idk

Baby girl: his favourite in intimate and soft moments. Those moments when you’re cuddling on the couch or on the bed, those moments when you’re cooking food together, tangled in each other in the small kitchen. He calls you baby girl when texting you or calling you or when he’s looking for you.

Good girl: can be used in innocent moments like you making him his favourite meal or you coming to cuddle him when he needs it. He uses this one the most when fucking you. He just loves the reactions he gets out of you each time he calls you that, getting you to moan his name and pull harder at his hair, your tight little pussy squeezing him. He especially loves to use it when you ride him and he just lays there, arms behind his head, muscles flexed, having you do all the work.

He wants to show Ilya that he's good with him - that he can be his gay self around him - so the first time they meet up, Cliff suggests they go shopping. Ilya's a little confused. He and Cliff have never gone shopping together and, though it could be fun, he's not really feeling up for a full outing. Cliff then suggests brunch and, when Ilya shoots that down too, he asks if Ottawa has any gay bars they could go to. Although the idea of watching Cliff get hit on by guys all night is vaguely tempting, Ilya suggests they just meet at home and play some video games.

Cliff feels a little disappointed Ilya isn't ready to share his gay side with him but he gets it. He knows how the hockey culture is and maybe he just needs to show Ilya he's a proper ally and then he'll let himself be his gayest self.

Throughout their hang, he keeps trying to subtly show Ilya that he's safe around him. He talks about the latest season of Drag Race, he asks him who's his favourite Will and Grace character and says he likes Jack the most, he asks who his favourite pop diva is and tells him he thinks Beyoncé is rad. Ilya doesn't seem to take the hint though. Apparently he isn't watching the latest Drag Race season, he doesn't know who his favourite Will and Grace character is and he tells Cliff he already knows Ilya's more of a rap guy but Beyoncé's cool. He prefers Megan Thee Stallion, though.

Cue Ilya making a rare appearance at Bood's Barbeque because it's the team's chance to meet little Milo for the first time. Everyone congratulates the parents and oohs and aaws at Milo. Cue Bood asking "anyone want to hold him?"

And Ilya is the first to volunteer, already reaching out his hands. And Bood, like any new parent, starts the "Alright here we go, now be careful to support the head-" only to trail off because Ilya does not need any help. For some strange reason, Ilya fucking Rozanov is a pro at holding a baby, murmuring to him in Russian swaying him softly in his arms.

The Groupchat ("CenBros NO CAP") goes wild because how the fuck is Rozy so good with babies. And then one of the rookies is like "maybe he has a baby??" and at first everyone scoffs because, hello. This is Ilya Rozanov we're talking about.

On second thought, though.

Ilya did move to Ottawa seemingly out of nowhere.

He did buy a house in the suburbs.

He is strangely secretive about who he's texting all the time.

He is skipping almost every team event.

Suddenly it all makes sense. Ilya has a girlfriend (wife??) and he moved to Ottawa for her so that they could raise their child together. And of course he's almost never attending a team outing or leaving early, he has a child at home! Of course he's secretive about it, Ottawa or not he's still Ilya fucking Rozanov, papped every second day. It only makes sense that he'd want to protect the identiy of his girlfriend (wife??) and child.

The final piece of evidence is overheard by Holmberg and Young on a random Thurday after practice. Ilya clearly hasn't noticed them as he walks to his car, a fond smile on his face and obviously focused on his phone call. "Goodnight, I miss you very much. I will be home soon", he says. It's followed by laughter and Ilya adding that "Yes, of course is necessary! I have been away all day, my daughter must hear me say goodnight to her."

Holmberg and Young (standing next to Young's car and therefore hidden from Ilya's view) stare at each other with open mouths and wide eyes. Because holy fucking shit Rozy just confirmed he has a daughter?? And based on the conversation also a girlfriend/wife??

And Shane nearly chokes on his ginger ale because what the actual fuck-

You find ghost stood in the bathroom of your apartment, the one that you practically share at this point, staring at the mirror. He's got that subtle scrunch to his nose that would be a pinched expression on anyone else.

"Si, what're you doing, baby?" You ask, wrapping your arm around his side, leaning into his space. Your eyes drift down to his hand, holding various pamphlets. "What's this?"

Simon holds the pamphlets up for you, and a quick glance has you frowning. Reconstructive surgery. Worn at the edges, as if stored in a bag for a long time, something he got years ago. Still, he asks "would you...would you prefer if I got my face...fixed?"

"Simon..." you whisper, shocked. Ghost trails a hand over his face, fingertips dipping into the grooves of scars and catching over bits that never healed right. They pause over the gash that tore a hole straight through his cheek.

"I can't eat right, and I see the way people...People look at us." He whispers to you. You should have seen this coming after last night.

Your anniversary dinner, two whole years. It was a fancy restaurant, and you wanted to strangle the waiter for how he looked at your simon just trying to enjoy the meal. A cloth placed under his mouth, hunched over the plate to avoid making a mess. He's always been messy, unable to eat cleanly with all the injuries to his face.

The other patrons stared, and you ended up calling the night short in pure rage. Now, simon thinks it's his fault.

"I would never forgive you if you did," you finally whisper, grab his jaw and pull his face away from the mirror. Simon looks shocked by your answer, so you thumb over the divot in his lip, smiling "you are as beautiful as the day i met you. I love how you look, and I'm sorry that I made you doubt it."

"I don't look normal..." ghost tries to counter, but he melts into the palm of your hand like a stray dog finally feeling kindness.

"I don't want normal, I want you, si. I always want you," finally, you pull him into a kiss. Slow, deep, reverent. There in the same bathroom you cut his hair in, the same one he helped you shower in. The grout surely still has flecks of his blood in them from bad nights, but you don't fear the rot.

You toss the pamphlets out, wish you could burn them where they sat.

summary: it's time you tell garrett that you are having logan's baby.

series: part two of mom & dad

warnings: swearing, minor mentions of Phil Graham induced trauma

word count: 2.19k

authors note: hey guys! the long awaited part two of mom and dad is finally here, thanks so much for being patient with me for this update. we obviously focused on more of telling the guys in this one so obviously hannah and allie will learn next time.

previous part

Garrett had always been protective when it came to you. 

john logan x fem!reader

summary: the four times your friend group tried to set you up with logan, and the one time they find out you’ve been dating the entire time

established relationship

warnings: just pure sappy fluff, usage of y/n

word count: 4.2k

a/n: based on this request! i hope you like it :))

john logan masterlist off campus masterlist

── ᵎᵎ ✦

the funny thing about keeping your relationship with logan a secret was that neither of you had ever actually decided to.

if someone had asked during those first few weeks, you probably would’ve told them. there wasn’t anything scandalous about it. no reason to hide. nobody in your friend group would’ve cared beyond teasing the two of you for a while before eventually moving on.

it just… never came up.

the relationship itself had arrived so quietly that, looking back, neither of you could really pinpoint where friendship had ended and something else had begun.

after hockey season, you’d simply started spending more time together. study sessions that always seemed to run too late to justify walking back to your own dorm straight away. dinners that lasted twice as long as either of you intended because conversation came so easily with him. evenings spent wandering across campus without much destination in mind, filling the silence with the sort of conversations that only happened when neither person felt any pressure to keep talking.

somewhere between spring arriving and final exams looming over campus, he’d walked you back to your dorm after one of your study sessions like he always did.

the conversation had drifted off several minutes earlier, leaving only the sound of your footsteps against the pavement and the distant buzz of students enjoying one of the first genuinely warm evenings of the year.

you’d stopped outside your building. he’d looked at you for a moment before kissing you.

it hadn’t been particularly dramatic. there hadn’t been fireworks or declarations or some overwhelming certainty that everything had changed. it had simply felt… right.

afterward, logan had rubbed the back of his neck with the slightest hint of uncertainty before quietly asking if that had been okay. you’d kissed him again instead of answering.

that had been four months ago.

the next morning, you’d still met everyone for breakfast. logan had still sat beside you because he always did. you’d stolen fries from his plate because you always did. he’d walked you back to your dorm after classes because he always did.

the only real difference was that now, when nobody was looking, he’d steal a quick kiss before heading back across campus.

for a while, having something that belonged only to the two of you had been… nice.

your relationship existed outside everyone else’s opinions. there were no questions, no teasing, no constant interruptions every time one of you sat beside the other. it was just yours, tucked quietly into the spaces between lectures and late-night walks and evenings spent curled up together in your dorm.

eventually, though, the novelty faded.

more than once, one of you would look at the other and say, we should probably tell everyone.

the other would agree, but then someone would change the subject, or dinner would arrive, or you’d both forget. the conversation kept being postponed until it somehow became stranger to announce it than not to.

neither of you worried about it, because you assumed everyone would find out eventually. you just hadn’t anticipated it to take so long.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ

garrett

practice had run longer than anyone wanted.

by the time coach finally called it, the sun had already started dipping behind the campus buildings, painting long shadows across the parking lot outside the arena. everyone was tired in that familiar, satisfying sort of way that followed a good skate. conversation came easier once helmets were off and sticks had been tossed carelessly into the back of trucks, the intensity of practice gradually giving way to the comfortable rhythm the team always seemed to settle into afterward.

logan adjusted the strap of his hockey bag higher on his shoulder as he stepped out of the rink. he’d texted you nearly an hour earlier.

logan: running late don’t wait if you’re hungry

you: too late already ordered enough fries for both of us x

he’d smiled to himself without really thinking about it.

logan: good

the parking lot had begun emptying by the time he started walking toward campus. several of the guys peeled off in different directions, climbing into cars or heading toward the hockey house, until eventually only garrett remained beside him since they had decided to carpool.

for a while, neither of them spoke. garrett, however, lasted about three more minutes until he felt the need to break the silence, “you know…”

logan glanced over. garrett shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, looking ahead as though the conversation wasn’t particularly important, “y/n’s cool.”

logan nodded once, “yeah.”

garrett continued walking, “i mean it.”

“i know.”

“she’s funny.”

another nod from logan, “she is.”he wasn’t entirely sure where the conversation was going yet.

people complimented their friends all the time. it didn’t seem especially noteworthy. garrett kept talking anyway, “she actually knows hockey.”

“yeah.”

“which is rare.”

logan thought about the number of times you’d sat through games you hadn’t understood at first, asking quiet questions until the rules gradually began making sense. now you caught missed penalties before half the people around you did. you’d been strangely pleased with yourself the first time that happened. he’d been pleased too, though.

“she’s easy to be around,” garrett said.

logan looked at him, “…she is.”

there wasn’t much point pretending otherwise; you were. conversation with you never felt forced, and silence didn’t either. most evenings, the two of you could spend hours together without either of you feeling the need to constantly fill the space between you. logan had never realised how rare that was until he’d found it.

garrett slowed slightly as they reached the crosswalk outside the arena and looked sideways at logan, “you should ask her out.”

the traffic light changed. logan waited for a car to pass before stepping off the curb, “oh, i already did.”

garrett laughed. not the polite sort of laugh people gave when they weren’t sure whether someone was joking. it was a genuine laugh, “yeah?”

logan frowned faintly, “yeah.”

“good one,” garrett laughed again.

for a second, logan wondered whether he’d said something wrong. then he realised garrett thought he was kidding, but before he could explain, garrett was already talking again, “seriously, though, i think you’d really like her.”

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ

hannah

you discovered hannah’s theory by the middle of the semester over afternoon coffee.

the two of you had escaped campus between lectures, ducking into della’s diner. it had become something of an unspoken tradition over the past year. whenever your schedules lined up, you’d spend an hour there together before heading back to class, talking about everything and absolutely nothing until one of you inevitably glanced at the time and realised you were already running late.

that afternoon was no different. hannah was halfway through describing one of garrett’s increasingly questionable cooking experiments when she paused.

her expression shifted ever so slightly. not dramatically, just enough that you’d learned to recognise she was about to say something she’d clearly been thinking about for a while.

she stirred her coffee absentmindedly before looking up, “can i ask you something?”

you nodded, “always.”

her spoon clinked softly against the side of her mug, “have you ever thought about logan?”

thankfully, your coffee was already back on the table, otherwise, you suspected you might’ve dropped it. you blinked as you did your best to keep your expression neutral, “in what way?”

hannah shrugged one shoulder, “in a dating way.”

you hummed thoughtfully, lowering your eyes to your drink before she could read your face too closely, “why are you asking?”

she smiled to herself, “i don’t know.” which, coming from hannah, almost certainly meant she knew exactly why. she tucked one leg beneath herself in the booth before continuing, “i’ve just been watching you two.”

your heart gave the smallest, traitorous little skip. not because you thought she’d figured it out, but because she was far more observant than most people gave her credit for.

you’d spent the last four months being careful. never sitting too close when everyone else was around. never holding hands unless nobody could see. keeping kisses to empty hallways, quiet walks back to your dorm, and the brief moments before one of you inevitably headed home for the night.

you’d convinced yourself nobody had noticed and, for the first time, you wondered if maybe someone had.

hannah rested both hands around her mug, “he always ends up sitting beside you.”

you smiled faintly, “there’s usually a free seat.”

“maybe.” she shrugged, but she looked unconvinced, “but he always notices when you leave the room.”

you hadn’t realised anyone else had noticed that. it happened almost unconsciously; whether you were getting another drink, answering your phone, or stepping away to use the bathroom, his eyes almost always followed you for a second before returning to whatever conversation he’d been having.

he didn’t seem aware he was doing it and neither had you. until now.

hannah continued, counting quietly on her fingers, “he remembers everything you tell him.”

you opened your mouth to answer, but immediately closed it again. she wasn’t wrong.

logan remembered things. all sorts of things. the name of your favourite author after you’d mentioned it once in passing. which professor insisted on surprise quizzes every friday. how you always ordered extra fries but never ate the last one. the way you preferred your coffee. the fact that you hated walking across campus with wet socks after it rained.

he carried little pieces of information about you as though remembering them required no effort at all.

“and,” hannah added, smiling into her coffee now, “he always makes sure someone walks you home after group nights.”

this time, you couldn’t help smiling. not because she was wrong, but because she thought it was someone. she had no idea that, more often than not, the someone was logan himself.

you looked back at her, “you’ve thought about this a lot.”

she laughed softly, “a little.”

“a little?”

“okay.”she grinned, “more than a little.”

you shook your head, laughing under your breath, “so…”

hannah leaned forward just enough to rest her elbows on the table, “i think he likes you.”

you let the silence linger for a second. eventually, you took another sip of your coffee, “you think?”

she nodded immediately, “i’m almost certain.”

you traced absentminded circles around the rim of your mug, “i’ll keep that in mind.”

hannah smiled, clearly satisfied she’d done her part.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ

dean

malone’s was busier than it had been when you’d first arrived; conversations overlapping beneath the steady hum of music drifting through the speakers. pool balls cracked together somewhere behind you every few minutes, punctuated by the occasional cheer whenever someone managed an unexpectedly good shot. every booth seemed occupied, and the warm scent of fried food lingered in the air long after the plates had been cleared away.

the eight of you had claimed the same corner booth you always seemed to end up in.

tucker and dean were arguing over something that had happened during practice earlier that afternoon. allie was attempting to convince hannah that dean had, in fact, exaggerated the entire story. garrett kept interrupting to make things objectively less accurate, while beau looked increasingly entertained the longer the argument continued.

logan sat quietly beside you, only contributing every now and then with the sort of dry comment that somehow made everyone laugh harder than the original story had.

the first round of drinks disappeared into a second. someone ordered fries for the table, garrett immediately claiming most of them.

eventually, dean pushed himself upright, “pool.”

nobody seemed particularly invested one way or the other, but everyone followed him toward the tables anyway.

there was a brief discussion about teams. mostly because dean insisted there needed to be strategy involved despite nobody else caring very much who they played with.

he looked around the group for a moment before pointing at you and logan, “you two, you’re together.”

a silent looked passed between the two of you, but neither of you questioned it, “alright.”

dean looked absurdly pleased with himself and you caught the expression immediately. logan, apparently, did not. he’d already reached for one of the cues leaning against the wall, turning it over once in his hands before offering it to you instead, “this one’s straighter.”

you accepted it automatically, “thanks.”

the game started. calling it competitive would’ve been generous. beau insisted dean wasn’t keeping score properly. dean insisted beau simply couldn’t count. garrett somehow managed to sink the cue ball twice within five minutes. allie laughed so hard she almost missed her own turn.

you weren’t especially good at pool. you’d played often enough to understand the rules, but accuracy remained … inconsistent. halfway through the game, you leaned over the table, squinting down the cue as you tried to line up a shot that looked considerably easier in theory than it did in practice.

you adjusted your grip. then adjusted it again, but something still felt wrong.

before you had the chance to rethink it a third time, logan stepped quietly beside you. he didn’t say anything straight away. instead, he looked from the cue to the angle of your arm before gently reaching for your hand, “here.” his voice stayed low enough that only you heard it. his fingers shifted yours slightly higher along the cue, “you’re holding it too tight.”

his hand was warm and steady against yours. he moved your wrist barely half an inch before stepping back again, his attention returning to the table as though nothing particularly noteworthy had happened, “try that.”

you did and suddenly the ball rolled neatly across the felt. two seconds later, it disappeared cleanly into the corner pocket. you stared after it, “huh.”

logan’s mouth lifted at one corner, “better.”

“little bit,” you smiled despite yourself.

across the room, dean noticed the entire interaction. he leaned sideways toward allie, “see?”

allie followed his gaze, “what?”

“chemistry.”

she looked back toward the two of you. logan was already focused on the table again while you circled around the opposite side, trying to decide which shot came next.

“i think he just helped her,” she knitted her brows as she looked back at the blonde.

“exactly.”

“you’ve become weirdly invested in this.”

“i just think they’d be good together,” he shrugged.

she smiled to herself, “they would.”

by the time the game ended, nobody seemed entirely sure who had actually won. dean claimed it had been your team, but beau disagreed loudly, and garrett insisted the score had become irrelevant after someone accidentally knocked two balls off the table.

eventually, everyone gave up trying to work it out.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ

allie

chairs scraped against the wooden floor as people stood, conversations overlapped while jackets were pulled on, and someone inevitably realised they’d forgotten to close their tab just as everyone else reached the door. after a few hours, the evening had settled into the comfortable kind of tiredness that came from spending too long laughing with people you genuinely enjoyed being around.

outside, the air had cooled considerably.

the streets were quieter than they’d been when you’d arrived, most of the foot traffic now made up of students wandering back toward campus in small groups. the lights from the bars spilled across the sidewalks, catching against puddles left behind by an afternoon shower and turning them gold.

everyone lingered outside for a minute or two, deciding who was walking where.

dean and allie had parked across the street, garrett and hannah were already arguing over whether they had enough food left at the hockey house to avoid another late-night grocery run, and beau and tucker had somehow wandered into an entirely separate conversation before anyone else had finished saying goodbye.

you slipped your arms into your jacket, only half paying attention.

“i’ve got to head this way,” you said absentmindedly, nodding toward the opposite side of campus, “my dorm’s clear across the other end.”

before anyone could answer, allie looked toward logan who was stood beside you, “logan, can walk you back, right?”

the suggestion landed so naturally that nobody questioned it. logan didn’t hesitate, “yeah.”

you caught the smile dean tried, and failed, to hide. it lasted barely a second before he looked away, but you’d seen it. you knew exactly what he thought had just happened.

allie, on the other hand, looked entirely unconcerned. if she had any ulterior motive, she hid it considerably better than dean ever could. she simply smiled at you, wished you both goodnight, and climbed into the passenger seat of dean’s truck.

one by one, everyone drifted away. before long, only you and logan remained standing beneath the glow of the streetlights outside malone’s, “ready?”

you nodded, “ready.”

the walk back toward campus began in easy silence. you’d discovered early on that neither of you felt any pressure to speak simply because there was empty space to fill. sometimes one of you started talking after a few minutes. sometimes neither of you did. either way, it never felt awkward.

the sidewalks were damp beneath your feet, carrying the faint scent of rain and warm pavement. somewhere across campus, music drifted lazily through the night air before disappearing again as you turned down a quieter path lined with trees.

logan matched his pace to yours without seeming to think about it. he always walked slightly slower when he was with you. not enough that anyone else would notice, but just enough that you never had to hurry to keep up.

you’d made it halfway across campus before you finally smiled to yourself. logan glanced over, “what?”

you shook your head, “i think everyone’s trying to set us up.”

he blinked, “what?”

“garrett, hannah, dean, and now allie,” you gestured vaguely behind you, toward the direction of malone’s, “they’re trying to get us together.”

logan was quiet. you watched him think, his gaze dropping briefly toward the pavement as he replayed the last few weeks in his head. you almost saw the moment everything clicked into place, “oh.”

you smiled, “there it is.”

he looked back at you, “they are trying to set us up.” another few steps passed before he spoke again, “i didn’t notice.”

“i know.”

he rubbed absently at the back of his neck as he chuckled, “i thought garrett was just being friendly.”

you returned the laugh, “he was.”

“…and dean?”

“less subtle.”

“huh.”his expression settled somewhere between thoughtful and faintly amused. for another minute, neither of you said anything. then, quietly— “that’s kind of nice.”

you looked at him, “what is?”

“they like you,” his mouth twitched and the smile that appeared was small enough that most people would’ve missed it entirely.

you didn’t, though. you never did.

the path narrowed as you approached your dorm, forcing the two of you a little closer together. your shoulder brushed his once, then again a few steps later.

the building came into view not long afterward, its windows glowing softly against the dark campus.

you stopped near the entrance and for a moment, neither of you spoke. the night had settled comfortably around you, carrying the distant sounds of laughter from somewhere across campus. “thanks,” you said.

logan looked at you, “for what?”

“walking me home.”

he seemed almost surprised by the question, “always, you know that”

the answer came so simply. as though there had never been another possibility.

something warm settled quietly in your chest. you stepped a little closer, close enough that nobody looking out from the dorm windows would’ve noticed anything unusual. your fingers briefly caught the sleeve of his hoodie, “i know.”

his hands found yours for the smallest moment, hidden between the two of you. he gave them one gentle squeeze before slowly leaning closer to place a soft kiss against your lips, “night.”

you smiled as you breathed out a quiet“night.”

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ

the hockey house was unusually quiet that evening. someone had left a hockey game playing on the television more out of habit than genuine interest, and dean and garrett were arguing half-heartedly over something that had happened during practice while tucker scrolled aimlessly through his phone.

allie and hannah occupied opposite ends of the couch, comparing notes for a class neither of you had been unfortunate enough to take.

logan had disappeared upstairs twenty minutes earlier to shower after practice.

you’d made yourself comfortable in the corner of the couch with one of your textbooks balanced across your knees, though you’d spent considerably longer reading the same paragraph than actually understanding it.

your attention drifted every few minutes. sometimes toward the television. sometimes toward whatever dean was complaining about now. sometimes… toward the staircase.

you heard footsteps before you looked up and logan appeared a second later, still rubbing a towel absently through his damp hair. he’d changed into gray sweats and a faded briar hoodie, the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. his hair was still slightly damp around the edges, curling faintly where it hadn’t quite dried yet.

your eyes lifted from the textbook almost automatically.

the smallest smile appeared the moment he noticed you. he wandered into the living room, only half paying attention to whatever dean was saying.

as he drew closer, you noticed one of the hoodie strings had twisted itself awkwardly beneath the collar.

without thinking—

completely, utterly without thinking—

you held out your hand, “logan.”

he stopped beside the couch, “hm?”

“come here.”

he stepped closer immediately. not because you’d sounded particularly serious. simply because you’d asked.

you reached up, gently tugging the twisted drawstring free before smoothing the collar flat against his chest. the fabric had folded awkwardly beneath the hood, so you fixed that too, “there.”

logan glanced down briefly, “thanks.”

you brushed one last damp strand of hair away from his forehead before letting your hand fall. the movement had become so instinctive over the past few months that neither of you gave it a second thought.

logan certainly didn’t, because he leaned down to press a brief kiss against your forehead before dropping onto the couch beside you. his hand found yours beneath the blanket draped across your lap with the same unconscious ease he’d done it a hundred times before.

it took several more seconds before you realised the room had gone completely silent.

you looked up to find that dean had stopped talking mid-sentence, garrett still held an unopened bag of chips in one hand, hannah was looking between the two of you with an expression that suggested several months’ worth of observations had suddenly rearranged themselves into one very obvious conclusion, allie blinked only once, and beau looked at each face in turn, then at you, then at logan. the corners of his mouth started twitching.

logan followed your gaze around the room, “oh.”

you looked at him, “shit, we forgot.”

dean found his voice first, “what.”

neither of you answered immediately. mostly because there didn’t seem to be much else to say.

you and logan looked at each other before you finally closed your textbook and set it carefully on the coffee table, “we’re dating.”

silence. dean blinked, again, “what.”

“logan and i are dating.”

another pause and garrett frowned, “since when?”

this time, logan answered, “about four months.”

garrett slowly lowered the bag of chips onto the coffee table as though any sudden movement might somehow change what he’d just heard, “four months.”

logan nodded, “yeah.”

garrett looked genuinely wounded, “i told you to ask her out.”

“i know.”

“you were already dating.”

“yeah.”

garrett stared at him, “why didn’t you tell me?”

logan frowned slightly, considering the question with complete sincerity, “well, you didn’t ask.”

beau made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough. dean ignored him completely as he looked between you and logan, “hold on.”he pointed accusingly between the two of you, “the pool game.”

you looked at him, “what about it?”

“i put you two together.”

“you did.”

“because i was trying to set you up,” he voice raised slightly as he spoke, obviously in complete disbelief.

“we know.”

“you knew?”

you nodded and dean looked personally offended, “the walk home from malone’s.”he turned toward allie, “you literally asked him to walk her home.”

allie slowly covered her face with one hand, “oh my god.”

you smiled apologetically, “he’d actually been walking me home for months.”

allie let out a quiet groan, “we spent an entire semester trying to get these two together.”

another beat of silence passed. then beau finally gave up trying to hold it in. his laugh echoed through the living room, loud enough that dean shot him an unimpressed look before the sound became contagious.

garrett started laughing next. then tucker. even hannah eventually shook her head, smiling into her coffee, “to be fair,” she said, “i did tell her i thought logan liked her.”

you laughed, “you did.”

hannah looked at you, “you could’ve said something.”

“…probably.”

dean threw both hands into the air, “probably?!”

you couldn’t help but smiling, “it was kind of funny.”

dean stared, “funny??”

then beau laughed even harder. dean dropped backward onto the couch with the sort of dramatic resignation usually reserved for championship losses, “i cannot believe,” he muttered, rubbing both hands over his face, “i spent four months accidentally rooting for a relationship that already existed.”

logan gave him a sarcastic smile, “hey, thanks.”

dean groaned loud enough for the entire house to hear, which only made everyone laugh harder.

through the middle of it all, unnoticed by everyone except you, logan’s fingers tightened gently around yours beneath the blanket, and when you looked around the room and found everyone still laughing at dean’s expense, you realized there wasn’t any reason to hide it anymore.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ

pairing – john logan x fem!reader

wc – 1.3k

synopsis – your friends know you’re sneaking around with someone and a simple slip up exposes just who that mystery man is

warnings – language, secret relationship, mentions of sex, intimacy in bed

note – this one's been sitting in my drafts for way too long! we needed a moment for the red bandana, he looks too damn good in it. enjoy ♡

masterlist

✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧

“I am so sorry I’m late,” you start, rushing to sit down at the table, putting your bag down and getting yourself situated, “I missed my alarm this morning so I had no time to shower and then as I was trying to get here, there was a detour so that added 20 extra minutes to my route. I tried to get here as fast as I could but I-“

Finished the GhostPrice comic! Ghost might be a scary dog but Price is holding the leash

———

Ilya and the little boy then visit an arcade, and get ice cream, and go bowling and go to a trampoline park, and Ilya is spotted in all these places holding the Shane Hollanbear and all the shopping bags with the toys he bought fot the kid. Paparazzi find it hilarious Ilya is holding the Shane bear with so much love.

Like Father, Like Son: Hollanov

— —

Myles Hollander-Rozanov

ACCOUNT DETAILS:

- bio:

- J-Julian

- 🕸️ྀི-Spiderman

- Ottawa 67s- Myles junior team

- 84 - his number, made up of 81 ans 24 for His Fathers.

- flags - things he supports and believes in.

- Link - Foundation his fathers started.

- user - as if his name was the name of a hurricane.

— —

POSTS: usually posts photos containing: Jules, Hockey, Himself, His family, Animals.

CAPTIONS: mainly consists of emojis and random weird or song lyrics!

PICTURES: always ends his posts with a meme, or funny photo.

— —

Julian Wells:

Bio:

- M - Myles

- =✪= - Captain America

- he/they - pronouns

- flags - things he believes in and supports

- link - foundation his boyfriend’s fathers created.

- user - like the fountain of youth, but with his nickname.

— —

POSTS: usually posts: his sister, myles, aesthetically pleasing photos. himself, animals

CAPTIONS: especially thought out captions abt what the posts about.

PICTURES: mainly aesthetic stuff, back of his head, the sky.

— —

Shane Hollander-Rozanov

Bio:

- ottawa: 24 - team he plays for and where he lives plus the number he wears

- father|husband- his roles in his real day to day life

- link - the foundation him and his now husband made.

- user: his name and number.

— —

POSTS: usually posts his family, hockey, coaching, events

CAPTIONS: usually well thought out quotes

PICTURES: just a bunch of random things from his week / day

— —

Ilya Hollander-Rozanov

bio:

- ottawa: 81 - where he lives and plays for, and his number

- father|husband - his roles in his day to day life

- link- the foundation him and his now husband made in honor of his late mother.

- user- his name as to be more professional

— —

POSTS- usually posts his family, especially his son and dog, anniversary posts, hockey

CAPTIONS: nothing special really, kinda copies miles and uses emojis but they don’t correspond to the posts

PICTURES: usually the most random photos ever, besides his photos of his son.

anyway they're all sitting around a fire pit having cunty little cocktails or smth and just enough has been consumed that the convo turns scandalous. someone (we'll say his stylist) is waxing poetic about her gorgeous new fwb and their equally gorgeous friend and says "that's a sandwich i'd love to be the jelly in."

and shane - tipsy but ever present - his ears sort of perk up puppy style across the fire like, "sandwich...?"

which inspires this whole conversation about handsy threesomes. and shane's gonna be honest, in theory that sounds hot. he's had his fair share of late-night jerk offs around the idea, don't get him wrong. but he's got ilya locked down - he's not sniffing around for a third. the concept, however...the physical sensation of being caught between two hot sweaty dudes? yeah that's juuuust enough to get him zoning out into the fire, tipsy mind having a field day filled with sweaty muscles and tight, delicious pressure crowding him in on all sides.

ilya recognizes this look in an instant, of course. he's sitting right next to him after all. "making your imaginary sandwich in front of your husband..." he tsks, but it's all in good fun. he's obviously very interested, just like everyone else who has tuned into the convo because shane's kinda-

"panini..."

"what?"

"meat in a panini," he drowsily explains, in what he thinks is a perfect and impressively cohesive explanation of the image in his head right now. "absolutely fuckin' crushed..."

ilya can't even pretend to be surprised because he knows his man. and his needs. and his frequent desires to be smashed into oblivion under ilya's full weight. not even fucking him, most times. just squeezing him. pressure for pressure's sake. "ah... of course." this makes perfect sense. even if the rest of the group doesn't seem to be following. "and who is bread for your meat, my panini?"

that gets a couple giggles, but shane is fucking locked in, brother. like he's making plans already. "well you, obviously."

"obviously." okay thank god. "and who else?" he's reaching out to run his fingers through the back of his husband's hair while he speaks. "who will help me keep you still? maybe bood would if we-"

"marleau."

ilya pauses. blinks. "what?"

"cliff marleau," shane says. as if ilya is seeking clarification on which marleau is being discussed and like-...

ilya tilts his head and it's a little judgy. he knows. like the careful tone he carries with what he says next but like...hello? "sweetheart, cliff marleau fractured your collarbone and put you in hospital..."

He’s never ever heard of that word associated with him in his life.

Probably.

Did he get you pregnant on purpose? Not this time. The man was eager to fuck, 7 months out of divorce, he’d been fooling around with you for a month or so. You were more than ten years younger than him, hot and ready on a silver platter, nice, had that sweet look in your eyes that John couldnt get enough of— not a chance he’d ignore your advances.

Everything was fine and dandy till you stopped taking his calls. Then his texts. You aren’t answering the door to your flat. Not posting on social media anymore. He doesn’t investigate.

Well, not for the first couple of months.

See the man doesn’t take too well with being left in the dirt, doesn’t not do relationships either.

Not after you so shyly asked if he could stay a little longer after your first one night stand. Not after he basked in your afterglow. Ever so tempting, got mystified in every inch of you, from you’re pretty face, every messy curl on your head, your breasts, to your stomach, your thighs your heat between them— that voice that was purring his ear about how thankful you were that he stayed because you’d never in your life been screwed like that.

“M sorry, that was too much.”

“No,” his hand caresses your face, “that was just enough. Ta dove.”

He intended on finding a spot into your life.

So when he finally sees you passing the street, curls high and out of your face, round stomach peaking out of the off shoulder cropped sweater you’re wearing, breast starting to get larger and swollen, a certain glow about you in the flowing beige skirt you wore— he knew for a fact the baby growing inside your womb was his and you would be his for the rest of your lives.

You didn’t know it yet, didn’t know it until he popped up at your new place with your favorite cake from your favorite bakery in hand. Cupped your face and murmured, ‘Was worried about you dovie.’ And your stupid heart fluttered.

Baby Daddy!Price is a good soon to be father, he joins you at the appointment and the baby classes, so adamant about you eating healthy but also helping you eat what you and the baby want. Rubs your feet and your shoulders, may or may not have given your cunt half of his manhood when you were desperate to cum, buys everything the baby may need and even curses out some family members because you wanted the baby shower to be small and intimate, not some big bash where everyone but you is drinking.

But the man doesn’t persuade you to move, you are, in fact, moving. Got you a bigger house so you could even have your own room (you weren’t redy to get back together yet), claims it’s all for the baby. The baby needs the family to be together. The baby needs to see his parents on good terms, the baby needs to be close to his grandparents, the baby likes his voice and his touch so John needs to keep his hands on you in some shape or form.

Lies.

But he’s tame for you. The old man adores you, loves the joy and experience you’re giving him that no one else on the planet has given him. And he’s sharing this experience with you. It can’t get any more perfect than that, can it?