
Before you could respond, Logan’s familiar silhouette appeared in the doorway. He leaned against the frame, watching you with a slight smirk that was becoming all too familiar—and endearing.
“Careful, Nancy,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “She’s already hard enough to handle.”
You turned, hands on your hips, feigning offense. “Excuse me, hard to handle?”
Logan shrugged, crossing his arms with a smirk. “You said it, not me.”
Nancy chuckled, eyes sparkling as she looked between you and Logan. “Ah, Y/N, he’s right. You do have a little spirit.”
You scoffed playfully, giving Logan an exaggerated glare before grinning back at Nancy. “What? I’m an angel, and you know it.”
Logan snorted, clearly enjoying himself. “Right. A real saint.” He gave you a knowing look, one that made your stomach flip despite yourself. That unspoken energy simmered between you two, even as you tried to keep it casual.
Nancy just shook her head, muttering something in Italian as she set the bowl down. “Angels don’t cause so much trouble,” she teased, pinching your cheek. “I taught you better.”
You rubbed your cheek with a grin, leaning back against the counter. “I’m blaming Logan. His bad influence must be rubbing off on me.”
Logan raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “That right? Thought you didn’t need any help there.”
“Oh, I don’t,” you said, crossing your arms with a challenging look. “I’m fully capable of trouble on my own.”
Nancy watched the two of you with a satisfied smile, turning back to her baking. “Ah, I see,” she murmured, her voice light. “It’s good to have someone who knows how to keep you in check.”
The glint in her eye wasn’t lost on you, and you rolled your eyes. “You’re making it sound like I’m some kind of wild child.”
“No, no,” she replied with a grin, waving her hand. “Just that I think he knows you better than you think, cara.”
Logan’s gaze softened a little at that, and though he didn’t say anything, his look lingered, as if he were silently agreeing with her.
You cleared your throat, feeling the familiar warmth creeping up your neck. “Well,” you started, trying to brush off the moment, “if Logan’s going to stick around, he might as well help.”
Nancy gave a sly smile, turning to Logan. “What do you say, Logan? A little kitchen work wouldn’t hurt.”
Logan shook his head, holding his hands up in surrender. “You two are doing just fine without me.”
You shot him a grin, taking a step closer. “Oh, come on. Big, tough Logan afraid of a little flour?”
His smirk softened as he looked down at you. “You keep pushing, and I might just teach you a lesson in troublemaking.”
Your stomach fluttered at the way his gaze stayed locked on yours, that familiar pull tugging you closer. “Is that a threat?”
“Call it… a warning,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand brushed against yours, just for a second, but it was enough to send a spark up your arm.
Nancy cleared her throat, clearly amused. “Okay, okay. I don’t need you two making a mess of my kitchen.”
You stepped back, giving Nancy a sheepish smile, and Logan chuckled, the sound low and easy. “She’s right,” he said, nodding toward the door. “Guess I’ll just keep an eye on you from a safe distance.”
Nancy gave him a knowing look, shaking her head with a chuckle. “If only it were that simple.”
---
“Ah, stay still, cara.” Nancy chided you, taking out a roller from your hair.
You gave Nancy a pout, eyes skimming your reflection in the mirror with clear discontent. "I don’t like it." Your voice held more weight than just the hair and makeup, though, and Nancy seemed to pick up on it.
She clicked her tongue, smoothing out a curl before looking at you through the mirror. “Ah, cara mia, tonight is important to your father. Besides,” she added, eyes glinting, “you look beautiful, yes?”
You gave her a half-hearted smile, brushing your hands over the bright yellow fabric of your dress. The dress was elegant and too formal for your taste, the kind of thing you’d never have chosen if it weren’t for your dad’s insistence on making you ‘presentable’ for his associates.
Nancy sighed, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, it’s one night. Then you’ll be back to your regular clothes, hmm?”
You grinned, rolling your eyes. “Can’t come soon enough.”
Just as you were about to add more, there was a quiet knock at the door. You looked up, already expecting Logan’s familiar silhouette. He leaned against the frame, hands in his pockets, his usual air of calm doing little to hide the intense look in his eyes as he took in the sight of you in the dress.
“Looks like they’ve got you all dolled up,” he remarked, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
You shot him a look, half annoyed, half amused. “Yeah, laugh it up, tough guy. Bet you’re glad it’s not you in this thing.”
Logan chuckled, stepping further into the room. “You could say that.” His eyes met yours, and for a brief second, there was something in his gaze, something you couldn’t quite put into words. But just as quickly, he looked away.
Nancy gave you a knowing smile, patting your shoulder before stepping back. “Logan,” she said, with a gentle warning in her voice, “take care of her tonight, yes?”
Logan’s expression softened, his gaze turning protective as he looked at you. “Always do.”
Nancy winked, then left the room, leaving you alone with him.
You let out a sigh, reaching for the hem of your dress as if you could somehow make it less constricting. “Do I really have to go down there?”
Logan raised an eyebrow. “You think your dad’s throwing this party for fun? Whole point is for you to be seen.”
“Great,” you muttered, moving toward the door. But as you passed him, Logan placed a hand on your shoulder, stopping you.
“You’ll be fine,” he said, his voice lower, more reassuring. “They’re not expecting anything from you. Just show up, smile, let them know you exist.”
You looked up at him, searching his face. He was steady, calm, his expression soft in a way he rarely let others see. You didn’t know why, but having him there made you feel a little more at ease. “Guess I don’t have much choice, do I?”
“Nope,” he replied, his mouth twitching into that almost-smile.
With a resigned sigh, you squared your shoulders. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”
---
The party was everything you’d dreaded: formal, suffocating, and filled with people whose only interest in you was as your father’s daughter. You’d stuck close to Logan most of the night, exchanging quiet remarks whenever the chance arose, his presence the only thing keeping you from losing your mind. But as the night wore on, a few glasses of champagne and the tension of the evening started to wear on you.
You tugged on Logan’s sleeve as you leaned in close. “Think anyone would notice if I snuck out?” you murmured, your breath warm against his ear.
Logan chuckled low, his gaze flickering over you. “Considering your dad’s been watching you like a hawk? Probably.”
You rolled your eyes, letting your hand brush his arm. “Figures. He can’t just let me have one night off.” You shifted closer, feeling his warmth through his jacket, and gave him a mischievous smile. “Bet you didn’t sign up for babysitting duty.”
“Didn’t realize you’d need it,” he replied with a smirk, his voice barely loud enough for you to hear.
You nudged him playfully, letting your hand linger on his arm. “I don’t,” you said, a little more insistently. “You just don’t know what to do with me.”
His eyes met yours, and there was something dark and unspoken in his gaze. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice dropping. “I might take you up on that.”
The hint of challenge in his tone sent a thrill through you, and you leaned closer, your hand settling on his chest as you whispered, “Oh, I’m counting on it.”
You could feel his heartbeat, steady beneath your hand, but his expression gave nothing away. He looked down at you, his jaw tight, but his eyes held that familiar intensity, the kind that had always made you wonder just how long he’d been watching you. It was intoxicating, that pull between you, and tonight, with the champagne loosening your guard, you felt bolder than usual.
When you finally pulled away, you could feel his gaze following you, but you didn’t let yourself look back. Instead, you mingled through the crowd, smiling politely, pretending to listen to conversations while stealing glances at Logan across the room.
After what felt like hours, your father’s attention finally shifted, and you took the chance to slip away to your bedroom.
As you walked up the stairs, Logan trailed behind you, like always. You were tired of this, of the flirting, how he did it back to you, but how nothing ever happened.
Well tonight you were done with that.
You opened your bedroom door and sat on the bed, quickly slipping off your heels and tossing them carelessly across the room. The muffled sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filtered up from downstairs, where the party raged on. Logan stood in the doorway, as he always did, watching you in that silent, intense way that had been driving you crazy for months.
You looked up at him, your fingers playing with the hem of your short yellow dress, the fabric brushing against your thighs as you shifted on the bed. “You comin’ in, or are you just gonna stand there all night?”
Logan didn’t respond right away, his jaw ticking as his eyes flicked over you, taking in the sight of you sitting there, legs crossed, your dress riding up just enough to tease. He sighed, stepping into the room but staying near the door. “Your old man’s got half the city downstairs, Y/N. This ain’t the time.”
You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Since when do you care about my dad? He’s not your boss.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, the leather of his jacket creaking. “He pays me to keep you safe, not… this.”
You stood up from the bed, taking a step toward him. “This?” you repeated, voice playful, but you could feel the tension in the air thickening. “And what is ‘this,’ Logan?”
He didn’t answer, just stood there, his eyes dark and unreadable, but you could see the way his body tensed when you got closer, the way his gaze flicked down to your legs before snapping back up to your face.
You reached out, your fingers brushing against the rough material of his flannel, and you could feel the heat of his body through the layers of fabric. He stiffened, his hand catching your wrist, but it wasn’t harsh. Just enough to stop you.
“Y/N, don’t,” he warned, his voice low, rough.
You tilted your head, stepping even closer until your body was almost pressed against his. “Why not?” you asked softly. “You’ve been following me around for months. Always there, always watching. What are you so afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid,” he muttered, but his grip on your wrist tightened just a little, like he was holding himself back. “You’re too young for this. I work for your dad.”
You pulled your wrist free, undeterred, your hand now resting against his chest. “I’m not a kid, Logan. And you don’t work for him—you work for me. You’ve been protecting me, haven’t you?”
His eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
“Then what do you mean?” you shot back, moving even closer, your fingers trailing up to his shoulder, over the leather of his jacket. “You’ve been pulling away from me every time I get close, but you keep coming back.”
Logan’s jaw clenched, his hands hovering near your waist, as if he was afraid to touch you. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk,” you said firmly, your voice steady. “And you know that.” You pressed a little harder, your lips just inches from his jaw, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his skin. “You don’t have to keep pretending like you don’t want this.”
His hands shot up to your shoulders, gripping you tightly, but he didn’t push you away this time. His breathing was heavier now, the muscles in his arms tensing as if he was fighting against himself. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he growled, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Maybe not,” you admitted, your lips brushing the stubble on his jaw as you spoke. “But I know what I want.”
Logan groaned low in his throat, his fingers tightening on your shoulders, but still, he didn’t push you away. His resistance was crumbling, you could feel it.
“You’re not a kid,” he repeated quietly, almost like he was trying to convince himself.
“No,” you whispered back, your lips ghosting along the side of his neck, your hands moving to his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. “I’m not.”
In a swift movement, you pushed him back toward the chair in the corner of the room, his legs hitting the edge as you guided him down. He sat heavily, his hands falling from your shoulders to your hips, still trying to hold onto that last bit of control.
You straddled his thigh, your dress riding up as you settled against him, the heat of your body pressed against the denim of his jeans. His hands moved up to your waist, holding you in place, but the look in his eyes told you he was barely holding on.
“Y/N,” he rasped, but his voice was shaky, uncertain.
You didn’t give him time to think. You started moving, rocking your hips against his thigh, slow at first, testing. His grip on your waist tightened, his eyes darkening as he watched you, the tension in his body radiating through his hands.
He wasn’t stopping you.
You bit your lip, your breath hitching as you pressed harder against him, the friction sending a jolt of heat through you. Logan groaned, his hands sliding down to your hips, holding you steady as you moved. His control was slipping, and you could feel it.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his head falling back against the chair, his eyes squeezed shut.
You leaned forward, your lips brushing his ear. “Still think I’m too young?”
Logan’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping you harder as you rocked against him, the rough fabric of his jeans rubbing against the thin material of your underwear. Every movement sent sparks of pleasure through you, and you could tell from the way his breathing quickened that he was feeling it too.
His hands slid up your sides, fingers digging into your skin as he tried to pull you closer, but you were in control now. You pressed your lips to his neck, kissing the exposed skin, feeling the tension in his body as you kissed down toward his collarbone, your fingers tangling in his shirt.
Logan groaned, his hands gripping you tighter as you moved faster, grinding against his thigh with more urgency. The heat between your legs was almost unbearable now, the pressure building with every movement, every gasp that escaped your lips.
Logan's eyes were shut tight, head thrown back against the chair, his hands gripping your waist like he was the one trying to stay grounded. But you weren’t stopping, not after all the months of back-and-forth, all the moments you’d caught him watching you with that dark, unreadable look. The friction, the heat pooling between your legs, was everything you’d been waiting for, and it was clear from the roughness of his breathing that he wasn’t far behind.
You pressed harder, your hips rolling against his thigh as you gripped his shoulders to steady yourself. The thin fabric of your dress had ridden up, and you knew he could feel just how soaked you were through the denim of his jeans. His hands were at your waist, digging into your skin in a way that bordered on painful but only made you push down harder, rocking your hips with more insistence.
Logan’s voice was rough when he finally spoke, his hands tightening as if he was trying to keep himself from pulling you in closer. “Y/N… you’re playin’ with fire here,” he growled, the words thick, like he was barely holding back.
You ignored him, pressing a little harder, your lips hovering just over the edge of his jaw as you breathed, “Maybe I like the heat.”
His jaw clenched, but his hands slid up, settling just under your ribs, holding you steady as you moved. Each shift of your hips brought another groan out of him, the sound vibrating through his chest and sending a thrill straight through you. You could feel yourself getting closer, your breath coming in shallow gasps as the pressure built, the heat between your legs almost too much to bear.
“Logan,” you whispered, your hands slipping up to tangle in his hair, pulling his face closer. You could see the restraint etched across his face, the way his jaw was clenched tight, like he was struggling to keep himself from giving in. “I need you.”
His hands tensed on your waist, fingers digging in harder, his breathing growing rougher with every word that slipped from your lips. But he didn’t pull away; if anything, he held you tighter, letting you grind against him, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against you in a way that left you breathless, desperate.
“You know what you’re doin’ to me?” he muttered, his voice barely more than a growl as his eyes met yours, dark and full of something you’d been longing to see for months.
“Maybe,” you replied, a small, breathless smile tugging at your lips as you kept moving, kept pressing closer, feeling the tension between you both thicken until it was almost unbearable. “Maybe I want to see how far you’ll let me go.”
Logan groaned, his grip tightening as his eyes fell shut again, his hands shifting to guide your hips, helping you keep up the steady rhythm that was driving you both closer to the edge. You leaned forward again, your lips brushing against his neck, pressing soft kisses along the exposed skin as you rocked against him, the heat building with every second.
“Y/N,” he rasped, his voice so low it sent a shiver through you. “You’re… you’re so damn—”
You cut him off, pressing your lips to the spot just under his ear, feeling the way his breath hitched as your hips ground down harder. You were close, every nerve ending on fire, and you could feel that he was, too. His hands were everywhere, sliding up your back, pressing you closer, holding you tight like he was afraid to let go.
And then, finally, the pressure broke. You gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders as your hips stilled, your body shuddering against him. Logan’s grip on your waist tightened, his own breath hitching as he held you steady, his hands warm and solid as you rode out the waves of pleasure.
He was quiet for a long moment, his breathing heavy, and you could feel the way his body had tensed beneath you, the strain in his hands as he held himself back. Slowly, you looked up, meeting his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes made your breath catch all over again.
Without a word, Logan shifted, his hands sliding down to hook under your thighs as he stood, lifting you with a strength that sent another thrill through you. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he carried you to the bed, the heat in his gaze leaving no room for second thoughts, no hesitation. This was it, and you were ready.
He laid you down, his hands lingering on your thighs, his fingers brushing over your skin as he looked down at you, his expression a mix of hunger and restraint. You reached up, tugging him closer until he was hovering over you, his weight pressing down just enough to make you feel secure, safe.
This was what you’d been waiting for, what you’d both been skirting around for too long. Logan’s hands slid up your sides, his fingers trailing along the fabric of your dress, and you felt your breath hitch as his gaze darkened, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
His thumbs brushed the exposed skin just above the low neckline of your dress, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You watched him, eyes locked on his as he leaned in, his jaw tight, the hunger in his gaze barely restrained. The room felt smaller, warmer, like the air had thickened between you.
And then, finally, his mouth was on yours.
The kiss was desperate, wild, like he was making up for lost time. His lips claimed yours with a roughness that sent a shiver down your spine, his hands moving to cradle your face, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand the distance. You gasped against his mouth, your fingers finding their way into his hair, tugging him down harder.
It had been seventy-three years since he’d last kissed you—nearly three quarters of a century of holding back—and the intensity of it showed. It was all-consuming, like he was trying to make up for every second he’d denied himself this.
Logan groaned into your mouth, a deep, almost pained sound, and the desperation in it made your blood race. He kissed you like he was starving, like he needed this, needed you, and you felt your body melt into him. His hands slid down your body, rough and sure, stopping at your hips to pull you flush against him. The heat between your legs was almost unbearable, and the friction of his jeans against your thighs only made it worse.
You broke the kiss for air, your breaths coming fast, but Logan didn’t stop. His mouth found your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your throat, teeth scraping against your skin just enough to make you gasp. His hands were everywhere, tracing the curve of your waist, the swell of your hips, gripping you with a possessiveness that sent a thrill through you.
“Logan,” you whispered, your voice breathless, needy. You tilted your head back, giving him better access as his lips continued their descent, leaving a path of fire along your skin. Your hands fisted in his flannel, pulling him closer, and he groaned again, the sound vibrating through your body.
“God, Y/N,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire, like he was barely holding on. His hands slipped under your dress, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your thighs, and you shivered, your breath catching in your throat. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide with need. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, but the words were laced with something softer, something that made your heart skip.
You didn’t reply, just pulled him down for another kiss, this one just as desperate as the first. Your hands roamed over his chest, slipping beneath the open flannel to feel the heat of his skin, the hard muscles that tensed under your touch. Logan shivered, his breath catching as your fingers brushed against his bare chest, and you felt a rush of satisfaction at the way he reacted to you.
His jacket slipped from his shoulders, landing somewhere on the floor, but neither of you paid it any mind. Your hands were already pushing the flannel off him, revealing more of his skin, and Logan helped you, shrugging it off with a growl of impatience. The white beater he wore beneath clung to his chest, and you could see the way his muscles flexed beneath it, the way the fabric stretched taut over his shoulders.
He leaned back down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, and you moaned into his mouth, your nails digging into his shoulders. Logan’s hands were back under your dress, sliding up, leaving trails of heat in their wake. His touch was rough, calloused, but so incredibly gentle in a way that made your heart ache. You arched into him, your body pressing closer, desperate for more, for everything he was willing to give.
“Fuck,” he muttered against your mouth, his hands sliding higher until his thumbs brushed the edge of your panties. He paused, breathing heavily, his eyes searching yours, looking for any sign of hesitation. But there was none. You were all in, had been from the moment you’d first seen him.
You reached down, grabbing his wrists and guiding his hands further up, silently urging him on. Logan’s breath hitched, and his eyes darkened even more, a low growl rumbling in his chest. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, and you could feel your heart pounding as he tugged, the thin fabric slipping down your legs.
"Fuck, Y/N," he growled, his voice thick with need as his calloused hands slid back up your thighs, pushing your dress higher. "You're so damn wet already."
You gasped as his fingers brushed against your center, your hips jerking up instinctively. "Logan, please," you whimpered, reaching for him.
He leaned down to kiss you hard, his tongue pushing into your mouth as his fingers began exploring you properly. The roughness of his hands contrasted with how gently he touched you, like he was afraid of breaking you. You moaned into his mouth as he slid one thick finger inside, your hands gripping his shoulders.
"That's it, darlin'," he murmured against your lips. "Let me hear you."
Your dress was bunched around your waist now as Logan worked another finger into you, stretching you carefully. Your earlier orgasm had left you sensitive, making every touch feel electric. His thumb found your clit and began rubbing slow circles that had you writhing beneath him.
"Logan," you gasped, your nails digging into his skin through his beater. "I need—ah!—I need more."
He growled low in his throat, curling his fingers inside you. "Tell me what you need, Y/N. Say it."
Your face flushed but you met his eyes. "I need you inside me. Please, Logan. I've wanted this for so long."
Something dark and possessive flashed in his eyes. He withdrew his fingers, making you whimper at the loss, and reached down to undo his belt. The metal clinked as he pulled it free, the sound sending a thrill through you.
You sat up enough to pull your dress over your head, leaving you in just your bra. Logan's eyes raked over you hungrily as he pushed his jeans down his hips. The obvious bulge in his boxers made your mouth go dry.
"Come here," he growled, pulling you into another searing kiss as his hands found the clasp of your bra. It took him only seconds to undo it, and then you were bare before him, your nipples hardening in the cool air.
Logan's mouth moved to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks as his hands cupped your breasts. You moaned as he rolled your nipples between his fingers, your back arching into his touch.
"Fuck, you're perfect," he muttered against your skin, his voice rough. He shifted to take one nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as you gasped and squirmed beneath him.
Your hands found the hem of his beater, tugging insistently until he pulled back long enough to yank it off. The sight of his bare chest, all hard muscle and dark hair, made heat pool between your legs. There were old scars scattered across his skin - remnants of wounds time hadn't quite erased.
You reached for his boxers but he caught your wrists, pinning them above your head with one large hand. "Not yet," he growled, his free hand sliding down between your legs again. "Want to make sure you're ready for me."
His fingers found your clit again and you cried out, oversensitive and desperate. "Logan, please," you begged, trying to buck your hips up against his hand. "I'm ready, I swear. I need you now."
He studied your face for a long moment, his eyes dark with desire, before releasing your wrists. "Take them off," he ordered, nodding to his boxers.
Your hands shook slightly as you pushed the fabric down his hips, freeing his cock. He was huge, thick and hard, already leaking at the tip. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly, and Logan's breath hitched.
"Careful, darlin'," he warned, his voice strained. "Been wanting this too long to end it early."
He pushed you back onto the bed, settling between your spread thighs. The head of his cock brushed against your entrance and you both groaned. Logan braced himself on his forearms above you, his eyes locked on yours.
"You sure about this?" he asked, his voice rough but gentle. "Once I start, I don't know if I'll be able to stop."
You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "I'm sure. Please, Logan. I want you."
He kissed you hard as he began pushing inside, swallowing your gasps as he stretched you open. The burn was intense but perfect, your body gradually adjusting to his size. Logan moved slowly, giving you time to adapt, but you could feel the tension in his muscles as he held himself back.
"Fuck," he groaned when he was finally fully seated inside you. "So tight, darlin'. Feel so good around me."
You clutched at his shoulders, panting. "Move," you urged. "Please, I need—"
Logan pulled back and thrust forward again, setting a steady rhythm that had you seeing stars. Each stroke hit something deep inside you that made pleasure spark through your whole body. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he fucked into you with increasing force.
"That's it," he growled, watching your face contort with pleasure. "Take it, Y/N. Take all of me."
Your nails raked down his back as the pressure built inside you again. Logan's thrusts grew harder, faster, driving you both toward the edge. The headboard banged against the wall with each movement but neither of you cared about the noise.
"Logan," you gasped, feeling yourself getting close. "I'm gonna—ah!"
"Come for me," he ordered, his voice rough. One hand slid between your bodies to rub your clit. "Want to feel you come on my cock."
The added stimulation pushed you over the edge. You came with a cry, your body clenching around him as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Logan growled, his rhythm faltering as your walls pulsed around him.
"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his thrusts growing erratic. "Where do you want—"
"Inside," you gasped, still riding the aftershocks. "Please, Logan. Wanna feel you."
He cursed, his hips snapping forward a few more times before he buried himself deep with a growl, spilling inside you. You could feel him pulsing, filling you up as he collapsed onto his forearms above you.
For several long moments, the only sound was your heavy breathing. Logan's forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed as he caught his breath. You ran your hands up and down his back, feeling the sweat-slick skin under your palms.
Finally, he pulled out carefully and rolled onto his side, pulling you with him. You winced slightly at the soreness between your legs, but it was a good kind of ache. Logan's arms wrapped around you, holding you close against his chest.
---
Logan let out a low groan as he woke, the bed beneath him feeling far too comfortable, unfamiliar in a way that immediately set him on edge. It took a second for his mind to catch up, piecing together where he was and, more importantly, who he was with.
He didn’t need to look over to feel the warmth beside him, or the way your hair fanned out across the pillow. It hit him all at once—the heat of your skin against his, the way you’d leaned into him last night, confident, unrestrained. He opened his eyes, gaze finding you lying beside him, face soft and peaceful in sleep, an arm draped over his chest as if you’d claimed him in the night.
Logan sighed, glancing at the ceiling, but couldn’t help looking down at you again, still asleep and blissfully unaware of the storm in his head. He’d known it was a bad idea from the start, coming upstairs with you last night, letting his guard down. But damn, when you’d gotten close, pushing him toward that chair with that look in your eyes—he’d been gone the second you’d touched him.
He was even further gone when he had finally kissed you—it was one of his biggest regrets the last time he had seen you back in 1943—he never held you the way he wanted to. Too afraid that maybe he was the problem, the reason you kept on dying over and over.
And because of that, he hadn’t been this close to you since 1900.
It was strange, being here like this—letting his guard down after all those lives, all those memories of watching you fade out of his reach. A part of him had always tried to keep a distance, to save himself from the heartbreak he knew was coming. But last night… last night, he’d been weak.
He brushed a thumb over your arm without thinking, lost in thought. It was impossible not to wonder, with you lying beside him like this, what it would be like if this time were different. If, just once, he could hold onto you, let himself believe you’d stay.
But he knew better.
His hand lingered on your skin a moment too long, and he felt you stir, your lashes fluttering as you slowly opened your eyes. A soft smile touched your lips when you saw him, and he felt his resolve crack just a little more.
“Mornin’,” he murmured, his voice rougher than he’d meant.
“Mmm,” you hummed, still sleepy, your fingers tracing a lazy pattern over his chest. “Didn’t think you’d still be here.” You said it lightly, but there was a hint of something else there—relief, maybe. “Guess I finally wore you out.”
Logan huffed, his lips tugging into a smirk. “Guess so.”
You shifted to look at him, your eyes bright with that familiar mischief. “So, what’s your excuse this time?”
He raised a brow. “Excuse?”
“Yeah. For pulling away,” you said, your tone casual but pointed. “You’ve always got one.”
Logan’s jaw clenched slightly, and he broke eye contact, looking away. “It’s complicated, Y/N.”
You reached up, cupping his face and guiding his gaze back to you. “That’s what you always say. Doesn’t mean it has to be.”
He was silent for a moment, searching your face. He could feel the weight of his past with you, all those memories stacking up like a dam holding back a flood. But he couldn’t let you in on that. Couldn’t make you carry the burden of knowing you’d lived—and died—so many times before. It was his cross to bear, not yours.
“Maybe I just don’t want you getting hurt,” he finally said, his voice quieter, a touch raw.
You let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Please, Logan. You think I don’t know what I’m doing?”
Logan just shook his head, but he couldn’t help the small, amused smile that crept onto his face. “You’re a handful, you know that?”
“I’ve heard that once or twice,” you teased, running your hand along his chest. “Lucky for you, I don’t scare easy.”
That hint of defiance in your voice tugged at something deep inside him, and he caught your hand, holding it in his as he looked into your eyes. “You say that now. But I’ve got a way of… complicating things.”
Your gaze softened, but there was still a spark there, unyielding. “Good thing I like complicated.”
Logan’s eyes darkened, and for a second, he felt that familiar pull, the urge to tell you everything—to let you in on the truth of why he was here, why he couldn’t stay away. But he stopped himself, the weight of all those lost lifetimes bearing down on him again. He couldn’t do that to you, not this time.
“Then I guess I’m stuck with you,” he said, trying to keep his tone light, even though his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly.
“Guess so,” you replied with a grin, shifting closer. You tilted your head, eyes narrowing as you studied him. “Logan?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you ever gonna stop acting like you’re some kind of curse?” Your voice was soft but firm, like you were daring him to argue.
Logan went silent, his gaze flickering away from yours. You’d hit closer to the truth than you knew.
“Don’t know if I can,” he admitted after a pause. “It’s… complicated.” He shrugged, hoping you’d leave it at that.
But, of course, you didn’t. “Then I guess I’ll just have to keep proving you wrong,” you murmured, pressing a light kiss to his jaw, a warm reassurance that only made him feel the pull of his past even stronger.
He didn’t answer, just closed his eyes, letting himself savor this one small, stolen moment with you. Just this once, he’d allow himself that. Because deep down, he knew he’d always lose you in the end.
And this time, he was determined to make it last as long as he could. Maybe, just maybe, even put that ring to use.
---
You were back at the dog shelter, this time staying a little bit longer since one of the workers, Amelia, was out sick.
Lorraine handed you a few leashes, “mind taking some of ‘em out for a walk?”
You happily grabbed the roped leashes, “of course.” Then you glanced over at Logan, who had been eyeing the dogs with a mix of amusement and reservation. “You up for walkin’ some too?”
He raised an eyebrow at you, then at the leashes in your hand, but there was a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Didn’t take you for a dog wrangler, Y/N.”
You laughed, clipping one of the leashes onto a small brown mutt who was practically bouncing with excitement. “Come on, Logan. What’re you afraid of? They don’t bite—well, not all of them, anyway.”
Logan chuckled, reluctantly stepping forward. “Right. Long as they don’t try to drag me down the street.”
You handed him a leash attached to a shaggy, medium-sized dog with big brown eyes, looking up at him expectantly. “Here. This one’s named Ringo. He’s a sweetheart.”
Logan eyed the dog suspiciously before giving the leash a little tug, testing the waters. “Ringo, huh?” He knelt down and patted the dog’s head, a faint smile crossing his face as the dog leaned into his touch. “Guess you’re alright.”
You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “See? He likes you already.” As you finished leashing up a few more of the dogs, you handed the leashes to Logan. “Think you can handle these guys too?”
Logan took the leashes without complaint, looking down at the little group of dogs at his feet. “Guess I don’t have much choice.”
“Good answer,” you teased, giving him a wink before heading toward the door. You led the way outside, the two of you walking side-by-side with the dogs trotting happily along. It was a warm day, and the sun was shining down, casting a soft glow over everything.
Logan glanced over at you as you moved down the sidewalk together, the dogs tugging excitedly at their leashes. You had a carefree smile on your face, and he found himself watching you more than the path ahead, the memory of a few nights ago still vivid in his mind. The thought of it sent a thrill through him—yet at the same time, a pang of dread.
“You always this happy walking dogs, or is it just ‘cause I’m here?” he teased, a little smirk tugging at his lips.
You shot him a playful look. “Guess you’ll never know.” You nudged him lightly with your shoulder, eyes bright with mischief. “But if you keep coming with me, you might find out.”
He let out a small laugh, his gaze softening as he looked away. Even after all these years, you could still surprise him—like the way you’d drag him to places like this or the way you talked about the little things with such enthusiasm. It was one of those qualities he remembered about you from lifetimes ago, and it hadn’t changed. It made him feel like maybe, somehow, this was different.
As you walked a little further, one of the dogs—a scruffy little terrier—yipped and tugged at Logan’s leash, trying to chase after a pigeon. He grunted, holding the leash tightly and muttering, “Settle down, mutt. You’re not goin’ anywhere.”
You laughed, glancing over with an amused smile. “Ringo’s got more energy than you’d think, huh?”
Logan shook his head, but he couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, well, maybe I should be takin’ notes from him.” He looked at you then, and his expression softened. “You’ve really got a thing for these dogs, don’t ya?”
Your smile faded into something more thoughtful as you looked down at the furry pack in front of you. “I dunno. I guess they’re just… easy to be around. They don’t care about who my father is or what I do—they just want someone to be with them, you know?”
Logan nodded, watching the way you interacted with the dogs, your fingers lightly brushing over their heads, your voice soft as you spoke to them. You’d always had that kindness about you, that gentleness that made him want to believe in something better, something… safe.
“You’re good with ‘em,” he said quietly, almost to himself.
You looked up at him, a smile in your eyes. “You know, you’re not so bad with them either, Logan.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, I think I’ll leave the dog-wranglin’ to you.”
For a while, you walked in comfortable silence, the bustling city around you fading into the background as you wandered through the neighborhood with the dogs. Finally, you reached a small park, and you stopped to let the dogs sniff around.
As they explored, you took a seat on a nearby bench, patting the spot beside you. Logan hesitated for a second before joining you, stretching his legs out in front of him.
You looked over at him, your expression soft. “Thanks for coming today. I know this probably isn’t your ideal way to spend an afternoon.”
Logan shrugged, trying to act casual, but he couldn’t hide the warmth in his gaze. “Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t wanna be,” he said, his voice low.
The sincerity in his words made your heart skip a beat, and you looked away, feeling a little bashful. You fiddled with one of the leashes, clearing your throat. “You know… the more time we spend together, the more I wonder how long you’re planning to stick around.”
He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he considered his answer. He wanted to tell you the truth—that he’d been watching you, waiting for you, for so many lifetimes. But he couldn’t. Instead, he reached out, his hand covering yours where it rested on the bench.
“As long as you’ll have me,” he said quietly.
The words hung between you, and for a moment, it was like the whole world had faded away. You looked up at him, your eyes searching his, trying to read the depths of his expression.
A soft smile touched your lips, and you squeezed his hand. “Then you’re gonna be around for a long time, Logan.”
He felt a strange, hopeful ache in his chest at your words, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, this time, things could be different.
The dogs barked, breaking the spell, and you both laughed, pulling away as you got up to wrangle them again. But even as you continued on your walk, he stayed close by your side, his hand occasionally brushing yours as you walked—almost as if he was reminding himself that you were real, that you were here with him.
---
Late one night, you lay beside Logan in the dim light filtering through the window, the city’s night sounds a steady hum in the distance. Your head rested on his chest, your fingers tracing lazy circles over the skin above his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath your touch.
Logan shifted slightly, his hand coming up to rest gently on your back. For a long time, he just lay there, watching you in silence, his thumb brushing along your spine. You could tell he was relaxed, but there was something else—a quiet intensity in the way his gaze lingered on you, a heaviness in the air that made your heart race.
“What’re you thinkin’ about?” you murmured, letting your fingers trail up to his collarbone. You glanced up at him, catching the faintest hint of a smile as he met your eyes.
“Just… wonderin’ how I got roped into all this,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting. But the glint in his eyes gave him away, and you saw something softer there.
“Yeah? Doesn’t seem like you mind too much.” You smirked, giving his chest a light pat. “I’d almost say you’re gettin’ attached.”
He snorted, pulling you a little closer, his arm tightening around you. “Could say the same for you,” he replied, his voice low, almost teasing. “You’re insatiable, y’know that?”
You laughed, and the sound was soft in the quiet room. “You’re the one who keeps showin’ up, Logan. If you wanted me to behave, you’d stay away.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Maybe I don’t want you to behave.”
Your fingers stilled on his chest, and you looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “So you like me like this, then? A little reckless… a little spoiled?” you teased.
He chuckled, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Think I do.”
You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and you settled back against his chest, letting your hand rest over his heart. For a while, neither of you said anything, the silence comfortable, his warmth grounding you. It was a rare kind of peace—one that you’d come to cherish whenever you were with him.
But then, curiosity got the better of you, and you lifted your head, giving him a thoughtful look. “Logan,” you began, your voice hesitant. “How long are you gonna stick around? I mean… I know my dad thinks you’re just here for protection, but… it feels like more than that.”
Logan’s gaze darkened, a flash of something unreadable passing over his face. He glanced away, his jaw tensing as he seemed to search for the right words. “As long as you want me here, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
The weight of his words hung between you, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “Then don’t,” you whispered, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I don’t want you to.”
He didn’t say anything in response, but his hand slipped up to cup the back of your head, pulling you down into a slow, lingering kiss. There was something different about it this time, a quiet desperation that made your pulse quicken, like he was trying to hold on to this moment, to keep it from slipping away.
When you finally pulled back, you searched his eyes, wondering what was going through his mind. “You’re not gonna let me go, are you?”
A small smile tugged at his lips, though his gaze was still shadowed. “Not a chance, darlin’.”
You felt a surge of affection for him then, this man who’d somehow become both your protector and your closest confidant. He was rough around the edges, guarded and distant with everyone else—but with you, he was different. You brought out a softness in him, a warmth that felt as though it had been buried for a long, long time.
Without thinking, you reached up and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, your fingertips lingering against his skin. “You know, for a guy who’s supposed to be my bodyguard, you’re doing a terrible job at keeping things professional,” you teased, though there was no bite in your words.
Logan let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You’re the one makin’ things complicated, Y/N.”
“Maybe.” You smirked, your fingers still tracing over his chest. “But you don’t seem to mind.”
He looked at you then, something fierce in his eyes, and for a moment, you saw a glimpse of the man he’d been—a man who’d loved and lost, who’d carried scars from lifetimes past. You wondered if he would ever tell you his story, if he would ever let you in on the secrets he guarded so closely.
But for now, you were content with the silence, with the feel of his heartbeat beneath your hand, with the quiet reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere.
As the night wore on, you lay there together, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading away. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.
---
Your father had asked you to come to his office in the spacious house. At first it was nothing but muffled voices from outside the door, until Logan heard your father speak again, for a longer period of time, causing your own voice to rise.
While Logan couldn’t make out the words you were saying even with his enhanced hearing, he could tell you weren’t happy. Your voice carried that sharp edge you only got when something really struck a nerve, and judging by the way you didn’t hold back, it had to be serious.
Logan lingered just outside the heavy, mahogany door of your father’s office, his fists clenched as he heard your voice rising behind it. It was clear you were upset, and whatever was being discussed inside, you didn’t like it. He’d seen you frustrated, angry even, but never like this—there was a desperation in your tone that sent a chill through him.
Moments later, the door flew open, and you stormed out, cheeks flushed with anger, eyes flashing as you spotted him. You barely paused, brushing past him, but Logan caught your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.
“Y/N,” he said, his voice low. “What happened?”
You turned to face him, anger and hurt swirling in your eyes. “He’s… he’s marrying me off, Logan. To that family. After everything he promised me—he said he’d never force me into something like this.”
Logan’s expression hardened. “What are you talkin’ about? He can’t just… marry you off like some kind of deal.”
Your hands were shaking as you brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, struggling to keep your composure. “Apparently, he can. There’s been this feud with the Romano family for years, and he says this is the only way to keep the peace. To protect me. Protect us.”
Logan’s jaw clenched. He felt a familiar anger rising in him, a deep, protective instinct he’d been fighting to keep under wraps. “So, he’s just gonna throw you into a marriage you don’t want? You don’t even know this guy, do you?”
You shook your head, looking away. “I met him once. He was… polite enough. But that’s not the point, Logan. I don’t want to marry him—or anyone like this. My father always said he’d let me choose, that he wouldn’t… sell me off.” The bitterness in your tone stung, your gaze distant as if replaying the conversation.
Logan searched your face, feeling an ache he couldn’t put into words. “And he knows how you feel about this?”
You swallowed, nodding. “I told him, but he says I don’t understand the bigger picture, that this is what’s best for everyone.” You gave a hollow laugh, looking down. “For everyone but me.”
He felt a pang of guilt, knowing he was just a bodyguard, technically part of the arrangement meant to keep you safe from any threats. But you were more than just a job to him, and the thought of you being forced into something like this made his blood boil. He let out a rough breath, stepping closer. “Y/N, you don’t have to go along with this. Not if you don’t want to.”
Your gaze softened as you looked up at him. “And what am I supposed to do, Logan? Run off in the middle of the night?” You gave a small, bitter smile. “I don’t even know where I’d go.”
He didn’t hesitate, his voice dropping low. “Then we go together. If you don’t wanna go through with this, we’ll figure somethin’ else out.”
Your breath hitched at his words, and for a moment, the anger and hurt seemed to fade, replaced by something warmer, more uncertain. “You’d really… leave everything?”
He shrugged, almost nonchalant, but there was a fierce determination in his eyes. “I got no reason to stay here if you’re not here, too.”
You hesitated, torn between the depth of his offer and the weight of the decision you knew would follow. Finally, you gave a small nod, as if grounding yourself in the moment. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen, Logan, but… I just need to know you’re here. That I’m not going through this alone.”
He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, Y/N. You got my word on that.”
There was a silence between you, thick and charged, each of you processing the weight of everything unsaid. His gaze stayed locked on yours, and for a moment, the anger and fear in your eyes softened, replaced by something closer to relief. And then, almost impulsively, you took his hand, squeezing it tight.
“Thank you, Logan. I… I needed to hear that,” you said softly, glancing away before meeting his gaze again, vulnerability written all over your face. “Just… don’t let go, okay?”
He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not a chance, darlin’.”
---
Nancy was doing your hair once again for the dinner with the Romano family. You had tried everything over the past few weeks, trying to convince your father that this didn’t have to happen. That he promised you he would never do this.
But no matter what you did, he was firm in his stance, "you're getting married to Clyde, and that's final."
You sat still, staring at your reflection in the mirror as Nancy pinned up the last of your curls. Your face looked composed, serene even, but beneath it, there was a storm brewing—a knot of anger and dread you couldn’t shake. Every time you thought about that dinner tonight, your stomach twisted. Clyde Romano. A stranger. And yet, your father had decided this was your future, and nothing you said seemed to change his mind.
Nancy, sensing the tension, placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "It’ll be alright, Y/N. You’ll be surrounded by family."
Family. Right. But none of them seemed to understand how trapped you felt. You forced a tight-lipped smile, nodding. "Thanks, Nancy."
As she stepped back, there was a light knock at the door. You turned to see Logan standing there, looking slightly uncomfortable in his formal attire but as steadfast as ever. His gaze softened as he took in your appearance, though he quickly masked it.
"Didn’t mean to interrupt," he said, glancing between you and Nancy. "Just wanted to make sure you’re ready."
Nancy finished adjusting your hair and excused herself, leaving you alone with Logan. You looked at him, searching his face, hoping for some kind of lifeline.
"Logan," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like I’m being dragged somewhere I can’t escape from."
He stepped closer, his expression darkening as he listened. “You’re not alone in this, Y/N. You know I’m with you, whatever you decide.” His hand reached out, brushing against your arm, his touch grounding you.
You drew in a shaky breath, steadying yourself. “What if I decide to just… disappear?” you asked, half-joking but mostly serious.
Logan’s eyes met yours, and you saw the unspoken resolve there. “Then I’ll be right behind you. Doesn’t matter where.”
For a moment, you let yourself believe it—that you could simply run, with Logan at your side. But reality crashed back in, and you dropped your gaze.
"I wish it were that simple," you whispered, clenching your fists. "But if I leave, it could tear everything apart."
Logan’s hand settled over yours, his grip firm and reassuring. "Then we make it through tonight. And tomorrow, we figure out the rest. You’re not facing this alone, darlin’. Not as long as I’m here."
You looked up at him, finding strength in his gaze. He’d been your rock through all of this, his presence steady and unwavering. And tonight, that was what you needed most.
“Alright,” you murmured, giving him a small, grateful smile. “Let’s go face this… together.”
He nodded, his grip on your hand a silent promise. Whatever came next, you knew he’d be there, just as he always had been. And with that thought, you found the courage to head downstairs to face your family—and the Romanos—one more time.
---
The dinner was at an Italian restaurant, one your father owned as cover for his business. Your dad sat at the head of the table while Clyde’s father sat at the other end. In front of you was your uncle Ermanno, who was also your dad’s consigliere, while Clyde sat next to you.
Logan, along with the other bodyguards, stood watch at the entrance of the private dining room, their silent gazes sweeping the place. He wore his usual hard expression, though his eyes softened just a touch when they found you across the room. He’d been watching you all night—catching every little shift, each moment you looked down or forced a smile, every subtle tightening of your hand on the tablecloth.
Clyde Romano leaned in a little closer, his arm casually brushing against yours as he tried to make small talk. "So, Y/N, I hear you’ve been helping out at a shelter?"
You nodded, barely meeting his eyes. “Yeah, I volunteer with the dogs mostly. It’s…nice to get away from all this sometimes.” You forced a smile, trying to keep things polite. You could feel your father’s gaze on you, watching for any misstep.
Clyde smiled back, but it felt too rehearsed. “Well, once we’re married, you won’t have to worry about shelters or anything like that. You’ll have enough responsibilities as a Romano.”
You felt your stomach twist at his words. Logan’s gaze sharpened from across the room as he picked up on the slight shift in your expression. You shot him a quick look, your eyes pleading for any kind of rescue. Logan’s jaw tightened, and for a brief moment, he almost looked like he’d step in. But he stayed put, his hands clenched behind his back.
Instead, he looked for the smallest opening. Just as Clyde’s attention was pulled away by his father, Logan slipped into view, leaning down beside you. “You alright?” he murmured, low enough that only you could hear.
“Not even close,” you whispered back, your eyes fixed on your glass. “He’s already talking about our future like… like it’s set in stone.”
Logan’s eyes flickered with something fierce. “We’ll get through this, Y/N. Tonight’s just another show. Nothing more.” His fingers brushed the back of your chair, the barely-there touch sending a wave of calm through you.
But Clyde’s voice cut back in before Logan could say anything more. “Y/N, we were thinking of heading to Italy for the honeymoon. It’ll be a good chance to meet the rest of the family there.”
Your heart sank further. Italy. An entire ocean away, away from everything you knew, from everyone who mattered to you. “Italy,” you echoed, your voice strained but steady.
“Yeah. The Romano estates are beautiful—beaches, vineyards… a real paradise.” He seemed oblivious to your hesitation, already dreaming up plans you’d had no say in. Your father looked pleased, nodding his approval from his end of the table.
Logan straightened, but the look he gave you was unmistakable: You don’t have to do this.
You swallowed, shifting in your seat as Clyde rambled on. When his focus shifted to his own father again, you leaned back just enough to whisper to Logan, “I’m not sure I can keep pretending.”
Logan’s expression softened, and for a second, he let a hint of his guard down. “You don’t have to, darlin’.” His voice was low, almost tender, meant for you alone. “Say the word, and we walk outta here. Right now.”
The thought made your heart skip, but your gaze drifted toward your father, seated across the table with a look of satisfaction. Leaving wasn’t just about you; it would mean defying him, challenging the life he’d molded for you. The thought felt like a mountain on your shoulders.
“I can’t just walk away,” you said quietly. “He’s… he’d never forgive me.”
Logan’s hand brushed yours under the table, a quiet show of support. “Maybe he’s the one who should be asking for forgiveness,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a light circle over your knuckles. The warmth of his touch settled something in you, steadying your breath.
You gave a tiny nod, squeezing his hand for just a second before pulling away. Logan straightened, stepping back to his post but still keeping his gaze on you. Clyde was oblivious, caught up in a conversation with his father about future business plans, each word feeling like a nail in the coffin.
Dinner dragged on, a blur of forced laughter and stiff conversation. Every time you felt yourself sinking, you looked toward Logan. He was there, solid and watchful, like a silent promise of something real in a room full of facades.
Eventually, the families began to wind down, talk shifting to more casual chatter. Clyde, emboldened by the night’s success, reached over and took your hand, his grip possessive. “Soon, you’ll be part of the family, Y/N. You’ll see. You’ll come to love it.”
Your mind screamed at the thought, every fiber of you wanting to pull away. But you held still, not daring to make a scene. Logan’s gaze narrowed, his jaw set as he took in the sight of Clyde’s hand around yours.
Finally, as the night came to an end and the families started to stand, Clyde leaned in with a smug smile. “Ready to go? I thought we’d take a walk, just the two of us.”
Before you could answer, Logan was there, stepping in with a casual yet firm presence. “Mr. Romano,” he said, addressing Clyde but looking right at you, “your father asked to speak with you in private before you head out.”
Clyde frowned but nodded, reluctantly releasing your hand. “I’ll be back soon, Y/N.” He disappeared toward the far end of the room, leaving you alone with Logan.
You let out a slow breath, the tension finally loosening from your shoulders. “Thank you,” you whispered, looking up at him, gratitude spilling from every word.
Logan gave a slight nod. “Couldn’t let him drag you out there without a say.” His voice was rough, but his eyes softened as he held your gaze. “You’re not alone in this, Y/N. Whatever happens… you got me.”
The weight of the night lifted just a little, and for a moment, you almost believed you had a choice in all of this.
---
“A week?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper as you stood in your father’s office. The weight of the word seemed to pull you under, even as you fought to keep your voice steady.
Your father’s expression was impassive, arms crossed as he looked at you. “Yes, Y/N. The Romano family wants to move quickly. They think it’s best, and I agree. It’s time you take on this responsibility for the family.”
Your jaw clenched. You remembered the promises he made, back when you were younger, that he’d never force you into something like this. “I just… I don’t understand. You always said—”
“People change, Y/N,” he interrupted, his tone firm. “This is what’s best for you and for us. For the family.”
You shook your head, feeling a rush of helplessness. “And what about what I want? I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks that I don’t want this, and you’re not listening.”
He exhaled sharply, the kind of sigh that signaled his patience was running thin. “This isn’t about what you want. I didn’t raise you to be selfish.”
“Selfish?” The word stung, and you couldn’t help the surge of anger that rose within you. “I’m asking for my life. How is that selfish?”
He frowned, unyielding. “Enough, Y/N. This is happening. We’re done discussing it.”
Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to stay composed. The walls of the office seemed to close in on you, the reality of it settling heavy and cold. You had a week—seven days—to either submit to this life he’d chosen for you or… what? You didn’t even know.
Without another word, you turned and left, fighting the urge to slam the door behind you. The hall felt stifling as you walked out, your thoughts churning.
When you reached your room, Logan was there, waiting. The moment he saw your face, he stiffened. “What happened?” His voice was a low rumble, the concern clear.
“A week,” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. “I have a week before he marries me off to Clyde.”
Logan’s jaw tightened, and you could see the flash of anger in his eyes. He stepped closer, his hand moving to rest on your shoulder. “So that’s it, then? He’s just… throwing you to that bastard?”
You nodded, the words catching in your throat. “I don’t know what to do, Logan. I tried everything, but he won’t listen. He’s set on it.”
Logan’s hand slipped down, finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze, his rough fingers warm and grounding. You tightened your grip, the frustration and helplessness boiling inside you finally having somewhere to go.
“I’m supposed to just go along with it,” you muttered, bitterness seeping into your words. “Act like I’m thrilled to be Clyde’s obedient little wife. Like my life’s just… his to take.”
Logan’s gaze darkened. “It’s not. You know that. And anyone who tries to take it without your say? They got me to deal with.” His voice was low and dangerous, a promise just for you.
You looked up, searching his face, a flicker of hope stirring. “But what can we do, Logan? He’s not going to listen to me. And if I push back too hard… I don’t know what he’ll do.”
“Then let me get you out of here,” Logan said, leaning in closer. His voice softened, gentler now. “We can leave, right now if you want. Just say the word.”
Your heart twisted painfully, the temptation so fierce you almost said yes then and there. But reality clawed its way back, the weight of your father’s expectations and the tight grip he kept on every part of your life. Leaving would mean giving up everything—and, deep down, you weren’t sure you could risk it.
“What about my dad?” you whispered, feeling the weight of it pressing down again. “He’s… he’d see it as betrayal, Logan. And what if he goes after you?”
A flicker of something familiar crossed Logan’s face, a shadow from a life you couldn’t remember but that he clearly did. “Y/N, don’t worry about me,” he murmured. “Been through worse.” He squeezed your hand a little tighter, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture so tender it nearly undid you. “And if he’s got a problem, then he can take it up with me.”
You let out a shaky breath, feeling the anger and fear give way just a bit. “You say that now, but you haven’t seen how he gets when people cross him. He’d never forgive me, Logan. He’d never forgive us.”
Logan’s hand moved to cup your face, his touch steadying you as his eyes met yours. “Then we don’t need his forgiveness. We get you out, and I keep you safe. Whatever comes after, we face it together.”
The fierce certainty in his voice sent a warmth flooding through you, your resolve hardening under his gaze. “But Clyde, the Romano’s… they won’t just let it go.”
A smirk tugged at Logan’s mouth, the edge of defiance clear. “Then they’ll learn what happens when they mess with you. Ain’t nobody’s right to take away your freedom, Y/N. Not your old man, not Clyde, not anyone.”
A beat of silence stretched between you, his hand still warm against your cheek. Your fingers tightened around his, and for a second, all the anger and dread faded, leaving just you and him in the quiet of the room.
“What about… us?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and for a second, you held your breath, waiting for his reaction.
Logan’s eyes softened, his gaze never leaving yours. “What about us, darlin’?” He brushed a thumb along your cheek, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “You think I’d just leave you here to face this on your own?”
His words sent a rush of warmth through you, and before you knew it, you were leaning into him, his presence steady and unshakable. He let out a low sigh, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer, his other hand tracing gentle circles over your back.
“You’re all I’ve got in this,” you whispered, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “I can’t lose you, too.”
“You won’t,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, his hold tightening just enough to reassure you. “Not now, not ever.”
You stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in his embrace, the weight of everything slipping away in his arms. But eventually, reality crept back in, and you pulled back, catching the flicker of resolve in his gaze.
“If we do this…” You paused, steadying yourself. “If we leave, we need a plan.”
Logan gave a small nod, his hand still resting on yours. “We’ll figure it out. Tonight, we’re just gettin’ you through this.”
It was a promise, simple and unbreakable, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a flicker of hope stirring deep inside you.
---
The rehearsal dinner was held in a private room at the church a few days later; a grand, echoing place with gilded walls and tall stained-glass windows that cast colored light over everything. Clyde, his parents, and your family were all gathered, discussing wedding arrangements like it was a done deal, each word chipping away at any illusion of control you had left.
Logan and the other bodyguards stood at a respectful distance, keeping watch. He tried to keep his gaze neutral, but his eyes lingered on you longer than necessary, catching every forced smile and stiff nod you gave.
As the minister went through the motions, you and Clyde practiced exchanging vows. You held his hands, repeating words that felt like a foreign language—lifeless, meaningless. Your eyes drifted toward Logan, and he gave you the barest nod, grounding you with that single, unspoken promise.
After the vows, Clyde leaned in close, his voice low and smug. “I think you’ll come to love our life together, Y/N. Just give it time.”
You forced a polite smile, biting back the words you wanted to say. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Logan clench his fists, his face darkening.
Finally, as the rehearsal ended and people began drifting off, you made your way to a quiet corner, needing a moment alone. Logan slipped over to you, his movements subtle as he came to stand beside you.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice softer now that it was just the two of you.
You shook your head, feeling that familiar knot of dread twist tighter. “Logan, I don’t think I can go through with this. But I don’t know if I can run, either. I’m…  I’m stuck.”
He took a deep breath, his gaze intense as he looked down at you. “What if I told you that you didn’t have to decide tonight?” he asked quietly. “That we could just… take it one day at a time. You don’t have to have all the answers right now.”
The tension in your shoulders eased a bit, and you met his eyes, finding strength in the certainty there. He wasn’t pushing you, wasn’t forcing anything on you. He was just… here, with you, in whatever way you needed.
“Okay,” you whispered, nodding slowly. “One day at a time.”
Logan gave a small, reassuring smile. “That’s all we need, darlin’.” His hand brushed your shoulder, lingering just a second longer than necessary before he stepped back.
---
The day of the wedding had arrived, and you were dolled up, your makeup and hair were perfect, and your wedding dress was heavy, constricting, and large.
Once the makeup artists and hair stylists left, you had fled to the bathroom in the bridal suite and were currently hunched over the toilet. You hadn’t thrown up—yet—but you could feel the nausea and anxiousness rising.
You braced yourself against the counter, taking deep breaths as you tried to calm the twisting feeling in your stomach. The dress felt like a vice, heavy and restrictive, pressing on every nerve, suffocating in a way that went beyond fabric and lace. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping the queasiness would pass.
A knock at the door pulled you from the spinning in your head.
“Y/N?” Nancy’s soft, steady voice filtered through, full of that motherly concern you’d come to rely on all your life.
You took a steadying breath, swallowing hard before calling out, “Come in, Nancy.”
The door creaked open, and Nancy stepped inside, closing it quietly behind her. Her gaze immediately softened as she took in the look on your face, her expression a mix of sympathy and something else—resolve, maybe.
“Oh, cara mia,” she murmured, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t look well. This whole business—it’s too much, isn’t it?”
You managed a shaky nod. “I… I don’t know if I can do this, Nancy. Every time I think about it, I just…” You trailed off, not sure how to put into words the suffocating dread that had settled over you.
She gave you a small, encouraging squeeze. “You know,” she said quietly, “there are other paths besides the one your father chose for you. And you don’t have to walk it alone.”
Your heart skipped at her words. “You… you’d help me? Even if I…?”
Nancy nodded, a spark of fierce protectiveness in her eyes. “Logan’s already got your things in his car,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “If you’re ready to go, he’s waiting.”
You blinked back tears before grabbing one of her hands, “y- you want me to go?”
“SÌ. Your father is a bastardo, breaking that promise him and your mother made.” She squeezed your hand, “Logan’s a good man. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He won’t let you down.”
You swallowed hard, Nancy’s words settling like a quiet fire in your chest. She was right. Your father had broken his promise, and you didn’t owe him your life just because he controlled every other part of it.
With a shaky exhale, you gave her a nod. “Alright… I’ll go.”
Nancy’s face softened, relief mingling with pride. “Good girl. Now, take this.” She pressed a small envelope into your hand. “Cash. Just in case.”
You looked down at it, blinking back tears. “Thank you, Nancy. For everything.”
She pulled you into a hug, her hand stroking your back gently. “Go, cara mia. Go live your life.” She pulled back, eyes glinting with fierce determination. “And don’t look back.”
You nodded, holding onto that resolve as you slipped out of the bathroom and made your way down the hall, heart pounding. Every step felt heavier, weighed down by fear and the voice in the back of your mind that told you this was dangerous, reckless. But when you stepped outside and saw Logan waiting by his car, the weight lifted.
He looked up, his gaze intense but soft, like he’d been waiting for this moment just as long as you had. “You ready?”
You hesitated, just for a moment, before giving him a small nod. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”
Logan opened the passenger door for you, helping you in, his hand lingering on yours for a second longer than necessary. He closed the door, then climbed into the driver’s seat, starting the engine with a low rumble that matched the pulse pounding in your ears.
As he pulled out of the church’s parking lot, the weight of the decision hit you again. You were leaving everything behind—the security, the expectations, the people who’d shaped your entire life. But with each passing second, the fear melted away, replaced by a strange, liberating sense of excitement.
Logan glanced over, noticing the small smile tugging at your lips. “You don’t look so panicked now.”
You shook your head, unable to hide your grin. “I’m not. Not with you here.”
He gave a soft chuckle, that familiar warmth in his gaze. “Good. Because we’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
You settled back, feeling more at ease than you’d felt in months. There was silence for a moment, comfortable and charged, before you turned to him, voice barely a whisper.
“Where are we going?”
Logan smirked. “Anywhere but here.”
You laughed softly, relaxing into your seat. The road stretched ahead, open and endless, and for the first time in a long while, the future felt like something you could shape.
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logan is 141 years old and reader is around 23-25 years old
what!? is that a happy ending? who would've thought... next up, is origins!
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capquinn ¡ 2 days ago
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how would quinn react to reader doing that prank about when he says “goodbye/goodnight i love you” and you don’t say “i love you” back just to mess with him
omg this guy avoids tiktok like it’s the plague so there is no doubt in my mind that he has absolutely no idea about this trend so he’d be SO confused and wouldn’t know what to do with himself except pout and stay close until he gets to the bottom as to why you hadn’t said it back 😭
Quinn’s brow furrowed the second the words left his mouth and yours didn’t follow.
“See you soon. I love you,” he had said, as casually as ever, tossing his backpack over one shoulder, leaning in for his usual goodbye kiss.
But instead of the automatic, almost musical "love you too," that always followed, there was… nothing. Just you, standing there, watching him with the faintest glimmer of mischief in your eyes. At first, he paused, waiting like you’d simply forgotten. Maybe you were distracted. Maybe you didn’t hear him. He glanced back at the door, then at you again, the crease between his brows deepening.
“You good?” he asked, his voice light but tinged with the slightest bit of uncertainty, like he wasn’t entirely sure if this was normal or if he’d just entered a parallel universe where you suddenly forgot how this whole goodbye thing worked.
“Yeah,” you said breezily, smiling just enough to make him squint.
“Okay,” he said, drawing the word out as he shifted his bag higher on his shoulder.
He moved toward the door, opening it halfway before pausing again. And you could see it — really see it now — the way his mind was spinning, trying to figure out what he’d done, if he’d done anything, and why you weren’t playing along.
He half-turned, his hand on the doorknob, giving you one last expectant look.
“You, uh…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck, his voice quieter now. “You sure everything’s okay?”
You nodded, biting your bottom lip to keep from laughing.
“Yep.”
And that’s when the full force of Quinn’s what-the-hell-is-going-on face hit you. He didn’t look mad — not even close — but the confusion was written all over him. His mouth opened, closed, and then opened again like he was about to ask a question but didn’t quite know how to phrase it. His hand fell from the door as he took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“You didn’t… You didn’t say it back,” he pointed out, almost cautiously, like maybe it wasn’t something you’d realised. “I said 'I love you.' You usually…” He trailed off, his lips pressing into a thin line as he waited for some kind of explanation, one that you weren’t giving because you were too busy pretending you had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. You tilted your head, your expression perfectly blank except for the big, wide eyes you fixed on him.
“Do I not say it enough?” he asked, softer this time, like the words came with a little sting. “Is that what this is?”
And now you felt guilty because, of course, he’d think this was some kind of message, like you were trying to make a point instead of just pulling a dumb prank for no reason other than your own entertainment.
“Quinn,” you started, the smile breaking through despite yourself.
But he cut you off, shaking his head slightly, the tiniest bit of exasperation creeping in.
“Because, like… I mean it every time. You know that, right?”
And now you couldn’t hold it in anymore. The laugh bubbled out, loud and sudden, and you reached for his hand, tugging him closer. “Oh my God, Quinn. I’m kidding. It’s a prank.”
His brow shot up. “A prank?”
“Yeah,” you said, still laughing as you slid your arms around his waist.
He huffed, but there was relief in it, his hands settling on your hips as he gave you a halfhearted glare.
“Not funny,” he muttered, though his lips were already twitching. “I was about to cancel my flight.”
“Sure you were,” you teased, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw. He didn’t move, but you could feel the smallest twitch of a smile forming despite the way he was still obviously trying to stay mock-annoyed. “See? You’re too sweet. That’s why I had to mess with you.”
Quinn let out a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head like he was already filing this away as one of the countless pranks he’d endure over a lifetime with you.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his voice gruff but too soft to be anything but affectionate. “You’re lucky I like you.”
You couldn’t help it — you started laughing again, the sound spilling out as you tucked your face against his chest, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you upright.
“I love you,” you said through your laughter, your voice muffled.
His smile finally broke free, slow and warm and just so Quinn.
“I love you too,” he said, his tone soft now, steady, like those words were always going to be there no matter how much you tried to mess with him.
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formulamar ¡ 7 hours ago
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puppy love (but it’s cats!) part 1
max verstappen x vet!yn
fc: girls from pinterest
summary: as a Monaco native, Yn has had her fair share of encounters with F1 drivers. and as a vet, she has even fostered close relationships with some of the driver's pets. what happens when she is introduced to a single Max Verstappen who has two adorable cats?
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vetyn
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liked by albon_pets and 2,568 others
vetyn we had the cutest visitor today! 🐱💗
210 comments
ynbestfriend: hard at work or hardly working 🧐
vetyn: you’re just jealous i’m not crunching numbers all day 🙄
ynsfriend: can’t decide who’s cuter!
albon_pets: Dr. Yn we thought WE were the CUTEST?
vetyn: i promise YOU ARE! also some of my finest patients 🐾
albono23: now i can’t help but wonder which sibling commented this 😭😭😭
rumorhasitf1
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liked by lion33, maxiellvr and 4,672 others
rumorhasitf1: 🚨 RUMOR HAS IT 🚨
Nearly 7 months after his dramatic split with his ex-girlfriend, it appears like Max is on the hunt for love 👀. Sources confirm the World Champion has recently joined the popular celebrity dating app Raya and he has been spotted out on a few dates. Is it possible we might see a new face in the RB garage soon?
531 comments
maxiellvr: lowkey i feel like he's going to end up dating who we least expect
30three: like Kendall Jenner or something 😭
rbgirl: no because when i saw that TikTok with his Raya profile I actually jumped!!!!
dutch1: sooooooooo who's gonna help a girl out and let Max know i'm free any day of the week!
vermax: no fr I wish he would do a Jeremy Fragrence type thing so I could apply to be his girlfriend 😒
verstappen4life: NOT THE JEREMY FRAGRANCE LMAODHJ
maxisfast: I never thought this day would come...@/maxverstappen1 OF COURSE I'LL MARRY YOU
frmlamax: yeah so, actually, he was on those dates with me sos xx
jimandsas1: hey, girly! so I know we don't know each other but...
maxstap1: dates. DATES. we all see that s at the end of DATE right? oh those lucky girls...
twitter
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vetyn’s story
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translation: “new client”
twitter
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vetyn
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liked by lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux and 2,954 others
vetyn: joyeux anniversaire à moi 🥳 (happy anniversary to me)
it's been 6 AMAZING years of having my dream job. feeling very grateful today. can't wait to keep learning, growing and meeting adorable friends 💘
245 comments
lilymhe: LETS GOOOO YN! WE'RE ALL SUPER PROUD! (but mostly me duh)
vetyn: thank you! you're my fav! (don't tell alex pls)
alex_albon: Oh ok. Cool. We pick favorites now.
char16: now WHAT is going on in the albono house 😭
ynbestfriend: ily girl. can't wait to celebrate you this weekend 😝
liked by vetyn
alexandrasaintmleux: Félicitations, belle ❤️‍🔥
vetyn: merci belle 🥰
albon_pets: Thanks for everything, doc 🤓
liked by vetyn
ynfriend: so proud!
roscoelovescoco: All's My Love's Dr. YN
vetyn: Awwww thank you Roscoe, I miss ya!
russ63: NOW WHY AM I JUST FINDING OUT YN IS ROSCOE'S VET TOO????
ham1lton: omg yes. I believe he was the og f1-related client and then it was the albon pets
ynsister: love you. almost reunited 🇪🇸
liked by vetyn
rumorhasitf1
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liked by maxlov3r and 5,728 others
rumorhasitf1: Looks like Max Verstappen had a wild night out celebrating his 6th win of the season in Barcelona 👀
1,034 comments
rbgirl: THAT SHOULD BE ME HOLDING YOUR HAND THAT SHOULD BE ME MAKING YOU LAUGH THAT SHOULD BE ME THIS IS SO SAD THAT SHOULD BE MEEEEEE THAT SHOULD BE MEEEE
maxstap1: you're so quick with it LMFAO
maxlovescats: WOAH I JUST WOKE UP?????
butfirstmax: honestly i'm so happy for him go live your life king
maxisfast: is this like his frat boy era
hamstappen: I swear if they're back together and I threw that party for nothing
hamstappen: just kidding hehe
rbgirl: HELPPPPPPPPPP
vermax: rb pr team prob freaking out as we speak
30three: and Max is sleeping soundly
sluttycatdad: IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS
maxielno1: okay now... doesn't that kinda look like....
justaninchident: that's what I was thinking too
username: wait who
maxielno1: his ex
maxverstappen1
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liked by redbullracing, vetyn and 1,309,672 others
maxverstappen1: Barcelona, that was fun! Let's do it again?
23,672 comments
redbullracing: 🦁
rbgirl: oh trust we saw it was fun
maxisfast: 😭
maxielno1: SIMPLY LOVELY 🥰
f1fan: LETS GO CHAMP 🙌
vetyn: mega! 💙💙
maxverstappen1: 😘💙
albono33: YN?
rbgirl: idk who this is but what is happenig here....
30three: so proud of you! 🧡
verstappen4life: yes! let’s do this everytime!
vermax: great job!!!! glad you had fun 😉
martingarrix: Mate how was the club?
maxverstappen1: Pretty good 😂
f1fan: 🔥🔥🔥
somedutchguy: LEGEND
twitter
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vetyn's story
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to be continued..
⋆。°✩ ⋆。°✩ ⋆。°✩ ⋆。°✩ ⋆。°✩ ⋆。°✩ ⋆。°✩ ⋆。°✩ ⋆。°✩
a/n: y’all probably caught on already but this is set during the 2024 season anddddd i just wanted to do one part but tumblr is super annoying with the image limit 🙁 but lmk if you’re interested in a pt. 2! have a great day/night 🫶💐
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shadyr4m ¡ 2 days ago
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REWATCHING SEASON 2 EPISODE 7 OF ARCANE
+ some of my highlights and notable moments that I enjoyed bc people can’t understand media anymore
This is mostly an infodump of stuff I can fit into a twitter thread/didn't rly want to make into a thread. I'm not great at words so I apologize in advance, I am sure there are many people much better at analysis than I.
I want to start off by saying I am heavily invested in timebomb so this is very much going to be a ship analysis. If you're looking for someone unbiased i am very much not the person for that 😭
FIRST OFF:
The disc on the music box is adorable!!! It features au Powder (who I am going to refer to as just Powder for the duration of my analysis) and au Ekko
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Compared to the normal Disc
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This is very obviously because it takes place in a different universe, one without Vi or "Jinx".
The first scene starts off with AU Ekko writing in his notebook. (Cute mention is Powder's doodle in his notebook!!) Then we see flashes of the wild rune. This is when AU Ekko switches to canon Ekko.
Also one of my favorite silly images from this episode is this one.. Powder is being so adorable and Ekko is just scared out of his MIND. it's so silly.
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In the Last drop, Powder asks Ekko. "What is up with you? You've been out of it all day?". One thing I noticed in my rewatch is that i think Powder is aware this Ekko isn't HER Ekko. This is just one instance of many that makes me think this.
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This hideout seems so much more vibrant and loved, similar to Jinx's hideout after Isha. It's colorful. There are guard rails that I like to think was pushed by Vander. We can see Ekko's art scattered around. It just shows how much more support and family Powder has compared to Jinx, which i mention a lot.
Id also like to note Ekko being shocked au him went to powder for help. In his mind at this time he believes Jinx to be all that is left, no more Powder. Through out the episode we see that change.
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Notice how Powder gets upset at Ekko in this scene. However, she doesn't react explosively like Jinx would've. She handled it in a way that shows she had support. She told him to leave instead. Again, the main difference between Powder and Jinx isn't only Vi but also the existence of multiple support systems that Jinx simply didn't have.
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THIS FLASHBACK! Oh my god this flashback. The fact it happened after he upset Powder? I think it shows just how much he truly cares about Jinx/Powder. He remembers VIVIDLY the day that he thought he killed her. Jinx was his childhood best friend, and I don't think that kind of feeling ever truly goes away. He doesn't want to hurt any version of her, not even the alternate universe her. We see that showcased more later on. Also, random probably insane note. He is interrupted by small children playing, having fun. This isn't a coincidence, it shows he does miss the moments from when they were kids.
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While talking with Heimerdinger, we see Ekko look at Powder multiple times. Watching her laugh and be expressive, he smiles. When she doesn't return it we see him get upset. Once more this brings me to my point that he doesn't want to hurt her. Considering he hasn't known this Powder very long you can see where I gather my point that he doesn't want to hurt her in GENERAL. Any version of her.
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THIS SCENE!! He is such a bad liar it's adorable. This brings me to my earlier point, Powder knows what's up!! She suspects something 100%. He is talking about this dream her like it was real.
"You aren't the kind of person who helps other people with their projects. Your ideas change the world. I can't shake the feeling that that's who you're supposed to be."
Are you LISTENING TO THIS? He is obviously talking about Jinx. You can tell this by the first sentence because obviously Powder IS that kind of person. He's starting to see that Jinx is just a part of Powder, one that is unavoidable and that he unknowingly appreciates in a sense. Like two sides of one coin he can't see Powder without Jinx and that is good. I think it is here he realizes truly just how much he cares about Jinx.
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This whole montage is beautiful but I want to zero in on two things. Powder's reaction to the notebook and how she looks at Ekko after. NOW THIS. This is the nail in the coffin for her. She knows that this is not her Ekko. She has fully gathered that he isn't from this universe.
Also heimerdinger totally knows how Ekko feels you cannot tell me otherwise. Pushing him to go to the party? yeah he knows what you are.
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THIS WHOLE SCENE. I AM NOT ANALYZING THE WHOLE THING HERE BUT IT IS GORGEOUS. I saw someone talking about how it was animated on 4's to signify the way Ekko can only go back 4 seconds and I honestly shed a tear. THE SONG TOO? I encourage everyone to look at the lyrics because they're beautiful.
Okay now for my favorite part of this episode so much to dissect and i'm totally going to mansplain but yk..
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"I used to dream the undercity could be like this" — That sets the tone for the whole conversation and just what world he is talking about. The canon one.
"But somewhere, I got consumed by all the ways it wasn't. I gave up on it. Gave up on YOU." — Heavy emphasis on this line. Once more he is talking about Jinx. He is talking about how he got so consumed by the way that Jinx wasn't good, and he gave up on her. Believed she was irredeemable. Powder showed him that Jinx is capable of love and happiness, it's just under that tough protective shell. The undercity in the metaphor is Jinx, from my interpretation.
"I promise i'll never forget this." — Now time for my insanity. He doesn't forget this. That's why he saves Jinx from ending her life in the first place. He remembers Powder and knows that with the right support Jinx doesn't have to be the way she is. It's not that she "needs to be fixed" she just needs to be LOVED, like Powder. He sees that now. He sees how in the au the love that everyone shares for one another shaped the undercity beautifully, and made everyone in it much healthier mentally despite going through hardships. That is beautiful. People with mental illness are not unlovable they just need more support, it can't be cured, or fixed just healed. Mental illness is always there it is how you DEAL with it that matters.
Nothing too major to talk about with the kiss. It's sweet I love it, but nothing too notable for me to say about it.
Finally, Ekko leaves the au. I have seen people say that this is a sacrifice, he could've had everything he wanted and he gave it up to save the people at home. But i take insanity to another level. I see this as him appreciating his home. He knows he can never truly love this Powder because she isn't the version he fell in love with. He learned to appreciate Jinx even through her flaws, and that while this world has everything he could want and more he can have that home too.
I am experiencing HEAVY timebomb brainrot if you can’t already tell. I was tired of people taking things in the complete wrong way with this episode, if anyone has different views pls tell me I love hearing how other people took certain scenes. there are a few scenes I love but I would’ve made this post way too long..
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whatifitis ¡ 8 hours ago
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♡ So American - FC 43 ♡
Summary: You and Franco celebrate Thanksgiving together for the first time and Franco nearly gags when he sees American Thanksgiving dishes
Author's Note: this is so ass so I’m sorry 😭 feedback is always appreciated
WC: 2296
CW: american reader 😲, fluff, thanksgiving food, wicked mentions, more overuse of song lyrics
You and Franco had been together for the better part of the year, about 7 months. Thanksgiving was coming up and, on the same weekend F1 would be racing in Qatar, not allowing Franco to be with you on Thanksgiving day, which was honestly a disappointment to the both of you. However, after moving around some plans, the two of you managed to pick a date that worked for everyone to be in your hometown to celebrate the holiday, before Franco had to go off and be a star (and an icon).
To say you were excited was an understatement. It was not only your first time having a boyfriend, but having a boyfriend during the holidays. You were excited to create new memories with Franco and show him how you celebrate the holidays in America.
Your family typically divides the work for the food every year and this time you were in charge of making the sweet potato and marshmallow dish, something you knew was gonna throw Franco into a whirl about. Your boyfriend enjoys making fun of some American dishes and you don’t mind because it’s fun and you can see how some of them are strange.
You two were in your apartment the morning of Thanksgiving dinner. You got ready for the day and decided it would be best to change into your outfit after you’ve cooked. You settled on wearing one of Franco’s shirts and a pair of his shorts for now. You then decided to head to the kitchen to prepare your dish, Franco trailing behind you like a puppy.
“You look pretty wearing my clothes.” Franco complimented.
You deadpanned to Franco with an emotionless face asking, “do I not look pretty any other time? Is this the only time I look pretty?”
Franco’s face turned red and he was panicking, “I- no, no, amor. Thats- that’s not what I-“
“I’m kidding, love. Relax, looked like you almost shit yourself then.” you laughed.
Franco took a breath of relief and just smiled at your antics, “ha ha, so funny.”
As you pulled out the ingredients you’d be needing, Franco watched in confusion.
“Amor, what- what are you making? You have sweet potatoes, marshmallows, and pecans on the table. Is it all for one dish? No, right?” he questions, cocking his head to the side.
“It is for one dish. I’m making a sweet potato casserole!” you exclaim excitedly, knowing it was one of your favorite dishes and you can only have it during Thanksgiving.
“Eugh. No, amor. No.”, you watch as Franco makes a face of disgust, “Why?”
“It’s good, baby. I promise. When it’s all baked together with the seasonings, it tastes like heaven.” you think, displaying a picture of the dish in your mind.
Franco all but side eyes to your response, “I thought I tasted like heaven…” he pouts.
“Sweet potato casserole tastes better, babe. Sorry.” you flash a toothy smile.
“Ay dios mio. Is this what I’m marrying into?” Franco jokes, dropping head into his hands.
“Ehm! I beg your finest pardon?! Where the fuck is my ring?”, wiggling your ring finger at him, “Don’t joke about marriage, bitch. Or I’ll start doing the ending riff of Defying Gravity all day long.”
“Ay no, por favor, no. As much as I love your singing, amor. I can’t listen to any songs from Wicked right now. It’s all you’ve been playing the past month! Please, anything but Wicked, anything!” Franco pleads with you.
“Fine. Your funeral though.” you say, carrying on with your cooking.
“Que?”
“Nada”
Franco is left speechless, but you carry on with your actions.
After plopping onto a chair and pouting, Franco got curious, “Amor, can you tell me what Thanksgiving is? I know you give thanks, but why?”.
“Well, in school we were taught that years ago, around this time, the pilgrims and Native Americans came together to share a meal and be peaceful with one another. They basically celebrated a successful harvest but with most of American history, there’s some lies. But Americans really don’t care about history. It’s just a day where most of us don’t have to work and an excuse to stuff our faces with food that’s really bad for us.”
“That’s….nice.”
“I can feel the judgement from here.”
“I’m not judging, just learning.” he smiles cheekily, “but in all honesty, your reality is so different from mine. In Argentina we don’t have this holiday and strange foods, but I want to learn all about your crazy American traditions if it means I get to be by your side. I go where you go.”
“I go where you got too.” you say, still blushing from his words.
“Maybe ‘I go where you go’ can be our ‘always’.”
You tried to suppress your laugh and threw a few marshmallows at his response, “You’re done. You’re done. I cannot believe you just quoted The Fault In Our Stars.”
He’s giggling to himself and it’s one of your favorite things in the world. It’s just not fair of him to be so cute and funny. If he keeps this shit up, you swore you were gonna marry him.
-=+=-
During the drive to your parents house for dinner, you and Franco listened to music. As passenger princess, Franco had control of the aux and he played a playlist he had made when you two first started dating. He knew that sharing music was sort of a love language of yours so he saved all the ones you had mentioned at times or the songs he would always find on repeat when you were around.
It was a peaceful drive, that is until No Good Deed from Wicked came on. As soon as the opening chords started, Franco knew there was no stopping you. He watched as you put on a one woman performance for him, and him only. Yes, it was from Wicked but he couldn’t lie. If you’re the one singing, he didn’t mind the constant sound.
He was also thankful it wasn’t Defying Gravity or else you would’ve been asking for a broom to hold. He also knew you would’ve fucked up your voice a bit if you attempted Cynthia Erivo’s riff.
The two of you arrived at your parents house and were warmly welcomed by the rest of your family. Though the house was already decorated in Christmas decor, the feeling of Thanksgiving was flowing through the air. Your dad already had the (American) football game
playing on the tv, calling Franco over to once again try and convert him into a fan.
You watched as your boyfriend was practically dragged away from you, laughing as he mouthed the words ‘help me’. Your dad adored Franco and your Franco loved hanging with your dad. As they went on to do their antics, you walked to the kitchen, setting down the dish you had prepared and began to help your mom finish up some cooking.
“So,” your mom starts, “how are you and Franco?”
You couldn’t help but smile, you’re glad she brought him up first because you can never have a conversation if it’s not about him.
“We’re good. When he found out that he was able to make it to dinner, he was so excited. He’d immediately asked me a million questions on whether he should bring something or not as a gift. But I told him to not worry about it, there’s enough food and drinks so we didn’t need anything.”
“He’s a sweet boy. I’m glad you found him, he’s brought back a light in you that I haven’t seen in a long time.”
You looked up at your mom and almost burst into tears. You didn’t know that color was coming back to you. Before any tears spilled, Franco walked into the kitchen and went straight to you. When you were close enough, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close and kissing your hair.
“Do you guys need any help?” he’d asked you guys.
“I don’t think we need any help here but you know what I need help with?” you aunt asks, raising a cheeky eyebrow at Franco, “I need help dancing to this song.”
You watched as your aunt grabbed Franco's hand and pulled him away from you to dance with him. The two danced and swayed to the music as the rest of you laughed and cheered them on. You’re glad your family gets along with Franco well.
Music, laughter, and chatter filled the air, along with the savory and sweet smells of the food that was almost ready to eat. Once everything was cooked, your mother, aunt, and yourself began to set the table with the silverware and make the table look as beautiful as can be. As if they could sense that everything was ready, Franco, your father, uncles, aunts and cousins joined you at the table.
As each of you began to take your seats, Franco was almost split in half. Everyone wanted to be seated next to him. You were all for sharing but Franco was yours. As long as you got to sit on one side of Franco, no heads would roll and peace would prosper.
In the end, one of your cousins ended up sitting on the other side of Franco, ready to bombard the poor boy with questions about racing and F1.
Before digging into the food, everyone had to give thanks and say what they were grateful for. Most of your family said the typical stuff like thankful for having a happy, loving family and having a roof over their head. That was until it was your cousin’s turn…
“This year, I’m grateful that Logan was dropped from Williams and that Franco was able to have that seat. My best buddy is a F1 driver now. But R.I.P. Logan, my American king. Also R.I.P. Sebastian Vettel, you would’ve loved Franco. Anyways, who's next?” your cousin clapped his hands, looking around the table.
Crickets could be heard from the silence.
Franco, thankfully, moved the conversation forward and said his thanks. “Well, ehm. I think I have a lot to be thankful for this year. I’m thankful for my opportunity to drive in F1, and even though I don’t know where I’ll be next year, I’m still happy I got this chance. I’m also super grateful for y/n. We only met this year but she’s still amazing and has been there for me through a lot. And I’m also grateful for having been invited to join you guys today and that you guys are so cool and welcoming, so thank you.”
Everyone basically awed at Franco and his little speech. Meanwhile you were on the verge of tears. You’d never known love like this and you couldn’t believe he chose you. He was like a poem that you wished you’d written.
After some deep breaths from you, everyone began to dig into the food, well, everyone except for Franco. The boy was absolutely lost, he didn’t know what half the stuff was and he wasn’t sure how to go about anything. You took it upon yourself to start his plate for him so that he could familiarize himself with some of the foods and not get overwhelmed.
When you set his plate down in front of him again, he looked at the plate confused and then turned to you, silently asking you to tell him what everything was.
“You’ve got some ham, sweet potato casserole, green beans, and mashed potatoes to start. I know you like all those even if you haven’t tried some yet. From here you can work your way around the dishes on the table.” you smile.
“Gracias, amor. I really am grateful for you and all that you do.”
“Tell me, lover. How grateful are you?” you cheekily ask.
With a wink, Franco replies, “I’ll show you after dinner.”
-=+=-
“The only thing I will be showing you if anything is my shit because I am so full.” Franco tells you as he settles himself on the couch.
The whole family had wrapped up dinner and finished off the night with some dessert. Now some of the family were chatting over some drinks to end the night.
“Please don’t.” you tell Franco.
“Ok, I wasn’t actually planning on showing you my shit. Ay dios.” states as he rolls his head to rest on the back of the couch.
You take a seat next to Franco, resting your head on his shoulder, his arm instinctively wrapping around you. His other arm reached for your hands and held them close. You swore his hands were so warm that they made hell seem cold.
You really were grateful for him. The two of you had been through some tough times so early into your relationship. There were times where you wondered if it was meant to be and if it would all work out. You’d even tried to push him away at some point, believing his life would be easier if you weren’t there to drag him down. But he stayed. There have been moments where you’ve been mean to him, times where you were so depressed that you would stay in bed all day and didn’t move. Days where you didn’t respond to his texts or calls because you couldn’t. But despite all that, he’s still here.
You’ve burned so many bridges in your life. You’ve made the same mistakes over and over but now you know you did one thing right. You love Franco with everything you have and he’s the person you trust the most. He knows you better than you know yourself most of the time. Even when you lose your mind, he’s still yours.
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fireboltposts ¡ 2 days ago
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Stray Kids' reaction to you texting them "Merry Christmas ya filthy animal" on Christmas day referencing the movie Home Alone 2 : Lost In New York
A/N : Since Advent is round the corner here's a silly Christmas scenario. Picture credit goes to the owner.
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Chris
• He'd definitely laugh at your playful message and the Home Alone reference would definitely click with them.
• "Merry Christmas you cheeky little troublemaker 🐺🎄", he texts back.
• He'd call you right after just to hear your voice "so you're quoting movies at me now Y/N ie ? Am I Kevin or am I one of the burglars ?"
• He'd tease you relentlessly but would definitely appreciate you wishing him at midnight.
Minho
• Minho would raise an eyebrow at your cheeky message highly amused by the sheer audacity to text him that.
• "Merry Christmas you brat 🙄. You know what happens to 'filthy animals' right ? Better be careful 😏".
• You'd blush profusely at his reply meanwhile he double texts you a picture of his three precious cats lounging next to the dorm Christmas tree with something like "they're watching you".
Changbin
• He would probably be producing a track late at night while you text him that sharp at midnight.
• He would laugh at your text, clearly amused. "Merry Christmas bunny 💕. But hey we all know who the real 'filthy animal' is over here 😏".
• He'd probably video call you soon after asking you what you got him for Christmas and would make plans for the day wanting to spend it with you.
Hyunjin
• Hyunjin would be startled at first, staring at the message like "Is she calling me filthy ?!" But then he’d remember the movie reference and start giggling.
• "Excuse me ? I'm practically an angel and not a filthy animal 😤 . And Merry Christmas to you too you absolute menace ❣️".
• Hed probably just send you a selfie later, pouting and asking you "so do I look like a filthy animal to you now ?"
Jisung
• Boy would probably be munching on some late night Christmas snack and would almost spit out the food at your message, putting down the phone to laugh at it.
• "HOW DARE YOU !! I'm the cleanest animal here, thank you very much. But Merry Christmas to you too, you little gremlin 😆🎄".
• By evening, he’d text you "Okay fine, I admit that was the best Christmas message I’ve ever gotten. Don’t tell anyone".
Felix
• Felix would be confused for a split second but would quickly catch on to the reference. He’d chuckle softly, finding your humor absolutely endearing.
• "Merry Christmas, darling. 💕 But… are you calling me filthy ? 😭 I thought I was your angel 😔".
• He'd send you a voice note in that deep voice of his wishing you all the love and happiness Christmas. He’d then gush to the members about how adorable you were.
Seungmin
• Seungmin would squint at his phone, trying to decide whether to laugh or pretend to be offended.
• "Merry Christmas, clown. 🎅 You’re lucky it’s the holidays otherwise, I’d roast you for that message".
• He’d subtly bring up your message during the day, saying things like, "So, how many other people did you call 'filthy animals' or am I just special?" He’d tease you relentlessly but would secretly love your sense of humor.
Jeongin
• Jeongin would blink at the message, trying to make sense of it for a second. If he got the reference, he’d laugh and shake his head at how bold you were.
• "Merry Christmas, you weird human. 🎁 But don’t forget that I’m the baby of the group. Filthy animal ? Really ?"
• By evening, he’d probably text you something like "Yours was the funniest Christmas message I received today. But next year, I’m coming up with something better, so you'd better watch out".
A/N : Hope you liked it. Do like, comment, reblog and follow if you did. You can find the rest of my masterlist here.
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fuddbueckers ¡ 2 days ago
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1. Kayla live we all know all the crumbs from that live fr
2. Azzi being at Paige’s family party thing on the Fourth of July
3. Mystics game crumbs and aces vs liberty game crumbs.
4. Kk dabbing up Paige for bagging a baddie fr
5. The live azzi says “better not” when Amari said sm gonna take Paige to breakfast
6. All bench moments from Pazzi especially when Paige said “wife” and azzi and ice were smiling/laughing.
7. I forget who’s live but the one where kk, Jana, Ayanna, azzi did a crumble review. From that live we got Paige checking out azzi twice and when everyone asked azzi what was wrong she didn’t answer until Paige asked what was wrong.
8. THE CRUISE
9. ice’s live(the live of all lives) thank u ice
10. The way they have to be two inches away from each other everywhere
11. The tennis games from over the summer. AZZI RESTING HER HEAD ON PAIGE. then Paige putting her hand on azzi’s face. To much happened during that time.
12. “She’s said she’s gonna leave me” azzi’s snap story from years ago
13. The slam interview.
14. Paige calling azzi a cheater for picking her dog over her in a overtime interview
15. Their hug after winning for team USA years ago
16. Paige crying talking about azzi’s acl tear in the slam interview
17. Paige ďżźSTARING at azzi from like across the court at first night(I think it was the 2023 first night)
17. “She’s LIKE my bestfriend” - Paige beuckers
19. Matching Halloween costumes last year and the vid from the Halloween party of Paige’s arm being around azzi like shoulder
20. EVERY SINGLE COMMENT THAT PAIGE HAS COMMENTED UNDER AZZIS POSTS especially her newer posts
21. The interview at the concert they went to and they were asked Netflix and chill or movie theater. THEIR ANSWERS
22. Kk liking the tiktok post saying “eyes don’t lie”and it’s azzi literally having heart eyes for Paige
23. Dorks liking a tiktok of them at a concert and the caption being sm like “ I like to think she turned to azzi”
24. Aubrey following a pazzi based account
25. Azzi favoring a pazzi tiktok
26. Paige favoriting a edit of her that literally used the clip of Paige and azzi from ices live.
27. Ice reading a comment out loud that said sm like “ice only goes live when she knows Paige and azzi Arent around.” Like girl why would u read that out loud
28. “Azzi and nika with their boyfriends.” PAIGE, KK, AND ICES reactions to that comment😭
28. Jose saying “y’all know where Paige and azzi r” on Kayla’s live
29. Jose’s live, I’m pretty sure he read the comment that said “ Paige is with her bf” and then him and his gf started laughing
30. Paige and azzi crushin over each other during the whole interview on sues podcast thing
31. Paige saying ice is banned from lives(wonder why🤔)
That’s all I will share ig but there’s sm more as we all know
31 is crazy😭 but the crumbl review live was kk’s live lol and the overtime episode where azzi called p cheater is my fav and now on talks about it fr
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jabeur ¡ 2 days ago
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evidence #37648 that the banter between jannik and matteo is so fun and they're so playful with each other: jannik is basically saying that he's going home for christmas bc that's the one day he always wants to be with his loved ones, but the way he words it at first it sounds like he's saying that's the ONLY day he wants to be with them, so matteo teases him saying "every other day you don't?!" 😭 you can't see jannik's reaction but you can clearly hear him say "no!" while laughing a little and then going on to explain what he meant
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faithshouseofchaos ¡ 3 days ago
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Hello! Hope you're having a good day! ☀️
I saw that your requests were open (Hope I got the time right...) and I wanted to request a Kimi RaikkĂśnen one-shot during the time where he and Sebastian were still in Ferrari, for plot reasons.
So, imagine this: You're one of the beloved drivers on the grid – who is close to the Ferrari duo – known for their love of nature, especially flowers.
One day flowers kept appearing in your locker room (?) and it kept going for months. At the end of every race when you went to change there were different flowers but no info about the sender. Naturally, you suspected Sebastian because that man is mother nature himself. After learning he's not the culprit you try to find out who's been sending you flowers. (Spoiler Alert: It's the Ice Man himself.)
Sorry if the ask was long... Have a good day and remember to drink water! ☀️
I need me an ice man also I’m sorry this took forever to write literally forever like since June forever 😭😭
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A Silent Bloom — Kimi Raikkonen x fem!reader
Word count — 675
Fluff
The soft fragrance of freesia lingered in your office, mingling with the faint smell of coffee and grease from the garage. You studied the bouquet in front of you—an artful arrangement of freesia, sweet peas, and delicate eucalyptus leaves. It was stunning, like all the others that had appeared after races for the past few months.
This one was no different: no note, no clue, just flowers left in places only someone close to you could access.
At first, you thought it was a mistake—some mix-up with deliveries—but as the bouquets kept appearing, you couldn’t ignore the growing mystery. Someone was sending these flowers on purpose, and they clearly knew about your deep love for nature.
The grid wasn’t short of suspects, but your first and most obvious guess had been Sebastian Vettel. Who else had such a deep appreciation for the environment?
“Seb, I know it’s you,” you said confidently one evening in the paddock.
Seb, in the middle of peeling an orange, looked up in surprise. “What’s me?”
“The flowers,” you said, crossing your arms. “I keep finding them in my office and locker after races. You’re the eco-warrior; it has to be you.”
He blinked at you, then smiled, shaking his head. “I’d love to take credit, but it’s not me,” he said, popping a slice of orange into his mouth. “Though, whoever it is has great taste. Very thoughtful.”
You narrowed your eyes, unconvinced. “Seb, don’t lie.”
He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I swear on all the bees in the world, it’s not me.”
That should have been the end of it, but of course, he couldn’t resist teasing you about your “secret admirer” for the rest of the weekend.
If it wasn’t Seb, though, who else could it be?
Your next suspect was Fernando Alonso. After all, Fernando had been known to stop and smell flowers during track walks, and he had a certain flair for surprising people.
During the Canadian Grand Prix weekend, you decided to confront him. As you approached, Fernando was casually leaning against a wall, scrolling on his phone.
“Hey, Nando,” you said, trying to sound casual.
He looked up, an eyebrow raised. “What?”
“I need to ask you something.” You hesitated, then dove in. “Are you the one leaving flowers in my office and locker?”
For a moment, he just stared at you, then his lips twitched into a smirk. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you like flowers,” you said bluntly. “And you have a weird way of surprising people.”
He let out a low laugh. “I like flowers, sí, but I don’t sneak into lockers like some secret admirer. Maybe it’s someone who doesn’t know how to talk to you.”
That thought stayed with you, even after Fernando walked away chuckling.
The answer came at the Silverstone Grand Prix.
It had been a grueling weekend, with a tough battle for points leaving you mentally and physically drained. When you opened your locker to change, you found a new bouquet waiting for you—this time, tulips and white roses. A small piece of folded paper sat between the flowers.
Your breath caught as you picked up the note, unfolding it with shaky hands.
“Nature deserves to be appreciated. So do you. – Kimi”
Kimi? The Ice Man?
You stared at the flowers, your mind reeling. Kimi wasn’t exactly known for grand gestures—or any gestures, for that matter. Yet here he was, revealing himself as the mysterious sender who had brightened your post-race weekends for months.
You found him later that evening in the quiet of the motorhome area. “Kimi,” you said, holding the note and bouquet.
He didn’t even look surprised. “You found the note.”
“Why?” you asked, struggling to understand.
“You like flowers,” he said simply, his tone as steady and unreadable as ever. “It made sense.”
“That’s it?”
He met your eyes then, something softer in his gaze. “You look happy when you see them. That’s enough.”
For a man of so few words, he somehow managed to leave you utterly speechless.
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theogbadbitch ¡ 15 hours ago
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Now I be tryna stay away from the cheating fics but they be finding me I swear🌚 this was SO good , HELLO??????
I’m thankful for YOU this thanksgiving Ms. Uzumaki-rebellion.
*long reblog*
“Bethany gave a look to Terry. They both knew Jordan had been seeing other women while stationed there.” They messy as hell pls (just like me fr)
“You lookin' at my wife funny?" Here’s hoping🌚
“Nigga, I know you. Seen with my own eyes how you move. Is that why you want the car for yourself? To sneak around on Nova?"
“You really are a piece of work. Here I am thinking you finally became a real man," Terry huffed.” Lord may this type of love NEVER find me, I’ll be in PRISON.
“You her daddy or something?" 🌚 maybe
“Wife?" Lourdes squeaked.” Yes, now get your ass on somewhere, her husband SO embarrassing
“He's a liar…and a cheat. His hoe is walking around my home!" Nova screamed.” Here we go chile
“Nova grabbed a glass from the dish rack near the sink and threw it at Jordan. It clipped him in the head.” As she should, throw the microwave at his ass next
“he became self-conscious.” Nigga look like a handsome ass marble statue mind you
“He could fuck her raw and cum all inside her. “ what a sick bastard #needthat
“He's being deployed to the Indo-Pacific at the end of the year." Good riddance.
“Excuse me," he said, stepping past her into the hallway” poor baby trying his hardest to ignore my girl
“Terry's jaw grew tight. The man ignored his wife but answered his phone for a friend? Trifling.” Somebody need to whoop his ass and I volunteer to do it.
“She rubbed those sticky lower lips against him harder, rocking her hips forward and back.”
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“Can I cum inside you without a condom?" he asked.” SO freaked out
“This is all mine now," he said, while staring at her with his disarming green eyes.” WHEW. JUST WHEW.
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“He wished he'd been the one to put a baby in her. “ careful what you wish for🌚
“I want to get you pregnant myself” that power of tongue is something I hear🌚
“I love you, Terry…I love you…"
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“It's Nova…I think…I think she's cheating on me." I JUST BUSTED OUT LAUGHING
“ I know he's fucking the shit outta her cuz her body is ridiculous.” you don’t know the half of it nigga
“If she's happier, let her go." Nah he funny as hell for this 😭😭😭😭😭
Nobody:
Terry: I think you should leave her immediately and never contact her again thats just me tho
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“Why would you want her to divorce me, Terry?" OOP—-🌚
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“Are you fucking my wife?" This whole situation is crazy 😭😭😭😭😭
“it didn't surprise Terry at all that Nova left Jordan four months later.” We all cheered!!!
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“He opened the envelope and pulled out a large color photo of a cute brown baby girl with green eyes so bright they seemed to leap off the photo paper. “ GREEN EYES????????
“Terrina Richmond.” THATS HIS BABY????
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“Terry Richmond booked a flight to Charleston. He had to get his woman back and meet his new daughter.” We all cheered (again)
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Lick Back by Uzumaki Rebellion
Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Female OC
Warning(s): 18+, Explicit Sex, Angst, Cheating, Unprotected Sex, Illicit Extramarital Affair, Adultery, Pregnancy Sex, Breeding Kink, AITA!Terry Richmond.
Summary: Terry Richmond is stationed at the Camp Pendleton Marine Corps Base where he teaches incoming soldiers close quarters combat techniques as a MCMAP instructor. While hanging with rowdy fresh blood recruits at a bar, he meets Nova, the new wife of a fellow soldier who recently moved to Oceanside from South Carolina. Nova and her husband Jordan seem close at first, but Terry knows that Jordan cheats on her every chance he gets with secret weekend trysts. When Nova becomes pregnant and struggles to keep her marriage together, Terry steps in to cheer her up from Jordan's indifference. But he unintentionally embarks upon an illicit affair with Nova that turns his life upside down.
Word count: 18.2K
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"In this world, concrete flowers grow
Heartache, she only doin' what she know
Weekends, get it poppin' on the low
Better days comin' for sure"
Kendrick Lamar & Sza – "Luther"
Terry never planned on having an affair.
Like the cliché excuse used the world over, it just…happened.
He'd been drinking and playing pool with his marine buddies Kevin and Von when Jordan Patterson stumbled into their favorite off-base dive bar with a group of rambunctious grunts that disturbed the peace of other patrons.
"Hey, Patterson…pipe down," Terry called out.
Jordan raised a hand to wave at Terry before his jarhead crew stopped at the bar to order drinks. Their loud laughter and conversation sounded celebratory.
"Cut him some slack, T. The man just got married," Kevin said.
"Patterson? Married? To who?" Terry asked.
He noticed several women near the bar rolling their eyes at Jordan and his party. Sticking his thumb and index finger in his mouth, Terry whistled and gestured for the rowdy group to join his side of the bar where he could preserve the peace.
"Hey! Sergeant Richmond! You're back!" Jordan said.
"Yep. My leave ends in two days."
"How was Louisiana?" Jordan asked.
"Same as I left it."
"Family good?"
"Yep."
Jordan had a gregarious personality that came off bigger than life. He was about four inches shorter than Terry, with a chiseled, penny-brown face that turned heads wherever he went. A natural lady-killer. Terry liked him well enough as a soldier, but away from work, he wasn't much for running around in the streets like the younger Lance Corporal was. He gave dap to Jordan and the others, and the quiet calm he exuded filtered down to the others. Terry bought a round of drinks for the newlywed and his friends. They settled into a good time quickly.
An attractive entourage of women walked in and joined their group. Most were girlfriends or wives of the men he hung with. That's when Terry first noticed Nova. She was taller than a few of the other women who were Filipino and Black. One Mexican woman mixed into their group pointed toward them in the back, and Nova caught his eye. She looked unsure of the surroundings and he could smell the country aura she exuded. A loose ponytail held back her black hair, and she wore a cute orange jumper that showed off slender legs. She was light brown like him, but the type of brown that would get darker in the California sunshine given time. Terry sipped his glass of whiskey and concentrated on the pool game he played with Von.
"Sarge…sarge…lemme introduce you to my wife…Nova. Nova…this is the baddest MCMAP instructor on base…Terry Richmond."
Nova's warm brown eyes twinkled. He held out a hand to shake. She took it.
"How are you doing, Mrs. Patterson?"
Nova giggled.
"That still sounds so strange to hear," she said. "Pleased to meet you Terry."
Her southcack accent sounded like warm honey molasses on thick buttered toast, and for a second, he couldn't believe Jordan's wild ass could pull a sweet country girl clear across the nation. Terry glanced at Jordan, but the younger man already had his eye on some other beauty playing pool at another table. The youngin always had a wandering eye, but Terry figured he'd shut that shit down with a wife present.
"You coming to the spot tomorrow? We're throwing a barbecue to celebrate me and Nova," Jordan said.
"I'll be there," Terry said. He looked at Nova again. "Enjoy your time here."
Von missed a shot, and Terry returned to his game, soon forgetting about Nova.
The bar had a small area where a live band played, and the music was a mix of millennial R&B and pop hits. Terry left tip money on a nearby table for his server and headed for the door. He glimpsed Jordan dancing with Nova, and they appeared happy. In love. He wished them well in his heart and went home.
Little did he know that their brief encounter would morph into something bigger than he could've imagined.
Terry wasn't hurting for companionship. Six-foot-three, fit, good looking, and single, he enjoyed a wide variety of women from Long Beach to San Diego. Living in Oceanside long enough had him looking away from the small seaside town for women. Military life attracted a certain kind of woman he wasn't interested in near the base. He was pleasantly surprised that Nova was nothing like the husband-hungry women his military buddies dealt with. For one, she was a university graduate. He found that out on the weekly flag football game he played at a park with the guys and their partners.
Playing flag football with men and women was something he and Von started seven years ago to create a tight bond of friends, especially for the younger men coming into the fold. It soon became a casual mentorship that fostered goodwill and was a lot of fun. It also helped the women find friends to help deal with homesickness for those who were far away from home for the first time. They became a support system when the men were called to do their tour of duty.
The crew played before eating, and Terry covered quarterback duty for Team A. He brought his friend Angie, who everyone thought he was fucking, to hang out and play. She was his beard to keep the other women from setting him up with their female friends who were desperate for a marine to marry. Angie was gay and always played her part well, plus she was a skilled football player.
Nova played with Jordan on Team B, facing a man twice her size. The sun beat down on them, and the odor of grilled ribs and brown sugar barbecue sauce flared his nostrils at the start of the game. Von and his wife Bethany started cooking early before everyone else arrived so that the food would be ready after the first quick game. Kevin played the role as ref and blew the whistle to start the game after Terry took a long huddle to explain to a new soldier's girlfriend her position. Her name was Cath, a white-looking mixed Filipina who seemed more interested in looking cute rather than actually playing. She kept batting her lashes at Terry and fiddling with her stringy dyed hair the color of a bleeding sunset.
"Let's go Team A, we ain't got all day!" Kevin called out.
Terry clapped his hands, and his teammates spread out. Angie hiked the ball to him, and Terry took a step back, cradling the football in his hand, ready to spring his powerful arm forward. His two wide-receivers, a man and woman, jetted down the grassy field and—
Nova snatched his blue flag from around his waist in less than six seconds.
Terry stared at her with an incredulous expression as Jordan danced around and talked mad shit. Nova grinned and twirled his flag belt in her hand. Terry glared at Conner, who was supposed to block her.
"Aye, she's fast, man," Conner said. "I pushed her back, but she got around me."
Team A huddled again. Terry glanced at Nova. An impish smirk creased her pretty lips. Angie hiked the ball, and Nova gunned it for him, blowing past Connor's bulky frame like he was a toddler. Terry ran and threw the ball fast. In fact, Nova kept him running and switching up his plays. When Team B finally had their chance to move the ball around, Terry and the others witnessed Nova's athleticism. Her lean build and speed were amazing. They switched up the teams after eating, and Terry took a break to watch and drink beer from the sidelines. He thought it was cute the way Jordan slapped his wife's butt each time she made a huge play. They were lovey-dovey and Terry hoped she would curb his explosive temper that he sometimes brought to the games. Jordan could be hard on new guys hanging out to play with them, and the addition of alcohol with testosterone didn't help.
Nova skipped playing the last game of the day and sat near Von's wife and Angie, chatting. Other women joined them as the guys stood or sat around arguing about their fantasy football picks or why Bronny James should ride his nepo ass on the Laker team bus. Terry ate another rib and licked his fingers, listening to the clash of several conversations. Jordan pulled a folding chair next to his wife and threaded his fingers with hers.
"Tired of them niggas arguing about the same shit every weekend," Jordan said.
"What do you think of California?" Angie asked Nova.
Jordan kissed her hand, and Nova fixed her eyes on Angie.
"It's different. A little faster than what I'm used to."
"You'll get used to it, baby," Jordan said.
The football landed in his lap. Kevin jogged over.
"You wanna play a quick game? These cholos nearby want to play," Kevin said.
Jordan glanced at Terry.
"You in man?" Jordan asked.
"I'm good."
Jordan bounced up from his seat and darted out to the field.
"He is so happy," Bethany said.
Nova gave a winsome smile while staring at her husband.
"We both are."
"How long were you dating before getting married?" Angie asked.
"Oh, Jordy's been my childhood sweetheart since I was thirteen."
"Really? Oh gosh, that's so cute," Bethany said.
Bethany gave a look to Terry. They both knew Jordan had been seeing other women while stationed there.
"We'd been on and off since high school. I went to the University of South Carolina in Columbia and got my degree in communications. I have to wait a year to get residency here, and then I'm going to apply to SDSU and get my masters in communications."
"What do you want to do?"
"News broadcasting. I'm starting an internship at KGTV next month. That means a lot of commuting to San Diego."
"It's not bad, thirty to forty minutes," Angie said.
"Jordy proposed to me last year when he came home to visit. I told him I wasn't getting married until I had my degree in my hand first."
"I know that's right," Bethany said, tossing back her Senegalese twists. "Von and I were married ten years ago. Two kids later and I'm still wishing I finished my education. I'm thinking about doing some online classes next year."
"Do it!" Angie said, patting Bethany's leg.
Nova sighed and watched Jordan play football.
Terry discreetly studied her and wondered if she knew her husband cheated on her all the time while she was in South Carolina. He couldn't let go of the disappointment he felt in Jordan who'd been his pet project for three years because the big brass felt he had the potential to be an outstanding soldier, but needed a personal hand to keep him in line. Terry took on that responsibility and kept the man under his wing. Jordan's biggest problem was his immaturity. At twenty-five, he was only two years younger than Terry, but their maturity levels were worlds apart. Nova seemed like a smart woman and had to know her man wasn't up to her level. He didn't want to assume anything because men often acted differently around their women sometimes. Terry just hated seeing good Black women choosing lames.
She caught him looking at her.
"You play football well," he blurted.
"Jordy and I played all the time back home. Our families are close and full of boys, so I got in to fit in. I ran track too, so that helps."
"Yeah, it does, cuz you did not let me rest out there."
They all laughed.
She kept him laughing. The others, too. Nova fit the group perfectly. She was funny and encouraging and smitten with Jordan.
While packing up, Bethany cornered Terry near his truck.
"Did you know Jordan was engaged all this time?"
"No."
"That man was at my house last month with some random woman. I feel so icky talking with his wife knowing he's been unfaithful with other women."
"Maybe they had an understanding while they were long distance."
"Stop making excuses for him, Terry. You know that's some janky ass shit to bring a wife around us out of the blue. No Black woman from here to Timbuktu is going to accept that."
"That's why we're all going to mind our business."
Bethany moved closer to him, her hard light brown eyes almost glowing in her dark brown face. She lifted an accusatory finger at him and wagged it.
"You need to have a talk with him, or else I will. You're his leader that he respects and listens to. Von would just curse him out and make things worse. Nova is a beautiful woman who deserves respect. We're lucky he brought none of those other women to our football games. Suppose one of those birds popped up today?"
"Alright…alright…I'll check in with Jordan, but I won't lecture him."
"Good. Let him know I'm watching out for Nova."
Von wandered over, carrying leftover bags of supplies.
"What are you fussing about over here?" Von asked.
"Jordan," Bethany said.
Von grit his teeth comically.
"You didn't say anything to Nova, did you?" Von asked.
"I'm not hurting a woman I just met on the first day. Terry's going to talk to him."
"Babe, we gotta stay outta other grown folk's business."
"Jordan and the word 'grown' do not compute. The man runs around town like a horny teenager," Bethany complained.
"He's married to a good woman, and she's living here with him now. Let's all be cool and act like we don't know a damn thing."
"Terry…check that man or I'm pulling the pin and blowing his shit up," Bethany said, climbing into their mini-van.
Von and Bethany left him standing alone.
Jordan and Nova embraced each other near their car.
Maybe Jordan got his dick wetting season over with and would finally settle down.
Six months passed by, and Terry didn't feel the need to say anything to Jordan. The man fell into a marriage routine that convinced even Bethany that matrimony cured his loose dick. The couple invited everyone to their new military home for a housewarming party and, seeing them together, Terry had to admit there was some growth in Jordan's behavior. He was attentive to his wife, and didn't hang at the bars with the single men as much anymore. When he did pop out, he brought Nova with him, and they left early. No more bar crawls or skirt chasing. Domestic bliss. Kevin married his fiancĂŠ during a winter wedding, and Jordan gave a moving speech about how marriage changed a man for the better. Babies were born, and other men in his circle got engaged or settled into long-term relationships. The more he looked around, the more he felt like the lone bachelor clinging to singledom.
Terry didn't want to think about a wife and kids until after he was out of the military. He had a good gig going with MCMAP. A decent wage. The respect of his peers. The freedom to come and go as he pleased with no strings. Pussy was easy to come by, and no woman was special enough to entice him into monogamy.
His schedule grew hectic as the military geared up for a new deployment. He never had to go anywhere because the Marines recognized his value in training. An elite soldier in his rank, the higher ups wanted Terry to mold thousands more just like him during his stint. He went in hard on his charges, building up the best trained soldiers he could.
Nova adjusted to California life. She and Jordan had to share the use of one car to save money for her future schooling. She'd drop Jordan off to work and make the drive to San Diego for her internship. After a month, he heard from Bethany that Nova quit the internship because it became too stressful to meet the requirements with Jordan's schedule. They couldn't afford another car at the moment because the cost of military housing had gone up.
Nova ended up taking a part-time job at a public library as she waited for her residency to kick in for school. She'd gained weight and Jordan didn't seem too happy about it. Terry thought she looked good, filling out more from living a slower lifestyle than when she was running around on a university campus. At the flag football games, they bickered a lot, and Nova stopped playing altogether, sometimes not even showing up at the park. Bethany gave Terry a look at the absence, and he finally pulled Jordan aside.
"Hey man…what's going on with you? Everything cool at home?" Terry asked nonchalantly on a park bench.
"Aw man…y'know, life is lifing. Things aren't going the way we planned…or rather, the way she planned."
"What's up with Nova?"
Jordan glanced at the grass on the ground and picked at a scratch on his knee that he injured earlier that day from falling. Terry had to pull him away from another player before a fight broke out. A dude named Marcus had simply tripped over his feet and fell into Jordan, but Jordan flipped out about it, shoving Marcus in the chest.
"Man…this marriage shit is for the birds."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't wanna talk about it, Sarge."
"That's what I'm here for, Jordan."
He gave an exasperated sigh.
"I love Nova…I really do…but lately…she's been getting on my nerves."
"How?"
"Always asking me about shit that ain't really important right now. She wants another car for school, and I told her she should postpone going to SDSU, at least until I make a higher paygrade. She got a job to pay for a new car herself. Her library gig is within walking distance, so she doesn't need to have my car during the day. I need to use it more than her."
"For what? She drops you off and picks you up every day."
"Sometimes I wanna go to the bar with the fellas after work to chill."
"Then ride with them and hitch a ride home with 'em too…or catch an Uber or a Lyft."
"Man, I ain't doing all that."
"You expect her to do that, then?"
"She don't need the car every day," Jordan grumbled. "Walking will do her good, anyway. All she's doing is getting fat."
"That's how you talk about your wife?"
Jordan sucked his teeth.
"Her ass used to be fine as hell when she first got here."
"She's still fine."
Jordan glared at him.
"You lookin' at my wife funny?"
"No, what I'm saying is, Nova is still a beautiful woman. She's a lil thicker and in case you haven't noticed, no one else is complaining when she rides on base dropping your ass off early in the morning."
"I'ma get her a gym membership on base and whip that ass back into shape."
"You foul man."
"Not trying to have a sloppy booty wife."
Terry's jaw tightened. He thought Nova looked even better with the weight gain. She started wearing large T-shirts and sweatpants more, but he and the other guys on base appreciated the extra jiggles when she walked by. His daddy always told him a well-loved woman put on weight the first few years of marriage. That's how a man knew he was taking care of his wife.
Jordan looked off into the distance and Terry turned his head to see what he was checking out. One guy had brought an extra female friend to play football, a lithe Black woman from L.A. who modeled for department store flyers.
"Jordan, I hope you're staying true to your vows with Nova and not stepping out on her."
Jordan's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
"What are you talking about?"
"You heard me. We all know you were fucking around before you brought her out here. None of us knew you had a fiancĂŠ, and you brought her back like a prized jewel. Now you're acting like you want to trade her in for some outhouse pussy cuz she put on a few pounds. You shouldn't have gotten married if you're acting like this."
"Jumping to conclusions and shit—"
"Nigga, I know you. Seen with my own eyes how you move. Is that why you want the car for yourself? To sneak around on Nova?"
Jordan wouldn't look Terry in the eye.
"You really are a piece of work. Here I am thinking you finally became a real man," Terry huffed.
He stood and narrowed his eyes at Jordan.
"Get your shit together. Stop trash talking your wife and take your ass home. Buy her some flowers and candy. Spoil her for even choosing your ungrateful ass."
"Whatever, man. You wouldn't understand… you ain't never been with anybody long-term."
"Because I have the maturity to know I'm not ready to settle down. Do better. Respect your wife. Don't let me catch wind of you fucking around on her."
"You her daddy or something?"
Terry held his tongue.
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Shit hit the fan on a fourth of July cookout at Nova and Jordan's house.
Terry arrived, bringing ice and his homemade salmon croquettes. He mingled with the joyous gathering of co-workers and friends. Nova played the cheerful hostess, wearing a red, white, and blue summer dress that accentuated her new curves. Her face looked rounder, and she kept tugging on the back of her dress.
"This thing keeps riding up," Nova joked with Bethany.
"Welcome to the world of big booty life," Bethany said, patting her own high shelf donk.
Terry played d.j. with the music, synching his phone with the sound system. He put together a Black Barbecue playlist and let Frankie Beverly and Maze remind people of their childhoods. Bethany shouted and raised her hands when Roy Ayer's "Everybody Loves the Sunshine" popped on and the music fit the vibe of Black folks getting brown in the sunshine of the Patterson's backyard cookout.
Kevin handed Terry a glass of beer from the keg someone brought for the occasion. He gulped it down to cool off and watched the ecstatic faces around him. Life was good.
Terry's friend Raymond arrived with a bunch of people bearing drinks and lemon meringue pies. Jordan and Nova stood near him and greeted the new guests. Terry noticed Jordan's shifty eyes as he tried to ignore Lourdes, a Mexican chick known to Terry's crew as a pass around good time.
"I remember you," Lourdes purred, rubbing her hand up Jordan's arm.
Jordan grinned and nervously threw an arm around Nova's waist.
"Hey, good seeing you at another cookout…this is my wife, Nova," Jordan said.
"Hi," Nova said.
"Wife?" Lourdes squeaked.
Nova's lips pressed tightly together and Lourdes fluttered her eyes back to Jordan.
"Haven't seen you at Ringer's for a minute. Thought you got deployed," Lourdes said.
Nova glared at Jordan and stomped away.
Terry switched the music to upbeat, loud fun, and a few people started dancing. Jordan went after Nova. Lourdes grabbed a glass of beer from Raymond and flitted among the men, ignoring the other women completely.
Terry heard shouting from in the house and he followed behind Bethany and Von to check it out. Inside the kitchen, Nova screamed at Jordan, who only leaned against the kitchen island with a grim expression.
"Nova…Jordan? Everything okay in here?" Bethany asked.
Nova's wet face and agitated state told the complete story. Terry looked at Jordan.
"He's a liar…and a cheat. His hoe is walking around my home!" Nova screamed.
Jordan lowered his head. Terry was glad the man had an ounce of shame in him.
"I told you that bitch was from a long time ago. You're making a big deal about a past relationship," Jordan said.
"Past relationship? Jordan, we've been together forever! You promised that you were done disrespecting me. I should've listened to my friends and never come out here!"
Nova grabbed a glass from the dish rack near the sink and threw it at Jordan. It clipped him in the head.
"Nova…fuck!" he screeched.
Jordan lunged forward to stop her from throwing a dish, but Terry stepped between them, blocking him with his back.
"Okay, let's all calm down," Terry said.
Von put an arm around Jordan's shoulder and walked him out of the kitchen. Bethany stayed behind.
"I'll tell Raymond to get that woman out of here," Terry said.
Bethany nodded, and Nova burst into tears.
"Oh, sweetie…let the men handle this," Bethany said, hugging Nova.
Terry sought Von and Jordan.
Lourdes and Raymond left in a hurry with their group, and everyone at the party gossiped in hushed tones as music continued blasting. On the side of the house, Von cursed out Jordan whose only response was, "I know…I know…I know…"
"Are you still fucking Lourdes?" Terry asked.
"That shit is old. Ain't my fault Raymond brought her over here. I didn't invite that woman."
"How old?" Terry asked, folding his arms across his chest.
"I dead that shit back in January."
"January? Nigga, you're married!" Von shouted.
"Keep your voice down," Jordan said.
Terry stuck a finger in his face.
"You betta not trip when she leaves your ass," Terry said.
"She ain't going nowhere."
"Why not?"
Jordan closed his eyes and rested his head against the side of his house.
"She's pregnant."
Von and Terry groaned and rolled their eyes.
"See, niggas like you is why Black women hate us now," Von barked.
"I'm gonna change…watch and see. I gotta man up now…I'ma be a father and my kid needs his father."
"If she were smart, she'd abort and go home," Von said.
"Von…yo…ease up, man," Terry said.
"Nah, T…Jordan doesn't want a wife…and he damn sure don't deserve no children with how he acts toward Nova. I wouldn't be surprised if Bethany is in there now telling her the same thing! I oughta kick your punk ass."
"Stand down, Washington," Terry said, using Von's surname in a tone used at work.
Von threw up his hands and walked away. Jordan pushed past Terry and entered a side door that went into the garage and back into the house. Terry followed.
Nova stood in the kitchen with Bethany. Terry nodded his head for Bethany to leave, and he posted up by the fridge to watch over Jordan.
"Baby, I'm sorry. Please…don't make that face. I know I'm always sorry about shit and I hurt you. Don't abort my baby."
Nova glanced at Terry. The pregnancy had been a secret, apparently.
"Get out of my face," Nova said.
"Nova—"
Terry put a hand on Jordan's shoulder.
"Give her some space, c'mon."
He led Jordan back to the party. Everyone else partied on, ignoring the messy marital discord. Jordan drank some beer and joined Kevin and Von in a corner with some married men. Terry sauntered over to the food table and made himself a plate. Bethany had smoke coming out of her ears, commiserating with other women.
The mood had soured within the hour, and folks gathered to-go plates and said their goodbyes. Terry made himself a plate of pork ribs and macaroni salad with a couple of hot links thrown on top for good measure. Kevin took Jordan to his house for the night with his wife, Vivian, to keep him away from Nova. They both needed to sleep apart and figure out their situation in the morning.
Terry held up a hand to everyone left behind and headed out. Two blocks down the street, the glare of the sunset struck his eyes. He reached for the top of his head and couldn't find his sunglasses. Pulling over, he searched the truck seat to see if they fell off. Then he remembered. He put them down on the patio table at Jordan's. If they had been cheap drugstore shades, he would've let it go. But they were three hundred dollar wrap-around Oakley's.
He made a U-turn and parked in the Patterson driveway. Sneaking toward the side of the house, he crept toward the high wooden gate that led to the yard. He wanted to run in and out of the backyard without disturbing Nova.
The gate was locked.
He walked back to the front and rang the doorbell.
Nova answered with pink eyes, still wearing her holiday dress.
"Hey…Nova…sorry to bother you, but I left my shades in your backyard. Can I go get them?"
"Sure," she said, stepping aside.
Terry moved through the living room and into the kitchen, pushing on the sliding glass doors. He found his shades perched on a speaker. He tucked them into the neck of his t-shirt and looked at the other speaker.
"I can move these back in the house for you," he offered.
Nova nodded. He didn't want her straining to carry them. It took him less than a minute to move them and the cords inside the living room. Jordan could set them back up when he returned home.
"All done. See ya next time," he said.
Nova nodded with her back to him, facing the kitchen sink. Her shoulders shook and Terry felt awkward being there while she cried.
"You'll be okay, right? Maybe call a friend over?" he suggested.
"What friends? Everyone is Jordan's friend."
"Bethany?"
She shook her head.
"I can't bother her. She has kids and stuff to do. I'll be okay."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Thanks for bringing the speakers in."
"No problem…alright. I'm going to bounce."
Nova turned her head to the side.
"Everyone knew, didn't they? That he's been cheating on me this entire time?"
"Nova…uh…"
She glanced at him with glossy eyes and a crinkle in her forehead.
"You don't have to lie to me, too, Terry. I've always suspected, but couldn't prove it back home. He swore up and down that he's been faithful and only loved me. Jordan made me look like the biggest dumb fool today. How many other women have come through my house and fucked my husband while smiling in my face?"
"We thought he would change…we didn't even know about you until you arrived a year ago."
"Not one of you said anything."
Terry moved over to the sink and stood next to her.
"Look, a few of us talked about it. Bethany wanted to tell you from day one, but we…the fellas…we thought Jordan would shape up. It became a matter of us not wanting to hurt you."
She closed her eyes. A single tear ran down her face. He felt like shit.
"Bros before hoes," she said.
"It's fucked up, but…yeah, that's what it came down to. None of us wanted this for you."
"Well… I got it, anyway."
Her face crumpled. She covered her eyes with her right hand.
"He's not attracted to me anymore…I've gained all this weight…now I'm pregnant and can't trust anyone around me!"
Her cry of pain bruised his insides.
Terry stood paralyzed next to her, not wanting to be inappropriate, although he thought he was supposed to hug her or something. No comforting words came to mind that sounded good enough for her. He pulled out his cell phone and called Von.
"Yo…man…can you put Bethany on the phone? I'm at Jordan's place and Nova is having a hard time…Bethany? Hey, can I ask for a big favor? Could you come over to Nova's? Yeah…it's bad…okay. Okay. Thanks."
He swiped his phone and stuck it in his back pocket.
"Bethany is coming over right now—"
Nova pushed her face against his chest and wept. The top of her hair tickled his chin, and he held his arms out, not knowing where to place them. He finally hugged her, and she broke down more, her warm tears soaking his shirt.
"I'm sorry you're going through this, Nova…I really am."
He stroked her back as she poured her wounded soul into his broad chest.
"Shh…shh…it hurts bad now, but it'll pass…I promise…" he whispered to her.
She nodded and leaned back, wiping her face.
"You're too pretty to be scrunching up your face like you tasted some lemons," he teased.
Nova laughed and blinked away tears.
He became cognizant that he still held her close against him. She smelled like sugar cookies and all the weight Jordan complained about felt good in his arms.
"Your smile lights up a room, and if that fool can't appreciate it, someone else will," he said.
Nova gazed into his eyes. With her hair up in a bun, Terry could enjoy every part of her sweet face. They'd never been that close together, and he became self-conscious. He dropped his hands to his sides, but kept his eyes on hers. Nova stood on tip-toe and kissed his cheek.
"Thank you for caring so much," she said.
Uncomfortable. That was the first feeling that ran through him. He shouldn't be there with her. Alone. Seconds ticked by and they both stood there, looking at one another. Her eyes focused on his lips and she kissed him on the mouth.
Like an idiot, he kissed her back, parting his lips so her tongue could probe his mouth and find the comfort she needed. She didn't hold back, circling his neck with her arms and pressing into him hard, wanting to feel his muscles against her heavenly frame. Terry tilted his head more and thrust his tongue further into her mouth. He swallowed the soft moan Nova released against his lips. He licked her bottom lip and kissed her fully until they both started moaning from the illicit encounter.
One nasty thought kicked around in his brain.
He could fuck her raw and cum all inside her. Since she was already pregnant, there'd be no need to have a condom barrier to prevent knocking her up. His breeding kink revved up, and he seriously thought about fucking Nova in her marital bed to teach Jordan a lesson. Fill her up with his cum…treat her the way she deserved to be treated by a real man who appreciated a woman no matter what her size was. Jordan was crazy to think a once slender Nova didn't compete with the thicker one in his arms. And she was about to get even bigger while pregnant?
His dick got hard.
Nova felt it poking against her.
"We gotta stop," he whispered into her mouth.
"Why? I should be allowed to get my lick back with someone better than my husband."
Terry pulled away, afraid of the consequences if Nova kept talking to him reckless like that.
His erection tented his pants. It was undeniable how much he wanted her. Nova licked her lips, staring at the thick bulge she could have. She boldly reached out and touched it…squeezed it to see how big it was. He moaned, and she ran her fingers up and down his length, teasing him until she reached the wide head that strained against his zipper. Pulling her fingers away, he had to take a stand or else they'd do something that couldn't be undone.
"Bethany will be here. I better go."
Terry swiftly parted from her and rushed to his truck. The irrational part of his mind wanted to lay some good pipe down on her. He wiped her lipstick off of his mouth once he sat in the driver's seat. His dick throbbed in his pants.
Nova was married. Calm the fuck down.
Yes, Jordan Patterson was a selfish knucklehead, but that didn't mean snatching up the man's wife because he dogged her out.
Terry started his car and drove away before Bethany showed up. He spent the next two days relaxing in his bachelor's quarters on base. At work, he ran into Jordan briefly, but it was in passing to teach one of his martial arts classes. Jordan looked sheepish and apologetic, and Terry just gave a nod and kept on moving.
He skipped two weeks of flag football, not wanting to hear gossip or run into Nova. No one questioned his non-socializing. He sometimes dropped out of sight when his workload increased to cover staff leave or new training.
A third week of avoiding his friends continued, and his phone rang with a number he didn't recognize. He answered without thinking.
"Hello?"
"Hi Terry. It's me…Nova."
"Nova…hey…I don't—"
"I'm sorry. If you're avoiding everyone because of me…you don't have to stay away from your friends. I kissed you and it was wrong. I made things weird for you."
Terry sighed.
"I don't want any problems, Nova. You and Jordan have to sort your relationship out without adding more trouble."
"I don't know why I did that, Terry. You were just being kind, and I liked how you made me feel…wanted. Seen. I'm two months pregnant and my hormones could be messing with me, too. I want to apologize and ask that you not hide anymore. It makes me feel awful, like I chased you away being inappropriate when I was feeling low."
"It's understandable…but I really have been busy. Don't stress out about anything. That night has been forgotten."
"Good."
"See you around," he said.
He hung up and deleted her number from his phone.
Hearing her voice did something to him. He called up Von and went to his house to have a beer and catch up. Bethany wasn't home, so the men could chat openly without her chiming in or judging.
"How's Jordan been doing with Nova?"
"Hard to say, really. They seem okay. But he's at the bar after work a lot. Kevin hung out with him a few times. Tried talking sense into him. Looks like they're going to work things out."
"Good for them."
"He's being deployed to the Indo-Pacific at the end of the year."
Terry exhaled with a loud breath.
"Damn, that sucks. He'll miss the birth."
"Yep. But distance has a way of making the heart grow fonder. That's what they say, right?"
"With Jordan, it seems to do the opposite."
"He wants Nova to go back to South Carolina while he's gone. She wants to stay here."
"She doesn't have a support system here, though."
"Bethany has adopted her as the little sister she always wanted. Nova is good people. We'll look after her."
Terry left Von and took a drive up the coast to see a friend in Long Beach. He returned to Camp Pendleton and got a fresh line-up from his barber and hooked up with his buds for a baseball viewing party at an on-base pub. The Padres lost, and he ended up playing pool for the rest of the night, listening to tall tales and body counts among his peers. Unexpectedly, Jordan and Nova showed up to hang out.
He couldn't look at her the same way.
She'd fixed her hair into a sexy new pixie cut that had soft gelled waves making her look like a starlet and even more attractive. Their eyes met and something definitely changed between them. All he could think about was their kiss, and the way she wanted to feel on his dick. Her dewy gaze told him she was thinking the same thing, too. Terry avoided saying too much to her, giving a polite 'Hello' to them both before locking into his pool shots.
Jordan guzzled down beer and hammed it up with a few officers. Nova wandered over to his pool table, nursing a soda. She sipped and watched him play against his friend Luis, then slipped a quarter onto the end of the table, signaling she had the next game against whoever won. Of course, it was him because Luis was a lousy shot most of the time.
Nova chose a pool stick and chalked it down, eyeing him curiously with a playful smile. Terry glanced around, hoping someone else wanted to play instead, but the guys were too busy drinking and talking loud. The pub overflowed with patrons, blocking him and Nova from view of the others. He checked the watch on his arm.
"Gotta run. Early day tomorrow," he said.
He placed his pool stick on the rack and wiped his hands of chalk dust. Nova pursed her lips and her shoulders drooped. He forced himself to leave. Looking at her only increased a forbidden desire, and he'd be damned if he fell for a woman simply for lust. He had a roster of willing women on his phone if he needed sexual relief that badly. Nova was danger, and he read the warnings clearly.
He walked toward housing with hands shoved deep in his pants pockets. All he had to do was stay away from Jordan and their mutual friends until he deployed. Then he'd have no reason to worry about ever seeing Nova. By then, she'd have a baby and no longer feel like hanging out anywhere he'd likely be. The woman dredged up feelings he wasn't used to, like longing and nesting up with someone away from his male companions on base. Jordan Patterson had to be the luckiest motherfucker in the world and couldn't even appreciate what he had at his fingertips: a good woman who loved him with a pure heart.
Terry's parents raised him with morals and values. Thou shall not covet and Thou shall not commit adultery. Such simple tenets and yet his salacious mind quibbled over semantics, searching for loopholes. Could he really covet someone if the husband didn't really want the wife? If a husband broke the marital bond first, should the wife stay beholden to the rules? He shook his head, blaming the rambling thoughts on all the beer he drank. His brain marinated in liquor. Any unscrupulous thoughts he entertained weren't to be taken seriously. He believed that for a full thirty days, Nova-free.
Until the day Von called him over to hang out.
Bethany was out for the day with friends, and his kids were at a summer camp for the week. Von wanted to enjoy a house without his family in the presence of his best bud, and Terry was all for it. Bethany always bought the best snacks, so Terry and Von hunkered down, stuffing their faces with chips, Ding Dongs, string cheese, and Pepsi. They watched some action flicks and talked shit about their jobs and the people who irked them that week. Von and Terry had joined the marines on the buddy system. They were friends back in a small Louisiana parish and had each other's backs ever since. Terry was the one to introduce Von to Bethany. They attended a beach party in Mission Beach and Bethany hemmed Terry up, asking about his friend with the big chocolate malt ball-looking head and thick muscles. From that moment on, Terry, Von, and Bethany had become a family.
Von tapped his TV remote and flipped through a series of military espionage flicks. Terry leaned back and shoved a Hostess cupcake down his throat. The front door flung open and Bethany walked in carrying bags with Nova.
"Time to go," Terry said.
"No…stay. We've got Chinese food and wine. Where you been, stranger?" Bethany asked.
Von jumped up to help put the bags in the kitchen. Bethany gave Terry a kiss on the cheek. He nodded at Nova.
The woman glowed.
Ringlets of shiny black curls crowned her short cut and her skin looked like someone had dusted it with a light bronzer. Her white baby doll tank top and jean shorts reminded him of the Creole girls back home who walked to the corner store looking cute and summery.
"Wash up you two. We'll eat and catch up," Bethany ordered.
Terry headed for the nearest bathroom, and Nova followed him. He let her wash her hands first while he waited against the doorjamb. They switched places. She stared at his reflection in the mirror.
"It's good seeing you again, Terry. Jordan asks about you a lot."
"Been busy…work…y'know."
"Yeah. Guess you heard the news, huh? He's being shipped out. Bad timing for us…with the baby coming, and all."
He nodded and dried his hands.
"Excuse me," he said, stepping past her into the hallway.
"I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable…still."
"We're good."
He walked into the dining room where Bethany set up plates and Von poured white wine into three glasses.
"We put sparkling cider in your glass," Von said, winking at Nova.
Everyone sat down and passed around different containers of shrimp fried rice, chow mein, garlic paper chicken, and sweet and sour pork. They chowed down and talked, and Terry settled into falling for Nova against his will. A year of living in Oceanside had made her appear more confident and comfortable, and she didn't seem all that daunted by the idea of Jordan leaving. He listened to her and Bethany talk about having a baby shower before Jordan left, and they discussed birthing centers and hospitals. Nova genuinely looked happy, and Terry relaxed being with her. Any lascivious thoughts he had in the past about her left his mind. Bethany and Von treated her like family, and he fell in line with the sentiment. One indiscretion didn't doom him. He could turn the page and start fresh with Nova.
After dinner, Nova and Bethany went into the garage while Terry and Von cleaned up the dishes and put away leftovers. They sauntered back into the living room to watch more TV. Bethany and Nova passed them carrying boxes into the den.
"What's all that?" Von asked
"My old maternity clothes. I told you there was a good reason to keep them. Nova and I are going to look through these and find some things for her to take," Bethany said.
"Take it all, please!" Von joked.
Terry lounged on the couch, half watching the TV. He peeked at Nova and Bethany. The women chatted with excited voices and Bethany held up old clothing against Nova's body. Bethany kept drinking wine and snorting as she told maternity stories about birthing her own two girls. Nova sounded nervous and excited about welcoming a little one. He overheard her telling Bethany that the baby wasn't planned, but she hoped it would bring Jordan around to be a better man. Bethany tried to reassure her, but Terry doubted she believed a word she said to the younger woman.
It grew late, and Terry didn't want to overstay his welcome.
"I'ma head on out."
He slapped hands with Von and grabbed his keys from the coffee table.
"Terry, can you drop Nova at her house with the clothes?" Bethany asked.
Terry stood at the front door like a deer caught in headlights.
"I've had too much wine to be driving, plus it's on your way back to base," Bethany said.
She handed Terry a box to carry. Nova carried the second box.
"I can call an Uber," Nova said.
"Save your money, girl. Terry is right here and he can carry the boxes for you. Do you want to take some leftover Chinese food with you?"
"No thank you," Nova said.
"Terry?" Bethany said.
"No, I'm full and Chinese doesn't taste all that good heated back up to me."
Bethany took the large box from Nova and followed Terry out to his truck. They placed the maternity clothes in the truck bed. He opened the passenger door for Nova and she climbed in using the grab handle on his truck. Bethany patted his back.
"Thank you for taking her home. I don't feel safe taking a chance, plus it's supposed to rain in twenty minutes. Your truck is a battalion. Baby on board!"
Bethany hugged him. He accepted the affection.
"I owe you," she said.
Bethany tapped on the window, getting Nova's attention.
"Make sure you wash everything," Bethany said.
Nova nodded. Bethany leaned in toward him so Nova couldn't hear.
"Check on Jordan, will ya? Vivian told me he's been hanging with Kevin after work. I don't know why he's acting like he doesn't want to go home, but Nova needs his support."
Terry sighed and nodded.
"Truth is, I can drive, but I know if I see that man, I'll hurt his feelings. You know how to get through to him," she said.
"Night," he said.
Terry walked to the driver's side and climbed in. He started the car and lowered the air conditioning he had blasted earlier.
"Ready?" he said, trying to sound chipper.
"Yep."
They rode in silence, listening to the radio. It started sprinkling and traffic on the I-5 freeway slowed. By the time they neared her home, there was a full on downpour with sonic booms of thunder that rattled the truck. Nova cowered in her seat. With each thunderous clap, she jumped and trembled. The storm gathered gray ominous clouds that pressed the bolts of lightning lower in the atmosphere. Silver heat sliced erratic zig-zag lines across the horizon. The weather even made Terry feel uneasy. They arrived at her home just as a heavier shower drenched the roads.
"Go open the door, and I'll bring the boxes in," he said.
She hopped out with a mad dash to the front door. He lifted both the wet boxes from the back of his truck and strode indoors, expecting to see Jordan. No one else was in the house.
"Just bring those back here," she said.
She led him to the second bedroom that they were turning into a nursery. He placed the boxes against the closet door.
"Thank you for doing this…bringing me home and carrying all of that."
"No problem."
He glanced around and noticed cute little cartoon animal pictures on the walls. A brand new crib sat in an unopened box near the wall.
"I see you two are getting ready for the new bundle of joy," he said.
"Yeah, Jordan has a few things to put together for me. I am terrible at assembling stuff. We have a whole shelving unit and a baby play center waiting in the garage, still in boxes, too."
He followed her back into the living room. Nova shook rainwater off of her and checked her smartphone. She frowned. Her fingers flew across the text pad.
"Something wrong?"
"Jordan was supposed to be here by now."
She tapped her phone, and Terry heard the dial tone ring. A voice recording came on.
"Jordy, I'm back home. Where are you? Call me and let me know you're on your way back."
Nova placed the phone on a side table and wrung her hands. Hard rain pelted the roof. She pulled a curtain back from the front window.
"It's really coming down," she said.
Her voice carried the strain of worry.
"Jordy isn't a good driver in the rain…" she murmured.
She tried his number once more. Voicemail again. She didn't bother to leave a message.
"You mind if I use your restroom before I go?" he asked.
Nova nodded and sat down on her couch. Another powerful rumble vibrated across her roof. She turned on her TV and tried to ignore the sound outside. Her shoulders trembled.
Terry went to the guest bathroom, closed the door, and pulled out his phone. He called Jordan. The line rang four times and Jordan picked up.
"W'sup, sarge? Where you at? Come through Kevin's way, we're chopping it up over here."
Terry's jaw grew tight. The man ignored his wife but answered his phone for a friend? Trifling.
"I dropped your wife off at home. She's worried about you. You sound drunk and it's raining."
"Why did you drop her off? She's supposed to be with Bethany."
"Bethany was too tipsy to drive and asked me to drop Nova off on my way home. You need to answer your wife's calls."
"All she does is nag me. Every time I turn around, she wants me to put stuff together. We got six more months until the baby gets here."
"Call your wife…now."
Terry hung up and called Kevin.
"You missing out over here, Terry. Got a good spades game—"
"Kev, how sober is Jordan? Is he good to drive or nah?"
"That dude is buzzing."
"Don't let him drive. When the rain dies down, put him in an Uber and send his ass home."
"What's going on, man?"
"He needs to be with his wife. She's worried, and he's not answering her calls. The storm is scaring her, too."
"He said he talked to her."
"He's lying. She called him twice in front of me and he ignored her. I called, and he picked up."
Kevin sighed on the other end.
"This nigga…I'll have him call her."
"Right now, Kev."
"Okay. On it."
Kevin hung up. Terry flushed the toilet. He quickly washed his hands in the sink.
"I should not be babysitting a grown ass man," he mumbled to his reflection.
He took a deep breath and left the bathroom. Nova paced in the living room, arguing with Jordan on her cell. He eased his way toward the door, happy that they were at least talking to one another. Terry's phone vibrated in his pocket. Kevin.
"Aye, I'm going to keep Jordan here for the night. He's talking crazy to Nova on the phone," Kevin said.
Terry could only hear Jordan's muffled voice and Nova's bawling.
Fuck.
"What's he saying?"
"He's drunk off his ass…blaming her for fussing all the time and putting us in their business. All bullshit. Vivian thinks he might act up if he goes home."
Nova threw her phone on the couch and dashed down the hallway.
"Okay. Make sure he's back here in the morning."
Terry swiped his phone and waited by the front door.
"Nova? Kevin is going to keep Jordan at his place until tomorrow. He won't be driving in the rain."
"He can crash into a pole for all I care!"
He heard footsteps and the bathroom door slamming shut. The shower ran. She had a right to be upset. But it wasn't good for the baby. Terry's sister had miscarried from stress in her first trimester. Overactive hormones and an unhappy home weren't a good mix. He walked into the kitchen and searched a few cupboards and a pantry until he found some hot cocoa packets and tea. The cocoa seemed liked the best choice for her. He turned on an electric kettle and ripped open a cocoa packet. Finding a decent mug, he mixed hot water, milk and cocoa together. Thunder kept rumbling and a flash of lightning streaked outside the kitchen window.
Nova stepped out of the bathroom wearing a thick red bathrobe. She smoothed back her damp hair, and he held out the hot cocoa to her.
"This should help you calm down," he said.
She padded over to him and took the mug, cradling it against her robe.
"Thank you. For everything."
He nodded.
"Could you stay here for a few more minutes and talk? I don't want to be alone just yet…I get scared of thunder. Jordan usually calms me down, but when I'm alone listening to it…I get nervous…scared. I know nothing will happen to me, but the booming noises…I've always been afraid of that sound. You can watch TV if you don't feel like talking."
Her tremulous voice brought out the protector in him.
"I'm sure there's a late-night horror movie I can watch to go with the weather," he said.
She grinned with relief all over her face.
He joined her on the couch and picked out the Twilight Zone on a streaming service. They watched a couple of episodes while Nova sipped the cocoa. The TV froze for about fifteen minutes, and they chatted about her day with Bethany. She jumped with each thunderclap, but having him next to her seemed to help her deep-rooted fear. Eventually, the TV started working again.
"A lot of these episodes have soldiers or talk about war a lot," she said.
He nodded.
"Rod Serling fought in World War Two. I read a biography about him a few years ago. He used war themes as an allegory in a lot of his episodes."
"Interesting," she said. "Oh! This is one of my favorite episodes…that guy is a prisoner on a planet and has to live with a robot."
"I remember it. He falls in love with her."
"But he can't keep her when he's freed…not enough room on the return space ship."
She put the cocoa mug on the end table.
"So sad. Do you think you could love a robot?"
"Maybe…if it looked real enough. People fall in love with all kinds of things."
"Like in that movie 'Her'. When that guy fell for an app program," she said.
"That was a good movie. Had me looking at my phone apps different. I have one that does a guided meditation and the A.I. voice has a female British accent. I think it's a Black woman…the voice sounds so sexy, telling me what to do."
They both laughed.
"I think your voice would be good for a guided meditation," she said.
"Maybe. People tell me it's deep enough to do voice overs."
"Let's try it."
"What?"
"Do a guided meditation for me so I will fall asleep and you can go home. I know you're tired of sitting here with me being a scardy cat."
"I don't think you're a scardy cat. A chicken maybe…"
She tossed a decorative pillow at him.
"Lay back in a comfortable position," he said.
He moved away from the couch and planted himself on the loveseat, allowing her to stretch out.
"Close your eyes," he said.
She did.
"Imagine that you're on a faraway island somewhere…there's a warm, sunny beach with clear waters for as far as the eye can see. Lie down on the soft warm sand…let the warmth of the sand cover you completely in a blanket of peace. No storms…no worries about thunder…just peace and tranquility…"
Terry kept talking and Nova settled into breathing deeply and relaxing her limbs.
"You can feel yourself floating to a safe place of calm…"
Nova drifted off to sleep.
Terry sat on the loveseat, quietly watching over her. The tension in her face relaxed while she slept. He glanced around at the other furniture, looking for a blanket or throw cover. Nothing caught his eye. He lifted Nova and carried her into a neat bedroom. The curtains were open and another pass of rolling thunder shook the window. Fat drops of rain smacked against the glass, fogging it up with condensation. He placed Nova on the high, queen-sized bed and closed the curtains. Feeling around for the lamp on the nightstand, he turned on a light and pulled the covers back. He reached across the bed and lifted her again. The bathrobe looked cumbersome on her. He untied the belt to make her more comfortable and didn't realize she was naked underneath. Embarrassed, he covered her back up and tied the belt, tucking her in.
Nova's eyes fluttered open.
"Jordan?" she said.
Her eyes adjusted to the light and peered at him with surprise. She glanced at the bed and then the room. Her eyes watered.
"He's probably with someone else right now," she whispered. "All of his friends cover for him."
She squeezed her eyes shut. Terry sat down on the bed and held her. He stroked her hair and murmured comforting words in her ear. All he wanted to do was erase the sadness in her eyes.
A slow-burning anger simmered in Terry's chest. He couldn't understand Jordan. Couldn't understand the neglect of a good woman. What was the point of getting married if you didn't want to be around your wife?
Terry kicked off his shoes and socks and climbed onto the bed, resting his large body next to Nova. If Jordan didn't want to be there, then he would take his place and comfort a lonely wife. She tucked her head under his neck and he rubbed her back with gentle hands.
"You deserve so much more, Nova," he said.
"I think I'll go back home," she huffed into his chest.
"Do what you think is best for you and your baby."
"I've tried my best…but he won't stop…I don't know what he sees in those other women. Why would he ask me to marry him? Why get me pregnant if that isn't what he wanted?"
"All you have to do is rest. In the morning, you can call your people and decide what you want to do."
"Okay," she said with a shuddery breath.
She snuggled against him, and he moved the blankets to make more room for himself.
That's when she did the unthinkable.
Took off the bathrobe.
Terry froze.
Nova tossed the bathrobe on the floor and tugged on his shirt.
"Take it off. You're still a little damp from the rain," she said.
He pulled the T-shirt over his head. Fuck it…he took his sweatpants off, too. He tossed his boxers and sweats on the floor, and in the lamplight, Nova looked over his body with heat in her eyes. She traced his right pec with her finger, and then curled against his side, hugging him. Her breasts pressed against him like soft, fluffy pillows. He looked down at her pretty brown areolas and dared to touch a nipple. Nova leaned back so he could get access to both breasts.
God…she felt so good in his hands. Her nipples stiffened like cute little buttons, and his dick thickened. Any thoughts of right or wrong flew away from his mind. Jordan didn't want to be in the bed with her. He did.
He fondled her breasts, getting more aroused as she sighed with pleasure, enjoying his large hands. What a difference a year made in her body. The once slender physique filled out into a new form, one that had his dick propped up saluting her. He glanced between her legs. Her trimmed thatch of pubic hair looked so pretty, especially with her inner labia plumped up and waiting for his touches. He kissed her first, sliding his tongue into her mouth. She moaned and her legs fell open wider. The pink of her pussy glistening with arousal had him gripping his dick and stroking himself. Nova's eyes widened, looking at the size of his erection out in the open. Whatever she thought his dick length was didn't match what her eyes feasted on.
She started playing with her pussy, and Terry groaned so loud that her opening throbbed at the sound. Nova pushed him back and crawled on top of him, letting her wet pussy lips slide up and down his erection. She made the veins on his dick shiny with her slickness.
Up and down she went across his length, teasing the bulbous head of his dick. His pre-cum spilled out, adding more lubricant, and that's how she pleasured herself, grinding slowly on his dick, letting her delicate inner labia slide across the hardness.
She rose and wound her hips, moving that wet pussy in circles, teasing his hardness, making him pant like a desperate man. Her tits hung in his face, doubled in size from the first time he met her. He thrust up to get more exterior friction from her labia. The inner pussy lips spread across his girth, making slippery sounds. She looked at his long dick slathered in her clear sticky fluid. He watched threads of it shine in the light. She rubbed those sticky lower lips against him harder, rocking her hips forward and back.
Nova liked what she felt.
Her mouth became reckless.
"It wouldn't be wrong for us to fuck, Terry. I want to feel you inside of me," she said.
He grabbed her breasts and squeezed them. "Nova…shit," he said.
"Will you fuck me?" she asked.
She started gyrating on his dick and her labia hit a spot that curled his toes. The thick ridge of his frenulum rubbed against her clit, and Nova kept that slow, tortuous grind going.
The woman courted danger. Offered him married pussy on a platter. He'd already wandered into sketchy waters by climbing into bed with her. What the fuck did he think was going to happen doing that? He finally had to come clean with himself.
He wanted Nova.
Wanted her the first time they met. He'd been in denial about his feelings for her. Somehow she got under his skin, and Jordan made it easy by neglecting a husband's duty. He adored her from afar, always waging an internal battle to stay away, so afraid to confront what he tried to hide. Now Jordan's wife humped Terry's dick, asking to be fucked.
"Can I cum inside you without a condom?" he asked.
Nova's glassy-looking eyes were full of lust for him.
"You can cum as much as you want inside of me."
He shut his eyes. Asked God to forgive him for the disrespectful mess he was about to make in that woman's pussy. Her man wasn't due back until morning. Terry was built for long strokes and going all night. His erection grew stiffer with anticipation.
He flipped her over and kissed her passionately, allowing himself the luxury of taking his time. All pretense of being a dutiful wife left Nova. Her man had scorned her, and she wanted the forbidden fruit of new dick.
Terry kissed down her throat and in between her breasts. He sucked both nipples, using his tongue like a brush to paint the most delightful shapes all over her tits. Delving further down, he licked her pussy and kissed her clit, claiming it all for himself.
"This is all mine now," he said, while staring at her with his disarming green eyes.
Nova nodded and whimpered, "Yes…yes…yes…baby it's all yours."
He groaned into her vulva and her legs wrapped around his head. Nothing would stop him from pleasing her. He ate her pussy like a charcuterie board, smacking his lips and sampling her clit, tasting her delightful opening by thrusting the tip of his tongue in, then gliding his full lips down the middle, giving her gentle kisses. Terry gazed at her while doing it with sensual eyes that dared Nova to give in to his cravings for more. He pampered her vulva as if that night would be his only chance to have her. She came so hard on his lips that they dripped with her natural lubricant. Spent from her orgasm, Nova cried, turning her face toward the pillow.
"We can stop…if you can't handle this…we can stop and forget it ever happened," he said, trying to soothe her.
She shook her head.
"I don't want to stop. I'm just…happy. Haven't had an orgasm like that in so long. I forgot how good they can feel," she said.
She hugged him tight and bawled in his arms.
"It feels good to be wanted again, Terry…thank you."
A smidgen of guilt tried to latch hold, but he threw it off like his morals.
"Don't cry, let me make you feel even better…I'll make you forget all your troubles," he whispered in her ear.
He gently pushed her legs back and draped them over his biceps. Nova watched the head of his dick rub on her clit, testing her sensitivity. She hissed and clamped her lips together when he pushed the tip in. Her pussy was tight at the entrance, and he waited for her to relax before he pushed in further.
"Ooh…Terry…its big…oh…wait…wait…oh God…oh God…"
Nova's eyes rolled back as he thrust in deeper. She tilted her hips, and he hit the bottom of her pussy so fast that he groaned out her name. Her walls clenched around him.
"Oh, fuck, Nova…baby this pussy is so tight…you're gripping me so good baby…you been wanting this dick, huh?"
"Yes…yes…yes…"
He pumped inside of her with assured thrusts, making sure she felt every inch dedicated to her pleasure.
"Oh, you feel so good, Terry…"
He hunched down lower, wanting to feel her breasts against his chest. Everything about her made him feel giddy and alive. He wondered if this was what love felt like while making love. His heart swelled with so many emotions. Happiness, desire…even revenge. Revenge for the lack of care Jordan had for his wife. He wanted Nova to get the best dick he could offer her.
They kissed while he gave her deep dick. Their tongues colluded in an illicit affair of their own, and Nova whimpered his name inside his mouth, casting her love magic all over him. He wanted to clap her cheeks and helped her turn onto her hands and knees as his balls slapped against her ass and clit with each doggy-style thrust. She gripped the sheets tight and looked back at him with a shocked face.
"You're stretching my pussy…Terry…it's so big."
"You're taking it so good, baby…I got you."
He reached around and played with her clit, giving it slow, circular strokes. Her ass bounced with his pounding and she locked her eyes on him, wanting to watch the satisfaction on his face.
"You like it?" she asked.
She knew damn well he did by the way he grunted and cursed with each stroke.
"I love it."
"You want to cum inside me?"
His mouth fell open, and his eyes narrowed. Her walls yanked on his dick. She had something to prove. He wished he'd been the one to put a baby in her. She threw that ass back on him and his nutsack pulsed, already gearing up for a release. He wanted her on her back. He wanted to nut deep inside of her in missionary. Pretend he was making a baby with her.
"Turn around…yeah baby…on your back…ooh yes, leave your legs wide open like that," he said.
Terry made love to her like she was his woman. Nova whipped her head back and forth and when he pinned her down, they locked eyes.
"Cum inside me…please…Terry…"
Nova touched his cheek, and he closed his eyes, unable to take the intensity she poured out from her gaze. She let him get deep in her guts. Her pussy stretched around him like she belonged on his dick and no one else. He stroked her clit, and she chewed on her lip. A look of ecstasy danced in her eyes and he begged her to cum on his dick first.
She broke apart easily…endlessly. Her orgasm flushed her light brown skin in a sheen of sweat that soaked his body and the sheets. Terry watched her climax with a feeling of gratitude. God allowed him to witness her pleasure, and it captivated him.
"Nova…I'm cumming…fuck…I'm cumming…all deep in your pussy baby…you're making me nut so hard! Fuck..I want to get you pregnant myself. Ohhhhhhh! Fuuckkk!"
She babbled something incoherent, but it didn't matter. Her tight pussy rocked his fucking world. The first spurt of semen made his anus clench and a heavy outpouring of cum spilled into her like it would never stop. He dug his toes into the mattress and rode out the wave of orgasmic pleasure that flowed out of him and into her like electricity. Knowing he was filling her up with so much jizz brought on another surge of semen that knocked him off his feet. He hollered out her name and jammed a hand on the headboard to keep from falling over as a rush of contractions squeezed his balls into pussy submission.
Gasping for air, Terry blinked sweat from his eyes and leaned back, pulling his dick out.
So much cum ran out of Nova's glossy pink opening. He stretched her open so much that he could see the tunnel he made in her walls. It was all flooded with white.
"Damn," he said.
He kissed her on the lips and held her close until she had to pee. She left his side briefly and returned, giving him soft kisses on his cheeks and lips. He took a restroom break and cleaned his dick for round two. Nova was up for it. She was over three months pregnant and her body acted like it wanted to get knocked up again. He let her ride his dick, and he enjoyed her so much it made his heart ache. Perhaps it was the illicit nature of the sex and the danger of Jordan walking in on them, but Terry and Nova made wild love like the night would never end.
"You're so beautiful. Look how pretty you look fucking my dick…such a good girl riding this big dick like that. Oh, bounce on it…yesssss…just like that. Let me stretch you out some more. Go up…all the way up…hold it…now slide back down…yes…you love this dick…dontcha? Tell me…tell me you love this dick."
"I love this dick…oh Terry…I love this dick…harder…fuck me harder."
"You sound like you want me to make another mess in that tight pussy."
"I do…oh! Right there!"
"Right there? Like that?"
"Yes!"
The give and take was unreal and by their final tryst, he'd drained his balls while holding her breasts in reverse cowgirl. He imagined her big tits spurting milk for the baby and nutted so hard that his eyes crossed. Nova leaned forward so he could watch his cum flow out of her in creamy rivulets. She helped push it out. He wiggled his fingers inside her to feel his liquid warmth coating her walls. He helped her change the ruined sheets afterward, and they snuggled up like husband and wife.
He put her to sleep and spent the last hours of the night watching over her and stroking her hair. By morning, he gave her a big kiss on her forehead and snuck away as she slept.
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He thought their night together would be a onetime thing.
How wrong he had been.
That one night created a bond so tight that it was difficult to function anymore around their friends with normal interactions. He hated for her to be stuck with Jordan, and he hated being around them together because his eyes never stayed off of her. She was the same way. Any mention of leaving Jordan and going back to South Carolina never happened again. They had embarked on something that neither of them wanted to end. Her pregnancy didn't hamper anything. It actually enhanced their encounters.
At flag football games they pretended to be casual, but the longing gazes between them became overt and he ended up wearing his Oakley shades a lot. Von and Bethany threw more late summer barbecues at their home and he'd sneak into the bathroom to meet up with Nova just to kiss and fondle her body.
"I miss you," she'd whisper.
"I miss you more."
She sat on the closed toilet seat and sucked his dick, squeezing his balls and swallowing his load.
Her baby bump started showing by early fall, and he fucked her from behind in her own kitchen while Jordan sat outside in his backyard talking to their mutual male friends.
Terry was brazen about it.
Nova washed dishes in the sink, and he pretended to make a private call on his cell. He unfastened his jeans. The guys joked around outside, getting drunk and telling bawdy overseas stories. He lifted Nova's dress and slid her panties to the side, stuffing his heavy dick inside her pussy. She panted and begged for more. He clutched a breast with one hand and palmed her rounded belly with the other.
"You miss this dick?" he breathed into her ear.
"Always, baby. You make my pussy feel so good."
She watched the back of her husband's head as Jordan laughed it up, not knowing his wife's pussy was getting smashed to smithereens three feet away. He pumped in and out, listening to the squelching noises and enjoying the tight squeezes she gave him with each lewd thrust.
"The baby okay?" he asked.
"It's okay…oh Terry, you feel so good. I wish we could fuck in the bed. I want to ride your dick so bad right now."
"I know, baby. But we have to enjoy this for now."
She whimpered and clutched the sink for balance. He tried to control his moans, but her pussy weakened him.
"Ready for me to cum inside you?" he rasped in her ear.
The root of his dick pulsed, and he stopped holding her belly to stroke her swollen clit. It was sinful. So wrong. They didn't care. It felt good…felt right. He bit into her shoulder to stifle a loud groan as he spurt into her pussy. She came with him and they struggled to keep quiet, knowing that all it took to court disaster fully was for Jordan to turn around and see him pressed against his wife.
Terry pulled out, and a bit of semen fell to the floor. He didn't care. Nova fixed her panties, and they stepped away from the window so they could secretly kiss.
"I'm getting a new place soon," he said.
Her eyes lit up.
"Nothing fancy, just a one bedroom where we can be alone. Can't have you sneaking on base again," he said.
A week previous, Nova came on base during the night and they fucked in his truck. His buddy Ken walked through the parking lot to his car, but stopped when he saw Terry lifting Nova up and down in the pushed back driver's seat. Luckily, Ken didn't see her face in the darkness. Getting his own place seemed like the smartest move. They didn't want to risk hotels or motels.
Terry walked back outside with his phone in his hand and watched Nova walk out ten minutes later, bringing Jordan a beer. She sat next to her husband and Terry secretly loved the fact that Nova was full of his cum, acting like they didn't just bump uglies. He didn't care anymore. Nova was his woman…she just happened to be married to another man.
During her third trimester, Nova and Jordan planned a road trip to San Francisco for Thanksgiving. All of his friends had trips to other places. Von and Bethany planned for a trip to Indiana to see her family. Terry finally had his own place, and the day before she was to leave, Nova snuck away to see him. Their hookups became few. She waddled to the condo he ended up leasing. He waited for her by the elevator, and once she reached the third floor, they hugged each other so tight that he thought he'd never see her again. Her plump face and swollen feet made him smile.
He held her hand and walked her to his tastefully furnished home. Inside, he rubbed her feet and listened to her litany of body complaints. He didn't mind her complaining. Listening to her voice poured life into his spirit. Terry didn't realize how alone he was until Nova came into his life. Everyone in his clique had someone to come home to. He longed for the same.
He cooked Nova a healthy dinner of baked chicken and sliced squash with homemade garlic mashed potatoes the way his mama made it.
"How come you aren't going home for the holidays?" she said, stuffing her mouth with a second helping of potatoes.
"My family is going on a cruise out of New Orleans. Plus…I don't want to be far away from you."
Nova put down her fork and wiped her mouth with a napkin. He put away the food and helped her rest on his bed. She slept for a long time and he spooned around her, rubbing her belly. He loved her. Loved the child inside of her.
Terry secretly wanted her to divorce Jordan and marry him instead.
She woke up and checked her phone on his nightstand.
"Baby, I'm sorry I slept so long," she said.
"I don't mind. I just want to be with you sleeping or awake."
"My doctor said I can still have sex…we can fool around before I go."
"You feel up to it?"
"I want to make you happy."
"You lying next to me makes me happy."
She hugged him, and he cradled her in his arms.
"I feel a kick," she said.
Nova moved his hand to where she lifted her maternity shirt. He spread his long fingers across some stretch marks on her side. He smiled.
"Somebody is punching up a storm in there," he said.
Nova clutched onto his arm.
"I want to be with you for Thanksgiving. I'm going to be miserable in San Francisco," she said.
"You get to see your parents."
"I know, but then they'll be down here through Christmas. That means…"
She pushed her face into his chest.
"Aw, Nova, I know. Our time is narrowing down. We knew it would happen the closer it came time for your birth," he said.
"When the baby comes…will you leave me?"
Terry wiped tears from her face. Their whirlwind affair was taking a toll on them both. What sane man starts a romance with a married pregnant woman?
"Let's enjoy right now. Don't worry your beautiful mind about the future. We're here…now."
They kissed. He helped her undress slowly and then shook off his clothes, anchoring himself around her. Pillows eased the weight of her belly. She turned on her side further and he entered her slowly. He squeezed and fondled her breasts that were engorged with milk, ready to feed an infant. Terry imagined himself being with her while she fed the baby, imagined what it would be like to hold it in his arms. He pinched her nipple and rocked into her wet softness. Her pussy still took care of him.
Nova moaned with pleasure, and the sound heightened his arousal. Life played a cruel trick on them, bringing him the love he never knew he needed at the wrong point in time. He should've been the one to have her first. Terry would've run home to Louisiana with her in triumph, showing his family the love of his life. He would've set Nova up in a big country house and put a ton of babies in her. Her nipples leaked milk. He pinched one of them, letting the liquid express in a messy drizzle down her breast. The sight of it caused his balls to throb, and he pushed hot cum into her pussy.
"Ooh…it's so warm," Nova said.
He pinched her other nipple, and another trickle of milk wet his fingers.
"Fuck…fuck…Nova…"
His body tensed, watching her big tits drip milk while his dick pulsed inside her, shooting cum deep in her womb. He hollered out his climax loud enough for the neighbors to hear through the walls. His pelvic muscles contracted rhythmically, taking the thrusts of his hips out of his control. Another urge to ejaculate built up again, like the snapping of a rubber band back to square one.
"Soak that pussy, Terry," Nova urged him.
He obliged by resting for a minute to indulge in the sensations coursing through him by being inside of her. His ability to get another erection quickly was a blessing. He didn't worry about falling asleep on her because his refractory period was far off. Their time together was precious, and he was going to savor every second with Nova. His dick understood that and acted accordingly.
She left the bed to urinate, and they got right back to it on her return. He held her leg up the second time and she cried, telling him she loved the way he fucked her. She looked back at him.
"I love you, Terry…I love you…"
Her words struck him hard, and he roared his satisfaction by flooding her walls.
Nova's phone vibrated. They both peeped Jordan's avatar.
Terry turned away from her. Nova answered the phone, her voice flustered.
"Hey, I'm out shopping. I'll be home soon. Okay…yes, everything is packed. I put your blue tie in it with the red one… I'm calling an Uber now," she said, with rushed breath.
She hung up.
"Jordan's home. He wants to take me to dinner and leave early. It's supposed to rain tomorrow, and he wants to avoid all the traffic."
"That's smart. Gotta get you and the baby to your parents in one piece."
"I'm going to use your shower."
He nodded and watched her leave for the bathroom. The guilt and gnawing jealousy worked his nerves. He slammed a fist on the mattress and fought back uncontrollable tears.
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Nova gave birth to a healthy baby boy.
Terry heard about it through Bethany. He didn't communicate with Nova while her parents were staying in Oceanside for a month.
"Your godson is on his way," Bethany said on the phone.
Terry lifted weights at the gym. He had a martial arts class to teach in an hour and needed to finish a leg day before instructing.
"Oh, yeah?"
He tried to sound normal, but his heart thumped worrying about Nova.
"This boy must've known his daddy needed to see him before he shipped out. I'll call you when he gets here. I'm in the hospital waiting room with her parents."
"Okay, thanks."
Terry grew nauseous with anxiety. Nova was a strong woman. He wanted to be by her side, but it wasn't his place. He showered and went to his class on auto-pilot. His students put it all on the mat and he compartmentalized his thoughts to focus on them and not on his lover.
Godson.
Jordan Patterson Jr. came into the world at six pounds, two ounces. Bethany sent him pictures, and Terry stared at the little wonder with awe. Jordan approached him about being the boy's godfather after they did an ultrasound and found out they were having a son. He begged off from the title, but Von and Bethany insisted he couldn't let the couple down because they looked up to him. It was a punch to the gut, but he reluctantly accepted with Von's urging.
"That man needs guidance, T. Being a godfather means you can be his role model on another level," Von said.
Terry laughed from crying. Jordan Jr. should've been Terry Jr.
He sucked it up.
Nova stayed in the hospital for two days. Terry went to visit her late in the evening, after he hoped everyone was away. Unfortunately, her mother and mother-in-law were there, fussing over Nova and the baby. He walked in carrying rainbow balloons and a powder blue teddy bear.
The new mother rested in her hospital bed breastfeeding Junior. He watched her for a moment until her eyes rose to meet his. His vision grew blurry staring at her. She was so beautiful. Nova lowered a blanket on her shoulder over the baby's head and her breast. He knocked on the door, getting the other women's attention.
"Momma, this is Terry, Junior's godfather."
Mrs. Easton, Nova's mother, smiled and welcomed him in. He greeted Jordan's mother and handed her the teddy bear and balloons.
"I can sleep on my stomach now," Nova joked.
She pulled her hospital gown back over her breast and removed the small white blanket covering the baby's face. She burped him on her shoulder first, then held him out for Terry to hold.
"Hey little dude…look at you," he said.
Nova's lips trembled, and her eyes welled up. She blinked back tears and her mother came over to kiss her goodbye.
"Visiting hours are about to end. I'm going to go have dinner with Cindy," Mrs. Easton said.
"I should go, too," he said, pretending to leave.
The two older women left first, and he waited a minute before sitting down next to Nova, cradling the baby against his chest.
"He's a beautiful boy, Nova. You did good, baby."
"Thank you."
They hadn't seen one another for over a month. He would've given the world to scoop them both up and run off to his place. She was a mother now. His fantasy romance had to end. He sat quietly with her, unable to say anything of significance. She knew it was over, too. Her energy and time had to go toward the bundle in his hands. He leaned over and kissed her. Their love lingered in the space between their lips. All the unsaid things lived in the kiss.
Terry studied Junior's face. Tight black curls and cocoa brown skin. All Jordan. A nurse stopped by and he handed the baby back to Nova. He lowered his head and kissed her forehead. Neither of them said goodbye.
Jordan left for the Indo-Pacific tour a week later.
Nova's mother stayed in town, and her father flew back home. He stayed busy with work and flag football. Von and Bethany invited him over for a birthday dinner in his honor two months later. Nova showed up with the baby. She looked stunning. The new-mother weight had shifted and morphed into something different. She looked like a sexy coke bottle bombshell. Without the maternity clothes, her new wardrobe highlighted her wider ass and fuller breasts. She still had a little belly fat with her stomach, and he liked it. The changes gave her a maternal shine that he couldn't get over. She seemed delighted to be around him again, and they both acted with decorum, despite his yearning to hold and kiss her.
Jordan Jr. was round and chunky, like the Michelin Man. Terry walked around with the boy like the proud godfather he was. Everyone at his party complimented him on how comfortable he looked with a baby and kidded him about getting married like everyone else. He only grinned and bounced Junior in his arms. At one point, folks started dancing, and Terry playfully grabbed Nova's hand and spun her around among their friends. Bethany held the baby, and it gave him the opportunity to touch Nova. He swung her out with some old-fashioned partner dancing to SWV and they lived inside a liminal space carved out just for them. Watching her laugh, feeling her warmth against him, having her catch his hand after he released her in time to the music was the best birthday gift he could have.
Von introduced him to a woman named April, and Terry became annoyed at the attempt at setting him up on his birthday. When the party became more raucous in the evening, Nova left. Terry followed her down the street to her car. She carried Junior in a car seat.
"Do you have to go?" he asked.
Nova placed her son in the back seat.
"Junior is a light sleeper. The noise will get to him. I had a great time today seeing everyone all together again. Happy Birthday, Terry."
She hugged him.
The moment they touched, everything felt the same. He sighed while holding her. Their lips couldn't stay apart and they kissed out in the open.
"I want to see you again," he said.
"We can't… things are different. I have the baby."
"Bring him. Let's just have dinner at my place. I'm supposed to spend time with my godson, right?"
She smirked.
"Bethany has someone more your speed waiting for you back at her house."
"April? She's cool, but she's not you, Nova. No one compares to you."
She shut the back passenger door and walked around to the driver's side.
"Dinner and nothing else?"
"Promise."
He kept the promise.
He cooked fettuccine with steak and played with the baby. Nova left with her dignity intact and they continued seeing each other without sex. He grew comfortable settling into a non-sexual relationship with her. Unfortunately, that only encouraged the stronger emotional attachment that grew between them. They acted like a couple raising a child together whenever they were alone.
When they hung out with their mutual friends, he gave off Big Uncle energy to his godson. On his days off, he offered to babysit so Nova could have a few hours to herself.
They didn't start sleeping together again until Jordan returned. The six-month tour changed him. He bonded with his son and, of course, this cut off Terry's time with Nova. She snuck away when she could and their relationship headed for a conclusion he didn't want to face. Nova knew they were about to plummet over a precipice, but he was determined to stay calm about it. The baby grew bigger and looked just like his daddy. He sensed the ambivalence in her about maintaining their affair. It was only a matter of time before he expected her to end it. He dreaded that moment.
One afternoon, he fucked the curls out of Nova's hair. She showed up wearing a sheer red negligee under a long coat and he sent her home dripping with semen in her panties. An hour later, Jordan came knocking on his door.
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Terry stared at him through the keyhole and braced himself for some bullshit. He never gave Jordan his address. Other than Nova, only Von and Bethany knew that he'd moved off base.
"Who is it?" Terry called out, pretending not to know.
"Terry, it's me, Jordan. I need to talk to you…man to man."
Terry inhaled and opened the door, keeping his right leg behind him in case he needed to stick and move. Jordan had creases in his forehead and the whites of his eyes were pink.
"I need your advice," Jordan said.
Terry widened the door and invited Jordan in. He sat on the couch, and Terry sat on his recliner.
"What's going on?"
"It's Nova…I think…I think she's cheating on me."
Terry swallowed thickly and rubbed the back of his neck.
"What makes you believe that?"
Jordan stared at the floor.
"I've suspected it for a few months now. Since I came back. She's different, man."
"Motherhood changes women."
"Nah. Not like this. She's probably getting back at me because of Lourdes."
"Lourdes?"
"Some letters and a care package got forwarded to our house."
"You're still seeing her?"
"She was just a placeholder when Nova first got pregnant. I didn't have sex with Nova because of the baby and, well…shit…I got a blowjob here and there from Lourdes…ate some coochie and jerked off. I left overseas, and she started emailing and sending me shit. Nova didn't know until this fucking box showed up at the house today. But me and Lourdes were done…been over. That bitch stalked me with mail and gifts. Nova stormed out after we had a fight about it and left me with the baby. She came home smelling like sex and claimed she went to the gym and that I'm just projecting onto her. My wife is fucking another nigga and it's all because of that dumb bitch."
"So, none of this is your fault? Sneaking off to get your dick sucked? Constantly making poor choices?"
Jordan closed his eyes.
"Terry…listen to me. All that shit is over. I came home, and she put my son in my arms and I just…he looks just like me. Nova held it down by herself and now I'm gonna lose her to some fucker knocking her box out. She walks around humming and doesn't care if I go out anywhere. She don't nag or fuss at me like she used to. It's like she's plotting to leave the house every moment I turn my head. I'm thinking about dropping one of those Apple AirTags in her purse to track where she goes when she claims she's shopping or having lunch."
"Have you talked to her about it?"
"And say what? Stop cheating on me? She's getting back at me and I can't say I blame her. But I'm different. I'm willing to do anything…in fact, I'm getting out of the marines and taking her and the baby back to Charleston. I'm not re-upping. I gotta get her outta Oceanside and away from whoever she's seeing. This nigga done shifted her entire personality. I know he's fucking the shit outta her cuz her body is ridiculous. She's probably been banging him since I've been gone. I snooped around the house and found Plan B and spermicides in her personal bathroom cabinet."
Jordan held his head in frustration.
"Nova ain't never used spermicides with me. I bet she's letting this fool raw dog her."
Terry tried not to grind his teeth and sat back in his chair.
"I can't lose my family, Terry!"
Jordan burst into tears and moaned in great pain. Terry could only watch him with pity and feel dirty about the whole situation. All three of them were moving foul. But now a baby was involved.
"I have loved that woman for so long," Jordan said.
"You have a weird way of showing it."
"I know…I can't make any excuses for it anymore."
Jordan rolled into a ball on the couch. He looked like a hurt little boy that got his ball taken away…a ball he kicked away himself.
"What am I going to do?" Jordan pleaded.
"Can I ask you something personal? I want you to be truthful with me, though."
Jordan lifted his head, teary-eyes and lost.
"What?"
"Why did you marry Nova? You could've spared her suffering if you didn't get married."
"I loved her."
"Beyond that, though. What were you thinking when you asked her? Why didn't you just leave her be until you'd got your hoeing out of your system?"
Jordan glanced around Terry's condo like he was searching for the shadow of an answer in the corners.
"She was always my girl."
"Dig deeper."
Jordan closed his eyes in thought. He sat up and looked at Terry directly.
"If I didn't snatch her up soon, someone else would take her. I didn't want to leave her in South Carolina single. I thought…if I locked her down, I'd be set. No one else would touch her. I got her pregnant, and I figured we'd work through the kinks and things would get better."
"How did that come through your pea brain, Jordan? She's not someone you can put in a box and ignore until you're ready to grow up. You sidetracked her life—"
"I didn't want to lose her, Terry. Maybe I wasn't ready…but we'd been close for years. Our families are locked in. I didn't…I can't lose her."
Jordan jumped up and angrily paced.
"I swear to God if I catch this nigga she's creepin' with, I'll kill him."
"If she's happier, let her go."
"Nigga what? Are you crazy?"
"You're getting care packages overseas from a woman you claim was a past side piece a year ago. Nova did nothing but love you, and you shit on her every chance you get!"
Terry stood and stared Jordan down with flared nostrils and narrow eyes.
"That woman has cried over you…prayed…done everything to keep your marriage together. Fuck, man! She had your baby! Gave up school because of it. You haven't thought about what she's sacrificed to be with you… everything revolves around your needs. I want her to divorce you!"
Jordan gawked. His mouth fell open, and he inched back. His eyes went up and down Terry's body. He held up a hand.
"Why would you want her to divorce me, Terry?"
Exasperated, Terry exhaled and put his hands on his hips.
"You can't make Nova happy if you keep hurting her. That's all I'm saying. Let her go if you can't get your shit together. For her sake, and your son."
Jordan glared at him.
"Are you fucking my wife?"
Terry mustered all the calm he could find in his bones.
"No."
Jordan closed his eyes and huffed.
"I love her. I love my son. He's the best thing that's happened to us," Jordan said.
Terry's legs shook. His stomach twisted in knots, and he tasted a sour liquid at the back of his throat. He wanted to blurt out the truth, but he probably would've vomited had he done that, knowing that Nova would suffer the consequences. So would Junior. He clamped a hand on Jordan's shoulder. His godson deserved to have a father who wanted to make things right once and for all.
"Jordan, go home to your wife. Beg her for forgiveness and show her with your deeds—not words—that you're deserving of her love. Don't worry about who she may or may not be fucking. This is your only chance to come correct."
Jordan nodded his head and started crying. He was a child in a man's body with the emotional intelligence to match. Terry had no faith in him to do better. However, every man deserved the opportunity to try. He wouldn't stand in the way. Terry knew he and Nova would hit a brick wall once Jordan came back. It was time for fate and Jordan to take over.
Terry reached over and hugged Jordan.
"Go home to your family."
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Jordan stayed true to his word and didn't re-enlist. Von and Bethany threw them a going away barbecue at one of their flag football games. Nova played on an opposite team and snatched Terry's flag off a few times for old times' sake.
They spoke on the phone privately the night before and cried together. Despite her anger and bitterness toward her husband, Nova loved Jordan. Terry didn't reveal that he spoke with him in his condo. He also kept his opinion about having no faith in Jordan's ability to man up to himself. There was no need to pressure her into giving him what he wanted. She had to leave her husband on her own when she was ready. Pushing her to do it would cause resentment.
"I love you…always baby," he told her.
"My heart hurts…I love you—"
"Go hold on to that beautiful baby for me."
"Terry…please don't hate me for trying again."
"I could never hate you, Nova. Put that thought out of your mind."
"He stopped drinking. Most of his infidelity issues and unacceptable behavior came from that. We're starting counseling back home. Getting back into church again. I think he was so disconnected from who he was…maybe Junior helped remind him of who he used to be."
He respected her decision. Had he been in Jordan's position, he would've begged God to give him another chance, too.
"Nova?"
"Yes?"
He should've bitten his tongue, but he said it anyway.
"When you want me to come get you. You let me know. Okay?"
She stayed quiet.
There were so many friends at the park that it became easy for him to drift along and keep busy with other people. He wandered to his truck to get a jacket, and Nova thought he was leaving. She chased him down in the parking lot and threw her arms around his neck. He lifted her up and held her, their tears mixing in person. Emotionally drained after the sad goodbye, Terry drove home and cried.
Nova and Jordan flew out the next day with their baby, and it didn't surprise Terry at all that Nova left Jordan four months later. Bethany let slip at a cookout that Nova filed for divorce and moved in with her brother- and sister-in-law. Terry minded his business and hoped Nova would finally find happiness. She was with her people and had a strong, supportive family to carry her through. Inserting himself into her life in the middle of new turmoil was something he wouldn't do. God took her away for a reason. Terry worked on closing that chapter in his life, no matter how painful it was.
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Another summer was upon him, and he made vacation plans to visit his family on a road trip. He cleaned his condo, dropped off some spare keys for his friend Angie to watch his place while he was gone, and gassed up his truck. The only thing he had left to do was collect his travel bags. He collected mail from his mailbox in the condo lobby and found a large white envelope addressed to him by name, but with no return address.
Terry took the elevator to his home and tossed the junk mail aside. He opened the envelope and pulled out a large color photo of a cute brown baby girl with green eyes so bright they seemed to leap off the photo paper. His heart thudded in his chest. He sat down on his couch and flipped the photo over. There was only a name and a phone number.
Terrina Richmond.
The phone number had an unfamiliar area code. He looked it up on his smartphone.
Charleston, South Carolina.
Terry's hands shook so badly he had to press them on his thighs. He stared at the photo again. The baby had wispy waves of dark brown hair like him, but the eyes…God the eyes were his, too. Especially the long curling eyelashes.
He picked up his phone, and with trembling fingers, called the number.
"Hello?"
"Nova?"
"Terry—"
"I have a photo in my hand. That's why I called this number…Nova—"
"Come get me…come get us."
"Send me the address, baby. I'm on my way."
He asked no questions. Didn't worry about how he would explain to his relatives that he had to make a detour from Louisiana to South Carolina. His prayers had been answered.
Terry Richmond booked a flight to Charleston. He had to get his woman back and meet his new daughter.
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A.N: Hey, shit happens. Just needed to write this one to see where it would go!
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nillosgarden ¡ 1 day ago
Text
*ahem*
I think Suguru is the type of the man who shows all his nonchalant side, and there's that face that is always kind and sweet to all his beloved ones. But when it comes to you, damn. He doesn’t know what to do, if he should smile with all of his teeth, or control himself to not be a weirdo. So he made a special smile for you, one that makes his feelings more or less obvious - and it all goes smoothly, because you are oblivious.
But then, Satoru notices that Suguru shows a different kind of affection towards you, and starts to tease him about it. The white haired man says that Geto should ask you out, before he does it. (damn, the boy is a flirty flirty man. 🫠)
The next ones to notice are Shoko and Nanami, but they only watch from afar. Haibara is oblivious like you, so you both don‘t know about what the hell is going on.
Through the week, the black male is thinking about what kind of date would he ask you to. He already knows your favorite flowers and your favorite food, he is very attentive with your tastes. He thought about picnics, themed parks, cinema, arcade. But he needed something special to make you know how much he cares for you. So, after thinking, thinking and more thinking... He finally knew it.
So then, one day, you are sitting in a bench, reading a book you recently achieved, and you look to the side, seeing that Suguru sits next to you, giving you that smile. The smile that you always loved to see, and wished that he only smiled like that for you. (Little did you know...)
He asked about your day, and you both start to chat about the things you both love. Exchanging smiles, laughs, and... looks. The smitten ones. Geto breathes in, and exhales heavily, trying to gain courage. You look at him, concerned, and ask if everything is okay. He looks at you, and take a small box off his pocket, giving it to you.
You open it, and it's a charm with your favorite flower painted in a small frame. You look at it, and see that it seems handmade, so you ask him, and he anwers:
"I wanted to give you something I made with my own hands, so I could put a piece of my love in it."
Looking at him, with your face all flustered, you ask again.
"A piece?"
And he answers.
"The other part I can give you if you go out with me, and allow me to try to make your days a little bit happier."
~ ♡
(I swear I tried, but I'm sleepy 😭)
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