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lifblogs · 4 months ago

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Chaos

@ailesswhumptober Day 7 Field Medicine, Running Out of Supplies, "Hold on, we're going to have to improvise."

Fandom: The Bad Batch Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 4617 Summary: Crosshair breaks his leg during a battle, and after three harrowing days of fighting, the Bad Batch is running low on supplies. They will have to improvise to help Crosshair. The cost is nearly too high. WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence READ ON AO3

Crosshair was good at climbing. He had to be the best at it to get to the high perches that let him see across battlefields.

From the ground he’d shot the droids in the tower, and was now scaling the outside of it. Down below, his squad was getting attacked by droidekas, B1s, and B2s. But vulture droids were on their way according to Hunter.

At least there aren’t any tanks.

He and his teammates had been ordered to scout this area to see if a base was viable, but the Separatists had arrived first. What had been a stealth mission soon turned into all-out war. His team had been running and fighting for three rotations now, with hardly any rest.

And now it seemed that more and more droids had met them here, knowing they were trying to make it back to their ship.

General Krell, the Jedi they were doing this mission for, wasn’t going to like this.

The little to no sleep wasn’t distracting Crosshair thanks to one too many stims. Even then, he seldom let exhaustion seep into his work.

Just as he made it over the lip of the tower and dropped down, he could see the vulture droids coming from the west to ambush them like Hunter had indicated. Crosshair raised his rifle, looking through his scope, waiting for them to get in range.

“How many vulture droids you counting?” Hunter asked down below as he gave up on trying to shoot a droideka and just jumped on top of it, and slashed it to sparking pieces.

Crosshair slowly counted, wanting to be precise.

“Six.”

“Are they in range?”

“Almost.”

One more second. Just one.

Crosshair took the shot, taking out the leader in their v-formation. The droid fell in smoking ruin.

The other vulture droids began to shoot up the battlefield, trying to kill his squad.

Crosshair couldn’t wonder if they took cover, couldn’t check and see.

That wasn’t his job—

he took another shot, another vulture droid down, smoking to crash upon the battlefield

—this was.

“Crosshair, we have something big coming,” Hunter said. “I don’t like the feel of it.”

“You never like the feel of any droid,” he responded.

“Except Gonky!” Wrecker chimed in.

Crosshair scoffed.

But after shooting another vulture droid, the other two getting lower to the ground to avoid him, and take out his team, Crosshair scanned the gray sky.

Plip.

A drop of rain fell on his armor.

Then another, another.

Rain soon fell amongst the battlefield, slowly putting out smoking fires. The wind picked up, and Crosshair was drenched in about a minute.

Lightning flashed across the sky, revealing a droid gunship in the clouds, heading their way.

Thunder sounded.

The battle raged on, Wrecker complaining profusely in between excited battlecries.

“Hunter, it’s a gunship,” Crosshair informed him. “I can try and hit its blasters, but I can’t take it down.”

Down below, Wrecker held up a massive piece of the demolished vulture droid and said, “I can.”

“Not at that angle.”

“Try me.”

“Wrecker, Crosshair is indeed correct,” Tech said. “We’re fighting on the low ground. I am not convinced a blast from the dismantled vulture droid could reach the gunship. We’re at the wrong angle.” He said all this while twirling from droid to droid, placing small bombs he and Wrecker had created together.

The droids fell with mini explosions across the black dirt that was quickly becoming mud.

The rain put out the fires, smoke rising to fill the air.

Crosshair put his sights back on the gunship.

“It’s closing fast,” he informed them.

Suddenly, a grenade landed behind Crosshair, rolling.

He didn’t even have time to curse upon realizing what it was. His position had been compromised.

Crosshair raised his rifle, jumped over the lip of the tower, holding on to its slippery sides as he tried to think of a safe way down.

The grenade went off in a burst of light, pressure, and heat, his fingers getting singed.

Crosshair accidentally let go, the ground meters and meters below him.

Grenades placed around the tower while he’d been occupied with their aerial opponents also went off.

Adrenaline spiked along Crosshair’s spine, and raced through his blood. He could barely breathe from the strength of it as he fell.

The tower wobbled, a piece falling off, threatening to land on him. But then it tilted, and not sure what might help here, Crosshair grabbed onto the tower, rolling, and riding it down to the ground.

The sound of its fall seemed to shake the world, and the impact had his helmet slam into the durasteel, dazing him. He couldn’t breathe, and had felt a snap go through his body, hearing it so crisply over the sounds of battle, and his teammates calling his name, that he was sure it spoke of a broken bone. Pain had overtaken his lower right leg, throbbing, and throbbing, and throbbing, building in its intensity, seeming like it’d never stop.

Instinct kicked in, and he screamed as he rolled off the tower, and behind it, taking cover.

The roll dropped him a few meters, and he landed hard on his back, the air knocked out of him.

All Crosshair could do was look at the raindrops that fell upon his helmet. He tried moving his leg to get up, and found himself breathless from the agony, nearly screaming again as his heel dragged and slipped in the mud.

Mud blasted high into the sky as the droid gunship fired upon their area of the field, and smaller blasts were returned by Wrecker. His vulture droid blaster had little effect on it.

Crosshair wondered when it would get to him, when he’d be blown to bits.

He caught his breath, but was still dazed from the fall. He tried rolling, shaking his head to clear this haze over his mind.

Crosshair cried out as he was suddenly grabbed. He turned, ready with his rifle to slam into his enemy so he would be released.

The rifle clanged off of armor, and fell from his cold fingers. He drew his sidearm.

“It’s me!” Tech cried.

Crosshair was panting, breaths coming hard.

He holstered his sidearm, and reached for his rifle.

Just as he grabbed it, he let out a pained cry as Tech hoisted him up over his shoulders. He raced for cover, mud clinging hard to his ankles.

He headed back toward the decrepit stone buildings where they’d started this fight.

They were nearly thrown as the droid gunship fired nearby.

“Wrecker, come on!” Hunter called. “Tech’s got Crosshair. Now retreat.”

Crosshair had been so dazed he hadn’t noticed any order to retreat.

His leg bounced with each movement, and he wanted to rip Tech’s remaining hair out. He was holding on tightly to one of his arms.

Once inside what had been one of the main hallways—Wrecker soon following after them—Crosshair was placed on the floor.

“Are you hurt?” Hunter asked, kneeling by him.

Crosshair tried to straighten out his leg, and he placed his shaking fingers on his knee, soon gripping hard enough that he would have hurt himself had he not had his armor on.

“M-my leg,” he hissed out. “Right one. I think it’s broken.”

Tech pulled a medical scanner from his pack, and raced it along Crosshair’s leg.

“You are correct. There is a fracture across your tibia. Oh! And your fibula. Fascinating.”

The gunship fired nearby, and mud came flying in through the broken archways. Rain was already making its way in, and dripping down Crosshair’s back. Some had managed to get under his helmet, and it was racing down the back of his neck, before soaking his back.

Hunter raised himself up slightly from his kneeling position, then ducked down.

“The third wave of droids is coming, and we still have that gunship to deal with.”

Tech sighed, and rolled his eyes. “Must I do two things at once?”

“What do you have in mind?” Wrecker asked.

Tech handed Wrecker a datarod. “Do you think you can fire this into the front center of the gunship?

“Who do you think you’re talking to? Of course I can!”

Wrecker set to modifying the vulture droid part he had carried inside with him.

Tech started taking Crosshair’s armor off along his right leg, Crosshair groaning, and clawing at the stone floor with his hands beside him, especially as his boot was tugged off.

Yet there was immediate relief when his swelling leg was given room to do so, even though his fatigues were tight.

“It’s a clean break,” Tech said.

“So then do something about it,” Crosshair growled.

Tech searched in his pack.

Synchronized dull, metallic sounds came from the battlefield, droid feet squishing in mud as one. He wished they could get stuck in the mud, giving him and his team more time.

“Ah,” Tech said.

Usually this kind of exclamation was followed by action, or a long stream of information.

“What is it?” Hunter asked. He peered into Tech’s pack. “Karking hell. I’d forgotten we haven’t had a chance to resupply since our last few battles have been so close together.”

“And that means…” Crosshair groaned.

“Hardly any medical supplies.”

“Kriff.”

“At least we have this,” Tech said, taking out a pre-prepped syringe.

Before Crosshair could react, Tech took his helmet off, and administered it into the side of his neck.

A small grunt left him at the sudden sharp ache, but the medicine began its work fairly quickly, its warmth traveling throughout his body, and into his broken leg. The pain faded a little.

“Now what?” Crosshair asked.

“Hold on, we’re going to have to improvise.”

“I’m ready with the datarod,” Wrecker said. “But I can’t get a clean shot from here.

“Tech, datapad, now,” Hunter ordered. “Wrecker, I’ll go out first, draw their fire, and then you follow.”

“And get back inside quick,” Tech added.

Hunter and Wrecker jogged out, Tech typing away on his datapad.

The gunship fired again, hitting the northwest side of the building. Stone blew inwards, and collapsed, only a good ten meters from where Crosshair sat.

He tried to get up, and Tech shoved him down.

“We need to move,” he argued.

“Wrecker, are you in position?” Tech said into his comm.

With his helmet nearby Crosshair heard the blurred rumble of Wrecker’s voice through a comm, and he figured he said, “Ready.”

Tech pressed a button.

“Fire.”

There wasn’t any great blast or explosion to hear, just the rain, the thunder, the sudden strength of the wind, the droids coming closer.

“Did I get it?” Wrecker asked.

A light started blinking from Tech’s datapad.

“Affirmative.”

“Wrecker, get out of there!” Hunter cried.

Ignoring his agony, Crosshair turned, and grabbed hold of the lip of the wall to pull himself up and see what was going on.

Wrecker had dropped the vulture droid piece, the droids had just begun to fire, and the droid gunship let off another blast, nearly hitting Wrecker. The force of it was enough to send him flying. Hunter raced to him from across the battlefield, helped him to his feet, and started hurrying back, firing at their foes with one hand.

“Come on!” Crosshair called, for now unable to process much pain in his leg. The droid gunship looked primed to fire again. Hunter and Wrecker dove through the arch next to Crosshair’s.

Tech grabbed Crosshair and shoved him down.

“I hate you,” Crosshair complained.

Tech sent a command to the droid gunship, and Crosshair wanted to get up again and see what was going on.

The sound of its booming blasts filled the air, joining the thunder in a violent dance.

Tech checked his datapad once, then with one hand started cutting Crosshair’s fatigues.

Crosshair hissed at the cold durasteel blades of the scissors pressing against his swelling.

Tech ripped open a med patch with his teeth, and applied it to Crosshair’s leg.

The explosions outside continued. Tech pressed another button.

“Why does he get to blow everything up?” Wrecker complained, having recovered from his blow.

“Because I have another plan for you.”

Tech addressed Crosshair now. “Lift your leg.”

He braced himself for it, trying to get his breathing under control, and with an exhale he lifted his leg. He had to grit his teeth against the pain and curled his fingers along his armor. Tech slid a large chill pac under his leg, and he gasped with relief as he gently set it down again, skin instantly chilled.

“Wrecker, I need two B1 legs,” Tech said, patting Crosshair’s shoulder.

“Why?”

“I’ll get them,” Hunter volunteered, before rushing around to the outside of the building.

The wind changed, blowing the rain into the hall, and right on top of Crosshair. He put his helmet back on, though he was already soaked.

Tech looked at the purple-blue mass that was supposed to be Crosshair’s leg, grabbed some rope from his pack, and went back to his datapad.

The explosions sounded farther away now.

Crosshair felt a bit sick looking at the gross state his leg was in, knowing all his hurts came from there.

“So how’d I break my fibula?” he asked Tech. “Isn’t the tibia usually the only one that breaks?”

“I assume because of your armor the immense pressure had nowhere else to go. Though without armor the break would have been messier. Your leg might have even shattered.”

“It’s bad enough.”

Thankfully, the effects of the med patch, and chill pac quickly followed those of the injected pain medicine, and Crosshair’s leg felt a bit fuzzy and numb.

Crosshair’s whole body felt fuzzy, and soft, and warm despite the cold rain. Which… didn’t seem right. He took his helmet off again, tilting his face up towards the rain, trying to clear his head.

The med was stronger.

“Oh, oops.”

Crosshair had forgotten anyone was there, and before he could voice his surprise at seeing Tech, Tech jabbed a needle into his neck.

“Watch it!” he cried, his head clearing quickly, heart beating a bit faster.

“You were high on a depressant. I gave you a stim,” Tech explained. “Your gratitude will not be necessary at this time. Or any time, seeing as you are never grateful for anything.”

Thankfully, the stim didn’t erase the effects of the pain medicine in his leg. Though now he chafed even more at sitting still.

Water practically splashed him from the strength of the wind.

Shaking his head, rubbing his eyes, he put his helmet back on.

Idiot, he chided himself, despite the fact he’d taken his helmet off while high.

Plashing sounded from the other side of the wall, the sound of water collecting in one area, rain filling it.

Wrecker had crawled over, and was about to poke Crosshair’s leg.

“Whoa, it’s so gross-looking!” he exclaimed.

Tech grabbed his wrist.

“I strongly advise against that course of action.”

Crosshair lowered his voice, adding, “Especially if you want Lula to survive the night.”

Wrecker drew back. “Not Lula! You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“I got the legs, and an extra just in case,” Hunter said into the comms.

“Good.”

“And the droids?” Wrecker asked.

“I calculate they are all—”

“Destroyed,” Hunter responded.

“I was going to say that.”

Wrecker just groaned. “Cross, we’ll never be able to top that.”

“We’ll find a way.”

Tech seemed smug of all things as he said, “Statistically speaking, your chances of beating me are ten to point-zero-zero-zero-zero—”

Wrecker clenched his fists, and even punched the wall.

“We get it!”

Tech grabbed Crosshair’s boot, and tossed it to him, along with the pair of scissors.

Crosshair tried to snatch his boot from them.

“Make your frustration useful, and start cutting that up.”

Wrecker now chuckled with glee, and Crosshair hoped his glare was felt through his helmet.

“What are you doing?”

“Improvising. You need padding on either side of your leg.”

“We have another problem,” Hunter said, heavy dread in his voice.

Crosshair didn’t ask what it was because he very much did not want to know the answer.

Hunter let out an exclamation, and Tech rose to see if he could see him through the window.

“Hunter’s down. I’m going out there.”

“No, don’t!” Hunter groaned, sounding like he was trying to get to his feet. “Kriff!”

Tech glanced at Wrecker. “Any chance you can withstand a mudslide?”

“A mudslide?” Wrecker exclaimed.

“Oh, and I believe this room will soon be flooded over.”

Crosshair saw what he had to do, but he wasn’t sure how he was going to do it. All alone, it was going to be too painful, and—

Not alone, he told himself.

“I have a plan,” he got out.

“We have to move fast,” Tech warned.

“Wrecker, carry me up to the second level, get me to a window. I’ll shoot a rappelling cable down to Hunter and we can grab him.”

Each second felt far too long as Wrecker dropped what he was doing, grabbed Crosshair, and started running for a stairwell.

Crosshair did his best to keep in any pained sounds, knowing it would make Wrecker slow down, or even stop.

“I’ll move our supplies upstairs,” Tech said through comms. “We can’t risk losing what little we have left.”

“Hunter, you still with us?” Wrecker asked.

There was no answer.

“Hunter?”

“Faster!” Crosshair snapped.

Was Hunter alive? Had the mud suffocated him? Had the strength of the mudslide snapped his neck? Was he stuck in the flooding, forced under the water, unable to get up?

Crosshair requested Wrecker to put an arm out in front of him as he was put down, knowing he couldn’t rely much on his balance. Though he had had lots of practice of balancing on one leg. He could do it here.

Holding his right leg up hurt all the way to his knee, but he didn’t care. He was busy searching the battlefield. The mudslide was tremendous, like the entire hill had decided to up and move. And it was growing, shoving pooling water against the side of the building. It was probably splashing over now, mud following. He had a slight worry for Tech, but it left as he raced over.

Droid parts, and debris were stuck in the fast-moving mud.

Hunter had been returning to them, so he searched in horizontal lines to the closer half of the field—or what was left of it (not much).

Durasteel groaned, and to his horror the downed tower began to move.

A million fears tried to break free to the front of his mind, and the sounds around him—Wrecker frantically asking questions, and repeating, “I don’t see him, I don’t see him,” and Tech calculating the odds of Hunter’s survival (his own way of coping, probably)—but Crosshair stayed almost completely still. He held back the ever-pressing idea to frantically search the field, to skip over large parts of it. His training had involved high-intensity scenarios similar to this. Whatever the problems presented were, he had to keep his cool.

His shoulders burned slightly after the long day, and from his unfaltering hold of his rifle, how he had it raised high.

A B1 droid leg suddenly popped out of a place he had just finished looking over.

He supposed a mudslide couldn’t do that.

It raised higher.

“Found him,” Crosshair said, firing.

The cable struck the droid leg, and Crosshair immediately handed the rifle to Wrecker, hopping away from the window, gritting his teeth and holding back curses.

“Pull!” he told him.

Wrecker got to it, no problem.

“Tech, I need your help,” Wrecker called.

Tech got in front, holding onto the cable.

They both strained hard, the cable taut, and then they both bounced back a step, and continued pulling.

“We have him!” Tech cried.

Too-long seconds drifted past, and then Hunter, still holding onto some droid legs, passed over the lip of the window. Crosshair took him, and despite his leg, helped ease him to the floor. He was completely covered in black mud, but he was breathing.

Hunter knelt, taking his helmet off, and began to spit and cough up mud.

Tech knelt beside him, and began to smack his back.

Crosshair was looking Hunter over, seeing if there were injuries.

A bit of shrapnel poked out of his leg, just above the outer side of his knee.

“How badly are you hurt?” Crosshair asked, no one else noticing yet.

Voice hoarse, face absolutely filthy, Hunter said, “Not that bad.”

Crosshair accidentally put weight on his leg, and cried out.

Hunter, remembering what he’d gone out for, handed Tech the droid legs.

“Make the splint. Fast. I have a feeling this building won’t be standing for much longer.

Hunter sat, catching his breath, taking his bandana and wrapping it around where the shrapnel stuck out of his leg. Crosshair kept an eye on him, even as he clenched a hand into a fist, pushing it against his left leg, pain trying to override everything as Tech made the splint.

“It’s not perfect, but we have to go,” Tech said.

Crosshair looked, and saw that his leg had been padded with pieces from his boot, and the droid legs were tied around him to keep his leg as still as possible.

Hunter took a look outside, putting his muddied helmet back on.

Crosshair noticed his limp.

“Tech’s right. We have to move. Wrecker, help Crosshair. Tech, take point. I’ll cover our rear.”

Crosshair frowned, but with his helmet on no one could see it. He didn’t know whether to speak up or not, and there didn’t seem to be time.

But his sergeant was hurt, their leader, their brother.

“Not sure how I feel about an injured guy protecting our rear,” Crosshair finally said.

“It’s not that bad.”

A loud boom sounded and Crosshair was thrown off his feet as the building shook, and the floor vibrated.

The tower had crashed into them.

“Just go!” Hunter cried.

Wrecker got Crosshair to his feet.

Crosshair’s instincts told him to run, to flee as far as he could from the mudslide, the flooding, the tower, this falling-apart building. Yet with his leg the way it was… He hobbled as fast as he could go, gasping, and panting at how it made different muscles than he was used to work, and at the pain with each limping step.

Tech was leading them to a back entrance using a map on his datapad.

The ground was a bit higher in the back, meaning more mud was sliding towards the building in that direction. But not much yet from where they were fleeing, thankfully. Though, the debris, and tower, and surely-downed walls of this building were coming. They splashed through swift-flowing black water that was nearly up to their knees. It attempted to rip them off their feet in too-many heartstopping moments, and the debris caught in it—the stones, and destructions of war—clanged against them.

Crosshair couldn’t remember much of how they got out, the water dragging at his leg too painful to focus on anything.

They trudged up the small hill, digging their toes in, Wrecker having to take most of Crosshair’s weight.

They did all right until they were almost to the Marauder, Crosshair hoping the cliff it was on was made out of something stronger than the black dirt. And if not, he hoped they made it in time.

Hunter let out a yell and when they turned back he had collapsed to his knees, almost onto his face, using one hand to hold himself up.

Tech reached out for Crosshair.

“Wrecker, I’ve got him. Go get Hunter.”

Wrecker didn’t hesitate, and raced down the hill as best he could—slipping at times—to go grab Hunter.

Tech seemed to find the perfect balance of taking a good amount of Crosshair’s weight, while still moving quickly. They mounted the ramp, Tech almost having to drag him by this point.

Crosshair, panting, a sweaty mess despite the rain, collapsed into the seat behind Tech’s.

The stern began to dip.

“It would appear that the cliff is collapsing,” Tech stated.

Crosshair gripped his seat tightly, gritting his teeth.

He looked out the ramp. Hunter and Wrecker were almost close enough to board.

Hunter slipped, and grunted.

The ship continued to tilt.

Come on, come on, come on.

“Hunter, Wrecker, you need to get on board!” Tech said.

“Almost… there,” Wrecker panted out, helping Hunter balance.

The ship dipped farther and farther, now tipping on their starboard side.

General Krell and the regs better karking appreciate what we did for them.

Hunter made it up the ramp. Wrecker didn’t.

The ship began to fall, the cliff collapsing beneath them.

A horrible second passed without Wrecker on board, and Hunter almost falling backwards. Crosshair was almost lifted out of his seat.

Then Wrecker made the jump, and he clambered inside.

Tech started the ship, and they blasted through the remains of the cliff.

Though his life and the lives of his team were no longer endangered, Crosshair couldn’t relax. He kept looking at Hunter (even as pain flashed like lightning in his own leg), who was holding onto his leg near where the shrapnel was.

“Tech, inform the general of how dangerous this place is,” Hunter ordered.

“I wonder why the droids were here if conditions were this bad.”

“Probably because they were expecting us to be here. I know a few Separatists want to punch me in the face.”

“Hmm…”

Tech didn’t seem convinced.

Crosshair didn’t give a shab.

The Marauder shuddered as they passed through the storm—clouds, and lightning, and thunder seeming to surround them.

Once out, blackness and stars beckoning, Tech sent the message to General Krell.

Wrecker, who had gone to their storage, came over with towels, and passed two to Hunter.

“Sarge, be honest, how bad is it?”

Hunter started cleaning up his face, but wouldn’t touch his leg to clean it, even as the mud and shrapnel were surely filling it with bacteria that would grow into an infection.

“Bad,” Crosshair surmised.

Hunter swallowed roughly, and nodded.

“Not to worry,” Tech called back, taking off his helmet after making the jump to hyperspace. They all took their helmets off now. “By hyperspace route,” he explained, “we are only a few hours out from a GAR medical facility. Wrecker, make strips from one of our towels. Bind his leg more securely.”

Hunter leaned his head back, and groaned, “I hate improvising.”

“You love it,” Crosshair argued.

Hunter eyed Crosshair’s leg with the hard-won droid legs as a splint.

“And you do?”

“You’re all so boring. How else am I supposed to be entertained?”

Hunter laughed, but met his eyes, and they each saw the seriousness in each other’s gazes. Crosshair nodded, a thank you to Hunter for what he’d almost sacrificed to help him.

Wrecker groaned. “Crosshair, you’re part droid now.”

“No, I’m not.”

Wrecker went on, like he hadn’t heard him, “You should’ve done a little droid voice, like—”

Crosshair glared hard at Wrecker.

“No examples,” he hissed.

Wrecker did it anyway, and Crosshair tossed his helmet at him.

“You’re no fun!”

“Maybe I’ll break your leg and that’ll be fun.”

“Hey,” Hunter said, “you know the rules. No fighting while I’m bleeding out.”

“You’re what?” Tech asked from the pilot’s seat.

“He is not,” Wrecker said.

“Crosshair, please corroborate this claim.”

“He isn’t. So, Hunter, pass me the scissors.”

“For what?” he and Wrecker asked at the same time.

Crosshair just tilted his head toward their racks.

“Lula.”

Crosshair quite enjoyed the chaos that broke out.

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logansargeantsbabymom · 9 months ago

Text

Too Good to Say Goodbye

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cursing, Hurt/Comfort & Implied Smut, MAJOR TW: stillborn

Summary: Y/N is tired of constantly being dissed by Logan and he doesn't seem to care, at least not until it's too late.

part 1 I part 2 I part 3 I part 4 I part 5 I part 6 I Part 7 I part 8 I part 9 I part 10

F1 Masterlist

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

instagram

I clasp my jacket closer to my body as I wait for Logan to open the door of our shared apartment. It's pouring rain and my dumbass forgot the keys, I sigh as I pull my phone out, dialing my lovers number.

one ring

two rings

three rings

four- declined.

*new text from "Logie Bear🐻💙"*

Logie Bear🐻💙: Babe I'm on the sim, give me a few.

Me: I'm out here in the pouring rain and I left my key, You said you'd unlock the door 5 minutes ago.

Logie Bear🐻💙: You fucking made me crash.

Logie Bear🐻💙: I'm coming.

A scoff leaves my lips as I shove my phone into my soak jean pockets that stuck to my skin, a few minutes later I hear the lock click and the door swigs open revealing a less than happy Logan.

"Damn, were you watching our home videos while waiting for me to open the door?" Logan laughed as he took in a soaked me before side stepping so I could walk in.

"I've been outside for 10 fucking minutes in the pouring rain Logan and you're making jokes?" I almost screamed at him

Unbelievable, all I do for him and this is how he treats me?

"Woah babe, take a joke," Logan starts before his phone starts ringing "Yeah? Oh for sure, right now? Uh huh, Okay I'll hop on. Yup yup, just give me 5. I'm grabbing a snack" with that Logan hung up the phone "I'm hoping back on the sim with the boys, so just take a shower and dry the floors, you're ruining the wood."

I wanted to scream, I'm ruining the floors? I wouldn't be ruining the floors if you would've opened the door 10 minutes ago like you fucking said you would.

I made my way into our shared room, grabbing my clothes and speaker before making my way to the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, I connected my phone to the speaker and started playing "Hold Me While You Wait" by Lewis Capaldi on a low volume before stripping out of the soaking wet clothes that stuck to my skin.

My shaking hand turned the tap to hot as the water started spurting out of the shower head, which made me sigh thinking about the shower head I gave Logan every time we showered together. Today makes 3 weeks since we last fucked, and that was also probably why I'm so aggravated at everything he does. All this pent up sexual tension between us is driving me crazy.

Before stepping into the now steamy shower I turned the volume up on the song currently playing. Once in the tub, I let all my problems wash off of me and down the drain as I let the boiling hot water hit my skin. After what felt like 3 minutes of pure bliss, I hear a faint knock at the door before hearing it open. Peaking my head out the shower curtain I'm greeted by Logan just standing by the door.

"Hey Logie, care to join me?" I said in a low & seductive voice, watching as he steps fully into the bathroom and closes the door. A victory smile makes its way on my lips as I pull myself behind the curtain once more, quickly lathering myself in foamy soap.

I can hear Logans footsteps getting closer to the shower, but instead of getting in I hear him pick up my phone, turn the volume down, set my phone back down and as he's leaving he mutters "Not tonight. Boys are on the game and i can’t focus on them because your depressing songs are too loud."

Are you fucking kidding me?

That had been my last straw. In one quick movement I turn off the shower, throw my robe on and march out of the bathroom and into his sim room.

"Are you fucking kidding me Logan?!" I shout as a burst in the room, face red from anger. I can hear a mix of muffled oohs, laughs and you're in trouble. I couldn't bring myself to care about anyone on the sim with him.

"Hey! I'm on the sim! Watch your tone!" Logan shouted back, earning him a glare that said turn your fucking simulator off now.

"We're gonna have a serious talk. Now" I said in a stern voice. That made Logan turn the game off and actually face me

"What the fuck do you want to talk about that you bust into my sim room and interrupt me when I'm on with my friends WHO HAPPEN TO BE A COWORKERS?!" Logan shouted, his beautiful face now a shade of red that no-one liked, his eyes as cold and sharp as ice.

“I WANT TO TALK ABOUT YOU. YOURE BEHAVIOR, THE WAY YOU’VE BEEN ACTING TOWARDS ME, THE WAY YOU DONT FUCKING TOUCH ME ANYMORE, DO YOU EVEN STILL FUCKING LOVE ME?!” I tried to stop, I really did but all the anger built up inside of me over the last few weeks just started pouring out “WHATS BEEN GOING ON WITH YOU LOGAN? YOU’RE NOT YOURSELF AND ITS EFFECTING ME, YOU KEEP SHUTTING ME OUT, AND MAKING ME FEEL BAD ABOUT MYSELF! AM I NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU ANYMORE? HUH!?” the more I screamed at him and the more I cried, I saw not one bit of remorse in his eyes.

“Are you fucking done being dramatic now?” Logan says with a scoff “Nothing is fucking wrong with me. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe you’re the problem? No, you haven’t because you think so highly of yourself. You think that you’re the fucking shit and you’re not!” his words hit me like a punch to the gut.

the tears welling up in my eyes, now falling like heavy rain down my face. “You’re not the Logan I fell in love with,” my breath shaky “I don’t know who you are. I want my Logan back. I want the Logan who came to all my wrestling matches, the Logan who regularly took me out on dates despite his hectic work schedule, I want my Logan who got mad at me when I paid for dinner because ‘it’s a man’s job to pay for his girls meal’, the Logan who always took me to his races and showed me off like I was a rare jewel he found,” the waterfall beneath my eyes couldn’t stop me from staring into his soul while i said this last part “I miss my Logan who stood by me when we had our miscarriage” That seemed to get a reaction out of him.

“You have the fucking nerve to bring up MY baby. Don’t you EVER bring up MY baby like that again. You HAVE NO RIGHT.” Logan said tearing up

“YOURE BABY? HE WAS MINE TOO. IT WASNT JUST YOU THAT LOST A BABY, IT WAS ME TOO. HOW DO YOU THINK I FELT PUSHING OUT OUR BABY KNOWING HE WAS DEAD? I WANTED TO FUCKING KILL MYSELF LOGAN. I FELT LIKE I FUCKING FAILED YOU AND OUR SON.”

“MAYBE YOU FUCKING SHOULD’VE KILLED YOURSELF. HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT OF THAT?! IF YOU KILLED YOURSELF I’D BE SO MUCH BETTER OFF.” a sob escaped my lips as Logan finishes talking. “You act like I can’t find someone else, like I can’t impregnate another woman. You’re nothing but another piece of ass to me, that couldn’t fucking keep my son alive in you.”

Logan storms out of the room, slamming the door as he goes.

“Well, I’m so glad you told me this now because I’d HATE for our DAUGHTER to be in a house where her dad thinks so lowly of her mother!” I scream while I barge into our shared room, grabbing a suitcase and filling it up with all my shit I can fit in it.

Soft footsteps make their way to the room, stopping just before the door. Slowly I hear the door open and see Logan slowly walking in.

“what did you say?” he asks me in disbelief “did you say ‘Our Daughter’?”

“YEAH IM FUCKING PREGNANT AGAIN BUT SINCE IM JUST ANOTHER PIECE OF ASS TO YOU, IM FUCKING LEAVING AND YOURE NOT GONNA FUCKING SEE HER.” I yell, closing up the suitcase and heading for the door before feeling a tug on my wrist

“no baby, please. I’m sorry, i’m so sorry. let me make it all up to you and be in her life. i’ll change, I’ll be better, I’ll do anything to get you back.” tearing now streaming down Logan face

“I’ll be back in the morning to get the rest of my shit.” I said before tugging my wrist back and slamming the door shut behind me.

pt2 maybe?

thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed !!

@forevercaffeinated-lee

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