#get it together jeffrey

[deepdwellingsteamboat]

From Beyond + commentary by Stuart Gordon, Brian Yuzna, Barbara Crampton and Jeffrey Combs

[joe-spookyy]

mfw i’m reading the re-animator novelization and dan cain references universal studios’s 1941 hit horror film The Wolf Man (i love universal’s monster movies and love to see them referenced): 😁

me when the author of the novel misspells larry talbot (the wolf man himself) as larry tolbot and i have to act like i’m not literally seething at this incredibly minor oversight: ☹️

[captsharonstark]

"The end of episode six we've got this split screen kind of image where Maggie Negan are almost like sharing a face. To me that is the larger metaphor for what's happened in this season is these two people who started out so far apart & in coming together they’ve started to understand one another & they’re starting to see that there is this way out, probably a long way off, but it has to be through each other.” - Eli Jorne.

[bonnielunkas]

Almost To The Big 30!

( click for better quality i BEG. )

VERY proud of how this one came out...

alt version under the cut cuz i thought it looked cool v

[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

NOT KRIPKE OUT HERE TRYING TO BREAK THE INTERNET WITH THAT POST-CREDITS SCENE ON THE BOYS

👏👏👏

[rabidfox45]

feeling a bit sick, might watch Sumoful mind for the 100th time tomorrow!!

[stardustandrockets]

Hi, Barbie! What's your favorite pink book?

I haven't seen the Barbie movie yet, but I wanted to contribute to the stacks of pink books in its honor. I have more, but these were the books with pink spines without taking off a dust jacket. My favorite of this stack is The Undertaking of Hart and Mercy by Megan Bannen.

Books from top to bottom:

• Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute by Talia Hibbert

• Meet Cute Diary by Emery Lee

• Love on the Brain by Ali Hazelwood

• Red White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

• Never Ever Getting Back Together by Sophie Gonzales

• It Devours by Joseph Fink and Jeffery Cranor

• The Undertaking of Hart and Mercy by Megan Bannen

• Happy Place by Emily Henry

If you swipe, you'll see two of my childhood Barbies I found while at my parents' last week. The one on the left I redressed, but the one on the right is still in the last outfit I put her in 20 years ago before they had to be packed away after our house flooded. I decided not to keep them, as they'd only continue to be packed away, but it was cool getting to dress them up again for a little bit.

[bitchboyblonde]

Jeffrey forever having a breakdown over Sarah 'ditching him' for A Man Who Doesn't Have Money.

[thewaltcrew]

Director Kirk Wise, screenwriter Linda Woolverton, and actor Robby Benson on casting the Beast [x]

They gave me an incredible amount of freedom. I didn't want Beast to be a cartoon character. I played it as though I were doing a Broadway show. As if this was a living person. And I wanted him to be funny. By funny, I don't mean shtick or one-liners. I am talking about real comedy. When real comedy works, and is truthful, especially with the Beast, it comes out of the fact that he is so pathetic. For some reason, I really understood that. Ha! Because of that, they gave me a lot of leeway. [x]

My first audition was recorded on, of all things, a Sony Walkman. As a musician, I had branched out into recording engineer and loved to play with sound. When I saw the Sony Walkman I knew it had a little condenser microphone in it, and if I were to get too loud, the automatic compressor and built-in limiter would 'squash' the voice— and there would be very little dynamic range to the performance. I did a quick assessment and wondered how many people who had come in to audition for the part were making that error: playing the Beast with overwhelming decibels, compressing the vocal waveforms. I decided to give the Beast 'range.' Because of my microphone technique, and an understanding of who I wanted Beast to be, they kept asking me to come back and read different dialogue. After my fifth audition, Jeffrey Katzenberg the hands-on guardian of the film, said the part was mine…

Beauty and the Beast was so refreshingly fun and inventively creative to work on that I couldn't wait to try new approaches to every line of dialogue. Don Hahn is one of the best creative producers I have ever worked with. The two young directors, Kirk Wise and Gary Trousdale, were fantastic and their enthusiasm was contagious. I not only was allowed to improvise, but they encouraged it. It never entered my mind that I was playing an animated creature. I understood the torment that Beast was going through: he felt ugly; had a horrible opinion of himself, and had a trigger-temper. Those are things that, if done right, are the perfect ingredients for comedy. Painful and pathetic comedy— but honest. The kind of comedy I understood...

In the feature world of Disney animation, the actors always recorded their dialogue alone in a big studio, with only a microphone and the faint images of the producers, writers, directors and engineer through a double-paned set of acoustic glass. Paige O'Hara and I became good friends; it was her idea that for certain very intimate scenes, such as when Beast is dying, we record together. We were able to play these scenes with an honest conviction that is often absent in the voice-over world...

The success of this film was the culmination of a team effort but I must say, the honors go to the animators— and for me (Beast), that's Glen Keane — and to Howard Ashman and Alan Menken. This was the perfect example of a crew who 'cared'. And the final results (every frame) of the film represent that sentiment. [x]

[bweeeb]

LOVING HER

Pedro Pascal × youngest reader.

Summary: Everyone could see the chemistry but neither of them believed it really existed.

Warnings: my writing, reader age 23, short.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

Chaos. Flashes. Makeup touch-ups. Instructions being shouted from every direction.You could’ve lost your mind—But there he was, sitting calmly with his arm stretched across the back of the white couch, his thumb gently brushing your bare shoulder as he listened attentively to the director.

Pedro had always been careful with you.As careful as someone could possibly be—even from the very beginning.The way he constantly checked in on how you felt about the scenes. The way he worried whether you had eaten that day—because somehow, he had noticed that whenever you filmed sex scenes, you wouldn’t eat beforehand, feeling too bloated to feel sexy in front of the cameras.He cared if you were sleeping well.If you were cold.If you were anxious.

Pedro paid attention to you all the time.You had always heard good things about Pedro Pascal—the gentle giant—and figured he must just be like that with everyone. Pedro was simply too good of a person.And you had made sure not to let your little fantasies get too far.

"So," the interviewer said, "this movie is definitely a big hit with age-gap readers—and, of course, with the massive Pedro Pascal and Y/n fanbase, because let’s be honest here..."

He pointed at the two of you before continuing.

"What was it like filming something like this? You guys have insane chemistry—crazy good—and the audience is going to lose it. Was it difficult?"

"I mean…" Pedro started.He rubbed his beard, smiled, and looked at you. "It’s a dangerous road. Of course we had to study how the characters would react to each situation... but honestly, it wasn’t hard. Things felt easy with Y/n."

"Yeah," you agreed. "I think because the characters have such a big age difference—and Pedro and I are a little distant in the same way Alek and Angel are—it just... worked naturally. We worked really well together."

"You're really an angel,"

Pedro muttered with a laugh, making you turn to him with a huge smile.His fingers brushed through your hair, and the interviewer subtly watched the moment.The chemistry between you two was unmistakable.

"I can't argue with that either,"

the interviewer said with a laugh, forcing you both to look away from each other.

"So," he continued, "living and acting through a story that explores a relationship with a big age gap... do you think it can work in real life? Or should it stay in books and movies?"

"I think it depends,"you answered simply.

"Yeah," Pedro added, "I think it depends on communication. A relationship can’t be based on one that failed—or even one that succeeded."

The interviewer nodded thoughtfully.

"But you once said you wouldn’t date women under thirty, right?"

"Yeah, I said that,"

Pedro admitted softly.Your gaze dropped from him to your hands resting in your lap—nothing you hadn’t already known.

"Would you date an older guy, Y/n?"

"Yeah. My parents have a fifteen-year age gap, and I think... if it’s the right person, it just works. No problem."

"Wow, that’s a really cool way to see it.Can you name three DILFs you’d hook up with—or is that too much?"

"No," you said, laughing. "Let’s give the people what they want. Chaos."

Everyone laughed, but you could feel Pedro stiffen slightly beside you on the couch."Good, good," the interviewer grinned. "We love chaos."

"Alright," you said playfully, "James Franco, Jensen Ackles, Aaron Taylor-Johnson... and since I follow Jasen on Instagram and am obsessed with his adorable family, I’ll throw in a bonus—Jeffrey Dean Morgan.And just so no one gets it twisted—this is all for entertainment, okay?I honestly love their wives even more."

You pulled a face, and the interviewer laughed loudly—unlike Pedro, who was smiling at the floor, but not like he had been smiling just a few seconds earlier."

Pedro, do you agree with that?"

"They’re good choices..." Pedro said, "but none of them would be enough for her."

"No?"

You turned to him, laughing."No. I'm a daddy bigger than any of them. You know that."he said, voice low, as he ran his hand gently along your face, down to your chin.

"Maybe. Maybe not. You never showed me,"

you teased back.When the interview aired three days later, you could barely keep up with all the comments and the endless edits about you and Pedro.You almost started to believe there might actually be something between you two—But a month later, the fantasy had faded away.What you didn’t know was that Pedro had been watching it all too—hiding at home like some lovesick teenager, as if the "old man" wasn't fifty years old. But because of exactly that—his age—he decided to let you go.Because he believed you deserved someone better.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

[bambiimutt]

He makes you cry during an Argument.

Arguments with these boys? What could possibly go wrong..

ೃ࿔*:･

Headcannons and short stories under the cut!

ೃ࿔*:･

TW!! talk of Hoodie stalking, but not major! I think that’s it!!

Jeffrey Hodex:

- you’d think an argument with your boyfriend who loves you oh so dearly would hopefully end in him apologizing. Wanting to make sure he didn’t say anything to you to hurt you.. but you sometimes forget he’s not the normal person.

-Jeff has anger issues and it’s not a surprise to anyone when it’s brought up. So typically with any argument he has, his anger tends to get the better of him.

-which means if the argument is small it’s bound to be blown out of proportion, if it’s a pretty bad argument it’s about to be even worse.

-he doesn’t like to listen. To him he’s always right. He’s never wrong even if deep down he knows he actually fucked up he doesn’t want to admit it because he doesn’t want to look “weak” or too “soft”

-he typically doesn’t feel bad if you end up getting hurt emotionally, you’ll get a good ol scoff and roll of the eyes while he tells you “it’s not that big of a fucking deal, you don’t need to be so emotional.” Along the lines of that.

-but… you might just tug a few heart strings when he realized he’s made you cry. It’s when he sees that he’s scared you that he breaks a little. He’s got a habit of punching walls, breaking shit around the house when you both argue, screaming in your face.. and if it all leads to you finally breaking down and shaking that’s where he finally draws his line.

-he didn’t mean to scare you.. not like that at least. The last thing he wants is for you to be scared of him. He loves you.. even if he shows it in odd ways. He’s an asshole yes but he’s your asshole.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Would you just fucking Listen!” Jeff screamed out. His hands were immediately gripping onto his pants, trying his damned hardest to not punch the closest thing to him. But he can’t help himself the moment you cross your arms and give him that fucking look. “Jeffrey. Cut it out, I’ve listened to you for the past 40 fucking minutes.. you need to listen to me-“ you’re cut off quickly hearing his hand collide with the wall and a loud grunt leaving his lips. He’s slightly heaving, breathing heavily and hair a bit messy in front of his face. You jumped a bit, backing up quickly when he immediately whipped around to trudge towards you, black combat boots making him taller then he already was. His large hand was quick to grab your jaw and squish your cheeks together just slightly. “No you fucking listen to me. Stop being a fucking bitch. Why do you have to pick at everything I fucking do, huh?! Huh?!” If he was a scrawny guy you’d say you’d be able to at least get free but no.. no he was a big guy, tall. Muscular, broad shoulders.. built chest. His biceps twitched slightly as his grip grew harder. There was no way you were escaping this. Not with him. Your small hands pushed at his arm and your eyes watered, a tear falling onto his fingers. Oh.. Jeff’s grip softened as he slowly let go. His form lowering himself so he was at your level. “Oh baby.. oh..” his hands hesitated before cupping your cheeks and his lips are kissing at the corners of your lips, trailing towards your ear. “I didn’t mean it..” his voice is deep, gruff and low in your ear as you immediately wrap your arms around his waist. “I’m sorry..” really it’s the only time you’ll get a sorry out of him, a genuine one at that.

Tobias Rogers

- he’s one of the ones who’s a bit more understanding. He can’t exactly understand physical pain or frustration but he can completely understand emotional pain and anger.. and how fucking awful it can be to handle. So when he’s stood, tall and lanky in front of you, hands swinging in the air and his voice raising he can suddenly feel the room shift to a hurt.. deep cut feeling.

- he tries not to yell he tries to hear you out when you both have an argument, but having BPD can be an issue when it comes to that.. you say one thing in a slight tone and he’s set off. Oh? So this is his fault suddenly? Why did you have to say it like that? You could have said it this way. Why do you have to be such a fucking asshole?

-when in reality that’s not how you meant it at all.. and yes Toby does feel bad for it afterwards he shouldn’t have lashed out that way, he should have sat and listened and maybe asked why you said it that way.. but sometimes things get the better of us.

-he’s not always the one to apologize afterwards but he does when he knows he really fucked up. He can’t lose you not to something so fucking stupid. “I-I’m sorry.. you didn’t deserve to hear that.. to e-endure any of that..” with a sniffle you look up at him teary eyed. Oh that really hurts. “It’s okay Toby” he’s immediately at your side, hands brushing your hair back and placing gentle kisses to your jaw. It kills him when you cry.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“I don’t know Toby I’m just tired..” this is what set him off. The way you said it. You were tired? of this? Of him? Of this relationship? “Are you fucking serious?” He speaks with his teeth clenched together, his head resting in his hands before he’s looking up at your slowly. His body slightly twitches from time to time, though when he was angry it usually became an issue for him, twitching far too often, clearing his throat more aggressively. His tics would normally become more violent in some ways. “Are we just d-done then? That’s it just b-because you’re tired yo-you can’t fucking walk away-“ his arm flys up in the air as he stands, his hands coming to rub at his face and the patch of hair on his chin. His tired droopy eyes dart towards you. You didn’t necessarily start crying because he scared you it was more of the the stress of the situation. “Toby please that’s not what I meant.” He still hasn’t noticed as his tall figure is rambling on, tics making his occasional grip and smack to his leg but he of course can’t feel it. When he finally looks at you he realizes you’ve been crying and it stops. The room becomes quiet and he twitches a few more times before softly kneeling on the floor where you sat. “I shouldn’t have assumed like that.. I’m sorry..” he’s softly laying you down on the floor as his lips trail your neck, his hands placing your arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry.” He mumbles against your neck.

-Ben Lawman/drowned

- to be honest he’s probably not the one who started it. He’s usually pretty calm, and quiet…. Except for when he wants to act like a child and become ignorant and downright inappropriate.

-he can be perverted.. gross and this is usually where the arguments start, not that you don’t like him nor the way he acts it’s more when he says things he shouldn’t be saying. So you typically end up yelling at him and he will normally sit embarrassed and feeling a bit guilty.. he didn’t think you’d get so upset.

- on occasion if the argument isn’t about that and about something else he still is usually the one to just take it but there are rare moments where he snaps back. And when he does. Oh boy.

-constant pacing back and forth, hands in his hair, sharp glares at you and laughing in disbelief. He’ll sometimes say things he doesn’t mean. He’s usually not one to yell but when he does you aren’t really expecting it. So it scares you.. and the tears finally break.

- ben only stares for a moment. “Shit.” Yeah he fucked up big time. He immediately feels guilty and he immediately rushes towards you to pull you into a tight embrace. He didn’t mean to take it that far.. he really didn’t, knowing it was him who made you cry makes him want to break down himself.

ೃ࿔*:･

“You can hate me yknow, I won’t blame you, or be angry..” Ben mumbled against your hair, your sniffling shattering his dead heart even further. You look up at the blonde, your fingers lacing their way into his hair as you force a bit of a smile “I just.. I hate when we argue like that..” your voice breaks causing Ben to swallow. Oh no. There’s that lump in his throat. His hands rub at your back before feeling his way towards your lower half, squeezing gently. “I know babe. Don’t listen to me when I get like that yeah?” You give a gentle smile as he softly lifts you up, bringing you closer as he grabs his controller, getting ready to play his game and have you relax against him. Occasionally he’ll presses kisses to your forehead. He doesn’t like to talk about the arguments, maybe because he doesn’t know how to handle his emotions and yours at the same time or maybe he’s just scared it’ll lead to another argument, but he apologized like he always does and makes sure your comfy against him while he games. As long as you’re content with it, he’s content.

-Masky/ Tim Wright

- a bit like Jeff I just think he’s a bit more mellow, he won’t ever apologize unless he knows he’s actually in the wrong. Which ends up being majority of the time. You know he has his episodes, where he blacks out and doesn’t remember a lot of the things he ends up doing.

- he will sometimes black out during an argument. It’s not often but when he does it’s like arguing with a brick wall. Like Jeff he won’t listen. He refuses to listen to anything you say because In the moment he’s the one who’s right. But he’ll never go as far to say mean things like Jeff does. No Tim tends to stop himself before he does.

-he storms off frequently. I think he more or so hates the emotions that comes with this. He hates the yelling, the way you look at him with disbelief and anger.. Its more so he doesn’t feel like fucking shit up for being an asshole to someone who genuinely cares about him. So he leaves you to your emotions to figure out, and if they aren’t figured out by the time he gets back he tries his best to help. Even if he does seem annoyed.

- typically your arguments are more him being snarky, sarcastic and being too logical, he can raise his voice from time to time but he’s only ever yelled at you once, and he still beats him self up for it to this day. Seeing you cry at how angry he got, how you still reached out for him in your meltdown caused by him.. and you still reached for him.

ೃ࿔*:･

“They’re pills y/n, prescription pills. I’ll be fine you know I need to take them. Why do I need to keep telling you thi-“ you cut him off quickly your voice already laced with concern as it shook. “Because you take more then you should be taking Tim. I don’t like it I don’t want you to hurt yourself..” he understood where you came from yes but what you needed to do was stop it. Just stop worrying about him. “Please for the love of god, I’m fine! I’m fucking fine! I’ll be fine! Please just stop it. I hate how much you worry and stress yourself over me. They’re fucking pills, I take them when needed. So just stop!” Now he didn’t scream super loud, but it was loud enough for you to feel the lumpy tingly feeling in your throat bubble, your hands softly twisting together “s-sorry..” you squeaked out. Tears brimmed your eyes as your bottom lip quivered. He watched you carefully for a moment, grimacing a bit as he watched your face twist with sadness.. and you slowly making your way towards him. Tim opens his arms and quietly pulls you in, one hand rubbing at the back of your head and the other gripping your back. “I’m an asshole. I know you’re just worried.” He mumbled quietly, lips pressed to your forehead as you hide your face in his chest. “You’re okay..” he continues to mumble, awkwardly trying to find a way to comfort you further.

Hoodie/ Brian Thomas

-he’s quiet. Very quiet. I think he’s the most gentle when it comes to arguments with his S/O. He’s scared to hurt you, always in any circumstances. He’s more observant, he knows when the argument gets too much for you just by a single movement.

-though he does have his moments where he does get angry back, he can normally control his temper. Usually the argument starts by something he’s done so he can handle it, he can deal with it. He tells you “I promise I’ll change, just give me some time” and you believe him because he does change but then he falls back into his habits, leaving for weeks on end, taking too many pills, his stalker tendencies.

-the argument this time is unclear, you probably don’t even remember by the Time Brian starts yelling back at you. His hair is messy from running his hands through it one too many times, he’s clenching his fists and trying to breathe as he shakily keeps his voice down.

-even in moments like this he still thinks of you. Not wanting to hurt you nor scare you.. he just lets you have your outburst and then you both move on. But tonight was different.

-he tends to ignore you when he gets worked up in an argument. If he’s not yelling back then majority of the time he’s just silent. His back towards you. But only when he’s angry right back at you. He’ll give you that silent treatment for hours.

-but this time. He made you cry. And he’s stopped dead in his tracks, eyes softening, getting down on his knees and resting his head against your stomach,his hands holding onto your waist. Sigh… he just had to fuck shit up again didn’t he.

ೃ࿔*:･

“Brian you can’t just leave me for weeks on end.. you can’t just.. disappear then show up like nothings happened. Where do you go..? Is there someone else” at this point he’s just been listening to you, letting you vent out but when you suddenly accuse him of cheating on you.. he snaps. You really think HE would cheat on you?! It’s not like he didn’t spend months watching you, becoming so infatuated with you to the point that it would make anybody so fucking sick to their stomach. But he couldn’t tell you that he couldn’t tell you he’s loved you far longer. So he stands, looks at you with anger in his eyes, a hint of sadness flashing on his face “don’t fucking accuse me of cheating on you.” He points a shaky finger in your face “don’t you ever. You don’t understand the shit I’d do for you, the shit I DO for you.” He’s close now, watching as you look up at him shakily. “This S-still doesn’t explain where you go Brian.. you-“ he’s grabbing your wrist and pulling you close “no listen to me. I want to tell you I want to tell you so badly but I can’t. I can’t. I just can’t.” His eyes are averting he’s becoming shaky himself, he’s panicking. Trust him. Is what he wants to tell you, that It’ll all be okay, he’ll be okay in a couple of days, he’ll change just give him time.. but he can’t lie to you.. not now. It would only make shit worse for you in this moment. When he finally looks back at you he sees you staring up at him, not a word spoken but tears streaming down your face, and your wrists still held tight in his large hands. “I..” he softly brings your hand down, lowering himself to the ground as he watches you still stare straight ahead. He scared you. Brian goes silent and lets himself sit on his knees, his hands running up under your shirt to hold onto your waist and burying his head into your stomach. “I’m sorry” he whispered gently, shivering when he feels your hands curl into his hair and finally look down at him. You know he feels guilty. He’s only trying to protect you.

[formosusiniquis]

“This is a song off of an album, anyway,” Jeff trails off, trying to let Eddie start the riff for the next song. But he's not about to let this go unchecked.

“Jeffrey,” he drags out the name into as many syllables as he can manage, giving the end a singsong-y trill. “Jeffrey, did you forget which album the next song is off of?”

Gareth isn't mic'd but Freak is, so he can hear that at least one of them picks up his teasing with an ooooh.

“We don't need to tell them what every album is, they paid good money to see us. Hell, some of them probably saw us when we were debuting it.”

“But you announced the last one,” Freak says.

“An excellent point, Freakazoid.” Eddie agrees, “And he certainly set this one up like he was going to share again, didn't he?”

“He did,” Freak's nod is a little more exaggerated than it needs to be, playing it up for the nosebleed seats in the crowd.

“We've got a set list to get to, these people don't wanna be here all night.” Jeff tries.

“This is a Corroded Coffin crowd, my man, they don't bow to the whims of things like a bedtime.”

“Thank you to everyone who took advantage of the AARP presale,” Gareth adds, the bit has gone on long enough that he's had stage crew bring him a mic.

“Gareth had his knee replaced three months ago and he's here. These old fogies can put up with the show going an extra twenty minutes, while we dig down on this right?”

The crowd cheers, Eddie only waves them on a bit to amp them up. He sends his shit eating-est grin Jeff’s way as they shout.

“See, it's fine. Now, did ye of the memory vitamin supplements forget what album the song was from?” He turns to the audience more directly, “The people want to know!”

“Fine, yes, you've written so many songs about fucking Steve, they've all started to blur together. Does that make you happy?”

“Thrilled,” and he is. It's the best thing he's heard all day, and he gets to be on stage again for three generations of fans. “This next one is off of Hunt the Freaks, and it's actually about him fucking me.”

[rainrot4me]

TW: Choking, suffocation, hand job, brat tamer reader, teasing

𐚁₊⊹

Jeff is so comfortable with being overbearing all of the time.

It’s just his personality: yelling too loudly, hitting too hard, and especially pushing the boundaries of comfortability with others. Any chance he could get to provoke a fight he was going to take.

He’s a tease, a prick who likes to watch others cringe at the worst insult he can conjure up.

So, when he’s nudging your side and pestering you about how easy you are to make mad, it’s no surprise when you come back swinging.

Now, Jeff is flailing his legs, kicking his heels into the hardwood in an attempt to escape.

You’ve pinned him in a headlock, bicep and forearm locked tightly around his throat and squeezing hard enough to make him cough. His hands are clawing at your skin, a panicky attempt to get you off of him, but the lack of oxygen is proving difficult.

“Uhn- Fuc- Hnng-!”

He can’t even get words out, labored-cutoff breaths getting caught in his throat as you pull him back against your chest and restraining him further.

“Sorry? What was that? Gonna have to speak up, Jeffrey.”

You’re taunting him, sitting back on your knees as you hook your free hand behind his head and push, creating more pressure against his airway.

He lets out a rushed cough, a deep grunt as he’s trying to fight, kicking his legs like a kid.

You’re nearly satisfied, ready to let off and leave him embarrassed, but your eye catches something that makes you hesitate.

Jeff’s face is red, cheeks flushed deeper than you’ve ever really seen. But what really catches your attention is the way his eyes roll back.

His legs are shifting, pushing his back firmly against your chest as his jaw hangs slack. He’s gasping, eyes fluttering and rolling up into his skull with an almost pleasurable edge.

Your suspicion is confirmed with a tempted look towards his crotch, a noticeable bulge pressing firmly against the fabric of his jeans. You falter for a moment, the tense in your arm relaxing as you watch Jeff’s thighs press together.

You’re also surprised at the way the killer is pushing your forearm back against his neck, almost like he’s upset you’ve let go. An embarrassed string of noises floods from his lips when you retighten your arm back, the twinge of excitement in your chest making you brave.

“God, you’re a freak.”

Sliding your hand from the back of his head, you’re reaching to his open mouth, daring to run your fingertips against his lips. Jeff halts for a moment, rough breathing all you can hear before he’s opening his mouth further and taking your fingers inside.

He sucks in the digits, his jaw falling loose when it becomes too much and he’s dizzy for air again. Groans and huffs fill the room as you’re pushing your fingers deeper, sliding the pads of your fingertips against his tongue and reaching for more.

Jeff’s gagging when your knuckles meet his lips, fingers brushing against the tightness of his throat as you watch his eyes strain to shut. Even without being choked, gagging on your fingers is making the killer dizzy, his head nearly spinning before you’re dragging your hand from his lips.

“Hah- Fuck you… Huhn- Buh- Bitch-”

His voice is ragged, snapping his anger between heavy inhales. You don’t listen, readjusting your grip as Jeff’s placing his hands on your thighs, watching carefully as you’re running your spit-soaking fingers towards his jeans.

“Hold on-”

Jeff’s trying to sit up, your arm locking back around his neck and holding him firm into your chest. He’s forced to watch as you single-handedly undo his belt, tugging the zipper down and pushing your hand under the waistline of his boxers.

He’s gasping against your arm, his nails dug into your skin as he watches you push the fabric down, his cock slipping out and bobbing heavily against his abdomen.

You take the length in your saliva-soaked fingers, gripping tightly and smiling when Jeff’s whole body jerks with it.

He’s whining, a labored hiss below you when your forearm hooks tight around his throat and his eyes begin to roll back again.

You jerk your wrist, tugging the length roughly as Jeff’s hips jerk along with it, desperate noises pushing past his lips. His heels dig into the ground, spreading his legs as he becomes lost in the dizziness and adrenaline rush of it all.

You grip onto the head of his cock, running a thumb on the head and gliding against the slit. Jeff grits his teeth at that, a gutteral groan echoing as you smile, whispering against his flushed ear.

“For someone who talks so much shit, you sure do give in real easy. What? Can’t fight back when you’re being handled like a bitch?”

The attempted curse Jeff tries to spit gets cut off when your arm tightens against his neck, his heads reaching back up to grip against your skin as you continue to pump his wilting cock.

So much pre-cum is drooling from the tip, his lightheadedness forcing his body to compute with your every touch.

“Fuu- Hngh-”

He’s drooling now, tears pricking at the corner of his heavy eyes when you teasingly bite against his ear, nibbling against the shell of hot skin. He whines out of shame, squirming against the overwhelming sensations.

Every exasperated noise and jerk of his drowsy body is disheveled. He’s desperate now, chasing every twist of your fist on the head of his cock and every tense of your bicep against his airway.

Humiliation burns his cheeks when you whisper, “So you do get off on this…” He doesn’t know if it’s an insult or a tease, but he can’t help but gush at the feeling.

He can’t stand it any more, the corners of his vision slowly darkening when he feels his abdomen strain and knot, his dark cheeks soaked in tears when he finally cums.

Your hand tightens against the base of his cock, hot stripes of cum shooting onto his stomach and drooling from his tip. Jeff’s head is so light, temples pulsing when you finally release your grasp on him, panicked inhales and gasps following.

The killer leans back against your chest, your hand still firmly gripped onto the base of his cock when he finally recatches his breath.

“You’re so disgusting.”

You’re teasing, releasing your grip on him and reaching to grip his face, hand tightened onto his jaw. You force him to look up at you, heavy eyes and darkly flushed cheeks flushing you with pride.

“Fuck you.”

His voice is hoarse, throat raw and aching as he glares, your answering smile making him falter.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He nearly moans, that overbearing intensive exterior faltering when he’s forced to stare into your excited eyes.

It seems he’s finally found his match, but Jeff always did like a fight.

[thegroovyarchives]

Old Navy Compilation CDs 1996-2003

(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x) Track Listings under the Read More

Old Navy Loves You, 2000 Could It Be I'm Falling In Love - Spinners Baby I Love You - Aretha Franklin I Can't Help Myself - The Four Tops Betcha By Golly, Wow - The Stylistics Let's Get It On - Marvin Gaye Something - Sarah Vaughan What You Won't Do For Love - Bobby Caldwell Baby Come To Me - Regina Belle Forget Me Nots - Patrice Rushen Runaway Love - Linda Clifford Got To Love Somebody - Sister Sledge Bill Withers and Grover Washington, Jr. - Just The Two Of Us Old Navy Beach Party, 1999 Boy From Ipanema - Crystal Waters Wipe Out - The Surfaris Surf City - Jan & Dean Summer In The City - The Lovin' Spoonful Under The Boardwalk - The Drifters Sunny Afternoon - The Kinks California Nights - Lesley Gore Groovin' - The Rascals Suavecito - Malo In The Summertime - Mungo Jerry Pipeline - The Chantays Summersong - Roy Orbison Old Navy: Cool Kids & Groovy Grown-Ups, 1996 The Name Game - Shirley Ellis Lollipop - The Chordettes Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow - The Persuasions Alley-Oop - The Hollywood Argyles Rock-in Robin - Bobby Day Don't Worry, Be Happy - Bobby McFerrin Coconut - Harry Nilsson Splish Splash - Bobby Darin Shimmy, Shimmy, Ko-Ko Bop - Little Anthony & The Imperials The Loco-Motion - Little Eva Yakety Yak - The Coasters See You Later Alligator - Bill Haley & His Comets Old Navy: Hits of '80s - New Wave Faves, 2001 Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This) - Eurythmics She Blinded Me With Science - Thomas Dolby Rebel Yell - Billy Idol Rock This Town - Stray Cats She Drives Me Crazy - Fine Young Cannibals I Melt With You - Modern English Too Shy - Kajagoogoo Karma Chameleon - Culture Club Mickey - Toni Basil Hit Me With Your Best Shot - Pat Benatar Call Me - Blondie The Reflex - Duran Duran

Old Navy: Groove On Over, 2003 It's Rainin' Men - The Weather Girls Last Night A DJ Saved My Life - Indeep Good Times - Chic (Every Time I Turn Around) Back In Love Again - L.T.D. (featuring Jeffrey Osbourne) Shining Star - Earth, Wind & Fire Behind The Groove - Teena Marie Best Of My Love - The Emotions Lady Marmalade - Labelle Got To Be Real - Cheryl Lynn No Parkin On The Dance Floor - Midnight Star The Party Has Just Begun - Freestyle You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real) - Sylvester

Old Navy: Dim The Lights - Smooth Sounds Of The '70s, 2003 I Keep Forgettin' - Michael McDonald Hello It's Me - Todd Rundgren What You Won't Do For Love - Bobby Caldwell Lowdown - Boz Scaggs Dream Weaver - Gary Wright Summer Breeze - Seals & Crofts "T" Plays It Cool - Marvin Gaye Everybody Loves Sunshine - Roy Ayers Ubiquity Sara Smile - Daryl Hall & John Oates Black Water - The Doobie Brothers Tin Man - America Biggest Part Of Me - Ambrosia

From Old Navy With Love, 2001 There Must Be An Angel - Eurythmics Together Forever - Rick Astley Freeway Of Love - Aretha Franklin Jessie's Girl - Rick Springfield Hold Me Now - Thompson Twins I'll Tumble 4 Ya - Culture Club With Every Beat Of My Heart - Taylor Dayne (I Just) Died In Your Arms - Cutting Crew Lost In Emotion - Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam Point Of No Return - Exposé Kiss On My List - Hall & Oates More, More, More, Pt.1 - Andrea True Connection

Old Navy: Get Up and Dance, 1998 Cool Places - Sparks with Jane Wiedlin We Got the Beat - Go-Go's Crush on You - The Jets Walking on Sunshine - Katrina and The Waves Let's Hear It for the Boy - Deniece Williams I Want Candy - Bow Wow Wow Walk Like an Egyptian - The Bangles Instant Replay - Dan Hartman Footloose - Kenny Loggins Sing a Song - Earth, Wind & Fire Listen to the Music - The Doobie Brothers Celebration - Kool & The Gang Old Navy Presents Retro Rock, 2002 Maggie May - Rod Stewart China Grove - The Doobie Brothers I Just Want To Celebrate - Rare Earth American Pie - Don McLean Takin' Care Of Business - Bachman-Turner Overdrive Joy To The World - Three Dog Night Aquarius/Let The Sunshine In - The 5th Dimension Proud Mary - Ike & Tina Turner Nothing From Nothing - Billy Preston Jungle Boogie - Kool & The Gang Got To Give It Up - Marvin Gaye Love Rollercoaster - Ohio Players Old Navy Summer Getaway, 2001 Hot Fun In The Summertime - Sly & The Family Stone Summertime - Billy Stewart Sun Is Shining - Bob Marley The Tide Is High - Blondie Caribbean Queen (No More Love On The Run) - Billy Ocean Too Hot - Kool & The Gang Summer Breeze - The Isley Brothers Sunshine Superman - Donovan California Dreamin' - The Mamas And The Papas A Summer Song - Chad & Jeremy Echo Beach - Martha & The Muffins In The Summertime - Shaggy (featuring Rayvon)

[marifilue]

Unraveled

Wordcount: 3.2K

Pairing: Logan Howlett x GF!Mutant!Reader (no use of y/n)

Tags: Violence, blood, established relationship, fluff, language, mature content.

Oneshot: You find Logan’s overprotective side endearing most of the time, but it can also be downright infuriating too. If only you knew how much he cares.

Being indestructible was a privilege Logan had, but it didn't mean he was invulnerable. And when it came to him, no enemy ever hit harder than his own damn temper.

People on the X-mansion have always had something to say about it before you got together with him.

"You know what you’re getting into, right?”

“Logan’s got a temper. That man’s a ticking bomb.”

His anger simmers beneath the surface like a ticking bomb, just waiting for the right trigger. And honestly? You get it. If you’d lived as long as he has—seen what he’s seen, lost what he’s lost—you’d be just as grumpy and short-tempered too. What you can’t wrap your head around is how, after all these years, he still manages to be a good man, the good man.

For someone labeled as hotheaded, Logan has a level of self-control that never fails to leave you in awe. He never lets his emotions get the best of him—not when it comes to you.

He’s never snapped, never lost himself in front of you. He’s just Logan. Rough around the edges, a little too protective at times, but always sweet, always caring. You wouldn't even change a thing about him, you love every part of the package.

He's your man, your Logan.

You’ve fought alongside Logan on plenty of missions. With your ability to absorb kinetic energy and immaculate combat skills, Professor send you in the field often.

Logan, on the other hand, isn’t always thrilled about it. His overprotectiveness grates on your nerves—he acts like it’s his job to keep you safe, even though you’ve proven yourself more times than you can count. A few scratches are nothing, but to Logan, even the smallest bruise is unacceptable.

Tonight’s mission is no different. The Professor is sending you and Logan to investigate an underground mutant fight ring—captured mutants, forced to battle for entertainment, all for the amusement of some sick humans.

Logan is not happy about it. Not just because of what’s happening inside that ring, but because Charles is only sending the two of you. His reasoning? You and Logan are the most skilled in hand-to-hand combat in which he's not wrong, and all you need to do is pose as a fighter. The rest of the team will be outside, monitoring the situation and ready to move if things go south.

Logan doesn’t trust it. And, knowing him, he sure as hell doesn’t like you walking into that kind of danger.

As the two of you walked toward the place, Logan brought a cigar to his lips, rolling it between his fingers before biting down and sparking his lighter. The brief flicker of flame illuminated his face as he took a slow drag, the ember glowing at the tip. He exhaled a cloud of smoke into the cold night air, his voice cutting through the haze, low and firm.

"Remember, get in line and—"

"Step back—bathroom emergency excuse. I will not stepped into the ring for any reason. Just navigate the waiting room, look for an escape route—I get it, Logan. You've been at this a dozen times."

You cut him off, irritation slipping into your voice before he can finish yet another rundown of the plan. What was supposed to be a simple fifteen-minute walk now feels insufferable with him constantly reminding you of your own damn mission.

Logan shot you a sideways glance, one brow raised as he held his cigar between his fingers. You didn’t even spare him a look, your steps heavier than necessary as you stomped ahead.

"I will—"

"You will look for that Jeffrey guy—aka the big boss. Try to make a reasonable deal; he’s usually hanging around the bar, enjoying the show. If it doesn’t work out, we step back and come up with another plan. No mess."

You cut him off again, finally glancing his way—just in time to catch that look on his face.

He shook his head, exhaling sharply before planting a hand on his hip in that all-too-familiar stance. He stopped in his tracks and called your name. Once. Then twice.

"What, Logan?" you sighed, though the edge in your voice wasn’t as sharp as you wanted it to be.

"Just watch your back, darlin’. That’s all I’m asking." With that, he stubbed out his cigar and flicked it away.

"I know. I can take care of myself," you muttered, turning on your heel and walking ahead.

Logan slipped his hands into his jacket pockets and followed, his heavy footsteps trailing close behind.

What did he say about not getting into the ring? Right. Don’t.

And yet, here you were.

In front of you stood a terrified little boy, no older than ten. His skin had a reptilian sheen, scales catching the light, his wide eyes darting around in panic. He was next up in the ring. His opponent? A grown mutant with his skin made of a rock—bigger, stronger, and with a look that said he wouldn’t hesitate to rip a kid apart.

How the fuck were you supposed to let that slide?

Your mind raced. There was no time to argue, no time to negotiate. You pushed the boy back, stepped onto his foot as a silent stay put, and took his place. You wouldn’t kill the guy—just cause a scene, throw everything into chaos, and run. That way, the kid lived, and hopefully, nobody got hurt.

Meanwhile, across the room, Logan leaned back in his seat, cigar resting between his fingers, his free hand drumming against the bar.

“So whaddya say, buddy? My boss is willing to offer up to three hundred grand. Tempting, ain’t it?” His voice was smooth, calculated—playing the part just enough to keep Jeffrey’s attention.

The obese middle-aged man took a slow sip of his drink, a smug grin stretching across his face. “Three hundred grand? I almost made that last year.” He chuckled.

“Almost, right?” Logan pressed. “I could push it to five hundred. That is, unless you’d rather—”

Something shifted in the air. The crowd roared, a deafening wave of cheers shaking the room. Logan barely processed it—until he caught a glimpse of the ring.

And you.

His words died in his throat. The second he saw you standing behind that cage, facing off against a man twice your size, his entire body went rigid.

“What?” Jeffrey prompted, waiting for Logan to finish.

But Logan was already out of his chair.

He stormed toward the ring, moving faster than anyone could stop him. The metal chain-link fence buzzed with electricity, flashing every time someone made contact with it.

“HEY! STOP THIS! THIS IS A MISTAKE!” His voice cut through the noise, rough and furious, his knuckles turned white.

Inside the ring, your ears rang from the cheers. Through the blinding lights, you barely made out Logan’s silhouette, one arm raised to shield your eyes.

Yup he's there, yelling and frustrated—oh, the look on his face.. He's pissed.

Sorry, babe.

Logan’s heart slammed against his ribs, his pulse roaring in his ears as he watched you square up against the rock-skinned mutant.

He didn’t give a damn about the deal anymore. Five hundred grand, a million—none of it mattered. Not when you were standing inside that ring. Not when you were about to get hit.

His hands clenched at his sides, jaw locking as Jeffrey chuckled beside him.

“Well, well,” Jeffrey mused, swirling his drink. “Isn't she a sight for sore eyes”

Logan didn’t answer, his eyes locked on you. Under different circumstances, he would’ve smirked, said hell yeah, you are a sight for sore eyes, and maybe even thrown in a proud that’s my girl. But right now? What the fuck are you doing?

Inside, you could practically feel the heat of his glare from across the room.

Your opponent shifted his weight, cracking his knuckles. “You sure about this, lady?” he asked, voice like grinding gravel. “I don’t hold back.”

You ignored him. Instead, you glanced at the crowd, the flashing lights, the electric fence humming behind you.

Then, you locked eyes with Logan.

He was furious.

Not just pissed—but furious.

The kind of anger that made his entire body tense, veins pulsing in his forearms, his stance screaming don’t test me.

Yeah, you were in trouble.

But right now, you had bigger things to worry about.

The bell rang.

The rock-skinned mutant lunged.

You dodged, barely missing a fist that would’ve knocked you flat. The crowd erupted in cheers, fists pounding against the metal barricades.

Logan’s claws twitched beneath his skin. His control teetered on a razor’s edge.

Jeffrey let out a slow whistle. “Gotta admit, she’s got guts. But guts won’t save her.”

That was it.

Logan moved.

Without a word, he reached back—grabbed Jeffrey by the collar—and slammed him face-first into the floor.

The crowd was too fixated on the fight to notice. But the bouncers? They noticed.

Logan barely spared them a glance. “Anyone touches me,” he growled, voice low and lethal, “they lose a hand.”

Nobody moved.

Good.

Because Logan had one thing on his mind—and that was getting you the hell out of that ring.

He turned back to the fight just in time to see your opponent land a hit.

Not a clean hit—you’d blocked most of it—but enough to send you skidding backward, your boots kicking up dust. A bruise was already forming around your left eye, a small cut near your eyebrow marking where his rock-hard fist had landed.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he muttered, hands tightening into fists. “End this fast.”

And you did.

You twisted on your heel, faking left before darting right. Your opponent fell for it, leaving his side wide open.

One hit.

That was all you needed.

You slammed your palm into his exposed ribs, absorbing the kinetic energy from his movements and sending it right back into him. The impact sent him flying, crashing against the cage with a crack. The electric fence buzzed—and he went limp.

The crowd lost their minds.

But Logan wasn’t cheering. He was already grabbing a steel chair.

With one brutal swing, he smashed it against the electric fence. Sparks flew, and the power box short-circuited, cutting the current.

Then, he climbed the cage.

People screamed. Guards scrambled. But before anyone could react, Logan had already dropped inside.

You barely had time to register what was happening before he was in front of you, his hands gripping your arms, his voice rough and low.

“Y'alright?”

You blinked. “Yeah—”

He exhaled sharply through his nose. “Good.”

Then, in one swift motion, he scooped you up—actually picked you up—and threw you over his shoulder.

“Logan!” you hissed, squirming. “Put me down—”

“Not a damn chance.”

His grip was firm, unyielding. He stepped over your fallen opponent and marched toward the broken part of the cage.

By now, the entire place was in chaos. People running, guards shouting. None of it mattered.

All that mattered was getting you out.

Scott, Jean, and Ororo arrived at the scene in no time, tending to what was left of the cage fighter mutants. Logan? He didn’t even look back, just left the cleanup to the rest of the team.

At some point before boarding the Blackbird, he finally set you down without a word. He took a seat, arms crossed, staring out the window as the rest of the team and the rescued mutants filed in. You sat across from him, watching as he deliberately avoided your gaze. But at one point, you caught him looking—just for a second—before he turned away just as quickly.

Once the mission was settled and the rescued mutants were given guidance, you found yourself talking with the Professor. That was when you saw Logan walk past the room, heading for the exit. He probably hadn’t realized you were there, deep in conversation, but the way his shoulders were set, the way he moved with purpose, told you everything.

You excused yourself and followed.

He walked fast, straight out the door and toward a cabin tucked away in the backyard of the X-Mansion. You picked up your pace, but you didn’t call out to him—tonight had him on edge, and you weren’t sure he’d want to talk. You’d barely spoken to each other since the mission ended.

Logan disappeared inside, shutting the door behind him. You hesitated just outside, only for a muffled groan to catch your attention. You took a step closer. Then—a loud crash.

The hell?

Your fingers brushed the handle just as another heavy thud echoed from inside. That was enough. You pushed the door open.

Logan stood with his back to you, fist slamming into the concrete wall. A fresh crack splintered across the surface, blood smeared where his knuckles had connected. But even as the wounds stitched themselves back together, he didn’t stop.

The door creaked, and he stilled. Then he turned—eyes widening when he saw you.

Shit. When did you get here? How long had you been standing there?

“Logan…” Your voice was quiet.

“I… What are you doing here?” He exhaled sharply, looking away. “I didn’t know you were there. I—” He cut himself off, jaw tightening. “You shouldn't be here—” He crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly looking exposed, like he’d been caught in something scandalous.

Your grip tightened on the doorknob. “Are you alright?” It was a stupid question—you already knew the answer. He was frustrated, needed an outlet. And he thought no one would see.

Especially not you.

Logan turned to leave the cabin, brushing past you with no force but you weren’t letting him walk away that easily.

“Logan, just listen to me will you?!” You called after him, your voice sharp with frustration.

He stopped in his tracks, shoulders tense. Taking that as your chance, you stepped closer "There was a boy, god he was so scared. He's supposed to fight that big guy, I can't let that slide Infront of me, Lo.." You stepped in front of him—giving him space, but making sure he had to see and hear you.

“Come on, that boy was walking straight toward his grave. I had the power to stop it, so I did.” Your fingers fidgeted, nerves creeping in despite your resolve.

Arms crossed, he kept his gaze ahead for a moment before finally looking down at you, eyes dark with something unreadable. You held his gaze, refusing to waver.

“You would’ve done the same if you were in my position,” you said, firm but pleading.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “but a scratch wouldn’t do a damn thing to me. You?” He trailed off. His jaw clenched. “Anything could’ve happened to you.” His voice was quieter now.

“But it didn’t. I’m alright, okay?. Even if it had, it’s not gonna be your fault. It isn't your job to protect everyone, Logan.”

The second the words left your mouth, you knew you’d messed up. His posture went rigid, his head tilting as if he couldn’t believe what you’d just said.

“But it is my job to protect you,” he shot back, voice rough, raw. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you—if I was right there and I let it happen. How the hell do you think I’d live with that?”

You exhaled, pressing your fingers to your temples. “Alright, let’s just calm down—”

“No.” He said your name, voice lower now, but no less intense. “It’s not fine. You always do this. Always act like some goddamn saint, and I hate it. Hate how you care so damn much about everyone else’s life but your own.” He unfolded his arms, hands flexing at his sides. “Your life it’s.... fragile, alright?”

He swallowed hard, exhaling sharply. “One day, you’re here. And the next… who fucking knows? That scares the shit outta me. Please, just—”

His voice wavered. He shook his head, frustrated at himself, at you, at everything.

“Just have a little survival instinct. For your own sake. For mine.”

Your breath hitched. You’d never seen this side of him before—not like this. Not so openly terrified.

Slowly, you reached for his arms, his hands still twitching like he didn’t know what to do with them. He was shaking. Gently, you guided one of his palms to your chest, right over your heartbeat.

“I’m still here, Logan,” you murmured. “Still beating.” You pressed his hand against your chest, letting him feel the steady rhythm beneath his palm.

His gaze flickered from your hand to your eyes. His thumb brushed absently over your skin, like he needed to remind himself you were here. That nothing bad happened.

His arm slid up as his gaze caught on the bruise near your left eye and the cut on your brow. He brushed away the blood with careful fingers.

“I don’t like that,” he muttered.

“I know.”

After a beat, he exhaled, finally breaking eye contact. “I’m sorry. I usually don’t get caught screwing shit. Nobody were supposed to see that.” His hand dropped back to his side, suddenly withdrawn, like he didn’t think he deserved to be standing this close to you.

You chuckled, shaking your head. You could see the way he was trying to distance himself again, convinced he wasn’t worthy of your love. But you weren’t about to let him pull away—not tonight. Not after everything.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” you teased, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck, tiptoeing to reach him. “Didn’t see a thing.”

His body went stiff at first, like he wasn’t sure how to react, he felt like he didn't deserve your touch. But then, with a quiet exhale, he melted into you. His arms circled your waist, pulling you in.

“Careful what you’re gettin’ yourself into, darlin’,” he muttered against your neck, voice low, warning.

You grinned, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. You just stood there, close, the space between you nonexistent.

Then Logan did what he always did when words failed him.

He kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was slow, deliberate, filled with all the things he hadn’t been able to say. His lips pressed against yours with a firm but aching tenderness, like he was trying to apologize and promise you the world all at once.

You melted into him, your hands slipping up his chest, fingers curling into his jacket. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you just a little closer.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“Next time,” he murmured, “we do it my way.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, brushing your nose against his. “No promises, sweetheart.”

He groaned, shaking his head. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You grinned. “Nah. You’re immortal, remember?”

Logan chuckled, low and rough. “Doesn’t mean I’m invincible.”

You smirked, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Good. I’d hate to think I don’t have an effect on you.”

Logan let out a soft growl, pulling you flush against him. “Oh, you’ve got an effect on me, alright.”

And just like that, the tension from the night melted away—not forgotten, but softened by the simple truth of what you were to each other.

A team. A pair. A damn disaster waiting to happen.

And neither of you would have it any other way.

[sageispunk]

pretty like u (18+)

↳ A little lipstick never hurt anyone...

pairing: early 2000s jeff hardy x bestfriend!alt!black!reader

wordcount: 1.5k+

warnings: 18+, smut, just a lil self indulgent fic, reader is also a wrestler & southern, MUA foreplay basically, making out, lap riding/dry humping, dubcon if u squint, light choking

“You sure it’s gon’ look good, baby?”

“Mhmm, now sit still…you’re gonna mess me up.”

Kittie was playing faintly on your stereo behind you, coming off the nu metal mixtape you put together last week. Jeffrey watched as you continued to work on his face. The two of you were seated in front of your brightly lit, custom-made vanity. You straddled the fluffy brown bench and he sat in front of you, leaning forward in the chair he pulled over from across the room.

You could feel his pretty green eyes on you as you held his jaw sturdy with one hand, using the other to very carefully pen the eyeliner along his lower lash line. You didn’t want to do too much but you knew that he was okay with you playing around a little bit on his face. You could tell he was enjoying himself by the way he blushed and giggled after you’d mindlessly commented about his perfect facial structure while you were finishing up his smokey eye.

Sitting back, you scanned his face to make sure everything was symmetrical. His eyes followed yours, going back and forth until you looked away, twisting to retrieve something from the cluttered vanity.

Jeffrey tried not to stare but he couldn’t help but watch the way your body stretched and the way your clothes pulled around the curves of your body. The thin leopard print halter top you wore began to rise up on your tummy, giving him a sneak peek of the softness he was eager to lay his lips on.

The moth tattoos on the tops of both of your thighs were creeping out from under your black denim shorts. His fingers twitched in his lap, he wanted to trace them along the lines, softly, enough to get you to finally let your walls down for him.

In the few years that you’d known one another, there was almost no separating you. You’d traveled together to matches, and despite having your own hotel rooms, the two of you would often be found in yours—munching on a box of pizza together, watching Scooby Doo or some other silly cartoon. You would fly back home to NC during holidays together, visiting each other’s families before spending your own time alone.

But neither of you ever crossed that line. Sure, there were those times when you would notice his hand lingering on the small of your back as he passed by, or when he would catch you staring while he was putting on his face paint on the other side of the room. Tiny moments that the both of you brushed off as just parts of your weirdly intimate friendship, but everyone around you could see the energy there.

Like now, as you held Jeff’s jaw in your hand, with your own face just inches away from his. The pattern of his beard tickled under your fingers. A moment of eye contact had you both seizing your breath, before you tore your eyes away, focusing instead on his lips—soft, pink. You took a deep breath and popped open your black lip liner with one hand, bringing the pencil up to his face.

“Baby—” His cold hands gently landed on the tops of your thighs.

“Jeff…” You took a deep breath. “Stop calling me that.”

“Why?” His thumbs slid back and forth on your skin.

You lowered the liner back down to your lap. Jeffrey kept his face close, still in your grasp. “Just, let me finish, okay?”

“Okay.” He fought the urge to grin.

You rolled your eyes, biting your lip to hide your own smile. You quickly finished up the liner around his lips, following with a layer of your darkest purple lipstick. “Smack.”

He did as you said, and you released his face. He stayed close, and you didn’t dare to back up either. “How do I look?”

“Pretty.”

“Pretty like you?”

“Jeff-”

He leaned in just an inch. “I really wanna kiss you right now.”

You smacked your lips. “So now you wanna mess up all my ha—"

Jeffrey closed the distance between you, swallowing your words down with his lips. Your eyelids fell shut as you accepted the feelings you’d been denying for too long. Blindly sitting your materials back onto the vanity, you brought your hands up to Jeff’s shoulders. As many times as you’ve touched him before, it was nothing like how you felt him now.

His warm muscles tensed under your grasp, relaxing a second later before he slid his hands further down the sides of your thighs, tucking them under and pulling you forward into his lap. You gasped at the sudden rearrangement and Jeff chased your lips like there was nothing in the world that he needed more.

Eyes low and lipstick already smudged, he used a hand on the back of your head to bring you back in. His fingers tangled in your long, black braids, gently stimulating your scalp. Jeff’s other hand was placed firmly on your hip, massaging into your bare skin. You moaned into each other’s mouths, hands scrambling to touch as much skin as possible, to remember as much as possible.

You couldn’t stop yourself from grinding into his lap, already feeling his excitement underneath you. He whined against your lips, beginning to move in circles with you. The harmony between your bodies had you growing needier by the second, feeling almost regretful about taking so long to go further with Jeff. One of your hands found itself lightly wrapped around his neck, your fingers only slightly squeezing the sides. Jeff moaned, putting a few inches of space between your faces. You looked down at his purple, kiss-swollen lips, then back up to his eyes.

“C’mon baby, I’m all yours, take what ya need…”

Resting his head back against the chair, he pulled your free hand up to his neck to join the other. You took the hint and let both of your hands wrap around, squeezing just a bit tighter. Your hips bucked on as you felt him thrusting his hardness up into you, the only thing separating you being the fabric of both of your jeans. The teasing friction had you wanting more and more, and you tried for it.

You threw your own head back, sexually and emotionally frustrated and needing this orgasm to level your thoughts. “Fuck!”

Jeff squeezed your hips, providing a grounding sensation. You zeroed in, focusing on his touch and the heat growing between your bodies. You found the perfect pattern to move your body in, feeling the effects of both his cock and the seams of the jeans teasing your cunt.

You knew you were close, but it felt like you were missing something. You wanted to feel him, actually on you, or in you. You wanted to reach this high with him.

And just like he could read your mind, Jeff brought your attention back to his face, with his hands wrapped around your wrists. “Don’t stop, baby,” He whispered. His eyes were pleading, and so was his body under you.

“Cum with me?” Your voice was hushed, rasped, throat nearly dry although the rest of you felt the complete opposite.

Jeffrey nodded, slowly, moving once again with you as you picked up speed. Your eyes never left one another as the intensity of the moment increased. It was as though you were in tune with each other’s heartbeat, with the way the blood pumped through the other’s system. Everything in the universe began to make sense, like your whole life was leading up to this moment.

You used your hands on his neck to steady you as you moved with an eagerness even you haven’t seen in yourself. “Jeffrey— fuck, oh my god…”

“Mhmm, just like that baby, don’t stop…you’re so pretty grindin’ on me like this…”

You shouted out his name one last time, your entire body freezing up before it began to vibrate. White light blinded you behind your eyelids as you hit your peak, and you could faintly hear Jeff’s choked moans below, his own hips jerking up into you. You could feel every hair standing up on your body, every gentle gust of cool wind from the vents kissing your skin.

Your hips continued to move together, lazily, cooling down. You were synced, it seemed. Your hands loosened from his neck, falling down to his chest and feeling the swell of his chest under your fingertips.

Jeffrey pulled your arms in, effectively bringing your face back to meet his own. This time, he didn’t catch you by surprise. Your lips moved together as though you’d been doing this for years, tongues slipping past one another to explore. Sucking. Licking. Smacking.

When things cooled down, you were forehead to forehead, breathing in eah other's air. You could feel the dampness of Jeff's lap under you, whether from you or him, you didn't care. Your eyes opened and were immediately met with his soft hazel gaze. Turning your head to the side, you placed a quick, gentle kiss on the side of his face. A new warm feeling spurred within you at the sight of him blushing and turning away from you.

"Oh, now you wanna act all shy, huh? Don't tell me this is all I had to do to get Mr. Jeff Hardy to give up all his power..." You teased him, giggling as you circled your hips for a short second, knowing good and well that he could probably make you just as weak if the roles were reversed.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, endearingly pulling you in to squeeze himself against your chest. "Shhhh, girl...just gimme a few minutes..."

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