cat hybrid! reader x wolf hybrid! leon s kennedy oneshot
Summary: after getting severely injured, Leon has been secretly taking care of you as you rest up at his place.
You were curled up on his couch, bandages running around your head and underneath your breasts. Eyelashes rested softly, attempting to sleep the pain away. But it kept ringing relentlessly, gnawing at you, restricting you to only this pathetic couch. Ears twitched faintly as you heard the patter of footsteps approaching, footsteps that were careful, controlled and perfectly Leon’s. You were completely docile and stripped of every hard wall that had been placed up when you first met the man standing in the doorway.
“Leon?” you mumbled, cracking your eyes open, voice coated heavy with sleep and medication. His scent was strong enough to relax you, it always did, admittedly. His face carried a twisted hollowness that was etched into it, but as soon as your sweet voice fell on his ears, his tail began to swish side to side, and the adrenaline that was hammered into him vanished.
“I’m home, sweetheart,” Leon kicked his shoes off, placing himself in front of you, crouching.
“You’re back early,” you whispered, eyes big and dilated, he could almost see his outline in them. Usually they were sly, cold and calculating, always figuring out your next exit. But now, you had completely surrendered to the pain. Kitten-like and adorable.
“Needed to see you,” he said simply, his eyes flicked across you, searching for any fault or discomfort as wolves do when caring for their pack. He placed his arms on the couch, leaning against them, tilting his head in the same direction in which you were leaning against the pillows. Scenting you and nuzzling into the crook of your neck was his biggest desire, but in your fragile condition he was limited.
However, even if you weren’t injured, scaring you away from him was a deep-rooted fear that had rotted in the back of his mind. Losing the only sense of warmth that he could hold in within a cold and disheartening world like this—it was an unbearable thought to him.
“You worry too much,” you shook your head slightly, but as soon as you tried to sit up to pet him, a stinging hot pain scorched right through your side, and an unfiltered gasp flew from your lips. You instinctively folded back in on yourself, hand shooting to your side where the pain was blooming, tail puffed up.
You had only been here for a few days now, after a catastrophe in Eastern Europe where you caught yourself in crossfire with the BSAA. A group of brutes, you always thought, brutes on steroids even, and unfortunately, you had gotten on their nerves for too long. Long enough for Chris Redfield himself to take you down, despite his knowledge of your relationship with Leon. Of course, cat hybrids enjoy teasing, testing boundaries, how much they can push before you snap. Bear hybrids, like the Redfields, don’t enjoy threatening behaviour in the slightest.
The result of that is now clear in your current state.
Leon’s hand reached under your chin, bringing it up to look at him. You met his sharp blue eyes, cold and icy, and your expression relaxed, eyes curious and soft.
“Hey. I know you’ll get through this. You’re a brave girl,” he cooed, his fingers brushing along your cheek, “and I’m too scared to lose you again.”
Words weren’t exactly your friends, they never left your mouth correctly, landing flat and monotonous. His words weren’t vulnerable often, and this pitiful hatred towards yourself built up when you couldn’t find the correct vocabulary that was suited to handling these sorts of conversations.
Your eyes followed his fingers, then, letting him rub your ears. A soft purring cadence left you, but you were far too overcome in exhaustion to be embarrassed about it. So, instead, your fingers twirling around the floppy parts of his hair before letting go.
“Can I see your injury, baby?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You nodded slowly, shifting yourself carefully to allow him to pull up the loose shirt (his), and reveal the blood-soaked bandages, some of it dried and patchy on your skin. Tracing the blood was muddied violet bruises, blossoming across your side.
“Oh, kitty,” he examined, fingers hovering above the wound, “I think you might’ve torn your stitches. Let me stitch you up again.”
“You don’t have to do all of this for me, Leon. I can handle myself,” you pushed his hand away, tail swishing once.
His ears dropped. Pushing away his assistance when you were essentially dying on his couch, was a new level of stubborn he had never seen before. Sure, you had your cold moments when the two of you came across each other on missions but there were glances that didn’t go unnoticed, paths cleared that were appreciated and ammo that was left as gifts. Cats were sly and calculating whereas wolves were pack-dependent and able to conquer long distances. However, the two relied on dusk, intertwining the polar opposites. Wolves relied on each other. Cats were territorial.
Trusting him, he knew, was something that couldn’t be repaired if broken.
“Don’t say that. You know, if I didn’t find you in time, you would’ve been—” his voice raised, but then he stopped, his sigh felt on your skin, “C’mon, sweetheart. Don’t start playing this game with me. Not right now.”
You let out a grumble before rolling your eyes and resting your head back onto the pillow in defeat. He smiled a little at your surrender before pushing himself up to grab the med kit from the bathroom.
From your small stay here, you noticed how untouched everything went in his apartment. The way the light slipped from his curtains and highlighted every dust particle floating aimlessly in the air. It made you feel like you were in a collection of his life, a museum, rather than his home. His cupboards were empty, apart from a few standard cans. He only filled them up due to your presence. His vase was empty. He only placed flowers in them due to your presence.
Maybe you bleeding out on his couch wasn’t exactly the way he wished to have you in his apartment, but his instinctive urge to take care of you overrode everything else.
“I’m going to numb the area, okay?” he warned softly, peeling back the bandages and dabbing antiseptic onto a cloth.
“Just be careful, Leon,” you murmured, when there was no one else you trusted more than him. He knew that already, considering the way your tail curled around him.
“Of course,” he said before cleaning your wound. The antiseptic flared pain into your side again, your face tensing before rubbing anaesthesia into your skin. While he waited for it to numb, he tucked your hair out of your face, his thumb slowly brushing under your eye.
“Okay, just going to prepare the needle now. Everything still okay, hun?”
You nodded, tail curling tighter around him.
“Good girl,” he whispered as he worked the needle through your skin, the words melting like honey through your ears.
You laid there, quiet and still, his perfect patient. His arms shifted around you, clearly tense.
“Just this last bit, can you do that for me, kitty?” he asked, his other hand resting above your thigh.
“Yes, Dr Kennedy,” you teased, offering him a small smirk. He shook his head slightly with a laugh, his chest easing. Your stomach fluttered seeing the boyish smile loosen something youthful within him.
“All done,” he packed up the kit, finishing by wrapping you in clean bandages, “Now c’mon, lemme on the couch too.”
You scooted over, and Leon lowered himself carefully behind you, his arms caging you in a hungry hug. His wagging tail tickled your leg and you soon felt something warm dragging through your hair and ears.
“Are you grooming me?” you turned around, raising an eyebrow at the old man, who had a shit-eating smile on his face. Utterly whipped by the pretty kitty laid in front of him. The mysterious one that had him on his toes every time he came across her, the one that always teased him for always remaining one step behind her. Nevertheless, your age was no match for his experience, and despite how much you claimed he could never catch up, he always did—and faster than expected. A quality like that, of course, had you most curious.
“Gotta make sure my favourite patient is satisfied,” his eyes focused on yours, half-lidded and sleepy on an overdose of your affection. His devotion always surprised you; it was unconditional almost, binded and eternal. Wolves were incredibly loyal, but loyal to a cat was an anomaly, a doubt within you that kept you pondering whether if the universe really had fated the two of you together or it was just tragic luck.
“Hm, okay, puppy,” you pouted, turning back, a smirk playing on your face.
“Puppy?” he grumbled, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. He continued licking you anyway, his grey stubble brushing through your hair until a small purr began to vibrate through your chest.
a/n: sorry this isn't up to my usual standard. just wanted 2 post something before i get busy again. this leawn isnt my usual leawn but whatever... im gonna be writing a mercenary reader x leon soon... this is just the prototype
The door creaked open softly, the familiar sound echoing through the quiet house as he stepped inside. His shoulders finally dropped, tension easing out of him the second the door clicked shut behind him. For a moment, he just stood there, breathing it in. Home.
Then he heard it.
Pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter.
A small smile tugged at his lips before he even turned around.
You came barreling toward him, feet thudding against the floorboards, tail wagging so hard it nearly knocked you off balance. Your ears were perked, eyes still a little sleepy, but shining with pure excitement. The second you reached him, you practically crashed into his chest, grinning up at him like he’d been gone for years instead of days.
“Yeah? Hey, sweet girl…” his voice softened instantly, exhaustion melting away as he crouched down to your level. “Miss me?”
His hand found your floppy ears, gently rubbing them the way he knew you loved. You leaned into his touch without hesitation, little whines slipping out as you peppered his stubbled jaw with eager kisses, your tail still going a mile a minute.
He let out a quiet chuckle, closing his eyes for a second, finally relaxed.
“I know, I know,” he murmured, resting his forehead lightly against yours. “I’m home.”
source. Sighhhhhh, this is so cringe I’m sorry. anywho give me Leon requests cuz I’m brain rotted plz…
men who keep their shirts on while getting off but it’s pulled up past their chest so they can bite down on the fabric deserve the world for that visual alone
leon loves when you sit on his lap. he likes having you close just because, and it's a strange sense of satisfaction when you choose his thighs instead of a chair or the cushion next to him. not that hes jealous of inanimate objects, no... (dont ask him about the body pillow youll have wedged in between your legs and arms when he comes home late, it's a sore subject)
he'll be sitting at the kitchen table, papers spread and laptop open with his glasses on and his hand knotted in his hair. once youve entered his vicinity, meant to just drop off a cup of his favorite drink, you're doomed to never leave. because he'll look up at you with a small smile and turn his body out ever so slightly to offer you his thighs. his arm slips up around your waist and his "c'mere, missed you" has you settling on his lap without much thought.
once you sit down, in an instant he's adjusting the papers in his hands, hooking his chin over your shoulder and his arms coming around you peer over you at his work. it doesnt matter that hes effectively doing everything one handed now, to him it makes it a little easier to breathe, to handle. because every so often you're pointing out something he'd glossed over, pushing his glasses up his nose, and brushing his hair away from his eyes. if you go to leave, because you have things to do, too, he's making a noise like a petulant, abandoned dog.
A/N: excuse me while I gobble this idea up and let it consume me
professor leon kennedy is usually very good at pretending he’s unaffected
that’s part of what makes him such a good lecturer, along with his calm voice and his steady hands
those brilliant blue eyes scan slowly across the lecture hall while students hang onto every word that leaves his mouth
except today. today he’s struggling
because you’re sitting in the front row leaning toward the guy beside you, whispering something that makes you smile
and leon completely loses his train of thought
outwardly, he's still talking. still pacing slowly in front of the projector screen with one hand tucked into the pocket of his slacks
but somewhere in the middle of explaining a case study, his eyes drift back toward you again and stay there too long
because you look beautiful when you’re distracted, that’s the problem
your lashes lower when you laugh softly, your fingers toy absentmindedly with your pen, you lean closer when you’re listening
and leon, poor, yearning professor Kennedy, can’t stop noticing every little thing about you
the handsome student beside you says something else quietly
you smile again
and for the first time all semester, professor kennedy stumbles over his own lecture
the room barely notices, but you do
because when you finally glance back toward him, leon is already looking at you and the expression on his face nearly steals the air from your lungs
not jealousy exactly. something softer than that. something far more dangerous, like he wants your attention so badly it’s starting to undo him
then, almost unconsciously, his tongue presses briefly against the inside of his cheek while his gaze flicks toward the boy sitting next to you before returning to your face again
and suddenly you understand
professor leon kennedy is trying very hard to act unaffected by you and failing beautifully
and you know there's no reason for professor kennedy to be jealous. you were just helping the boy next to you understand the lesson
so to make sure the professor knew you were his (entirely, helplessly his) you slid your legs open just a little bit
you felt cool air up your thighs. between them.
professor Kennedy turns back in your direction
“-and when assessing a compromised witness statement, you have to account for the fact that memory under stress is not linear-”
leon stops for the time is takes for one fractured heartbeat
his eyes had drifted toward you automatically again, helplessly, really, because they had been doing that all lecture, and then suddenly the world narrowed into something unbearably small
you. front row. skirt shifted ever so slightly as your knees opened, ankles still together
a glimpse of soft fabric. lace. hidden only for him
the professor’s breath catches so subtly no one else notices it
you do. god, you do
because you know him now
you know the way his composure tightens when he’s struggling. the way his jaw flexes when he’s trying not to react. the way his eyes darken when something reaches too deeply beneath that careful, professional control of his
and right now, professor leon kennedy is unraveling beautifully
not because of what you showed him, but because of what it meant
the boy beside you says something quietly again, leaning closer
leon’s grip tightens around the dry erase marker in his hand
then your eyes lift to his and suddenly understanding moves across his face with devastating clarity
Oh.
you were not teasing. not being cruel
you were comforting him
the realization hits him so hard he nearly loses the next sentence entirely
his gaze drops for half a second, tongue pressing slowly against the inside of his cheek while he gathers himself
“People,” he says, voice rougher now, lower somehow, “people tend to reveal what matters to them most when they feel threatened.”
silence settles strangely over the lecture hall
because something about the way professor kennedy said the sentence sounded painfully personal
his eyes meet yours again
and this time the look in them nearly steals the breath from your lungs
it was unbearably tender
like your tiny act of reassurance had slipped beneath his ribs and lodged there permanently
leon forces himself to continue the lecture despite looking like a man trying to survive his own feelings in real time
and from the front row, you watch him fail at it completely
an: sorry this part is shorter, but i wanna write a full chapter version of this anyways if you enjoy it enough. ❤︎ . ݁ ˖
♡ you were pretty nervous this time around, and not because he had given you a direct reason to but because something felt different that night
♡ leon was a stunningly handsome man, you knew that from the start, but you knew no more than his name and address. it had to be limerence, so always told yourself he was off limits.
♡ not only was he already married and nearly twice your age, but you had responsibility over his children, and you weren’t one to jeopardize your career and moral standpoint just so you could bang your hot employer.
♡ but, did that mean you couldn’t admire him? especially the way he looked under the warmth of the street lamps on the drive to yours?
♡ so when you two found yourselves stuck at yet another red light, you decided to take a leap of faith
♡ how harmful could it be to ask about his late wife? it’s only respectful, if you take away your profile, given that he brought her up first.
♡ you pretended to forget and first asked him for her name, then what she did for work, and if he still thought about her.
♡ he seemed taken aback, but the more he talked about her the more he warmed up
♡ his shoulders relaxed a few millimetres, and he had a certain lingering smile of adoration on his cheeks. you had never seen him show so much emotion, well, ever.
♡ while the sight was aching, to say the least, you couldn’t help but feel a weird sense of jealousy
♡ not because you were worried about a beautiful dead woman, but you were put off by how a small part of you wished he was talking about you that way
♡ you tell him that she sounds lovely and you wish you could’ve met her, but what you didn’t think he’d ever say, he did.
♡ “she actually… looked a lot like you.”
♡ you felt a weird mix of emotions braising in your stomach and swelling your heart. part of you felt honoured to be compared to a woman he seemed to love very much, and another part of you felt… a different kind of good.
♡ for a moment you forgot he was father of the kids you’re caring for, a man you hardly know anything about, a man who will always be ten steps ahead in life’s experience compared to you.
♡ for a moment you saw a handsome man who hadn’t had an outlet for his love in years, a man who felt comfortable to confide in you about it. you saw a man with potential.
♡ in his car, at the thousandth red light, you sat next to a man that you deliriously believed you might have a chance at saving.
fem!reader babysitting for widowed dad!leon kennedy
[pt. 2]
cw: implied age gap, reader is a PhD candidate and is called pretty, nothing explicit but there is romantic tension and leon struggles to accept it, mentions of his unnamed ex-wife’s death
an: idk how i feel abt this one guys, lmk your thoughts in the comments! 🖤
♡ leon hired you a few months ago from your facebook advertisement titled “babysitting/petsitting/housesitting”, and it wasn’t hard for you to pass the interview because he was immediately charmed by your welcoming and trustworthy demeanor
♡ you’d worn a pretty flowy blouse and a long skirt—modest, youthful—and your eyes and smile were very pretty to look at but leon swears that didn’t sway his decision to hire you on the spot
♡ he usually needs you there until very late at night, like, past midnight even, so eventually he starts having you stay until morning because it’s easier and safer for the kids
♡ he even drives you to and from his house, and is still very generous with your pay: $50 an hour
♡ in the past, you’ve insisted that he lowers the pay or at least lets you contribute to the gas and grocery that he spends on you, but he never lets you
♡ his kids are very well disciplined, very polite. he always reminds them to “be good to the pretty girl” that takes care of them, to say please and thank you, to not give you a hard time, and they don’t
♡ and he really does call you that in front of you, often stealing a quick glance to see if you react but you always try your best not to
♡ his kids though, they really love you. his 8 year old daughter, for instance, thinks you’re the coolest girl in the world—more than model worthy, but princess worthy, “pretty enough for daddy” worthy. her words!
♡ his son on the other hand, he is a little older and is his father’s spitting image, by physical means and personality too. he really looks up to his dad and constantly talks about how he wants to join “cop school” the second he turns 18
♡ and one night when leon comes home to his children’s bedrooms empty because they decided they wanted to stay with you in your room, he realizes that he’s in for something he never thought would actually when he hired you
♡ you were sitting on the armchair next to the queen bed while the kids slept soundly on the bed that was divided by a wall of pillows
♡ you were awake, humming quietly and either scrolling through some intelligent novel or finishing up one of your PhD readings, leon didn’t know for sure, because all he could think was “oh, man.”
♡ the sight was too sweet for his heart, and for a moment he forgot that in comparison to him, you were only a college girl with no familial obligation, and he was 49 with two kids and a deceased wife.
♡ for a moment, all he saw was a beautiful woman who loved and cared for his kids, and who his kids loved and trusted back. a beautiful woman with a cute yet intense focus-face and a warm voice.
♡ when you looked up at him your posture straightened slightly and you put your tablet down, smiling at him, then whispering about how the kids insisted they had to sleep in your room because otherwise the dark would eat them, and then explaining how you didn’t want to let them down and how you hoped it didn’t make leon uncomfortable
♡ he could only grin and shake his head as he took off his gloves before running his hair back, going on about how they used to do the same when their mom died
♡ when you saw how his face dropped a little at the mention of her, you got up and stood in front of him, a sympathetic pout on your lips, telling him that “you seem like a really good dad, leon,” and that “they always miss you when you’re at work.”
♡ he could only smile at you and grab your upper arm with a gentle, what he thinks is a platonic squeeze, then telling you how he “couldn’t do it all without you.”
♡ you brushed off his praise and tell him about what the kids did all day, what they ate, when they bathed, how you made sure they both brushed their teeth
♡ and leon stared at you as you did, wondering if it was normal to be so warmed by the intense care you put into being a babysitter, normal to feel like he could find a way to make it work with a girl nearly half his age
♡ and as leon drove you home, he wondered if you ever thought the same way of him, or if he was just a sad, lonely old man, hungry for love.
₊ ֹ ˖ JOHN LOGAN MAKES YOU WANNA CRY . . IN A GOOD WAY ᱺㅤㅤ ୨౿
he’s got like ten tabs full of assignments waiting for him at home. a comfy bed that’s screaming his name. a hungry stomach he’s forgotten to feed after having a granola bar in the morning. in deep need of a shower post a really long and hard practice.
but there he is in his brother’s garage at eleven at night, shirtless, so goddamn patient, bent over the hood of your car, dealing with a fizzy, angry battery that could explode and kill him, while you stand in the corner biting your lip, so fucking guilty for calling him to help because your car was producing a really weird smell after you came back from driving a friend home from one of those frat parties.
you had to stop by the curb and wait for thirty minutes, the soonest he could come get you after you called, and he picked up after one ring, worried.
without a single complaint. oh god, your boyfriend was too selfless for his own good when it came to you.
your week had already been really emotional for no reason, and seeing logan just being his sweet self doesn’t help but let fat drops of tears run down your face silently as you stare at him.
ten minutes have passed, and logan has to move to clean something quickly with a rag he has over his shoulder, and while discarding it to grab another one, he can’t help but see his pretty girl crying.
“woah, woah, woah, what’s wrong, gorgeous?” he frowns, leaving his work behind, quickly striding over to you, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug, hands curling around your neck.
his sweaty chest be damned.
“i’m sorry i ruined your night,” you sniffle as you pull away, looking up at him, your hands by your side, not knowing what to do with them.
“oh baby, you didn’t ruin anything. that thought didn’t even occur to me when i rushed to come get you,” he gently moves his hands to cradle your face, kissing your tears away. “i was actually kinda giddy that you called me for help.” he flashes you that pretty smile that makes you melt, trying to make you feel better.
“but you’re—you’re all tired from practice and you need a shower.” he chuckles, and even despite that, you lay your face into his chest as he holds onto your waist, gently rocking both of you side by side. “and you need to eat.”
logan thinks he could genuinely marry you right now.
“how about this,” he says gently, brushing his thumb across your cheek, wiping the last of your tears. “give me ten more minutes to finish this—it’s basically done anyway.”
his tone is light, reassuring, like he’s easing you back down piece by piece.
“and then we go home,” he continues, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a second longer than necessary. “and you help me do all that, yeah?”
his nose nudges yours slightly when he pulls back, his smile small but warm.
“does that sound good?” he knows he’s satisfied when you nod and wipe your eyes with the back of your hands.
“there she is,” he murmurs, softer now, leaning in to press one last gentle kiss to your lips—slow, reassuring, meant to settle you more than anything else.
he shakes his head with a small smile as he turns back to the car, grabbing his rag again, finishing up the last few things.
like you didn’t just cry over something so stupid.
john logan really bagged a girl way too sweet for his own good.
Summary: You let loose with the girls after Allie’s final performance of the season and Logan has to come get your drunk ass.
Ahead: John Logan x reader, purely fluff, excessive drinking, dumb short I'm sorry
“Hello?” Logan’s voice was raspy with sleep as he answered his phone after several rings. He blinked his eyes in the darkness, temporarily blinded by the light of his phone screen which clearly displayed your name and a picture he had taken of you after one of his games.
“I need you to come get me.” You giggled into the phone, speech slurred and music playing muffled in the background like you were just outside of the main area of whatever bar or party you were at.
Logan sat up quickly, eyebrows creased in concern as he tucked his phone between his jaw and shoulder. He flicked on a light and reached for a random Briar hoodie near him. “Where are you?”
“Malone’s, silly!” You continued to giggle, like his question was ridiculous. “I’m celebrating with the girls. I’m outside waiting for them.”
Logan slipped his sneakers on before grabbing his keys, speeding out of his bedroom. “And where are Allie and Hannah right now?” He hated the idea of standing outside of Malone’s in the dark and cold, drunk out of your mind and the easiest prey for a creep passing by.
You did a little twirl on the sidewalk, “Well, Allie drank a bit too much so Hannah had to hold her hair in the bathroom while she, you know, threw up and stuff. It was too hot inside, so I’m waiting for them here.” You hiccuped your way through your explanation, hearing Logan’s truck rumbling to life on the other side of the phone.
Logan ran a hand over his face, all traces of sleep and relaxation leaving his body. “You know I hate when you go out without me.” He wasn’t mad. He never got truly mad at you, just worried like a concerned father. It was hard for him to keep you safe if he wasn’t there to protect you.
“I know,” You pouted, “I missed you all night.”
Logan’s chest warmed at your words, pressing down on the acceleration pedal a bit harder.
You continued with your drunken explanation, “Allie had her last big performance tonight and we wanted to celebrate. Hannah doesn’t drink at parties, so she’s the DD but it’s hard to be a DD with only a bike.” You snorted at your own joke, and Logan couldn’t help chuckling too at the mental image of all three girls piling on to Hannah’s bike.
“You did the right thing by calling me, baby.” Logan confirmed.
You smiled to yourself. “I love when you call me that.”
“What?” Logan asked, taking a bit of an advantage of your tipsy honesty.
“Baby.” You repeated, imitating Logan’s gruff, deeper voice. You sighed, “You’re so sexy, ya know?”
Logan grinned, letting out a hearty laugh, pushing back his dark locks with one hand. “You’re very drunk, baby.”
“I totally am!” You laughed, nearly tripping on a potted plant. As you regained your balance, you spotted Logan’s truck pulling up, his headlight illuminating your stumbling figure.
Logan hopped out of the truck, jogging over to you. Before he could even fully approach you, your face broke out into a wide grin and you were hopping into the air, arms outstretched.
“My sexy man!” You exclaimed as you wrapped not only your arms but your legs around his body, clinging to him like a koala.
Logan let out a quick gasp in surprise, managing to catch you with one hand on your thigh and the other holding his keys. “Happy to see you too, baby.”
After a few moments, Logan gently places you on the ground, his hand now holding your arm to keep you upright. Being able to see you clearly, he took in your drunken state. Your hair was a mess and your eyes were glossy, small tears settled on your eyelashes like morning dew on grass. Your smile never wavered, even as you swayed slightly. He couldn’t help chuckling when he noticed the denim jacket you were wearing was upside down, you appearing completely oblivious.
You leaned towards him, smushing your cheek into his strong arm, “Can we stop for cheesy fries on the way home?”
Logan smiled softly, kissing the top of your head. “Sure, baby.”
Very short but I don't know what to write. Leave a request if you would like!
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