#i don’t know where these tags are going but my point is she is supportive of me and isn’t like forcing me into anything…. but i know she’s | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rimqueen · 1 month ago

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SOFTER, SOFTEST !

ft. curly x fem!reader

tags. piv, body worship sort of, rimming, big dick, tit job for like 2 seconds, creampie, size kink, scent kink, balls…

note. hai.. will get back to leon soon and I think mw fandom is lacking noncon and incest fics severely.. so i will get on that with jimmy. don’t know how to characterise him yet so ooc .. just infatuated with his breasts tbh i don’t know anything works in this universe LMFAO like idk just take this with a grain of salt.. for miss @pupwashing please ignore typos !! unedited :3

You miss Curly.

You miss him more than you did yesterday, more than an idiot misses the point, like a dick misses a wet pussy–You just miss him.

It has been four months. Twenty-one weeks. One-hundred and forty days. Three-thousand, five-hundred and twenty hours. Too many minutes, a hell of a lot more seconds, the closer he gets the further he seems to be.

Big numbers make it feel like you’re getting nowhere so you cut those twenty-fours into one day. One day and he’ll be home. One day and you’ll be in bed with his stomach crushed against yours, the warmth of his flesh searing yours, fucking him into next year, until he loses his halo.

Videos aren’t enough, photos don’t do him justice, toys don’t live up to the feel of a real dick. You miss that face he makes when he cums - it’s a block away from his crying face. You miss him face down, ass up, punching holes into his dignity one thrust at a time. God, you miss that dick, how he goes red all over, him in nothing but that stupid fucking smile.

One day, you tell yourself in the mirror that morning. One day, you tell yourself when you take your lunch break. One day, one more microwaved meal for one, one more lonely night.

It used to be a big deal, you think. The whole going to space thing. Curly says it’s no big deal, but you’re pretty sure that in your great-grandpa’s heyday it was impressive. You’ve seen videos of hoards gathering to watch a ship take off, to greet crews when they landed. Today, it’s you and a plump, older woman in her bathrobe waiting in the cold.

You could spot him in any crowd, glowing like a ray of light, mostly because he’s tall, partly because everything fades into abstraction when you notice how tight his uniform is. Good god. Did he get bigger? You’re starting to sweat, it’s hard to focus when your boyfriend is making a long-sleeved jumpsuit look naughty.

Curly’s hair is a little longer, blond curls licking the nape of his neck, falling onto his forehead, his eyes are so bright and his smile is white. He looks like a policeman’s emotional support dog. A really busty support dog. He scans the sad scattering of friends, family and drivers. You’re so taken off guard by the sight of his buttons popping you almost forget to wave at him.

He beams when you spot him, suitcase dragging behind him as he jogs over. Everything is in slow motion. Like that old movie - Baywatch. He’s so excited to see you, taking you into his big arms, shoving your face in his chest like he knows just where you’d like to be. You’re disappointed in your lungs when they beg for air, lifting your head and placing it on his shoulder instead. He smells like sweat, hotel shampoo and something metallic.

“Oh.” You open your eyes and spot Jimmy skulking behind him, an unlit cigarette between his lips. You narrow your eyes at him, and Jimmy does the same. Real shady guy, the type you’d cross the street to avoid. He’s always trailing after Curly like a bad omen. “He can’t come home with us, honey,” you tell him gently, not wanting to sound like a bitch.

Which you are.

You don’t want him smoking in your car, you don’t want Curly to invite him over for takeout because that means it’ll go on for hours and you won’t get your mouth on his big, stupid dick for another day.

“Hm? Why not?” Curly asks, pressing a kiss into your hairline, the tip of his nose bumping yours tenderly.

“I don’t have space in my car for both of you and the luggage, she’s small. What if she tips over? You’re heavy enough as it is.” You smile at him, cheekily, giving his newfound hips a squeeze. They’ve always been there, but now they’re like wow. It’s only been four months, is he on steroids? Did he get pregnant? He is glowing… God knows what’s up there in the atmosphere, some cosmic horror waiting to knock up your poor boyfriend.

Curly shrugs, offering an apologetic smile to his friend. “You heard the lady.”

Jimmy’s permanent scowl seems to deepen, cementing itself in his dermal layer. “Whatever, man.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, shoulders slumped as he makes a beeline for the phonebox.

He lifts his suitcase and loads it into your car and you watch his biceps flex. You see through his clothes, you remember every freckle on his back, mapping them out like stars, leading to those dimples low on his back, the perfect resting spot for your thumbs when you grab his ass. His body is so convenient. Like he was made to be fucked every which way.

“I missed you, I thought about you everyday,” he says against your lips, leaning in to kiss you over the gearshift. “I put your picture in the cockpit actually, Jim didn’t like it, but it kept me going.”

Always so earnest. You almost feel bad for missing his body more than him.

“Aww, Curly, honey,” you coo, pinching his cheek and cupping the other, “I missed you even more.” He nuzzles into your hand, eyes closed as you comb your fingers through his messy hair.

As much as you would like to indulge his sentimentality, you have no patience to spare. If you sit here any longer, you’re going to soak through your jeans and onto your leather seat.

You put the car in drive—

“Captain? Open up!” There’s a younger man knocking on the window, leaving his grubby handprints behind. “I wanted you to meet my mom!” His voice is muffled through the glass.

You lock the windows.

“Did you lock the windows?” Curly asks, lips downturned like he’s about to pout.

You unlock the windows.

“Of course not, baby.” You pat his head and grit your teeth.

They talk for fifteen whole minutes.

Thank you for taking care of him, he can be such a handful—Oh no, not at all, he was a joy to have—I’m glad he came back in one piece—He’s a good kid—Oh, I don’t know about that—Mooom—I’d be happy to have him back for our next long haul—Seriously, Captain?—

You squirm in place, shifting from side to side, thighs pressed together as your panties stick to your core. When Curly introduces you to his crew mate, you offer a strained smile and nothing more.

The window whirs shut. You make it home in record breaking time with four tickets and only a few points taken off your license. It doesn’t matter. You’re home, inside with the curtains drawn and Curly still has clothes on.

That’s not right.

“Take it off.”

“Huh?” Curly pushes his luggage into the corner, the top few buttons of his jumpsuit have come undone and you see the tuft of blond hair on his chest.

“Take it off, please?”

“My clothes?”

“No, your wig, baby.”

He laughs, good-natured, mild-mannered, and so fucking hot.

If he won’t do it then you will.

“I haven’t even showered—“ He starts, but you shush him with a kiss, murmuring a ‘good’ against his pink mouth.

When you part, spit keeps your lips connected, the string of fate or whatever. You go in for another, hands fisting the fabric of his collar, forcing him down towards you. Curly lets out a keening noise somewhere in the back of his throat like a dog scratching at the bathroom door.

“I know, my baby, I’ll give it to you.” You pout at him, thumbing his kiss-swollen lips and watching his eyes droop. “Oh no…” The buttons on his uniform when you try to open them.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles through a mouthful of his own spit, “cheap stuff.”

“I know, but you looked so good in it.” It’s a shame, but you need to see him bare, sweat as his only accessory.

“You think?” He near bats his lashes at you, stepping out of his uniform, and you swoon.

“God, yeah.” You push him down on the couch, Curly falls back with a soft grunt. It’s not very big, especially for a man of his size, but it’ll do for now.

His cock swells in his boxers, you feel it beneath you as you sit atop him, admiring the view below. The wide expanse of his chest, the sweat pooling in his collarbones, those tits. You don’t know what else they could be.

“Wow.” You take a handful of his chest, plucking his puffy pink nipple. “Look at these, I might have some competition.”

“Shut it,” he huffs out a laugh through his nose, and the tips of ears redden.

“I’m serious, baby, you’re, like, huge.” You can’t tear your eyes away from his soft flesh, moulding beneath your fingertips like dough, you could fuck them if you really wanted. “What happened out there?”

“Had a lot of spare time, I guess.” Curly smiles sheepishly, expression contorting when you bend your neck to suck his nipple into your mouth with a wet pop! His jaw slackens, and his cock jumps like it’s been given quite the fright.

You only have one complaint. His tan lines have faded. Floating through the galaxy for months on end can do that to you. You miss them, but you missed Curly more, so you’ll make do with what you have.

And you have more than enough. More than you can handle really. You can’t even get a grasp on his bicep, he’s stupidly big and your hand is on the smaller side.

You shift backwards, wet cunt dragging over his impossibly big bulge where only his underwear keeps you from him - you kind of admire your pussy for being able to take it. Your mouth moves on, hands still groping as much as you can of his chest as you lick the ridges of his stomach, it’s like he’s forged out of marble.

Softly, Curly rubs the back of your head, trying his very best to keep his eyes on you and not let them fall shut. You feel his stomach muscles rippling under your tongue. They contract when you trace around his navel, placing a sloppy kiss just below it, where a patch of curly hair leads to his wet cock.

His cock is drooling through the white fabric of his boxers, they’re soaked enough to be see-through, you spot the fat, pink head that has been missing your kisses. “You’re so wet, baby, is it all for me?”

With a pitiful noise, he tosses his head back and nods sadly. It’s funny to hear a man of his stature whine, but it suits Curly so well.

Your fingers hook in the waistband, tugging his underwear downwards until his fat cock springs out, it’s so fucking fat it weighs itself down. The leaky head twitches, pre dripping down his thick shaft, leaving a moonlit trail to his heavy balls. So full of seed they might burst.

“Oh… Poor baby.” You give them a gentle squeeze, and Curly’s eyes roll back into his skull, hips jolting upwards.

The urge to take it into your mouth right then and there is tempting, you hold back, you want to take your time with him. Make him feel special. You seat yourself between his thighs, one leg thrown over your shoulder so it’s easier to fit on the sofa. Your thumb runs along his pink slit, dribbling out pearly strands of pre that web between your fingers. Curly whimpers, biting down on his fist.

“These are cute.” You take note of his meaty thighs, how they’ve only gotten bigger, a comfier place to sit. The stretch marks don’t go unnoticed, streaking purple and pink along the milky flesh of his inner thighs like faded brushstrokes.

“Mmmph.” He blinks at you, pouty, lashes wet with impatient tears.

“Yeah, mmmph, I know, baby, be patient.” You’re a big, fat hypocrite.

His scent is stronger down here, clean and soapy, but the tang of sweat prospers, and the underlying smell of him. The smell of his pillow, the smell of his few-days old clothes, the smell of his towel after he works out.

A few more kisses here and there, using the flat of your tongue to lave over strips of his sinewy skin, leaving him spit-slicked and breathless and flushed. You hoist his other leg over your shoulder, he’s heavy, but you’re horny and it’s given you a sudden burst of vitality.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, gripping the top of the couch, one arm over his face as you lick up the seam of his balls, mouth latching to the swollen underside, where they feel heaviest.

Curly’s cock leaks into your hair, the weight brings it down to rest on your face, tip pressed into your hairline, dripping down the bridge of your nose like sweat while you make a mess of his balls. Stuffing them into your mouth one at a time, using your hand to give the lonelier one a squeeze when your lips are kissing up on another.

The kiss to his perineum is enough to make him moan. Curly knows what’s coming. You go lower, nose nestled into his balls, breathing him while your hands spread his ass cheeks apart to get to the spot you love most.

Curly’s hole is darker than the rest of him, not quite pink like his cock, ruddier. He’s tight and he smells good. So good. You’ve never minded the hair, you think it’s pretty cute. Curtains match the drapes.

Affectionately, you kiss his puffy rim, and it throbs.

He lets out a groan that is half mortified and half ready-to-blow-his-load.

“Sure,” Curly says, voice breaking as you circle his hole with the tip of your tongue. He tastes like him, musky and sweet and coppery. Curly is home and your tongue is in his ass where it belongs, wriggling its way past his pulsing rim, hopefully all the way up into his heart.

Your thumb and middle finger stretch to meet around the girth of his cock, stroking him slowly as you work open his asshole, tongue pushing back in when he pushes you out. Once you deem him wet enough, you push a single finger knuckle-deep and he cries out, hips bucking up off the couch.

Much to his dismay, which he shows in the form of a pained whimper, your hand leaves his cock to splay over his stomach and hold him down to the best of your abilities. “You have to stay still, honey.”

You feed a second finger into him, his hole squelching as you curl them inside of him. Curly clenches tight enough to cut off your blood circulation, sucking you back in when you ultimately pull them out with a lewd noise. He opens his mouth on instinct, pupils so blown out his light eyes seem dark, you push your fingers down his throat and he sucks.

“You’re so cute,” you mumble, watching him intently, he’s like a pin-up model of some sort. An X-rated action figure. “Taste good?”

“Not really,” Curly says. He’s so honest it makes you laugh. He shuffles back to rest his head on the arm of the couch, cock bobbing, still leaking like nobody’s business, leaving little droplets of wet in its wake.

It’s ready to burst, but you’re not done with him yet. You haven’t had your fill. When you spend half your time with your head between his thighs, you miss out on all the faces he pulls. So you spit on your tits to get them wet, his cock is slick enough, nothing should chafe when you squeeze his cock between them.

“Christ,” Curly grits out, brows knitting together, the second coming and he hasn’t even had his first.

“You wanna cum like this?” You ask, kneading your tits on either side of his cock, each time the tip pops up past your cleavage, it bumps your chin and leaves it slick.

“No…” He shakes his head, curls bouncing, sticking to his forehead, the hair near his nose is curlier with the added sweat. “Inside.”

“I can do that for you, babe.” You smile at him, acting like that wasn’t your plan in the first place, like you haven’t been dying for a warm creampie since he landed back on earth. You give the fat head of his dick one sloppy kiss, making sure to tongue his slit before you clamber on top of him.

It should be an easy task to get him inside, you’ve been wet for the last twenty-four hours, your pussy is throbbing like it’s got a heartbeat. Slick dries on your inner thighs and your clit is buzzing, a rush of arousal passes over you like a cold wave when you lift your hips to guide his dick into you.

Oh. Wow. That’s a stretch.

In theory, you know big Curly’s dick is. It’s a fucking horsecock, and you have eyes bigger than your stomach. You always overestimate yourself. You think you’re gonna be just fine, then his fat tip breaches your little hole, no matter how wet, and you lose it, scrambling to grasp his shoulders as your body is racked with shivers.

Curly’s kind enough to steady you, big hands finding purchase on your hips. His needy noises get through to you, and you push on, sliding down and taking him to the hilt. His dick curves upwards into your cervix, rubbing the fleshy opening as you adjust to his dick after four whole months of nothing worthwhile.

He’s so big. You’re so wet, slippery pussy slicking up his cock, and making things easier for the both of you.

“I love you.” Curly shudders, looking right into your eyes like he’s afraid to blink and miss a single thing.

“I love you too,” you tell him, eyes on his tits.

He’s so deep, feet planted on the couch as he fucks into you, unable to help himself. You get it. You’re tight, warm, and wet. Better than his fist. Your pussy is noisy, squelching each time you bottom you, grinding your clit into his pelvis, feeling his cock twitch each time you tighten around him. The plap of his balls hitting your ass when enough momentum is built up.

Curly’s helpful, when he sees you tense up, throwing your head back and rolling your hips over and over, you want him deeper and deeper, he wets his fingers with your slick and rubs figure eights into your clit.

It’s just enough to make your toes curl—Oh, who are you kidding? You near blackout when you cum, moaning so loud you scare yourself. You see black. Like someone’s drawn the curtains in your mind, ending the show. Your nails dig into his skin, but he’s always put up with that like a champ.

“Holy fuck.” Shaking still, you blink to clear your vision, you’ve wet his navel and his tummy and the couch might be ruined. You don’t even remember when he came inside you. What a shame. Feels good though, still warm. Sighing, you lay against his chest, Curly’s soft cock slips out of your hole, resting on his thigh. “Welcome home, Captain.”

#curly mouthwashing smut #curly smut #captain curly x reader #captain curly smut #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing x you #mouthwashing smut #curly x reader #mouthwashing curly x reader

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not-neverland06 · 4 months ago

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forgotten promises

pt two of broken promises (I know I'm so creative with names)

bodyguard!logan howlett x fem!runaway reader

a/n: SMUT 18+ MDNI they, like, never use protection (don't be silly, sheathe your willy) but I’d like to make it 100% clear now that she has a magic uterus and there will be absolutely NO baby-making. Just rocking unprotected sex 😎👍 If you’re tagged in this, it does not mean that I am permanently adding you to my taglist. It just means I saw you in my comments/reblogs/inbox asking for a part two and this was the easiest way to let you know I made one. If you would like to be added to the taglist, feel free to ask. Summary: Life on the road isn't exactly glamorous. Cramped spaces and too many cheap motels have you and Logan at each other's throats. You feel eyes tracking you everywhere you go but you're afraid to tell him, afraid it will be the end of the road for the both of you. One cheap bar and an explosion later and your whole life is flipped upside down.

“What are you doing?”

You glance over Logan’s shoulder at the register. The man behind it isn’t looking at either of you, just disinterestedly scrolling through his phone.

“Isn’t this what you do?” You ask, motioning to the pack of beef jerky you’re stuffing down your jacket.

Logan scoffs and shakes his head. “No, kid.” He takes the bag from you and rolls his eyes.

“Well, then how do you pay for this stuff?”

“Normally, with the money I get from my jobs. But your dad wasn’t too forthcoming with my last paycheck.”

You feel that familiar burning churn of guilt roiling around in your gut. You’ve definitely added another complication to his life and it makes you feel like nothing more than a burden sometimes. “Oh, Logan, I’m sorry.”

Logan glances down at you. He gives you that familiar appeasing look, squeezing you closer, and drags you towards the register. He tosses the snacks and drinks onto the counter. The guy just barely glances up at you both.

“Will that be all?” He asks in a tone that says he could care less.

“Yeah,” you answer, eyes drifting towards the magazine rack. Your face is plastered on the cover of a cheap tabloid.

LOCAL POLITICIANS DAUGHTER STILL MISSING

Exclusive interview with family on PG. 6

Your eyes go wide and you turn your face further into Logan’s chest. He gives you a confused look before his eyes are snagged by the same thing that caught your attention.

“Why don’t you go wait in the truck?” You nod and slip out of his hold, being mindful to keep your face away from the security camera near the front.

That keeps happening. You hadn’t thought you would have made news, but your father was making this a part of his campaign. Claiming you’d been taken by a mutant bodyguard and that he’s been praying for your safe return. “Experts” have been claiming that with no ransom demanded you’re being turned into a message for anyone who goes against mutants.

Now, mutants despise you and everyone else thinks you’re a martyr. In a few years, you’re sure you’ll be turned into some true crime documentary where people you’ve never met before are crying over your disappearance.

You slide into the truck and let out a deep sigh. You’d thought running away would be freeing. But even a hundred miles from him, you can still feel the cold grip of your father’s hand around your throat.

“Twenty on pump seven,” Logan tosses the cash on the counter, eyes drifting to you in the truck. It was instinct at this point, always keeping an eye on you. Especially since one of your father’s more fanatic supporters had spotted you in a shitty diner a week ago. They’d called the cops and tried to bar you and Logan from leaving.

It hadn’t gone over well for him.

He’d been trying to keep you a little more hidden since then, but it left a sour taste in his mouth. He’d gotten you out of that house to show you what real life was like, to give you a taste of freedom.

He felt like he was no better than your father, keeping you cooped up and covered constantly.

When the kid in front of him doesn’t say anything, Logan clears his throat. He gives him a quizzical look but the boy’s eyes are stuck on the door.

“I swear I know her,” he mutters. Logan’s eyes drift towards the TV behind the counter and he sees an old news story of you. They’re using the footage of the acid attack, claiming you’ve always been the mutant movement’s target.

“Can I get twenty on pump seven,” Logan repeats, voice firm. The kid finally looks at him and whatever expression Logan is wearing is enough for him to finally start moving.

The second the receipt is in his hand he’s rushing out the door. He doesn’t know how long it’s going to take that dumbass to piece two and two together but he can’t risk dawdling.

He fills the tank up, eyes scanning the gas station the entire time. He’s had a cloying sense of paranoia ever since the incident in the diner. He knows that at some point this little run of yours is going to come to an end.

He doesn’t know if it’ll end with cops finding the two of you. Or if you’re going to realize the real world isn’t all that fun and leave him behind. He knows that a girl like you, one who's used to the finer things, is never going to be satisfied by the life he can offer.

But he’s hoping that you come to your senses later rather than sooner. He’s enjoying traveling with you a lot more than he wants to admit.

He gets in the truck, starts it up, and glances over at you. You smile, the smile that makes him feel things he doesn’t like admitting to himself or you.

“All good?” You ask.

He nods, driving off without a word because he doesn’t want to tell you the truth. Doesn’t want to admit what you both know to be a fact. The time you have together has an expiration date and he’s worried it’s creeping closer.

Logan’s inside some shitty roadside motel. Whatever he’s talking about with the owner is clearly getting heated. You can see the way the anger’s growing on his face. His body is tensed up and he looks like he’s five seconds away from leaping over the counter and taking the greasy man leering at him down.

There’s a final word exchanged between them and then Logan is storming back towards the truck. He slams the door closed so hard you’re surprised the windows don’t shatter. Normally, you sleep in the trailer. It’s not always the warmest or coziest, but you make it work.

It’s too cold out tonight to do that and Logan doesn’t have a spare tank for the heating. He’d thought he’d had enough for a cheap room for tonight, but clearly, he doesn’t. There’s a tense silence in the truck as you mentally debate saying anything to him.

His fists are wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel you can hear it creaking. You shift, sitting up straighter in your seat and uncurling your legs. There’s a stiffness to your joints that has you groaning. It’s involuntary, ripped out of you simply because you’ve been sitting for too long.

It catches Logan’s attention and he glances over at you. There’s a resigned sort of guilt on his face and it makes you feel sick to your stomach. He’s used to this type of lifestyle, and sometimes you think he’s embarrassed to share it with you.

You’d never judge him for roadside motels or living off cheap gas station meals. You know you were privileged living up with the wealth you did. But there is something infinitely more satisfying about being poor and happy than there ever was being rich and miserable.

“Look, kid,” he lets out a heavy sigh and you mentally prepare yourself for what you’ve been expecting. You were a fun time, a nice ride, but you’re becoming a burden and he can’t deal with it anymore.

You let your nails dig into the thin skin of your palms so you can attempt to ground yourself. “I need to make some money tonight, so I just need you to bear with me for a while.”

Like there is every time he doesn’t boot you to the curb, a relieved rush of air expels from your chest almost violently. “Okay,” you say tentatively, the word dragging out while you try and understand his meaning.

“I just,” he stops and it looks like he’s struggling to find the words to say to you. You wait patiently for him to finish, or try to at least. “There’s a bar nearby. I’ll find some work there,” his words are ominous. They give you nothing and convey so much.

Clearly, he’s hiding something from you. You can tell that much from the way he’s avoiding eye contact with you. He pulls out of the motel’s parking lot and turns the radio on. You’ve learned that's his way of telling you he doesn’t want to talk without being a dick about it.

You want to respect his space because you still feel like an imposter. But it’s hard. He’s being oddly cagey about this.

The drive is short but it feels like you’ve been transported to an entirely different town than the one you were in before. He takes only backroads and middle-class homes turn into shady shops with barbed fences. Caged dogs bark at the truck as it drives by and you get a sinking feeling in your gut.

Perhaps it’s a little classist of you to automatically assume a few low-end homes equate to a bad neighborhood. But instinctually you know something is off about this place.

He parks in front of a run-down bar. Even from here, you can hear loud shouts and jeering coming from inside. You don’t know what’s being said but they’re certainly passionate. Logan turns towards you, the expression on his face so serious you feel like you’re about to be scolded.

“I need you to stay here. I won’t be gone long, just an hour at most. But you need to stay in the truck.”

Your jaw gapes and you scoff at him. “Logan, an hour that’s rid-”

He cuts you off with a stern call of your name. Your mouth snaps shut and you narrow your eyes at him, teeth gritting together to keep your tongue at bay. “Stay here, I mean it. Got it?”

You nod and he repeats your name, sounding aggrieved. “Fine,” you huff. “I got it.” He lingers for a moment. You don’t know if he doesn’t trust you or is just reluctant to leave you alone. You’re reluctant to be left alone, especially in a shady dark parking lot like this. But clearly whatever is going on inside is worse than whatever could happen to you out here.

“I’ll be back soon,” he makes this whole thing sound so grave. It makes your brows furrow and doubt churn in your gut. What could he be doing in there that’s so awful?

He gets out and you watch his form under the flickering street lamps until you can’t see him anymore. You sit quietly in the truck for at least three minutes before you already feel the boredom set in.

You’d thought you’d be able to last longer. You used to go for hours dissociating at your father’s galas. This is different, though. You’re a little afraid to let your guard down here.

You try to listen to music but you feel bad wasting his gas so you just turn the truck off and huddle under a blanket in the trailer. You try and let yourself fall asleep but you don’t last long.

It’s too cold outside to really get a good rest and you can hear people moving around outside the trailer. After about an hour of rolling around and frozen limbs, you figure enough is enough.

As much as you don’t want to provoke Logan or give him any reason to get rid of you, you can’t stay in here all night. Besides, Logan said he wouldn’t be long, you can always just lie and say you were worried about him.

Satisfied with your excuse you leave the comfort of your blanket behind and slip into Logan’s jacket. You tuck the truck keys in your pocket and walk out into the snowy night. It’s less cold outside than it was in the trailer, you can see why he wanted a motel room for the night.

A few people linger by the cars, smoking and muttering to themselves. You slip past them, ignoring the feeling of their eyes burning into your skin. You’re sure it's because you look like you don’t belong here.

The noise in the bar gets louder the closer you get and it reminds you of the night Logan had snuck you out of the house. But you’d had him to lean on, right now, until you find him, you’re on your own. For all the noise coming from the building, the bar is surprisingly empty.

Only a few old men are sitting around, drinking beers in silence. The bartender cleans glasses behind the counter, sparing you an odd look before getting back to work. There’s not very far for you to look before you figure out that Logan isn’t anywhere nearby.

“Excuse me?” The bartender spares you a fleeting glance before barely grunting in greeting.

The floor underneath you tremors and you glance down at it in surprise. You can hear something going on underneath. You figure that has to be where all the noises are coming from. “I’m looking for someone. Tall, mean as hell, he’s got this hair,” you swoop your hands up by the sides of your head, trying to mimic the odd fluff of Logan’s hair.

“Downstairs.” You nod and move around the bar, trying to get to the door behind him. He reaches out, grabbing your bicep and stopping you before you can get far. “It's a forty-dollar entrance fee, sweetheart.”

Your brow furrows in confusion and you frown as you dig around in your jacket pockets. You’ve come too far to be deterred now. Ignoring the moral implications, you slip Logan’s wallet out of his jacket and give the man forty dollars.

He nods towards the door and you give him a weak thank you as you slip past him. Opening the door is like breaking a seal. The noises bombard you almost immediately, so much clearer than they were before.

You still can’t understand what they’re screaming but there’s a violent atmosphere slipping around you as you head down the stairs. The heady smell of cigars and cigarettes threatens to suffocate you. Your eyes water at the smoke in the air.

You’d think you’d have gotten used to secondhand smoking after being around Logan, but he’s less inclined to hotbox the car if you’re beside him. The second your feet hit the floor you’re being jostled to the side violently by the people around you.

It’s nearly impossible to elbow your way through the crowd, but you’re determined to figure out what’s in the middle of the cage that’s got them all excited. You can hear the people around you screaming out bets and numbers you don’t understand.

For one nauseating moment, you think this might be a dog fighting ring, that Logan gambles on it to earn his money. It makes you want to turn around, to shield yourself from the truth. But this is something he tried to keep hidden from you and you need to know the truth about whoever you’re traveling with.

You can hear the announcer, but you can’t get close enough to see anything yet. “Are you gonna let this man walk away with your money?” There’s a resounding NO! from the crowd that makes you jump.

A booming voice shouts over the throng of voices, “I’ll take him!”

“Our savior ladies and gentlemen!” You shove through two men, ignoring the way they complain about how their beer sloshes on their sleeves.

“Hey-” You glance over your shoulder as one of them reaches for you. You flick your wrist, sending him and his friend tumbling back into the crowd. You roll your eyes and turn back towards the cage.

Your eyes widen and so do Logan’s as you finally see what exactly is going on. He’s cage fighting, this is what he’d been so secretive about. Honestly, it’s a relief compared to the brutality you were bracing yourself for.

You can see his lips starting to form the shape of your name but the man from before is barrelling into his side as the bell goes off. You wince, jumping away from the cage as you hear the meaty impact of his fist against Logan’s face.

The people near you scream, shouting for Logan’s blood. It’s easy to figure out that he’s been beating everyone he’s gone up against based on some bloody faces in the crowd. It’s smart, easy money. He can always heal, and can never really be beaten, not when he’s literally got fists of steel.

You’re surprised that no one’s ever caught onto this scam of his. You also wonder why he had been so adamant about you not seeing this. Sure, it’s brutal watching blood spray against the mat. But you don’t care. Besides, he’s ridiculously attractive in just his jeans as he pummels into some guy.

Maybe that’s not a normal line of thinking.

You shake your head, shelving that for later as the fight dies down. The man is limp on the mat of the cage and Logan is leaning against the wall, smoking a cigar and pointedly not looking at you.

You feel that familiar twisting feeling in your stomach and wonder if this was a horrible idea. You should have just stayed in the car like he asked. You’re sure it would have only been another hour of tirelessly rolling around before he came back. But you couldn’t help yourself.

He tells you so little about himself. If you get a chance to learn more, you’re going to pounce on the opportunity. Maybe it was a violation of his trust. You sincerely doubt that he would ever willingly have revealed this sort of lifestyle to you, though.

He seems to be under the same misguided intention that you need to be sheltered. It reminds you a little of your father. That might be a cruel comparison but it’s the same suffocating feeling of being kept in the dark to suit their needs.

The guilt you’d been holding unfurls and blossoms into anger. You find yourself retreating away from the cage and rushing back up the stairs of the bar. You don’t want to watch him fight any longer. You don’t want to look at him.

You just want him to treat you like an equal. Not like some little girl who’s going to run at the first sign of things getting hard.

You burst through the door of the bar, ignoring the cold laughter of the bartender behind you. He clearly seemed to think you couldn’t handle a little blood. He wasn’t the only one.

You’re only a couple of feet from the truck when you hear footsteps loudly stomping through the snow behind you. “What the hell were you doing?” You scoff, unbelieving that he would have the gall to shout at you.

You whirl around on him and it catches him off guard. His right foot slides against the slush as he tries to stop himself from ramming into you. “I’m not a little girl, Logan! You don’t need to hide stuff like that from me.”

He crosses his arms and glares down at you. “I wasn’t hiding anything,” he insists. But the tone of his voice gives him away. He doesn’t like that he was caught. “I don’t need to tell you jackshit about what I do for money.”

You can’t believe how he sounds right now. Why is he getting so defensive about this? “I don’t care what you do for money, alright. I just don’t get why you felt like I couldn’t know about this.” You hate the way the hurt is audible in your voice. You wear your heart on your sleeve, even when you try and cover it.

In the same way, he’s masking his feelings with anger, so are you. Just with less success. Something draws across his face, some emotion you can’t discern. His voice goes cold and quiet as he shoves an envelope full of cash into your hands.

“Go back to the motel. Get a room.”

He storms past you and walks towards the trailer. You follow after him, slightly dumbfounded by how he’s behaving. He rips his motorcycle out from the back and rolls it into a parking spot. You watch him do all this with your tongue glued to the roof of your mouth.

It’s only when he starts to head back towards the bar that you realize he’s not coming with you. “Logan!” You call out, trailing after him slightly. He barely turns back to face you. “Are you,” the words die on your tongue and you can’t find it in yourself to finish.

Are you angry?

Are you leaving?

Are you going to ditch me at the next bus stop?

Instead of asking any of your ridiculously pining questions, you turn on your heel and storm towards the truck. You rip the door open with more force than necessary and drive off without looking back at him. But you know he watches, know he keeps an eye on you until he can’t see you anymore.

Your rides with him are normally silent, but this one feels painfully so.

You nearly get a room with two beds. But you feel like if you do it will be a horrendous mistake. Reluctantly, you give the man behind the counter enough for a room with one bed large enough for the both of you.

You’re not exactly excited about sharing a bed with him, not after how he behaved tonight. You grumble to yourself as you drag your bag inside and toss it on the ground. You picture putting up a wall of pillows between the two of you, just to be petty.

It’s as you’re showering that you realize you might not even have to. He might not come to join you tonight. He won’t know what room you’re in. And he’d made it pretty clear how pissed he was at you for sneaking into the bar.

Maybe you’ve finally pushed him too far. You’ve been toying with the boundaries of his patience for a while. Little tests to determine whether he truly wants you around simply to have a warm body ready beside him. Or if he wants you because he genuinely cares for you.

You suppose tonight, whether you want it or not, you’ll finally have the truth.

The thought keeps you awake. You toss and you turn for hours, fighting with yourself. You should be happy, finally figuring out what’s been haunting you. But you’re not. You’re petrified. You’d rather keep living a lie than finally accept that he truly doesn’t want you.

You throw the covers off, the scratchy material only further adding to your irritation. You stomp into the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind you. You turn on the sink splashing some cool water over your face to try and rid yourself of the warmth lingering under your skin. You don’t know if this feeling of being uncomfortable in your own body is from pent-up anger or anxiety.

You don’t care. You just want to sleep this night away and pretend it never happened. But, of course, the universe has other plans. The motel door creaks open as you’re hovering over the sink, debating whether or not you’re nauseous enough to throw up.

You tilt your head slightly towards the sound. Growing up in your house, filtering through rooms like an unheard ghost, allowed you to get good at recognizing footsteps. Logan has finally decided to grace you with his presence.

You listen to him as he creeps silently across the room, landing on the squeaky bed. You press your ear against the door and can hear the way the sheets rustle and he cusses under his breath. There’s worry staining his voice and you figure you shouldn’t drag this on much longer.

You open the bathroom door and flip the switch, turning the lamps on like a disappointed mother waiting up for her teenager. You cross your arms mutely and lean against the doorframe as he winces under the sudden light.

He jumps, just slightly, and glares over at you. “Thought you weren’t here,” he accuses. He tries sounding angry, but you have a sudden rush of clarity in that moment. Where you would normally focus only on him being upset with you, you can see the truth of his concern.

Same as you, he doesn’t know where he stands in this whole situation. You doubt he had a clear plan when he rescued you from your tower like some ridiculous storybook knight. He most likely thought that you left, the same way you thought he would.

You remain silent, though, still a little too flustered to speak coherently. Instead, you examine him. There are cuts and blood all over his shirt. Splatters of it on his face. Though, you know if you looked there would be no physical evidence of him ever being hurt.

His brows furrow the longer you stare, a wall building between the two of you. “Kid?” He questions, equal parts worried and defensive. Does he really think you actually give a fuck about him fighting?

You shake your head and walk back into the bathroom. You rustle around in the cabinet underneath the sink until you find a washcloth. Wetting it, you bring it back out to him. You station yourself between his spread legs, holding the cloth between you like a peace offering.

He looks doubtful as he glances between you and it. Finally, he lets out a rough sigh and simply nods his head. But when he reaches for it you snatch it back, much to his chagrin. You offer him a small smile and tilt his chin up towards you, gently wiping some of the dried blood off his cheeks.

He doesn’t flinch or hiss away from the less-than-gentle fabric. He stares at you unblinkingly, like if he closes his eyes for a moment he’ll wake up and this will all have been a dream. “You don’t have to do this, kid.”

You roll your eyes and crane your neck to get a better look at him. “Would you shut up?” You whisper teasingly.

His lips quirk slightly and you can see his shoulder slump in relief at the sound of your voice. “So, she can talk.” You can’t help the little laugh that comes out of you. He grins fully at that and his hands come up to rest on your hips.

His thumbs rub soothing circles along the sides of your waist as his hands dip a little lower. “What are you doing?” Your hand drifts down to his neck to wipe some blood off there as well.

He shakes his head and shrugs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You lift your gaze to his and your lips fall flat, “Logan-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. In one smooth motion, his hands drop to wrap around your thighs. He lifts you slightly and drops you onto his lap. He grins at the slight huff of surprise that rushes out of you.

His arms go back to your waist, pulling you closer to him and grinding you a little against him. You bite your lip to stop any noises from escaping. As much as you wouldn’t mind what he’s thinking, you need to talk.

“Logan,” you scold.

He smirks and tilts his head patronizingly, “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

“It’s not happening,” you tell him firmly, hand still working on cleaning him.

He sighs and one of his arms drops away from you. He cups your hand in his, stilling your movements and forcing you to meet his gaze. Gently, he takes the cloth from you and tosses it somewhere you can’t see. “I’m fine,” he whispers, eyes searching yours.

It’s hard meeting his gaze. The worry and anxiety from the night still weigh heavily on your shoulders. He repeats himself, fingers tilting your chin up to face him. “Alright?”

“I don’t care,” the words come rushing out of you before you can stop them. His brows raise in shock and he gives a slight chuckle of amusement. A lump grows in your throat and your eyes grow wide. “Wait, I don’t mean-”

You cut yourself off and rub your hands over your face, trying to get your head on right. Logan’s patient, rubbing your back and clearly trying not to laugh at you. You finally take in a deep breath and face him again.

“I don’t care about the fighting,” you can see his shoulders tense slightly like he doesn’t believe you. “I don’t care, Logan. You do what you have to survive and I’m not gonna judge you for that.”

“What if I enjoy it?” He cuts you off, tone harsh as he glares down at you. There's experience in how quickly he doubts you, how quickly he tries to get you to change your mind about him.

You wonder how many times he’s been rejected just for being a mutant. You’ve only ever been rejected by one person because only he ever knew. Your father. And that hurt enough for one lifetime.

You can’t imagine going for as long as he has and constantly being called a monster for something he can’t control. Your brows furrow and you lean into him until your lips are brushing. He remains stiff beneath you but you don’t let it deter you.

“I don’t care,” you tell him, pressing your lips to his before slowly pulling back. You wait for him to respond, physically or verbally, but he’s still looking at you with that cold unfamiliar gaze.

You wonder if maybe it was a mistake, to bring it up at all. But just as the thought comes he’s surging forward. His lips catch yours, his hands digging so desperately into your shirt you know it rips.

Your arms go to his neck, holding onto him so you don’t slip off his lap. You haven't been this close for a few days. You think it might have made you both feel on edge. There’s a relief that comes from not just having sex with him, but also just being intimate and close to one another.

It’s a reminder that you’re not alone, that there’s someone here beside you to be a partner and a pillar of stability. You’ve never had that before. Someone that you can rely on and trust fully. You don’t think he has either.

He craves you the same way you do him. Each kiss, every shared breath, is treated like it will be your last. You don’t know when your father will finally catch up to the two of you. You don’t know when the police might finally recognize Logan.

There’s no definitive future for either of you. It’s a real possibility that this could be your last night together. And neither of you wants to be upset with each other. Because you were never truly mad. You were always just worried.

Your hands drop to his shirt, dipping to find the holes in it from his fight and ripping at the flimsy fabric until you can just yank it off. He smiles against your lips at the eager way you move atop him. But he can’t tease you, he’s already annoyed with the buttons on your shirt.

He pulls back, glaring down at the fabric like it's insulting him. Without another word, he slices through it, leaving it in tatters on your shoulder. You grin, shrugging the rest of it off. “That was yours.”

He grips your hips tightly and leaves marks where his fingers are as a reminder that he was here. He flips you over, leaves you breathless as he hovers over you. “I really don’t give a fuck, sweetheart.”

You’re addicted to his voice. How breathy and desperate it is when he’s with you. It’s a level of vulnerability you rarely get to see from him. He can’t hide himself when he’s with you like this. He wants you just as badly as you do him.

It gives you a confidence rush like no other, makes your ego grow ten times its size. If you can make a man like this fall to his knees from nothing more than a kiss, then you’re capable of a lot more than you give yourself credit for.

But you don’t want that tonight. You reach for him before he can go much further, grabbing him by his hair and tugging until you know it stings. He nearly fucking moans at your rough touch, eyes fluttering open to meet yours. The green of them has been wholly consumed by his desire for you and it makes you ache for him.

“Not tonight,” you tell him. There’s no room for argument in your tone. As much as he might want to taste you, devour you, all you want is to be as close to him as possible. You want to be covered and filled by him in every way you can be.

His head falls against your thigh, a rough groan tumbling from his throat at your words. You drag him towards you, pulling him up your body until you’re face to face. You smile softly up at him, lifting your head so you can meet his lips again.

You’ll never get enough of kissing him, of tasting him. Sometimes you have to stop yourself from reaching across the seats and kissing him while he drives. You’ve nearly made him wreck a few times and forced him to pull over so you could both have some fun in the back.

Addiction isn’t the right word for what you feel for him. It brings along its own negative connotations. The taint of dependency and toxicity. With addiction, it’s a parasitic relationship, hurts you but makes you feel good.

This is just goodness. This is a kind touch for the first time in your life and finally feeling safe in someone elses arms. This is opening yourself up to him fully and not once feeling like you need to mold yourself into something else to make him happy. It’s accepting him as he is, a broken dog who likes to fight to punish himself. You don’t want to change him or make him “better.” You just want him to be happy.

You use your powers to help yourself, flipping him over and straddling his hips. You drag his jeans down his legs and flick your wrist, sending them flying somewhere across the room. He watches you with eyes filled with awe, hands drifting over your curves like something to be worshipped.

You know he’s waiting for it, for you to sink yourself down on him and finally be filled. But you wait, hover over him even as the muscles of your thighs tremor. “You don’t hide things from me anymore,” you warn him. You’re not asking, for once, you’re demanding what you want.

He doesn’t look angry like you’d been expecting. Instead, it only seems to turn him on more. “Ya know,” his hands drift to your hips, dragging you down and over his cock until it’s wet with your want. Your nails dig into his chest until there’s blood beading under them and you’re trying not to let your noises slip out.

“I kinda like it when you’re all bossy like this.”

“Logan,” you grit his name out. It takes everything in you not to look as affected by him as you feel. “No more hiding shit.”

He leans up on his elbows. His hand drifts to the nape of your neck and drags you down until your lips are nearly touching his. “Yeah, I got it, sweetheart.”

Like a taut rope being cut, you sink into him, your hips finally drop and he guides you down every inch of him until you feel like you’re so full you can’t breathe. He lets you linger for a moment, and get used to this feeling while he steals the very air from your lungs.

He’s greedy with the way he touches you. His hands always moving like he’ll never fully be satisfied with how much of you he can feel. He’s always reaching for you like he needs to make sure you’re actually real and not just something he’s dreamt up.

Even with how impatient he is, you’re always the one that moves first. You roll your hips over him, moaning at how he feels inside you. It’s like he’s perfectly molded you around him. He always manages to brush against the spots that make your eyes roll into the back of your head.

The second your hips begin to roll, he’s wrapping his heavy arms around you, grinding you down into him. He keeps you trapped in place, using you like a toy as he bounces you on his lap. Your mind is fuzzy, every bad thought and feeling shoved out while he makes you go dumb on his dick.

You love how boneless you go. You don’t have to think now, don’t have to worry. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, shifting yourself further on top of him until you're practically burying yourself under his skin.

Not thinking always comes with its own consequences, though. Your powers slip a little out of your grasp. The walls trembling and the drawers and cabinets opening and closing. The both of you have gotten used to the noise, know how to drown it out, and just focus on each other.

One of these days, you’ll need to figure out a way to have sex with him without bringing the room down around you. That’s a problem for later though. His whispered praises and grunts of your name filter through your mind until there’s nothing left inside you but him.

“Fuck,” he hisses in your ear, “you’re so fucking tight around me. You close?” He grunts, hand drifting down to rub tight circles on your clit. You dig your nails into his shoulders, nodding your head frantically against his neck. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Shit,” you can barely think of your own damn name. Let alone what you want from him. “Fuck off,” you hiss. He chuckles at the attitude and you almost expect him to stop, just to be a dick because you were a brat.

But he’s just as close as you are and he’s too selfish to tease. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes down on you as your body shakes against his. He follows quickly after you, warmth shooting up inside you and almost leaking down your thighs. You feel stuffed, like your body’s been pushed to the limit and further.

You both sit together in silence for a while. You ignore the way your skin sticks to his uncomfortably, instead reveling in the warmth he provides you. Anyone else, and you’d be rushing to get away from them.

You’re always extra sensitive after sex, every little thing setting you off. But there’s a comfort to the way his hairy ass chest brushes against your breasts and his arms squeeze around you. It’s a nice grounding feeling.

The tips of your fingers drift over his arms, following the path of his veins and brushing against his fingers lazily. He flips his palm over, encasing your hand in his own wordlessly. Little things like that ease your worries. Makes you feel like something more than just a quick fuck.

He breaks the silence first, which is rare for him. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

You frown and peer up at him. “I told you, I don’t care about the fighting.”

He sighs and shakes his head, “Not that. I shouldn’t have gotten so fucking mad at you. You didn’t do anything wrong.” You want to interrupt him, assure him that you both acted pretty childishly.

But you understand it’s difficult for him to express himself verbally. He usually prefers silent acts of apologies and expression, you don’t want to mess him up before he can get out what he wants to say.

“I don’t want to be like your father.” Your face screws up a little and you shift uncomfortably on his lap. He loosens his grip, giving you room to leave if you want to, but you stay put. “I’m trying not to coddle you, sweetheart, or hide you away from the world. But I don’t like you seeing that shit.”

“You’re not my dad, Logan. He wouldn’t give me a choice,” you try and joke but it just seems to make him more irritated. Sighing you straighten up, bracing yourself on his chest and staring down at him.

Your head tilts to the side in contemplation and he almost looks uncomfortable under the attention. “I’m not so fragile or sheltered that I’m going to shatter at the first taste of the real world, Logan. I mean, for god’s sake, I’ve had acid thrown at me and bodyguards since I could walk. I know how dangerous it is. Whatever you want to hide from me, I’ve seen worse.”

You let your words sink in for a moment and he looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time. You know that it’s odd for him, to comprehend a girl who was afraid to go into a bar swallowing down an illegal fighting ring like it’s nothing. But you’re not lying. Everyday little things are what you’re unused to. But you’ve lived alongside violence your whole life.

“Look, fighting, sleeping in shitty motels, and your truck, that doesn't bother me. But I don’t like when you hide things and I don’t,” you take in a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the worst. This is what you’ve been trying to tell him for weeks.

A few little words have your tongue tied and make you desperate to cover yourself up again. He can see the shift in your expression, and feel how tense you get. He sits up a little more, thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of your hand.

“I don’t want to just be someone to fuck you, Logan. I didn’t come with you so you’d have easy access pussy,” he looks thoroughly amused at your crude words, but there’s something else lingering in his expression. Something like hurt.

“Is that what you think?” He asks, tone distant. You can’t find the words so you simply nod. He sighs and shakes his head. He eases you off his lap and you worry you’ve truly fucked this up somehow.

He goes into the bathroom, returns with a wet washcloth. He still doesn’t speak and you’re on edge the entire time he cleans the both of you up. You can see he’s thinking, biting his tongue, and trying to figure out what it is that he wants to say to you.

You’re impatient, five seconds away from just demanding a response from him. He tosses the cloth and drops into bed beside you. You draw the sheets up to your chest, glaring down at him while he rubs his hands over his face with a tired sigh.

When he opens his eyes again he laughs at how close you are. “Jesus,” he wraps an arm around your waist, dragging you down into his chest even though you fight him. It must be easier for him to speak when you’re not staring at him.

“I didn’t go back for you so I could fuck you, kid. I… care about you,” there’s a long pause before he says the word care. You think it’s funny, that he can’t bring himself to admit what he actually feels. But you’ll take it, you’ll give him the time he needs to come to terms with the truth.

For now, you let yourself fall asleep, feeling just a little bit better about the road ahead.

Things get easier between the two of you. And somehow harder at the same time. You don’t walk on eggshells around each other, no longer afraid of scaring the other off now. Which also means that you find it easier to bicker with him about little things. Like, not just tossing his trash everywhere in the truck. You’re practically living out of the trailer, the least he could do is help you keep it tidy.

You know it’s weird for him. Suddenly having someone nag at him not to be a slob or to take breaks in between driving so he doesn’t wear himself out. It’s an adjustment you see him struggle with sometimes.

You try not to be too pushy, but there’s only so many times you can flick crumbs from his burgers off your seat before you lose it. “Logan!” You snap, glaring at him as you stand up only to find chip crumbs squished into the fabric of your leggings.

He glances over at you and shrugs, “What?”

You glance between the crumbs and him with a glare but he doesn’t seem to be connecting the dots. “Fucks sake,” you grumble, passive-aggressively wiping the truck seat off before you slam the door and storm towards the diner.

You’re sick of being cramped in the truck. You’re sick of the greasy food. You’ve begun to crave salads lately. Which is beyond weird. But the novelty of shitty food and milkshakes wore off a hundred miles ago.

Logan catches up to you, huffing with irritation as he swings the door open for you. You take a seat in the booth near the corner, snatching up the menu and pointedly staring at it and not him. “Really?” He demands. When you don’t answer he tips the menu down, forcing you to meet his gaze. “What is your problem?” He hisses, trying not to draw attention to you both.

You lean in, voice a harsh whisper. “How hard is it to just not make a mess? We live out of that damn truck, the least you could do is keep your crumbs on your side.”

He rolls his eyes and leans back in the booth. You’re both sick of having the same fight. But there’s really nothing else to do anymore. When you’re stuck together for so long, it’s the small things that get to you.

You’re going to say more but the waitress pops in front of you out of nowhere. “Hi!” She beams and gives you her name, the bows in her hair trembling at how hyper she is. “What can I get you both today?”

You and Logan place your orders, and he shoots you an odd look when you only order the salad. “We’ve got a couple more hours ahead of us, you’re gonna get hungry.”

You cross your arms and shrug, “No, I won’t.”

He licks his lips, sucking on his teeth and leaning against the table. “Yes, you will,” he argues with a stern voice.

You narrow your eyes at him and give him a bitter smile. “Kiss. My. Ass.”

Your stomach grumbles for the third time and you know that Logan can hear it. You’re pointedly not making eye contact with him. It feels like it's louder than the music at this point and you really don’t want to prove him right.

Without a word, he begins to dig around in the center console. You glance towards him, confused, “What’re you doing?”

He doesn’t say anything, just tosses whatever he’s grabbed onto your lap. You glance down at it and frown. It’s somehow cold as you unwrap it. You pull the parchment paper away and let out a relieved sigh.

He ordered you a wrap from the diner without you realizing. You take a bite, your hunger steadily easing away. “I’m sorry,” you mutter, pointedly looking out the window.

He glances over at you and scoffs. “What was that? Couldn’t hear ya, kid.”

You roll your eyes and turn to glare at him. He’s already looking at you, a teasing tilt to his lips. “I said I’m sorry,” you snap. “I shouldn’t have been a bitch.”

He shakes his head and waves you off. “I haven’t exactly been pleasant myself. I’ll,” he huffs lowly and forces the words out, “clean up more.”

“I think we’ve just been stuck on the road too long. We’re gonna end up driving each other insane.”

His eyes glance along the signs on the highway. There’s a notice for food and shopping at the next exit and he nods towards it. “We’ll stop at a motel for a few nights. Take a break.” You want to ask him if he’s sure that’s smart.

It seems risky, to slow down for so long. But you need to walk around, breathe fresh air, and stretch your legs. You’re too selfish to tell him not to stop and keep going. Instead, you nod and smile at him. “That sounds really nice.”

He gives you a slight smile that’s gone as quickly as it came, reaching over and resting his hand on your thigh. You move closer to him and he turns the radio up. You wonder why he doesn’t want to talk anymore but you don’t push it. You’re too excited to finally get out of the truck again.

The town is nice enough. It’s small, with only a few shops where you buy some new shirts to replace one’s that Logan has torn up. The motel you’re staying at doesn’t have a washing machine so you have to use the laundromat to wash your clothes.

Logan says he’s going to see if he can find a quick job nearby. You wonder if that means a real job or a more bloody one. You decide not to ask questions, instead taking the little change you have and figuring you’ll try to get the smell of grease out of all your clothes.

As you load the machine up and put your quarters in you can’t escape the feeling of someone watching you. You’ve been on high alert ever since Logan stole you away from the house. But this is different.

You’ve gotten used to your own paranoia, you know when it’s real or not. You walk away from the machine, glancing out at the glass walls near the front and trying to see if there’s someone out there. This, oddly enough, doesn’t feel like a police stakeout where they’re going to track you back to the motel and bust Logan.

This is something different. There is a deep-seated primal fear in you that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Your heart races as your eyes search the dark street outside. What little glow comes from the streetlights isn’t enough for you to clearly make anything out.

But you feel them, tracking your every move. They’re somewhere nearby, you can’t see them but they see you. You feel sick to your stomach. You glance at the door before racing towards it. You turn the lock, slowly backing away and keeping your eyes trained on the street.

You look into the shadows and find shapes and movements where there are none. Your eyes spin as your brain crafts a horrible image of some monster waiting outside for you. When the timer for the washer goes off you let out a sharp scream, spinning around and clutching your chest as you glare at it.

“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter, angrily running your hand over your face and trying to catch your breath. You put the clothes in the dryer and by the time you're done, the feeling is gone. You don’t know if they were never there to begin with, or if they got bored and left.

You’d told Logan that you didn’t need a ride, you’d just walk the short distance back to the motel. Now, you use the phone on the front counter and call him, telling him you’ve changed your mind after all.

By the time he picks you up, he looks incredibly concerned. You know you sounded panicked when you called him. You still feel upset about the whole thing. But when he asks what’s wrong you just tell him you got a little scared walking back in the dark.

You don’t tell him someone was watching you because you know he’ll make you pack up and leave again. You want some stability. Even if it's just for a week. So, as stupid as it is, you lie to him and say everything’s fine.

When you try to go to sleep that night you feel like you’re being watched again. Even with the curtains closed their eyes burn into you. You toss and turn under the heavy weight of the sheets, struggling to get comfortable.

There’s a low grumble behind you before Logan throws his arm over your waist and tugs you back into his chest. “Stop movin’ around,” he demands, his voice barely audible. You smile a little at how tired he sounds before forcing yourself to settle down.

He doesn’t give you much choice, using his body as a weight to keep you pinned. You still feel their gaze, even more now, but his proximity brings you enough comfort to get a little bit of restless sleep.

Logan’s up before you, he always is. He comes in with cheap coffee and free breakfast from the lounge. You push the sheets off your legs, your shirt sticking to your back from the cold sweat of your nervous sleeping. You feel a little more at ease this morning.

You wonder if you’re developing some late-in-life fear of the dark. You don’t know why you were so upset last night, you feel perfectly fine now. It’s almost like it was all one bad dream. Logan walks over, handing you the coffee wordlessly and rustling around in your bag for something.

He pulls out the envelope of cash you keep stashed away and frowns at the contents. “Found a job,” he mutters, stuffing the envelope away and turning back towards you. He leans against the desk, face pensive.

You rub your eyes, trying to wake yourself up a bit more so you sound coherent. “What is it?” You take a sip of the coffee and your face screws up at the aftertaste.

“Fighting,” his tone is clipped and you wonder what’s got him up in arms. He walks past you, heading into the bathroom, and closing the door behind him. You tilt your head, gaze following him curiously. He doesn’t normally close the door, he usually likes to invite you to join him.

Something happened and you wonder if he’s hiding the same thing you are. You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath and closing your mind off to the fear from last night.

By the time Logan is done in the bathroom, you’re feeling more awake. You can’t just dismiss what happened last night. You’ve never gotten scared like that before. You refuse to ignore your instincts, but you’re also not going to let whoever that was terrify you into going back on the road.

You don’t want things between you and Logan to grow more tense than they already are. The time away from each other yesterday helped a lot. You no longer want to strangle him when you hear him breathe. You’ll just stick closer to him today and see if you feel the eyes on you again tonight.

“So,” you start, testing the waters to see if he’s still in a bad mood. He glances over at you, eyebrows quirked in curiosity but you’re tongue-tied as you stare at him. However many weeks you’ve been with him and you’re never gonna get used to seeing him straight out of the shower.

The towel is draped low on his hips, giving you a taunting look at what lies underneath the white cloth. Droplets drip down his abs and you’ve never wanted to be water more than you do right now. It’s unfair, just how attractive he is.

You always forget what you’re going to say. You can’t think when he has a shirt off, it’s infuriating. Scoffing, you turn away from him and shake your head. You hear him chuckle, you know he knows what you’re thinking about.

“What’s wrong?” He creeps up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and tugging you back into his chest.

“Logan, dammit,” water soaks into the back of your shirt uncomfortably and you tilt your head to glare at him.

He smirks down at you, “Cat got your tongue, kid?”

You roll your eyes and push away from him. “I can’t even remember what I was going to say.” You snatch a shirt from the dresser and shove it into his hands. “Put this on.”

He scoffs and gives you a disbelieving look. “Are you serious?” You wait for him, gaze expectant. You’re not gonna be able to think when he looks like this. Sighing, he acquieses and tugs the shirt on. His lips fall into a sarcastic line, “Happy?”

Like a switch being flipped you finally remember what you were going to ask him. “The job you told me about. Where is it?”

You can see on his face how little he wants to divulge that information to you. But you know he’s going to tell you. You two made a deal not to hide things, although, you might be breaking your side of that right now.

“Some shitty bar a few miles from here. Listen-”

You’re not gonna like it.

I don’t want you tagging along.

You should just stay here and read or some shit.

You wonder which one he’ll pick today. “You wouldn’t like it, it’s just a shitty little place where I can make some quick cash.” Look at that, it’s rarely ever your first pick excuse. You must be getting better at reading him.

“I’ll come with you,” you tell him because you’re not asking. You’re not staying by yourself tonight and you both need the money. You grin at him even as his face falls in disappointment. “Maybe I’ll fight.”

He doesn’t even say anything and you immediately regret what you said. The look he’s giving you would put you six feet under if it could. “It was just a joke,” you mutter.

“Wasn’t funny, kid,” he tells you, tone clipped as he moves around you to grab his jeans. “I don’t even want you in those places, let alone fuckin’ fighting.”

You purse your lips and take a seat on the bed, handing him his jacket when he begins looking for it. “I have abilities too, you know. Maybe I could win a fight.”

“Don’t,” he snaps. “I win because I can take the hits people deal me. You can’t,” you don’t bother arguing with him that you heal too. You understand what he means. You might be able to recover physically, but there’s a mental aspect to being knocked on the ground. There’s humiliation and fear in cage fights, you probably wouldn’t be able to handle that side of it.

He waits for you to say anything else but when he realizes you’ve dropped the subject he lets out a relieved sigh. “You’ll stay in the truck,” he tries.

You give him a deadpan look, slipping the keys out of your purse and handing them to him. “No way in hell, but I’ll stay by the bar if it makes you feel better.” He stays silent and nods but you know he’ll try and convince you otherwise when you actually get to the place. Tough luck, though, you don’t think it’s safe for either of you to be apart tonight. Even if it’s just staying in the truck.

The setup of these places is always the same. Though, this bar seems to be particularly disgusting in comparison to other ones you’ve been to. You position yourself near the corner, your back to the wall so you’re less likely to be noticed in the crowd.

The fights never last more than a few minutes. And that’s if Logan is feeling generous. Most of the time you only need to be here an hour before people get pissed off and go home. Someone bumps into you and you hear a small, “I’m sorry,” before they rush to claim a stool.

The crowd’s already begun to die out. Most leave while they still have a little money left in their pockets. You duck your head down, catching the eye of the girl who’d bumped into you. She looks young and incredibly skittish. Her eyes keep darting to the tip jar near the bartender.

She quietly asks for water but the bartender just shakes his head, tugging the jar closer to him. You don’t know why you’re drawn to her, maybe it’s because she looks like one of those sad pound puppies, but you take a seat beside her.

“Water,” you order, slipping him some change. When he gives it to you, you pass it off to her, spotting the greedy way she eyes it. You know a runaway when you see one, she clearly needs a little help. But Logan’s got enough on his shoulders, you’re not gonna bug him with adding another person to the mix.

“Thank you,” she gulps it down like she hasn’t drunk anything in days. You feel your stomach twist with empathy. What little cash you have in your wallet, you slip into her bag as you pass by her. Logan will have made enough for it to be spared and it's the least you can do.

Not everyone is as lucky as you to have someone help them navigate a new life.

Logan grabs his jacket, wiping blood off from under his nose and heading towards you. You know he’ll want a drink before you go, he always does. Before he can say anything someone’s shouting the name he uses in the cage. “Hey, Wolverine! I want my fucking money back.”

The big man he’d knocked down earlier takes a step towards him. His friend tries to hold him back, but there’s no stopping him. He’s already had his ass kicked once, what makes him think this is going to be any different?

“Not your money anymore, bub.” Logan scoffs and turns back towards you. You just want to leave now. You don’t want to stay for a drink or go get something to eat. You feel the eyes on you again, but when you turn to find them there’s no one there but the girl.

And she’s not looking at you. Her eyes are wide and staring at something else. “Behind you!” She screeches, and both you and Logan whirl around to find the man barreling towards him with a knife outstretched.

Logan moves so quickly that you stumble back slightly. He grabs the guy's arm, twisting his wrist until the knife drops to the ground. He shoves him back against the wall, claws out and pinning him there.

“Shit,” you whisper, glancing around as the few patrons of the bar stare in horror at Logan. The people counting his money stop and tuck it back into the cash box. You clench your eyes shut in irritation, he’s not gonna be getting paid tonight, that’s for sure.

There’s a strange noise behind you, like someone cocking a gun. You turn around slowly, gasping when you see the bartender pointing the barrel of his shotgun at your chest. He’s not aiming it at Logan, he’s aiming it at you. Like he somehow knows that’s the only way to get him to back off.

It’s not like he was going to kill the guy, besides, he came at him with a knife first. What’s the difference if Logan’s a mutant? He’s defending himself. Why does no one understand that?

“Get out of my bar,” the old man warns lowly, taking a step closer to you. Logan turns around and finally spots what’s going on.

“Pay me and I’ll be on my way.” You know you’d be able to heal from the shotgun blast, but you don’t exactly want to go through it.

The old man laughs and shakes his head. “You’re not getting paid, buddy. Get the fuck out of my bar before I put a hole in your little girlfriend.”

Your eyes narrow in disbelief. You debate with yourself for a moment, if this is smart or not. But the guy’s being a prick and you’re sick of people treating mutants like they’re less than nothing. You flick your wrist and the shotgun goes flying out of his hand.

You glance over at the cashbox and it comes floating towards you, landing easily in your outstretched palm. “Be thankful I’m not blowing a hole in you,” you warn, glaring at the cowering man. You walk forward and he stumbles back and you try not to focus on the sick feeling of satisfaction it brings you. You grab the tip jar and shove it towards the girl at the end of the bar. “Good luck, kid.”

Logan releases the man from the before, taking a step towards you. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and rush towards the exit of the bar. You need to just get the fuck out of this town as quickly as possible, you’re not safe here anymore.

Logan seems to agree with you. He gets into the truck and doesn’t turn back to the motel. Instead, he turns onto the highway while you keep your eyes peeled on the trees outside your window. There’s someone out there, still following you.

“Something’s wrong with the suspension,” you glance up from where you’d been working on breaking open the cashbox and frown. Logan’s glaring down at the steering wheel, it seems like he’s struggling to get it to turn properly.

“What?”

He scoffs and glares at you, “How should I know?” He pulls over to the side of the road, opens his door, and lets in a rush of cool air and snow. You toss the cashbox to the back of the trailer and follow after him.

He goes to where he’s pulling his motorcycle and you feel like you notice an extra bump under the tarp. “What’s that?” You take a step towards it just as Logan pulls it back. You have to bite back a laugh when you see the girl from last night curled up next to his motorcycle.

She gives you both guilty looks and slowly sits up. “I’m sorry,” Logan offers her a hand and she gets out of the trailer. He grabs her bag and drops it at her feet. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Find a different ride,” he growls, already heading back to the truck. You open your mouth, prepared to argue, but you can’t force her on him. As much as you might want to help her. She’s better off away from the two of you.

“You’re just gonna leave me here?” She snaps at him, a little attitude finally showing through.

“Yep!” He gets in the truck and you know he wants to drive off immediately but he has to wait for you. You shoot her an apologetic look as you follow after him, slipping into the seat beside him. He starts the engine, driving off slowly, eyes drifting towards the rearview mirror.

You bite your tongue, trying not to point out how cruel he is leaving her on a snowy highway in the middle of nowhere. He glances over at you, “What?” He snaps.

You shake your head and shrug. “Nothing.” You’ve barely finished speaking before he’s slamming on his brakes.

“God dammit,” he mutters, running a hand over the stubble on his jaw. You can’t help the grin on your face, reaching over to open your door. It doesn’t take long for the girl to catch on, scooping up her bag and chasing after you.

“You’re such a softie,” you tease him.

“Shut the hell up.”

Rogue is nice, if not a little odd. She claims to be a mutant too but doesn’t want to give specifics on her abilities. You don’t want to push her but you are curious about the gloves she wears. “What kind of name is Wolverine?” She asks, spotting Logan’s tags.

He glances over at her and smiles slightly, “What kind of a name is Rogue?”

She goes to say something but you throw your arm out, holding her back as you shout, “Logan, watch out!” He tries to hit his brakes in time but the tree’s already coming down. The truck slams into it and it’s like time slows down, only for a moment.

You can feel the impact of your body against the windshield, the glass dragging along your scalp and skin. It’s like a million razors each slicing into you. And then, you’re flying through the air, head snapping so hard against the ground you can’t see anything.

You hear something happening around you, a roar that doesn’t sound human echoing through the air. There’s the sound of metal crunching and someone is screaming in the distance but you can’t see. It’s not like a total void of darkness, there’s just nothing.

You feel the blood slowly leaking down the back of your skull and something lands harshly against your head. You don’t think much time has passed. When your eyes finally open, however, you’re not lying on the pavement.

The world around you is foreign. It smells like a hospital but it’s not like any you’ve ever seen. X-rays are hanging on the wall and paperwork is scattered on a desk near the bed you’re lying on.

Your mind is blank for a moment. Slowly turning back on while you process the sudden change of scenery. You don’t even remember closing your eyes, you don’t know when your vision came back to you or how long you’ve been here.

The terror sets in quickly. You throw the blankets off your legs, staring down at the pajamas you wear in disgust. Someone had changed you. They’d run tests and done X-rays on you and you don’t remember a second of it.

You rip the needle out of your arm, tossing it to the floor and running towards the door. Your feet slip on the metal floors as you run but you’re afraid to stop. Everything around you looks more and more like a lab.

Did someone from the bar call some government agency? You’ve heard horror stories from your father about the tests the military has run on mutants. You’re starting to worry that’s what's happening to you.

But you doubt the military would make it so easy for you to escape. This has to be something else. You’d heard other voices when you’d been lying on the ground. People who had been trying to help. Could that be who took you?

“You caught on quicker than your friend.” You nearly fall flat on your face, flipping around to see who spoke. But no one’s there. You’re completely alone. “I’m just grateful you didn’t choke out one of my associates.” it’s coming from beside you now.

It’s all around you, the voice floating through the walls until you think he might be in your mind. “Much faster than your friend,” he sounds gleeful and it makes you even more anxious. “I’m a telepath, darling, nothing to fear. If you’d just take that elevator and come up to meet me.”

You’d have to be an idiot to actually listen to the voices in your head. But you don’t see another way out of here. So, reluctantly, you follow the floating voice’s instructions and slip inside the elevator.

When the door opens up again you don’t have a chance to step inside before someone’s pushing you back. Logan stands in front of you, hands clamped tightly around your shoulders while he looks you over.

You sink into his arms, hugging him tightly to you. You’d been terrified you were all alone here. It’s more than a relief to see him again. “You’re okay?” He asks, pulling back to look at you one last time.

You nod, throat too dry to try and form a coherent sentence. You glance over his shoulders brows furrowed at the people awkwardly watching you reunite. There’s a man in a wheelchair smiling at you, “Ah, glad you could make it.” The floating voice, of course. “Logan here was quite worried about you.”

Logan turns to glare at the man and you offer a slight smile. There is something comforting about him. You’re not exactly threatened by an old guy in a wheelchair. The redhead behind him, however, is bugging you. Something about the way she’s looking at Logan doesn’t sit right with you.

“Welcome to my school for the exceptionally gifted,” something about the way he says that makes you tilt your head in confusion. You don’t know what he means until there’s a puff of smoke behind him and some kid is walking by with their hair on fire like it’s nothing.

Mutants. It’s an entire school for mutants. You think you could pass out again.

“It’s the best place we could have ended up, Logan. This is amazing.” You’ve been going back and forth for an hour. He won’t see reason. He keeps saying you need to leave. That you don’t know these people and it could all be one big trap.

You don’t understand him, why he’s so desperate to get away from people like the both of you. You’re rejected in every other corner of society. You could have something real here.

It hits you at once. That’s the problem. He’s not ready for something real. He’s not used to it because he’s never had it before. At least you could pretend at a sense of normalcy living at home. It’s an entirely new concept to him, sticking to one place for so long.

“We don’t know these people,” he hisses, leaning over the bed to argue with you. You narrow your eyes but your conversation is cut off by a knock on the door. You sigh, walking away from him and swinging the door open.

Jean is on the other side, a surprised look on her face when she sees you. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was trying to drop these off to Logan.” You glance down at the towels in your hand and give her a strained smile. That’s a flimsy excuse if you’ve ever seen one. “I must have the wrong room.”

You step to the side, opening the door wider so she can see him. He doesn’t even look at her, too busy angrily unmaking the bed. “No, you have the right one.” You hold your hands out expectantly, “I can just take those for you.”

The look on her face is priceless and finally causes a real smile to grow on your lips. She wordlessly hands you the towels, looking disappointed. You don’t know if it's because of what she was trying to do, or because she couldn’t do it.

Before she leaves you call out a quick, “Tell Scott I said thank you again. Wouldn’t be here without him, after all.” Her shoulders tense and she rushes back down the hall. Whatever little crush or interest she has with Logan is going to need to be dealt with on her own.

You’ve got enough shit going on without having to worry about her too. You shake your head and slam the door shut, tossing the towels on the desk. Logan sits on the bed, watching you with an odd look.

“What was that about?”

“She’s into you,” you tell him bluntly, waiting for his reaction. He doesn’t even blink, just glances between the towels and you before shrugging.

“Not interested.” You don’t want to admit that you feel any relief. There was never any real doubt. But it’s still nice to be reassured.

You slip into bed beside him, taking his hand and forcing him to meet your gaze. “I know that this isn’t what either of us was expecting, but this is good, Logan. We don’t have to worry about pretending we’re something we’re not. We don’t have to worry about my dad or anyone finding us.”

He doesn’t look entirely convinced. But he lets out a heavy sigh and drags you closer to him. He tucks your head under his chin, placing a brief kiss against your forehead. “If you want to stay, we’ll stay. But I’m not putting on that fucking costume.”

You laugh a little, peering up at him with a grin, “Deal.”

There’s a place for you here, even if there isn’t in the rest of the world. You can be safe here, you don’t have to worry anymore. You don’t have to fear the eyes on the back of your head because they can’t get you here.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡

Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allilium @insomniachox ♡

Asked for part two: @enchantedbutterflies @strawberrylore @ittoscumdump @enananawoah @wotcherboo

@cali0101 @fluffy-b33z @pcrushinnerd @izbelross @saltwaterburns

@likeficsinthewnd ♡

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine imagine #wolverine #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #hugh jackman x reader #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman

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afterglowsainz · 6 months ago

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don’t wanna break up again | oscar piastri

pairing: actress!reader x oscar piastri

summary: you never go to any of oscar races and he’s always been okay with it, until he’s not

fc: rachel zegler

warnings: angst

a/n: i am in such an oscar kick lately you cannot physically stop me (i’ve also never wrote angst before this is so fun!)

—

liked by oscarpiastri, gracieabrams and others

yourusername vacation barbie☀️

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username uhmmm ???

username obsessed with her going on vacation instead of supporting yet another one of his boyfriend’s races

username so now she’s not allowed to go on vacation after working for five months on a movie? grow up

oscarpiastri the prettiest🥰

username oh to be called the prettiest by oscar piastri 😩

username so beautiful 😍

username respectfully looking 👀

username day number 482927 praying for y/n to attend a race

username at this point i feel like the only way she’s attending is if she has to promote a movie or something

username petition for y/n to be in that f1 movie they’re making just so we can see her at the paddock once

liked by yourusername, mclaren and others

oscarpiastri absolutely love austria 🧡

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username that’s my driver right there !!!

yourusername so well deserved❤️ (liked by oscarpiastri)

username another podium where y/n wasn’t present😊

username i could treat you so much better i swear!

mclaren incredible drive oscar🧡

georgerusell63 👊🏽👊🏽

username next podium is a win👀

liked by gigihadid, oliviarodrigo and others

yourusername star of the year is insane! thank you so much for this award and to all of you, i love you all to the moon and back and without you this wouldn’t be possible🫶🏽 thank you thank you thank you ⭐️

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username so so well deserved y/n congrats! 🎉

username ms. rabbit has fainted

username oh she just looked unreal tonight 🤩

username she IS the star of our generation 👏🏽

oscarpiastri couldn’t be prouder❤️

yourusername love you! 💘

username she’s just THAT GOOD

username star of the year indeed😍

liked by yourusername, landonorris and others

oscarpiastri incredibly proud of the most talented, hard-working, brightest woman i know. you’re not only the star of the year you’re also the star of my life and i know there will be many more awards to come your way🌟

tagged yourusername

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username oh

yourusername i can’t put into words how much i love you❤️

oscarpiastri ❤️

username now i just know he did not went out of his way to go to this award show for her during a race week and she can’t even be bothered to go to one (1) race

username he literally made a post about the critics recognizing her work as an actress and you’re commenting stuff like this? jesus

mclaren congratulations, y/n! 🧡 (liked by yourusername)

username y/n they will never make me like you!

username cutest couple🥰

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and others

oscarpiastri hungary will always be in my heart 🇭🇺 🫶🏽

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username obsessed with the first picture

username about to tattoo this whole race in my forehead brb

logansargeant congratulations mate🎉

username TWO MCLAREN MAIDEN WINS THIS YEAR ARE YOU KIDDING ME

carlossainz55 congrats oscar👍🏼

username so rookie of the year of him 😩

landonorris congrats muppet 🍾

yourusername so so proud of you congratulations my love‼️❤️‍🔥

oscarpiastri 🥰

username girl you weren’t even there…

liked by lilymhe, taylorswift and others

yourusername six weeks of breathing clean air, i still miss the smoke.

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username no way they actually broke up😭

username can’t believe it’s been six weeks i thought they were gonna get back after two days

username but why is she calling her relationship with oscar toxic? 😔

username at least she’s going out!

username oh you know it’s getting serious when she’s pulling out the taylor lyrics

username refusing to believe my parents are divorced (i’m older than them)

username finally we’re out of the trenches‼️

username currently praying for oscar’s next girlfriend to be supportive🙏🏽

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iamred-iamyellow · 4 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ The Last Great American Dynasty

♥ masterlist | request rules | based on this request

♥ pairing: logan sargeant x fem!driver!reader

♥ synopsis: logan gets replaced at williams mid season by you, his girlfriend. luckily his racing career and f1 story is not over yet.

♥ smau - fc: women on pinterest - as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing, hate comments, and james vowels slander !!!

♥ a/n: logan gets the happy ending he deserves (by taking james' job lol).

-August 26, 2024-

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, susie_wolff, and 3,592,602 more

williamsracing Y/n L/n to race for the remainder of the 2024 season

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logansargeant proud of you ❤️

yourusername thank you logie. I can't wait to see where racing takes us both. I love you ❤️

user6 the fact that he's still so supportive of her... I love them your honor 🥺

alex_albon You gave it your all brother and it’s been a pleasure being teammates with you. I know whatever you do next, you’ll be awesome. I can't wait to race along side you as well @/yourusername. Lets make history.

user9 HOW ARE WE FEELING LOLEX NATION 😭

user1 the tears that are coming out of my eyes right now

user2 😧

user7 I felt my heart break in real time

user4 ... james I am in your fucking walls

user5 I am so proud of y/n but damn.

user21 can someone explain please??

user7 logan, the driver y/n is replacing is her boyfriend

user9 I cried.

user60 imagine taking your own BOYFRIENDS job. he deserves so much better

user51 poor logan 💔

user10 lets not let the sad news about logan leaving impact our support for y/n. shes the first woman to race in f1 in a VERY long time and that's an incredible achievement

user3 say it louder for the people in the back

user12 this !!!

user4 James vowels is the common enemy

user8 @/user4 TRUE

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Logan's Insta Story-

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by logansargeant, susie_wolff, lilymhe, and 609,427 more

yourusername oh look i’m winning

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user1 yes you are queen

user2 you don’t have to brag 😔

user5 POINTS

landonorris @/logansargeant maybe you should get her a dog

pierregasly 💀

user1 landooo 😭

user8 how is she so gorgeous

user9 oh to be y/n

user6 prove the haters wrong !!!

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by yourusername, patriciooward, Indycar, and 984,582 more

logansargeant back in blue

tagged; @/andrettiindy

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yourusername 🩵

logansargeant 🩵

patriciooward good to see you again

user7 SHUT THE FUCK UP NOT ANDRETTI SIGNING HIM FOR 2025

user9 HAHAHA

user3 the personal beef andretti has with f1 is inspiring 😩

user8 WHAT THE FUCK IS A KILOMETER 🦅🇺🇸

user5 lets go logan

user1 oh we are SO back.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, andrettiindy, and 2,459,302 more

logansargeant today I got the privilege of marrying the most talented, beautiful, and kind woman I have ever met. you have stood by me since the beginning of my career and I am honored that you chose me to support you throughout the future of yours. I love you so much

comments are limited

f1 our favorite paddock couple

indycar double it and give it to the next motorsport

alex_albon congratulations to the both of you!

lilyzneimer thank you for making me your maid of honor 🥹 you looked absolutely stunning today

yourusername lilyyyy 😭🫶

williamsracing so who caught the boquet? 👀

yourusername lily mhe 🤭

lilymhe we might be needing those brides maid dresses again soon

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-December 2035-

It has just been announced that former F1 driver Logan Sargeant and his wife, Y/n L/n will be the new team principal and CEO of Williams Racing.

The F1 American Dynasty

If you're unfamiliar with the story of Sargeant you may not understand the significance of this change for Williams. He had a spot on the grid during 2023-2024 before being dropped mid-season and replaced by his now wife Y/n L/n. He then went on to drive for Andretti, an American Indycar team and Y/n won four championships during her time in F1. The two of them have continued to carry on the legacy of American drivers in Formula 1, encouraged by the Andretti family.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by andrettiindy, susie_wolff, oscarpiastri, and 1,362,503 more

yourusername CEO life

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lilymhe GORGEOUS

yourusername no YOU <33

williamsracing glad to have you back @/logansargeant

user2 even admin is a logan fan

user4 oh FUUUCK YEA

user7 stop the middle picture-

user9 I want what they have 😭

user1 their ULTIMATE revenge

user12 fuck james vowels

user3 all my homies hate james vowels

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

end notes: thank you so much for reading! even though logan isn't on the grid I'll still have a few fics coming out for him soon <3

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dcandmarvelimagines · 4 months ago

Text

sweeter than you ever knew. (pt. 3)

Series: pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 Pairing: Wade Wilson x Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 3.8k Warnings: AFAB reader (uses she/her pronouns), 1st person POV, non-mutant Reader, canon typical violence (mostly all off screen), descriptions of dead/dismembered bodies, reader is injured (leg injury and slapped), the kidnapper emotionally manipulates the reader, on page murder. Author's note: Thank you so much for all the support it's been crazy!!! This chapter is a bit intense, I'm not going to lie. We just need to hold hands and get through this. But I swear, the next part of this will be sooo tooth rottingly sweet. It's so long that I actually had to make this five parts lmao. I could not stop with the comfort and softness. ao3 Tags (if you would like to be included or removed, just let me know. If I forgot someone I'm so sorry!!): @fallout-girl219 @xolosimp @o0aligoth0o @thedevilsaysthings @jaeyuni @redmitsuru5 @jeffs77 @spideybv28 @trumanbluee @jennapearce13 @chxrrybomb22 @7soulstars @what-the-jams @lostinheavensworld @purplestars222 @movieat @whiskeyghoul @paintballkid711 @unmotivated-artist164 @sun7lowxr @minniekitties @ceobuggy @amararoseblog @harryshousewhore

The first thing I felt was rough rope as it scraped against my skin. I worked my eyes open, the task feeling too great. I was strapped to an old chair. Nausea swirled in my head as I tried to take in my surroundings. It was a plain, nondescript gray room. The walls were concrete. In the middle of the room, directly in front of me, was a large iron door. It looked like something you would find in a bomb shelter. Around my chair were shafts of moonlight provided by a skylight above. There was a bite in the air that made me shiver. My breathing was uneven as I weakly struggled against the ropes.

“I see you’re awake. Wonderful.” The man with ice cold eyes appeared from the corner of my vision, a folder in his hand. “I don’t want to waste either of our time.” He lugged a metal chair in front of me and I cringed at the horrible screech as it echoed around the room. “Where is Wade Wilson and Logan Howlett?” I blinked, my brain foggy.

“I don't know who those people are.” The man tsked. There was a flash of anger across his calm face before it was replaced by cool indifference.

“Bullshit, we see you coming in and out of their apartment.” My stomach churned, either from whatever they shot me with or from the creeping anxiety.

“Oh you mean Al’s roommates? I work for social services for her. I don’t know anything about them.” The man grinned. It was vicious and predatory.

“You are a bad liar.”He sat on the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Why do we have photos of you with both men? What? One not enough for you?” He flicked open the folder and pulled out two pictures. One was of Logan and I on the fire escape. It had been captured at the perfect moment to have clear shots of our profiles in it. The other was of Wade and I at the bar. No, not just the bar, the bathroom. I was half exposed, Wade’s face against my bare breast. The woman who interrupted us had worked for him. Now I was actually going to throw up. I had been followed for months at this point. “Now, I’m going to ask again. Where are they?”

“They don’t tell me about their jobs, I swear. Please just let me go.” The man shook his head with a hum, sounding like a disappointed teacher, sliding the photos back into the folder.

“I’ll leave you here for a couple days, see if that jogs your memory.” Days?

“Wait no! Please!” But he had already disappeared through the metal door. In the doorway, I saw a woman waiting. I blinked in shock. The woman, the one from the dingy bar bathroom. She was the one who had taken our picture. My kidnapper nodded at her before the heavy door thudded shut. Days did pass, the skylight allowing me to count by the motion of the sun. My body soon grew stiff and achy as I sat on the chair. I wanted to sleep, anything to pass the time, but I wasn’t able to calm my mind enough. The shadow of the woman never moved from the small window. I could feel her watching me, my arm hair standing up at the feeling. To distract myself, I thought of Wade and Logan, of them bursting in here and rescuing me in a blaze of glory. But as the days bled into one another, hope started to fade.

The man reappeared after four days. He removed the chair from in front of me, opting to just stand. “Have you thought about your answer?”

“I don’t know where they are.” It was the truth. They didn’t give me any information about their jobs. They could be on Everest for all I knew.

“I don’t believe you!” He began to pace, wearing a line into the concrete floor.

“I don’t care if you don’t believe me, it’s the truth.” He rushed at me suddenly, fingers digging brutally into my cheeks as he gripped me. My fists clenched as I forced myself not to jerk away.

“Stop bullshitting me,” his voice was a venomous hiss. “Tell me now.”

“Do you not understand me?” My voice had lowered too, anger boiling inside me. “Get it through your fucking head that I. Don’t. Know. You are wasting your time. Let me go. Do it before they find me here. They’ll kill you before you can even try to fight back.”

“Oh is that right?” I knew he was toying with me, but I fell stupidly into his trap anyways. I was angry and tired and so fucking scared. My brain was barely functioning.

“Wade’s gonna make a necklace of your intestines.”

The slap made a stomach churning crack. My mouth filled instantly with blood from my split lip. My cheek throbbed in the aftershocks. Tears pooled and trickled down my pulsating cheek. Another thunderous slap caught my other side. Blood splattered across my sweats. It was so hot, it practically burned through to my skin.

“What a shame.” His hand wrapped in my hair, yanking my head back, neck stretched too far. The warm blood rushed down my throat and I gagged. “You had such a pretty face. I see why those two kept you around. It’s so nice to have some stress relief. But it seems that they’ve moved on to a better piece of meat now.” He winced when I spat at him, the saliva and blood sticking to his cheek. He touched it like he couldn’t believe it, rubbing it between his index finger and thumb.

“When they get here they’re gonna eat you fucking alive!!” His face twisted in rage. His grip tore at my hair as he ripped my head to the side. Something pricked my neck, cool liquid rushing through my veins. My vision began to fog, body feeling too dense, brain going fuzzy.

“Sleep well.”

It had been days.

I watched the sun beams make their slow progression across the dusty floor, only to be replaced by the darkness of night. My face still stung and my lip kept dripping blood. I called to the woman who was still standing there, hoping that she would take mercy and help me. But I might as well have been shouting at the wall. No one came. No one helped. All I could do was wallow in my pain and loneliness. Maybe they had really abandoned me. What was I to them anyways? Exactly what he said, stress relief. Nothing more than a convenient body. Something to pass the time. If I was worth anything, they would have been here.

My eyes had just slipped shut, head lolling to my shoulder, when the door opened. “Good morning!” It was him. My shoulders slumped, hoping I could just ignore him, that he was just some hallucination. “Your saviors haven’t appeared. So we have come up with a solution.” I opened my bleary eyes when I heard the chair in front of me creak. He clutched my phone in one hand and a wickedly sharp knife in the other. He swiped my phone open before clicking on the screen. I could hear ringing and then someone picked it up on the second one. My eyes were fixated on the knife as he flipped it, catching the hilt each time.

“Baby cakes?! Where are you? What happened?” Wade’s voice was horrifyingly panicked.

“Aw baby cakes?” The tip of his knife traced my cheekbone and I held my breath, hoping I wouldn't flinch and cut myself. “What a cute name.”

“It’s not as cute when you say it,” I grumbled. My voice was thick through my swollen lip.

“What happened? Why do you sound like you have cotton in your mouth?” The man pinched my busted lip, fresh blood bursting forward, and I whined in pain. My nails bit into my palms. Over the line, I heard a growl, letting me know Logan was also listening in.

“Sometimes I just don’t know how to handle myself around such a pretty lady.” Wade let off a string of choice swears and Logan snarled. “She has such a naughty mouth. I see why you keep her around. But it seems you’ve left her for good, huh? She won’t be too pretty once I’m done with her.”

“Don’t you dare fucking touch her,” Logan was spitting in rage. “If you do I swear I’ll rip that worm you call a dick and ram it down your throat.” I smiled despite myself, something warm unfurling in my chest. They were still trying to find me. After over a week, they were still hunting.

“I told you,” I hissed, “they are going to eat you alive.”

There was a split moment where I knew I had fucked up. His eyes snapped to me, lips pulled back in a horrifying smile.

Then the knife flashed.

The pain in my leg was indescribable. I thrashed, desperate to escape the blade stuck through my thigh. I knew I was screaming but I couldn’t hear it over the pounding in my ears. Fresh blood from my lip and tears traveled down my chin. More blood pooled under my thigh, soaking into my ruined pants. I was only faintly aware that others were shouting and someone was laughing.

His hand hammered the knife in deeper, the wood seat cracking under me, the hilt flush with my leg. I wailed, pleading sobs of mercy clogging my throat. “Stop moving so much.” There was more shouting. My head knocked against the back of my chair. The corners of my vision grew dark. “Do you want to say goodbye? Who knows if you’ll make it to see them.” All I could do was weakly whimper. “She seems preoccupied. I’ll see you two soon.” He tapped my face, the force just under another slap. “You sound so nice screaming. Maybe I will actually keep you around.”

He left me like this, bleeding, trembling, pinned to the chair like a piece of meat. More days passed and the bleeding didn’t stop. It wasn’t normal. I should have died like this. Cold was lingering on my skin and small shivers racked my body. My bare feet had long gone numb. Someone, my foggy vision only registered them as a blob of white, entered the room. They carefully removed the knife and then eased me out of my pants. They methodically stitched my skin together, the haze of shock covered the pain of the stitches. Once a thick white bandage covered the wound, they turned and left.

On the fourteenth day, I heard shouting. Then gunshots. My head jerked from where I had been sleeping. Panic spiked. I needed to run. “Fuck,” I mumbled, looking around desperately for something, anything, to save me. The room was mostly bare besides a table against the opposite wall. Then I saw it.

The knife.

I tried to wiggle closer, but failed to move an inch. “Fuck,” I repeated, desperate now. More shouting and gunshots, closer this time. The more I fidgeted, the more of the seat fell away from under me. Think think think. I continued to sway, lifting the chair onto its sides before it cracked against the floor as it fell. Then I heard a splinter in one of the legs. I took a breath to steel myself before I tipped myself completely over. I nearly sobbed in relief when the chair leg connected to my uninjured leg was the one that snapped off. I awkwardly propelled myself across the scratchy ground, the exposed skin on my left side becoming ragged. The rope on my left wrist began to fray, just enough that when I got to the table, I was able to yank my hand off and reach blindly for the knife. The blade caught my palm but I gripped it tightly, ignoring the bite of pain.

I made quick work of my other binds, the knife almost slipping from my wet grip, and rose to my freezing feet. My injured leg protested instantly, nearly giving out when I put weight down. But I had to run, had to escape. I limped toward the door, and looked through the small window. I couldn’t see anyone, but I heard screaming. I had to yank hard on the door to get it open. There was a dead end to the right and a long twisty hallway to my left. I took a few tentative steps out. When no alarm sounded, I sprinted.

The stitches in my thigh ripped right away. I couldn’t think about the pain. Only escape. I clutched my stolen knife close and ducked into any small nook I could when I heard people thundering by. I should have followed them, maybe found an exit, but the squelching sounds of limbs being severed launched me forward. I turned left, left, right, middle at a fork, up a flight of stairs. I was hopelessly lost but all I could think of was escape, running on pure instinct to find it.

The smell of blood hit me first as I turned a corner. Body parts were strewn across the wide room. Intestines dangled from the ceiling beams. Heads, half crushed, lolled away from their torsos. I wretched, nothing came up besides bile. But I could see outside through large bay windows. My legs were like water under me as I moved to the door. I stepped on an eyeball, the firm jelly bursting between my toes. Just keep going. My head was swimming, nausea from the gore around me mingling with the searing pain in my leg.

I collapsed. I could barely feel the pain as my hands slammed down on broken glass. Then I heard two men’s voices. I scrambled to hide behind a stack of boxes, jamming my sore body into the smallest crack I could find. “I know she’s in here, can smell her.” My knuckles turned white around the knife. My breath was weak, I had lost too much blood.

“Could you maybe sound less like a pervy vampire?” I heard boots lightly hitting the floor as they spread out. “Do you think this scared her?” He sounded timid, maybe even a little afraid. The first man laughed.

“What do you think? You pulled this guy’s entire spine out! Of course she’s fucking scared!” The shout made me jump, huddling deeper into my hiding spot. “Fucking idiot.” A pair of red boots passed my hiding spot, then planted back in front of me. I sucked in a breath as fear rippled through me. My eyes closed tight.

“Hey,” the voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “There you are.” I was so on edge, so terrified, that the hand with the knife whipped out on pure impulse. The tip pushed through something firm, before that gave way to softness. It sunk deep, blood rapidly flowing over my hand. I couldn’t open my eyes. I had attacked someone and they were bleeding all over me. My victim barely made a noise when I stabbed them.

“You can let go of the knife, you're okay.” A hand caressed my face and my teeth sunk into the leather glove, jaw latched tight. I felt like a cornered animal, ready to tear into anything that came near. “Sweetheart,” the name, the voice, pulled me back. I released the hand and opened my blurry eyes. Logan and Wade were squatted down in front of me. Their faces were covered but I recognized the suits.

My knife was stuck through Wade’s neck.

“Wade,” my voice shattered, tears welling. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t see it was you.” He pulled the blade out with a little grunt. There was a hole straight through his throat. My stomach churned again but I held it back. The muscles and tendons laced together rapidly before the skin closed over it completely.

“Don’t apologize. I said the height of romance was stabbing, didn't I?” Logan reached out again and brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. A frown drew down his lips when he saw the bruises on my cheeks. “What do you say we get you out of here, yeah? I don’t think extreme violence is really your scene.”

Logan was examining my leg the best he could without touching me. I could hear him sniffing as he leaned closer. “We need to take her to a doctor. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

“They stitched me up but I think all of them have ripped now.” My head felt so heavy. “My fingers are cold…is that normal?”

“We have to carry you out, is that okay?” As Logan asked, Wade was already reaching for me. He scooped me into his arms and clutched me tight to him. I hissed as my thigh stretched, head falling heavily against Wade’s chest. Logan walked beside us and I reached blindly for his hand. He gave it a small kiss, but didn’t hold it.

After two weeks, I was safe.

I was safe.

But we had to get out of this building first. Logan walked a head to peer down corners before signaling we could move forward. Wade moved slowly, keeping a firm hold on me. He stayed uncharacteristically quiet. I felt limp and weak in his arms, ready to sink into sleep as soon as I could. To keep myself conscious, I tried to remember all our turns, but it felt like there was an impossible amount. There was a round of clicking and the shuffle of feet as we rounded a corner.

“Ah shit.”

“Fuck.”

My sore eyes opened to find rows and rows of armed men. In front of them was him. There was a cruel smile on his face as he took me in. The woman was tucked behind him, her eyes pinned on me. “I see you pulled your stitches. You should have waited for me to get you instead of trying to run off on your own.” Logan snarled as his claws extended.

“Listen here bub. I don’t make idle threats. So best believe I’m going to follow through with skinning you alive.” Wade moved suddenly, his back to the men. He moved far quicker than he had before. I heard men readjusting their guns, their anxiousness clear.

“And where are you going Mister Wilson?”

“First off, Mister Wilson is my father.” I groaned as Wade placed me on the hard concrete floor, safely tucked behind a stack of boxes. He stood, “you can call me Marvel Jesus.” I watched with an unfocused gaze as his hand snapped open a holster and handed me the gun that it held. “Just dropping off special cargo.” I took it, my hands shook at the light weight. There was a flash of gold along the black metal but my hazy brain couldn’t make out the text. I carefully tucked it under my leg to hide it from view. Once that was done, Wade traveled back to Logan’s side. “What do you say darling?”

“Let’s fucking go.” My hands slapped over my ears at the thunderous noise of all those guns firing. I was desperate to drown out the screams, the wet slap of limbs falling to the floor. My first instinct was to take deep, calming breaths, but my nose was too full of the scent of iron. The time stretched, the fight going for hours.

Just as a sense of shaky calm fell over me, hands grabbed me. I recoiled instantly. “Don’t be difficult.” It was him. He was trying to pick me up, trying to move me. But my body was dead weight and he struggled to lift me. Something cool pressed under my thigh.

Now don’t be afraid of it. If you show fear around guns, you’ll end up shooting yourself in the foot.

Okay, see this little switch? No, not me you insatiable minx. This. Get a feel for it. If you are ever in danger you have to know where it is right away.

He was distracted, watching something over the boxes next to me, his arms suspended in mid air. A female scream cut through the rest of the deep shouts. That rush of time, the feeling that wasn’t easy to explain, snapped. I blinked in confusion. With the man’s focus somewhere else, I put every ounce of concentration into my hands, willing them to stay still, as I lifted the gun. I found the safety and flicked it back.

Now don’t get any big action hero dreams of just pulling this trigger and letting bullets fly. It requires a lot of force, so you have to pull the hammer back first. Make sure you hold it with both hands, okay? Last thing you need is a concussion from it flying back and hitting you in the head.

My sweaty thumb slipped from the hammer. The movement seemed to catch the man’s attention. There was a split moment where neither of us moved. Then, as if in slow motion, he reached for his own gun. I raised mine and pressed the barrel to his forehead. Both of my index fingers wrapped around the trigger. I squeezed with every ounce of strength I had left.

You can’t look away, pumpkin.

You gotta make sure anyone who is trying to hurt you is dead.

I didn’t.

One second his head was there, eyes bulging in fear. The next, just a cloud of red remained. Squishy chunks of brain, shards of skull, and a splatter of blood went everywhere. It was in my mouth, in my hair, across my bare legs. All sound died and was replaced by a dull ringing. His body slumped before it fell. I stared at it, dark red spluttering from the exposed veins of his neck, the liquid pooling on the floor. The concrete was quick to drink it up. Logan was the first to appear at my feet. He took me in, his face unreadable under his mask. I saw his mouth move but it was jumbled, words half broken. I shook my head, tapping my ears. It was like a dial slowly moving up on the radio. The sound of bullet casings hitting the ground, screams of pain, the thud of bodies.

“You alright?” Logan sounded panicked, his loud gruff voice cutting through the renewed sound. I nodded. “We’ll get you out of here, don’t worry sweetheart.” I nodded again. There was one last shout of agony before silence fell again. Logan maneuvered the dead man off me, throwing the body carelessly away. He slipped the gun from my sticky hands before hoisting me into his arms. I buried my face in his neck, taking in his scent. Sweet, earthy, the tang of sweat.

“We got you. I got you, sweetheart. Always will.”

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prncessjaeger · 1 year ago

Text

eren and his mystery cheerleader gf! ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

syp: no one believed eren had such a pretty gf…until now

trin speaks!: be mindful i might have errors. it’s normal.

“so where’s your so-called "girlfriend" at? or did you make this one up too like the last time-”

“oh fuck off, connie, that was one time, and i was 12!” the rest of his friends surrounding him laughed at his embarrassment, (apparently he was the only one without a girlfriend so he made up having one…like i’m talking fake messages and everything.) currently, they were at a rival school’s basketball game since you didn’t go to their school and of course eren decided to come and support you…but his friends armin, connie, and onyankopon tagged along with him, wanting to see who his “special lady” was. “so is the game gonna start or…?” “uh, i think? it just turned 6-” armin was cut off with a set of claps and loud stomps from the side of the bleachers, cheerleaders could be heard shouting a set of words while the boys ran out through the middle of them. parents, children and other spectators could be heard yelling in excitement for the intense game that was yet to happen.

eren looked around to spot you, finding you sitting on the bottom bleacher scrolling on your phone, and the boys traced his eyesight, “bro no way you date that girl sitting on the bottome row?” “huh?” connie pointed at you, “her? she’s toooo fine to be dating you-” “hey?! what’s wrong with me?” “-she should be dating me!” everyone around him rolled their eyes, “if anything she should date me, black love is the best love-” “right, but she’s entitled to date anyone she dates, besides we don’t know her,” armin was received with blank stares from all three of em while ignoring eren’s mumbling claims of, “i’m the one dating her,” soon or later it was halftime, which was a break time for everyone.

the dance team began to perform and all the cheerleaders went their separate ways. connie and armin went to concessions and onyankopon was talking with a girl he’d just met, so eren searched and searched for you, until he felt a pair of cold, soft hands hindering his vision. “guess whooo~”

“my beautiful baby i’d hope?” you kept his eyes covered as you moved infront of him, then removed them happily, “well you hoped right! hi eren!” you hugged him and sat next to him, leaning into his arms, “oh wait- you see our new uniforms?” “yes, its looks amazing- they added glitter to the school letters?” your curls shooks as you rapidly nodded, “yes! and the other sports coaches complained about it, wanting the letters to be unisex but i mean, glitter is glitter, and THEN the coaches made us run 5 laps before the game because someone left their bow at home, and now…” he turned towards you so he could listen to you better, and once the buzzer went off, you had to bid your goodbye, “you taking me home?” “you think you could ride home with sasha - i have the guys and i don’t wanna make it too crowded, i’ll get you once you get home?” your slight frown turned upside down and you noddied happily, “okay! see ya!” you waved enthusiastically and he waved back, sighing in content. “who’re you waving at?”

“my girlfriend?” they all stared at eren for like 5 seconds, then bursted out laughing at him, “oh man eren, you are too funny!”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

after dropping his friends off, eren sat outside your home, waiting for your arrival and decided to do something that’ll hopefully get into his friends head that he’s actually dating someone. he smirked at his phone, editing up his caption and nearly jumped hearing his car door open, seeing you in his hoodie and some cute grey shorts, “hey baby,” you kissed his cheek and saw his phone, “uhh why are you…?”

“you’ll see.”

#eren x reader #eren x black fem!reader #eren jaeger x reader #aot x black reader #attack on titan #aot x y/n #eren yeager #aot fanfiction #eren aot #fluff #eren x black reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren headcanons #eren snk #aot x black y/n #aot x reader #smut

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grimm-writings · 8 months ago

Note

HI IT'S EAVESDROP ANON YOU GAVE ME AN IDEA what if izutsumi and reader faced the succubi together, and izu sees that one of reader's succubi looks like chilchuck !! maybe she promises to keep it a secret, but also talks to reader about it? bonus points if izu and reader have a sort of unspoken mother/daughter relationship :')

to the grave

…ft! chilchuck x fem! reader, izutsumi & reader

…tags! headcanon format, slight suggestive points, motherly reader

…wc! 623

…notes! give it up for One Whole Request Complete omfg. sorry for how short it is eavesdrop anon it’s been a rough few weeks for me 🫶 this is absolutely not my best work, but i did what i could!

“Come on… I know you always thought about how I’d look underneath you.”

Hearing the words come from his mouth renders you still. It’s his face, his voice, yet completely wrong.

You had thought he had somehow recovered and came back to help you, but of course it isn’t as easy as it appeared.

You’re lucky to have Izutsumi with you. If it weren’t for her pushing you out of the way to claw at the succubus, you probably would have dropped all pretence and leaned down to where you had Chilchuck – or the succubus, rather – pinned to the floor to kiss.

Still, you can’t miss the look of absolute disbelief she gives you.

Silence fills the air as the succubus is reduced to nothing more than slob on the floor. You refuse to look at what, to you, is eerily similar to Chilchuck’s visage. Disturbingly so. For just a second, you consider reaching out to it (him?) again. However, Izutsumi is quick to swat you away. “Hey, we have a mob incoming,” she tells you. You are about to retort, interrogating if she even felt remorse for hurting someone that looks like your ally, but Izutsumi’s quick to interrupt. “We’ll discuss this later.” She leaves your side. Preparing your weapon with a deep breath, you prepare to fight off the waves of succubi ahead.

It’s only when you and Izutsumi assemble all the bodies of your allies does she finally speak up.

She really isn’t interested in the ‘hot gossip’ like Marcille would be. In her own rough way, Izutsumi is more just expressing worry for you.

She doesn’t overall react to the fact it’s Chilchuck that you saw. It was just sort of an “Oh!” before she remembered that this succubus will steal your life force.

“So, you just wanted to protect me?” At your conclusion, Izutsumi growls. She faces away from you as she drags over a succubus to drain into Senshi’s pot. “When you put it like that,” she grumbles, “it makes it sound all virtuous and sappy.” You laugh, reaching over to pat Izutsumi’s head. “I appreciate it very much, thank you Izutsumi.” Maybe it’s the fact she just had to confront this ‘mother’ the succubi took the form of, but the cat girl feels at ease when you show affection to her. She sighs, giving up on the argument quicker than she normally would.

That is to say… she wouldn’t not tease you.

She’d hand you some of the milk, poured into a bowl. “Here, for Chilchuck.”

Your face contorts in confusion. “Why me?”

“So you can get all close and intimate and stuff.”

“Izutsumi.”

She wants to support you both! She just… doesn’t really care.

The party has woken up, and by now Marcille has spoken up, “what were your succubi like? Laios? Oh, what about yours?” She turns to you, her green eyes glimmering with curiosity. Cheeks and tip of her ears flushed, it’s hard to miss what exactly she’s on about. You sheepishly laugh anyway, your mind recalling the lowered eyelids, the words spoken to you by the succubus. “I don’t know if I…” “Hey, don’t pressure her to say things like that.” Chilchuck’s voice cuts through the air, and makes you jump. He’s at your side, shooing Marcille away. “That stuff’s usually private for a reason. If she wants to say, she will.” It doesn’t go unnoticed how Chilchuck doesn’t say a word when Marcille instead asks Laios for details on his succubus, though. Though you should be glad Izutsumi isn’t awake to see this. If she was, she’d be rolling her eyes and bemoaning how nauseating the pining was to herself. So, maybe taking things to the grave is for the better.

#✮ grimm's fics!#dungeon meshi imagines #delicious in dungeon imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #chilchuck #chilchuck tims #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck imagines #chilchuck tims imagines #izutsumi #izutsumi imagines #this is so crap i'm sorry folks </3

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russo-woso · 8 months ago

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hiii would you please write something like arsenal women are playing just dance as a team bonding and reader is really really good at it to the point where everyone is shocked and filming it and the fans make loads of tiktok edits that the team all see and send round each other and reader manages to get viv to join in next time (she usually refuses but loves reader to much to deny her anything) maybe teen or early 20s reader?! thank you!!

Just Dance || Arsenal Women

Summary The girls support you no matter what, even when you’re doing just dance.

“You don’t understand, I used to do just dance all the time in PE. If it was raining, we’d all be in the hall doing just dance. I’m a pro at it.” You tell most of the girls.

Everyone was in the changing rooms after a training session and were all discussing team bonding that was taking place at Leah’s, and your, house.

Being only 17, the team agreed that it wasn’t best that you lived by yourself and so Leah offered that you moved in with her.

Living with Leah had its advantages and disadvantages.

For starters, she had the appetite of a five year old, only eating chicken nuggets and the most basic foods.

However, it came with many advantages that outweighed all the bad ones.

Leah was one of your team mums, along with Kim, Beth and viv, but Leah was the one you were closest to.

With your parents living up north, Leah took it upon herself to make you feel at home in north London.

And that’s exactly what she had done. Now it wasn’t just Leah’s home, it was yours and Leah’s.

“Y/N, our living room isn’t big enough to do just dance.” Leah pointed out, packing her stuff into her bag before starting to pack yours, knowing that you’d forget to do it otherwise.

“It’s enough for me to do just dance and maybe one other person. Come on, Le. Please.” You looked at her, battering your eyelids as you did your best puppy eyes.

Leah loved you with every ounce of her body, but the one thing she hated, was your eyes.

Them stupid eyes had you hooked around her finger.

Leah tried to fight them this time, but as you put just as strong a fight, Leah sighed before nodding her head.

“Thanks, le le. Right, it’s official. I get to show everyone just how good I am at just dance.” You announced to the changing room, a smile appearing on everyone’s faces at how excited you were. “I’m gonna beat all your arses so best get your dancing shoes on.”

“Sure you will mini gunner.” Katie’s Irish accent filled the room as giggles escaped everyone’s mouths.

“You just wait and see McCabe.”

————————

Later that evening, the whole team was gathered round in yours and Leah living room whilst you set up just dance on the TV.

You were going to go up against Alessia first but lessi being the clumsiest person ever, went and fell off the sofa, nearly breaking her neck.

To Alessia’s disappointment, you insisted that she didn’t play, scared that she’d somehow break her leg.

Instead, you decided to just do it by yourself.

Everyone got their phones out, ready to capture the embarrassing moment.

But what everyone didn’t expect, was their phones to capture a moment where you showed them the truth.

You really were a pro.

Finishing with a perfect score, you turned around and saw everyone’s jaws on the ground.

“I told you. I perfected my dancing in PE.”

Everyone took it in turns trying to beat your score but it was no use.

The night continued, and one by one, everyone left leaving just you and Leah.

You out something on the tv as you cuddled up to Leah’s side, freezing cold even though the heating was on.

“I’m gonna head up, le. See you in the morning.” Leah hummed, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Night, tiny dancer.”

————————

“Viv! You posted it on Instagram?” You shouted over the phone.

You had woken up about five minutes ago, and picked up your phone.

You didn’t have many notifications but there was one that stood out.

Viv had tagged you in a video.

You clicked on it, curious as to what video she’d tagged you in, but as soon as the familiar setting of your living room, and the tv with just dance in it appeared, you knew exactly what viv had posted.

That’s what led to a very angry you shouting at your phone.

“It was too good not to post. I had to.” Viv explained, but you were too focused on Beth laughing in the background.

“Beth, do you seriously find this funny? You don’t understand, everyone is making edits of me playing just dance.” You stated, your mouth wide open at the fact they find this funny.

“Kid, you were good. Viv isn’t the only one who’s posted videos of you dancing.” Beth pointed out and you jaw dropped to the floor.

“What? Who else has?”

“Alessia, Katie, even Leah.” Viv responded.

Jumping up from your bed, you stormed over to Leah’s bedroom, banging on the door before an annoyed what was heard.

“You posted the video on TikTok. Out of everyone, I thought you’d be the last one to post it.” You said to Leah, a sense of betrayal in your voice.

“Sorry, kiddo, but I had to. And anyway, the fans love it. Look at what the fans are saying.” Leah suggested and you opened tiktok, Beth and Viv still on the phone.

“Listen, Y/N, the fans loved it. They even want more just dance videos.” Beth stated, as you scrolled through the comments of fans saying how well you did.

“Forgive us now, kid?” Leah asked, noticing how the frown on your face had disappeared.

Whilst Leah spoke to you, a specific comment caught your attention.

We need Viv and Leah to do it now

“I will, but under one condition. You and Viv do a dance with me.” You grinned cheekily, knowing that you were a soft spot for both Leah and Viv, so you knew they wouldn’t say no.

Leah’s face dropped and Viv let out a grunt of annoyance.

After just a matter of seconds, both of them agreed and you knew that this was gonna be good.

————————

“Viv, you’re doing it wrong! You go to the left, not the right.” You exclaimed in a fit of laughter as you recorded Leah and Viv dancing.

The whole team had gathered round to watch whilst they all recorded the embarrassing moment.

“I am going left! Leah’s just going the wrong way.” Viv defended, throwing her hands up in annoyance and anger.

“Follow the instructions on the tv. It’s easy.” You explained and both, Leah and Viv, turned around to look at you, disbelief written on their faces.

“It’s easy? No it is not, kid. This is fucking exhausting and hard.” Leah shouted, out of breath from the dancing.

“We couldn’t all do just dance in PE.” Viv pointed out and Leah nodded in agreement.

“Yeah because you’re both old.” You muttered under your breath, thinking you’d get away with the snarky comment but boy were you wrong.

You heard a gasp from next to you, turning your head to be met with Kyra and a cheeky smile in her face.

“Y/N just said you’re both old.” Kyra snitched and you squeezed your eyes close, dreading what was to come.

“You little shit. You make us do just dance and then call us old?” Leah frowned, hand on her hips.

“Fine. Maybe you’re not that old, but you’re not exactly young.”

“Right that’s it.” Leah grabbed ahold of you, tickling your sides as you helplessly tried to get her off you.

Desperate for help, you called out to your other teammates but it was no use, everyone was in a fit of laughter.

“Say you’re sorry and I’ll let you go. Actually, I’ll stop if you let us have chicken nuggets tonight and not complain.” Leah said, despite the laughter that was leaving your lips.

“Fine, fine. But only if I get to post the video of you and Viv dancing.” You compromised and Leah thought about it for a moment.

“Deal.”

“Hey, I never agreed!” Viv shouted, and you gave her a confused look.

“Sorry, I don’t understand you with your Scottish accent.” You stated, the sneaky comment sending laughter throughout the team.

“Right, that’s it kiddo. Leah, have chicken nuggets for the rest of the week.”

#woso community #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #womens football #woso fanfics #leah williamson x reader #vivianne miedema x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal women

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 2 months ago

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A Changed Man | Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: Steve is a different guy now that you have graduated and he’s hanging out with better friends.

A/N: found this while cleaning out my drafts!

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} closed

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

You’d gone off to college and now first year was over and done with and you’d be heading home for summer break. Robin was the only person you kept in touch with and when she told you she was now friends with Steve Harrington, the king of Hawkins and the person (one of) who made your high school life a living hell.

“Bullshit.” You tell Robin over the phone as you pack your suitcase, “There is no way you’re friends with Steve Harrington now and saying he’s a better person.”

“I swear, y/n. He’s a completely different guy from high school. I mean he’s nice, caring. He’s loyal and funny-”

You laughed out loud, unable to believe that. Steve, Carol and Tommy made your life a living hell. Well, Carol did, but most of the time, Tommy and Steve joined into the bullying.

“When pigs fly, Robin. He was a complete asshole. He always had a stick up his ass.”

“Well he finally figured out how to pull it out of his ass.” Robin defends, “he and I worked at Scoops Ahoy last summer and let me tell you, I was weary, but he proved himself worthy of the job. We’ve actually gotten closer. He’s great and he knows about my secret. Super supportive.”

“what about me? I’m supportive!”

“I never said you weren’t!” She groans, “Just get your ass home and you’ll see how much he’s changed. He’s actually coming with me to pick you up from the train station.”

“Robin!”

“I don’t have a car at the moment!” She defends, “He’s the only ride I have.”

You groan, immediately regretting the decision to come home, “That’s it, I’m not coming home.”

“Bitch. yes you are. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“fine,” You mumble, “but if he’s an asshole, I have every right to slap the shit out of him.”

“deal, but i promise he’s different.”

“Whatever, I’ll make that decision when I get home. See you later.”

“Bye.”

You hang up the phone with a groan and throw yourself back on the bed. What had you gotten yourself into?

“What the hell is she wearing?” Carol snickered to Tommy and Steve as you walked by them, heading down the hallway to your locker.

The two gathered in on the laughter, Carol deciding to follow after you. “You gave us another reason to laugh at you.” Carol taunts as you open your locker. “4 eyes.” She whispers, erupting in laughter with the other two.

“You’re such a nerd. And this is just the top of the cake!” You had the unfortunate luck of having an eye exam over the weekend where they prescribed you glasses. You knew this would happen. Tears welled.

“oh look at her now she’s going to cry!” More laughter. What you didn’t see, was the hesitation on Steve’s face every time they did bully you.

They always found something to bully you about, making your life hell. You’d met your breaking point when Carol tripped you into Steve, where his entire lunch tray covered you with spaghetti. Your blouse ruined with sauce.

Steve started to apologize, but it was lost in laughter that erupted in that cafeteria. You were mortified and ran out of the cafeteria sobbing.

Robin looped her arm into yours as you two headed to the parking lot where Steve was waiting, leaned against his car.

You groaned at the sight.

“You promised you would be nice!” Robin reminds.

“All I did was groan!”

“It was a disgusted groan.”

As you approach Steve is all smiles, “hey, I’m Steve.”

You nod in greeting, “I know who you are.”

“Robin says you use to live in Hawkins. Went to Hawkins high.” He opens the trunk for you, “but I can’t seem to place you!” He reaches to grab your bag from you, where you’re in complete shock. He seriously doesn’t recognize you? He and his pack of goons bullied you for years!

“Huh.” You move around him to put the suitcase in yourself. “Yeah I mean you had a stick so far up your-”

Robins hand covers your mouth, “be nice!”

You lick her hand and she quickly removed her hand with a look of disgust. “Gross!” She wipes her hand on her jeans.

Steve watches the interaction in confusion, “am I missing something here?”

You turn to him with a forced smile, “I didn’t hang out with…. Your crowd.” You force out, “was typically a quiet girl in high school.”

“Ah gotcha. Yeah I was more of a jock type.” He slams the trunk closed, “did you ever come to a basketball game? I was in the basketball team.”

"Sports wasn't my cup of tea."

It was relatively quiet on the ride home. Robin sat in the back seat, making you sit in the front with Steve. You had to admit he smelled good, but reminded yourself he's a jerk.

"We're going to a party tonight." Robin announces.

"What? No!" You abruptly turn in your seat to look at her, "Hell no."

"Yes." She nods, "It's the annual summer bonfire."

"yes I remember what it is. I'm not going. I don't want to see all the assholes from school."

Robin groans, "No, you have to go. You have to show yourself off, look at you!"

You miss the up down look Steve gives you from the driver's side and his slight adjustment in the seat. "You should come it will be fun. Have you ever been to one?"

No because you and your goons bullied me into never wanting to leave the house. "No, I haven't."

"Then ya gotta come! It's a great party."

And that's why now you're chugging your 3rd beer down, hoping to alleviate the nerves. You recognized everyone at this party.

"Need another?" Steve offers a solo cup and you're happy to take it.

You mutter a "thanks,"

"So what are majoring in at school?"

Before you can answer a guy, who is visibly drunk and reeks of beer, stumbles into you, his hand finding your ass as he grins at you, "you wanna come home with me pretty girl?"

"What the fuck!" Before you can push his hands off you, Steve is already slamming his hands into his shoulders, "Fuck off, Bryan! What the hell man, you think you can just put your hands girls?"

"Tha hell Harrington!" Bryan tries his best to straighten himself.

"apologize to the lady."

"Fuck no-"

Steve grabs him by his collar, yanking him toward you, "I said. Apologize." He says thru gritted teeth.

The guy blubbers an apology and Steve tosses him aside, where he staggers away.

"Sorry about that," Steve runs his fingers through his hair, "Are you okay?" He places a hand on your shoulder.

You nod, "I am-but-" You're in shock, Steve Harrington just defended you. What has this world come to? You're staring up at him, eyes wide. It would be hard not to admit you felt a little attraction to him. The way he'd pushed the guy and grabbed him by the collar. You could see the muscles through his shirt.

Steve smiles, "Anyways, back to our conversation. What are you majoring in?"

Maybe Steve Harrington had changed.

#Steve Harrington #Steve harrington x #Steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x female!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #Steve harrington imagine #Steve harrington imagines #Steve harrington fanfiction #Steve harrington fanfic #Steve harrington fanfics #Steve harrington fic #Steve harrington fics #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic

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starlightsreigns · 1 month ago

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hold up | a lemonade story

summary ⇢ mellie's hanging on by a thread. how much longer can she hang on when one question coils deep in her? is roman... cheating on her? word count ⇢ 1.4k tags ⇢ minors, do not interact. implied cheating | two ; denial “What a wicked way to treat the girl that loves you”

i don’t wanna lose my pride, but imma fuck me up a bitch.

“Melody, you’re going to drive yourself insane,” My friend Alyssa sighs. “Don’t you trust him?”

That’s a great question. However, I’m past the point of giving a damn. I’m literally driving myself to insanity with all of this and I’m not sure how to bring it up. How do you confront the love of your life about something like this without him immediately going on the defense?

“I don’t trust him, that’s the problem, and I don’t know how to get back to that point anymore.”

Alyssa is my moral compass, she tries to keep me levelheaded when I feel myself slipping. She’s my best friend, but she’s a big fan of Roman and I’s relationship — Alyssa refuses to believe that he’s this person, that he can be a cheater when he’s been so caring. She sees the best in him.

“Mellie, what has he done to make you feel this way?”

My eyes meet hers, “Don’t make me feel crazy, Aly, I’m already losin’ it here.”

“I’m not sayin’ that, I promise, I’m just tryna understand how you go to this point.” Alyssa sits up. “Just help me understand and I promise we can fuck his shit up tonight.” She offers a smile.

While she’s the more levelheaded one of us, the thing I love the most about her is her willingness to support any and every decision I make — even if it’s the craziest shit she’s ever heard.

That’ll be helpful later.

Somethin’ don’t feel right because it ain’t right.. Comin’ up after midnight

The house is the coldest it’s ever been in a long time. I’m pretty sure the only source of heat is coming from the anger seeping out of my pores when I hear his keys in the lock as I sit on the couch. A book sits in my lap untouched as he comes in through the door.

“Hey, Mellie,” Roman throws my way lazily. He comes over to kiss my cheek and I can’t help but smell the perfume that radiates off his body. Chanel. At least the bitch has taste. “You up late.”

My brain wants to cuss him out, but thankfully restraint still exists when I finally reply. “I’d say the same for you, baby, where you been at?”

Roman glances in my direction while heading to the kitchen, “I went to the PC then had dinner with the twins.”

“Oh, the twins are in town?” My eyes train on his back.

There’s no way they can be in town. During a call with Trinity earlier in the day, she told me that her husband and his brother were doing house shows during the week, so, it’s impossible for them to be at dinner. Yet, he seems to think I’m the biggest idiot on planet earth.

“Yeah, we went to that steakhouse on 85th.” Roman shuts the fridge and turns to look at me. “Then we got drinks at Tini’s and watched the game.”

Of course, he has an answer for everything. A tinge of rage strikes me in my chest while watching how calm he is.

“What game did you watch?”

That stops him for a moment.

But I continue, “I watched a couple on split screen.”

Roman runs his hand over his beard then takes a long swig of beer.

“Cowboys versus the Texans was good.” I bait with a small smile.

“Yeah, that’s the one, we ain’t seen the results though.”

Well, of course, he didn’t, maybe because those two teams didn’t have a game tonight.

To not lose my cool, I let the conversation go. I can see him watching me from the corner of my eyes as I pretend to read my book. There’s nothing else I can say. I’ve caught him in more lies than I can count — and there’s a feeling in my gut that tells me he knows.

Can’t you see there’s no other man above you?

Most people would judge me and I don’t blame them. Even with my suspicion, I can’t deny the love and affection I have. So, here I am under him. I can’t help it.

“Look at me, baby,” Roman’s rough voice sharpens my attention. “you look so beautiful.” He runs his hand down my cheek.

His eyes on me, for the first in a while, feels like how it used to be. It makes me forget all the pain that I’ve felt for so long. This is what I want back.

My hand grips his wrist, pulling him down onto the bed, maneuvering so I’m on top.

The gems on my acrylic nails catch some of the light from the moon. My hands are pressed against his chest, holding me steady, keeping the rhythm of our skin slapping together. I throw my head back with a moan, feeling the way he raises his hips to reach deeper into me.

“Do you know how much I love you?” I breathe out, leaning down to kiss his neck. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.”

It was the truest thing I’ve ever said. It is the truest thing I’ll ever say.

How did it come down to this? scrolling through your call list

His phone is empty. She’s not on here, but I know she exists. How can I keep living in the paranoia where I know the ghost exists but there’s no proof of it? I toss his phone back onto his side of the bed with a huff just as he walks out of the bathroom.

“what’s wrong?” He takes a look at my exasperated expression.

“You know how much I love you, right?” My voice is harsher than I wanted, but it catches his attention. “And we made our vows to be loyal to one another, i’m keeping my end.”

Roman knits his eyebrows together, “I love you, too, Mellie.” He sits at the edge of the bed. “I’ll always be here.”

The reassurance I was hoping to feel never comes. Instead, I’m slowly feeling rage. But, I don’t respond but nod. I can’t look jealous or crazy, that’ll only drive him away or make him sneakier. If anything, I need him to slip up. That’s the only way I can make sense of this — Lord, give me a sign.

What’s worse? Lookin’ jealous or crazy?... I’d rather be crazy.

Sleep was the last thing on my mind. Instead, my eyes fixated on the TV screen that flickered in the darkness. Roman was sound asleep beside me and my nerves had finally calmed enough for me to wonder if I was going insane.

I’ve found no tangible proof. Maybe, just maybe, I’m convincing myself of something that isn’t true –possibly self-sabotaging and self-destructing. If I don’t stop now, all my hair will fall out from the stress. Three months of thinking these thoughts are slowly killing me. Not that he’s noticed, but I’ve lost 25 pounds in my mission to find out the nonexistent truth.

My eyes are slowly closing when his screen catches my attention. It’s three in the morning, who could possibly be texting him? I’ve just come to an agreement with myself and now I’m plunged back into the uncertainty. I should just turn over and fall asleep, but I just need to look at the message and I’ll be over it.

J: are you really not coming over tonight, baby? i miss you. mellie sees you more than enough. just come over and be back before she wakes up.

My eyes scan the message over and over again. I’m not sure what else I’m looking for, but I’m hoping that at some point the message would read something different — something that doesn’t confirm all my suspicions. I cover my mouth when the tears start to fall, not wanting to wake him up and find me in this position. My chest feels heavy and my feet are a ton of bricks when I make it out of bed.

Out in the hallway, I slide down the wall with my hands still firmly covering my mouth to swallow the sobs. This isn’t what I wanted nor was it what I needed. My brain feels scrambled with incoherent thoughts. What do I do now? Should I leave? Should I take a baseball bat to his head? Yet, the only thing I’m sure of right now is that I might throw up.

It’s difficult for me to get back up to my feet. My body shakes uncontrollably in the darkness and my breathing is shallow until I’m taking deep breaths. I turn to glance into the room, feeling my skin heat up. This feeling isn’t sadness, it isn’t hurt, or disappointment. I’m past denial – what I’m feeling is scorn and hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

“But still inside me coiled deep was the need to know. Are you cheating? Are you cheating on me?”

please excuse the errors, classes are kicking my ass. hope you’ve enjoyed it 🫶🏽 very excited to post “don’t hurt yourself” x

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delicatebarness · 7 months ago

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cry baby | chapter twenty one

Summary: Steve and Bucky have words.

Warning: Fighting. Punches. Swearing.

Word Count: 1151

Spotify Playlist | Support: Ko-FI

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: Oh Steven, Steven, Steven. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick

Following Steve out of the apartment, Bucky slammed the door behind him. It echoed through the quiet hallway. Each step that Steve took was heavy with barely restrained fury. Bucky was trying to keep his own emotions in check, knowing that Steve’s anger was about to erupt any moment.

As they reached the street, Steve abruptly turned to Bucky, his eyes blazed with rage. “What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded in a low voice.

Bucky’s frustration bubbled within as he clenched his fists. “It was harmless teasing, Steve.”

“Harmless?” Steve snapped, his fists clenching at his sides as he stepped closer. “That didn’t seem harmless to me, Bucky. You were out of line, and you know it.”

Taking a deep breath, Bucky met Steve’s glare head-on. “She started it,” he retorted, his tone sharp with anger. “Besides, she’s a Rogers. She can handle herself.”

“That’s not the point,” Steve growled.” She’s my sister, Bucky. And, now she’s fucking Peter?”

Bucky’s temper flared. “She’s an adult. She can make her own choices… Besides, Peter seems like a good kid.”

“A good kid?” Steve raised his voice. His anger intensifies. “A good kid who’s sleeping with my sister? I don’t think so.”

Bucky realized how far Steve’s mind had gone with the idea of you and Peter. “Steve, listen,” he started, but he was too late. Steve had already begun walking, his strides purposeful.

“We’re going to Parker’s,” He announced, his voice boomed and his time left no room for argument.

Hurrying his steps, Bucky tried to keep up. “Steve, man, calm down. You’re not thinking straight.”

His jaw clenched, and his strides sped up. “I’m thinking perfectly straight, Buck. He will understand exactly what happens when he messes with my sister.”

Grabbing Steve’s arm, Bucky forced him to stop. “Are we really doing this?”

Steve shook off Bucky’s hand, carrying on down the street. “Yes, we are.”

Bucky tried to keep his voice calm. “He’ll tell her, you know, the second we leave. Or, what are you going to do? Another Walker situation?”

Steve froze. Betrayal and fury fuelled beneath him as he turned to Bucky. “What did you just say to me?”

Holding his ground, Bucky kept his voice steady. “You heard me. This isn’t the way to handle it, Punk. Going after the kid isn’t going to solve anything.”

Steve directed his anger toward Bucky, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “So what, Buck? I just let it go?”

“This isn’t about Peter is it?” Bucky said firmly. “Admit it, Steve. This is about you still not wanting me to date her.”

Steve’s conflicting emotions caused his face to twist, his anger flaring. “This isn’t about you and her. This is about protecting her.”

Taking a step closer, Bucky’s voice was low and fierce. “No, it’s about you not trusting me. You think I’m going to hurt her.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed, taking a step right into Bucky’s face. The tension crackled between the friends. “Damn right, I don’t! Do you think I haven’t noticed the way you look at her? It’s been the same since we were kids. And every fucking time, I’ve had to step in and stop it.”

“Step in?” Bucky’s eyes widened in shock and anger. “You’ve beaten the shit out of me every time you thought I was crossing the line! Every god damn time, Steve!”

“She’s my sister!” Steve’s eyes filled with righteous fury. “You were crossing the line! I won’t let anyone hurt her, especially not you.”

“Especially not me?” Bucky’s temper had snapped. “I’ve done nothing but protect her, take care of her! You’re the one who’s too blind with overprotectiveness to see she’s not a kid anymore!”

He shoved Bucky hard as his anger surged. “You think I’m blind? You think I don’t know what’s best for her? You’re fucking reckless, Bucky, you always have been!” Bucky quickly regained his footing after a slight stumble, his rage boiling. Stave advanced on Bucky, his fists tightened. “I won’t let her get hurt because of you. Not now, not ever.”

Squaring his shoulders, Bucky refused to back down. “You think beating me up will change anything? Do you think it’ll make me suddenly stop caring about her? You’re wrong.”

He swung at Bucky, his fury reaching its breaking point. A punch landed squarely on his jaw. Bucky’s fists came up in defense as he staggered but didn’t fall. “You want to do this, pal? Fine. But know this, I won’t stop fighting for her, no matter what you do.”

Swinging again, Steve froze in surprise as Bucky caught his fist and pushed back. He slammed Steve into a nearby wall. “Can you imagine what it feels like to watch the only person you’ve ever loved fall for someone else?” Bucky’s voice scratched with a raw mix of anger and pain.

Struggling against Bucky’s grip, Steve’s gaze met his. His eyes filled with defiance. “You’re not in love with her.”

Bucky slammed Steve against the wall again, harder this time. His grip against Steve tightened. “Don’t fucking dare tell me how I feel,” he hissed.

The two friends stood facing each other as the fight was inevitable, and both knew it had been a long time coming.

In a sudden blur, Steve broke free from Bucky’s grip. He delivered a swift uppercut that connected to Bucky’s jaw. Bucky staggered back again, but he regained his footing. Charging again, Steve’s fists flew in a flurry of strikes. Bucky ducked and weaved. He landed a solid punch to Steve’s ribs, causing him to grunt in pain.

Steve’s punches were wild and angry giving Bucky the chance to counter a hard right hook. Steve barely flinched before throwing himself at Bucky. He tackled him to the ground. The force knocked the wind out of Bucky, and they both rolled across the pavement, grappling for control.

With gritted teeth, Bucky pushed Steve off him, sending him sprawling. Scrambling to his feet quickly Steve didn’t notice Bucky had been faster. Swinging a powerful punch which Steve barely managed to block.

After more punches were thrown, Bucky shouted. “Enough!” His voice hoarse as he took a step forward, his eyes locking with Steve’s. “Twenty years, Steve. You’ve got to stop fighting me on this. I’ve loved her for twenty fucking years, and that’s not changing. If her not feeling the same way toward me doesn’t stop that, neither will a black eye from you.”

His chest heaved as he met Bucky’s gaze again. The fight had drained out the both of them, Steve’s replaced with a mix of frustration and resignation. Standing there, his breathing heavy, he struggled to find words. He couldn’t deny the truth in Bucky’s eyes, a true testament to the years of unspoken desire.

The street faded away for a moment, leaving the two of them locked in a silent battle of emotions.

---

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house-of-lovin · 2 years ago

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legally binded - 4

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

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Chapter 4: Family Bonding, Festivals and Feelings?

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, mentions of hard substances, intoxication, mature language, real people (do not read if any of these makes you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: Things are gearing up 😮‍💨 (ik i said i was gonna take a break, but i couldn’t help myself, now ill take a break lol, happy readin!)

Word Count: 6k+

“No one’s going to get cancelled — it’ll be fun.” Colin Jost smiles curtly on your flat screen TV.

You sit on the bed with a spoon hanging from your lips, an eye on the bright screen having just finished watching a rerun of Jenna’s SNL episode. You made sure to buy it as soon as it was available; locking yourself away in your room.

Currently, you are watching this week’s episode of SNL and Colin and Che are giving their weekly news update.

“Las Vegas is opening up a pop-up vaccine site in a strip club and don’t worry the strippers say the vaccine comes with singer and actress Y/N L/N. This time she’ll be the designated driver – I heard she’s on a tight leash.”

Your smile instantly drops.

“Speaking of Y/N,” Colin bounces off, reading off the cue cards. “Did you see her last week sitting in the audience during Jenna Ortega’s episode… hey, I wonder if they’re a real thing.”

Colin and Che share a knowing glance, “Nah.” They say in unison then move on to their next bit.

Scowling, you turn the TV off, practically throwing your bowl of cereal on the side table.

You supposed you can’t be too mad – all too familiar with the snide jabs and harmless jokes from others in the industry. This is what you signed up for, right?

Whatever, you’re sure people are loving it.

It’s been a whole week since you left New York and you haven’t spoken to Jenna. It seems how you two acted back in the Big Apple was a success because it got your managers to back off, for now. You didn’t see a reason to contact the actress so you let the silence pass — you see when she posts on social media.

You don’t have time to think about it because Coachella weekend is coming up soon. For the first time since Vegas, you will be working and you have been itching – wanting nothing more than to dive head-first into work mode.

It’s what you do best.

You are invited to do a guest performance on a big producer’s set for the festival. It would be your first ever time performing at Coachella but you were privy to the culture of the festival, having gone as an audience member to support your musician friends.

“Hey, you got a minute?” Link pops his head in your door, holding a phone up.

–

“Please don’t do this.” Your pleas go underheard.

“I don’t know why you keep trying, the answer is the same Y/N.” Link rolled his eyes, pointing to a house.

“I think this is the one.”

You scan the two-story typical American home tucked away in the boroughs of suburbia up in the desert, otherwise known as Coachella Valley.

Or well, Jenna’s parent’s house at least.

After Link had dropped the most terrible news; you had to be seen with Jenna in Coachella. Liv and Jake had instructed your team to drive you to stay with Jenna as you prepare for the festival – it was convenient they said.

Convenient my ass.

“Relax... Marcus will be back to pick you up, he’s gonna drop off your bags at the rental house.”

“Why can’t I just go with you then?” You ask.

“Liv said to drive you to this address. Jenna gave explicit directions to drive you here.”

You frown pulling on a loose thread on your sweater.

What could Jenna possibly want that she’d want you here? She looked pretty upset at you, the last time you talked.

You really don’t have it in you to fight with her, again, especially after the long drive from L.A. up to the desert where you thought — you’d be staying in your villa for Coachella weekend.

“Now go see the girl, please.” Link reaches over to open the door.

When you step out, the car is already driving speedily down the street not even giving you a chance to change your mind. You hear a flurry of voices from the side of the house but it sounds far away. Toy cars and trollies litter the grass yard.

Slowly, you walked up her porch, your shoes scraped as you ascend the concrete steps. Hesitating for a brief moment, you realize: Jenna is inside. Well duh. But the thought of her on the other side of the door has your heart dropping out of nowhere. You see flashes in your memory of her frown as you explain why you have to leave New York so soon.

Unspoken words as she says ‘well I thought–’

What did she think?

You would probably never know.

The door opens with a creak breaking you out of your thoughts.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” Aliyah leans against the doorframe, smiling.

You laughed, “Yeah, we do.”

She doesn’t say anything else and just yells over her shoulder, “Jenna, she’s here.”

Then walked off.

“Hi…” Jenna appears, leaning on the doorframe with a hand.

She scans you for a brief moment; not having seen you since New York, a week ago. She had to make sure you’re still alive because she hasn’t heard from you since then.

You also practically ghosted her.

After feeling guilty about how she left things with you, Jenna sent you a text the next day, asking if you made it back to Los Angeles safely.

You liked her message with a thumbs up.

A thumbs up! Not responding would have been better, the actress bitterly thought.

“Hey.” You greet. “How are you?”

“Fine. You?” She answered quickly, smile sealed tight like an envelope.

“I’m… good. Yeah. Just working.” You answer honestly.

“Oh really?” Jenna asked.

“Yeah, something for Coachella actually.”

Jenna raised her brows in surprise. “Like what?”

You send a tight-lipped smile, “It’s a surprise. People don’t know I’m here yet.”

Jenna can’t fight her excitement; giddy about being in on a secret. But then she remembers that she’s supposed to be annoyed at you and not fascinated.

“Why haven’t you texted me?” Jenna sighed, her voice dropping to a lowly whisper, in case someone was walking by.

You raised your brows, surprised by her question. “Oh… um. I’ve been busy like I said, just working, trying to keep my head down and all that.”

“Are you sure that’s it?” She asked accusingly.

You missed her tone and shrugged, reassuring her, “Yeah. Of course.”

“But, I heard you were busy this week too, filming another movie with Barry Keoghan and The Weeknd?” You changed the subject, hoping to talk about something else. She takes the bait after scanning your eyes for a second.

“Yeah, it was just a short role. But it was a lot of fun. Abel actually talked about you.”

“That’s great, I’m happy for you Jen… and yeah he’s an old friend.”

“Sung your praises pretty high, I had to make sure he was talking about the right person.”

You chuckle, “Oh okay, I see how it is.”

Your laugh caused a sudden warmness to manifest in Jenna and she couldn't help but join along. “Come on, my family has been dying to see you again.”

“Really?” You asked, stepping inside her childhood home. “So you think I made a good impression?”

She turned to look back at you, surprised that you care. “Maybe… don’t let it get to your head, though.”

You laughed as you followed her through the house. “Is that jealousy I hear Ortega? Scared you won't be the only movie star around?”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Shut up. You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot that may have impressed your family?” You cocked your head and grinned wide.

“Yeah, yeah. Like, I said. Don’t let it get to your head. They could care less about celebrities and Hollywood. They’re pretty grounded.”

You shrugged, looking at the various family pictures hanging on the wall. “It’s fine. There’s only one Ortega I want to impress anyway.”

You’re not sure where that came from and it seemed Jenna shared the same thought because she raised her brows at you – but didn’t comment.

Jenna blocks you from walking when you reached the sliding glass door. “What?”

Jenna chewed her lip anxiously, “My family can be a lot. In numbers and in the other sense too. There’s a lot of us.”

“Oh… that’s okay.” You answered. A bit confused as to why she is telling you this. When you see her genuine concern your gaze softens. “Jenna, relax. I can handle the family… and I can charm anyone’s socks off.”

She relented, rolling her eyes at your joke. “Okay, okay.”

"Wait..."

Jenna turns around.

"Why am I here exactly? At your parents, that is. Link told me that you gave my driver instructions to bring me here."

Jenna bites her lip in contemplation. "Um—like I said my family wanted to see you again and I heard you were going to Coachella anyway so you know, two birds one stone."

You nod, accepting her answer.

Jenna opens the door for you two to step out.

–

Sounds of laughter rang around as you and Jenna sat in lawn chairs in her parent’s backyard.

“What are Timothee Chalamet and Zendaya like in real life?” Markus – Jenna’s brother leaned forward to ask.

“Markus!” Jenna scolded and threw her brother a glare.

The actress blushed as she sat beside you but all she felt was the vibrations of your laughter, indulging her brother’s question.

Jenna can’t help but wonder if you have other family members that spend time with you like this. You look so carefree and genuinely happy; comfortable around her family — after knowing you for a couple months now; she guesses it’s a no.

“They’re cool. Just like everyone else to be honest. Especially, Timothee, sweet guy but he’s a bit of a typical frat bro.” You joked, “And Zendaya, well. She’s just as amazing as everyone says she is. Great work ethic, it’s inspiring when you work with someone passionate like that – makes you want to be better and work harder.”

Jenna’s sisters are eating your story up. Secretly she knew they enjoyed the tales of celebrities and pop culture. It’s nearly impossible to live your life without seeing a public figure pop up on an ad on your phone or on the side of a bus stop on your drive home.

Jenna is barely home enough to be able to have moments like this where she can humour her sister's questions. But they all had their own lives to live. She's has been looking forward to this break for a while, knowing it was coming up after her long week in New York.

She still can’t describe New York.

Something seems to have shifted between you two by the end of the week. But she didn’t know if it was for the better. The two of you have this constant push and pull; where everything is fine one moment, then one of you says something and it turns tense and weird as you both stay silent or you just completely blow up on each other.

Jenna didn’t know if she had it in her to try to decipher what these restrained responses she gets from you could possibly mean.

You are an enigma; a defensive, hot-headed asshole that grinded every gear the actress had.

“Do you like Zendaya, buddy?” You bounced her niece in your lap, enjoying how the baby grabbed at your fingers.

But then Jenna turns around and you act like this. Sweet, protective, charming.

How are you the same person?

She can’t fight her smile as she watched the adorable sight.

Jenna didn’t know you were good with babies.

“I think Z would think you’re just the most adorable thing. Oh my god, Jen, can I send her a picture of us?” You turned to her, with a bright smile.

Jenna didn’t know when you started calling her by her nickname but she certainly won’t say how she enjoys how it sounds when you say it. “Uh–sure, if it’s okay with my sister.”

“Zendaya’s gonna have a picture of my baby on her phone? Uh yes!”

Jenna laughed, nodding. “I’ll take the picture.” She took your phone, opening the camera.

“What are you doing? Get in here with us." You asked with an adorable scrunch in the nose, surprising Jenna.

“Oh, I just thought— okay.” She swallows her growing grin, sliding in beside you.

Her sisters share knowing glances.

You happily scooted in, pressing your chest to her back.

Jenna is suddenly reminded of her you and her, alone in her dressing room.

She presses back into you.

“Say, cheese guys!” Jenna clears her throat.

With big bright smiles, you placed your head above her shoulder to get in the frame, repeating, “Cheese!”

Even her niece seemed to be enjoying the attention as she smiled brightly and toothless while standing on your lap with her chubby legs. Jenna snapped a couple for good measure, checking over the pictures. The three of you are squished together as she held it in portrait; you all looked cute Jenna can admit.

Like a little family.

What?

“Oh Jenna, send me that, please. I want to post it on my Instagram.” Her mom spoke up already reaching for her phone.

“Okay, okay.” Jenna rolled her eyes but sent herself the pictures first before airdropping them to – everyone – who begged for it.

“This is adorable, I think I’m gonna make this my lock screen.” You grinned, staring at the photo. She sees you typing a message, indeed sending it to the actress like you said you would. “Just for your niece.”

Jenna felt her heart skip a beat. “Are you saying you’re gonna crop me out the photo?”

“No… but now that’s a good idea, thanks.” You mocked with a smile.

“Mom, how did you already post that picture so fast?” Mia asked.

–

“Don’t be mad.” Jenna begged.

“Mad? Jenna. This isn’t what I signed up for.” You pinched the bridge of your nose.

The two of you were standing in her driveway, in a discord of course. Jenna just forced you into another situation that you wanted no part of.

“You just told Link to call off my driver and now you’re saying don’t be mad. Of course, I’m mad! Why did you say yes to your Mom, Jenna.” You sighed, dropping your hand limply.

“I didn’t know she’d insist.” She groaned walking closer, “She said that you shouldn’t stay in that big house by yourself for the weekend when there is room here, next thing I know she’s forcing me to ask you in front of everybody.”

"I'm sorry." She grabs your arm. “Link said you might be mad.”

You stare at her for a couple of moments. Their hearts are in the right place, you guessed. Eventually, you rolled your eyes and sighed. “Thank you I guess… I appreciate that the sentiment.”

Jenna smiled in relief, “Yeah, of course.” Then scrunched her nose in thought. “We actually really don’t have the room so I don’t know where she’ll put you.”

She should have known. This is so typical and cliche; sharing a bed trope? Please, can the universe be any more unoriginal?

“Mom, are you sure?” Jenna whispered as she peaked her head out the small awning of the door – making sure you can’t hear.

“Jen, go to sleep. We have a packed day tomorrow. Everyone’s coming over for the game.”

Tomorrow is sports night and her uncles, aunts, cousins and grandparents are set to come over. It was a weekly tradition for the extended family to host a gathering to watch the game every Friday; with Jenna’s busy schedule, she hasn’t been to one in months. She’s grateful this one is hosted at her house but then inwardly sighed because she should probably warn you about that too.

“Mom…” She pleaded in a whisper.

“Goodnight and be responsible. I trust you two.”

“Mom!”

Jenna dropped her head in defeat as she listened to her Mom’s footsteps dwindle further away.

“Hey, you should probably get in there before all the hot water runs out..”

She turns, seeing your freshly showered figure. For a moment, Jenna finds herself stuck. You’re rubbing a towel on your wet hair as grey sweats hung lowly on your hips and she was desperately trying to avert her eyes from the small patch of you skin exposed.

“I already showered.”

“Oh okay.” You shrugged walking over to grab your phone.

“Which side do you prefer?” You asked absentmindedly,

“What?” Jenna blinks away.

“Of the bed. Which side do you prefer?”

“Oh. The left.”

“Thank god. Every bed I’ve had to share I’ve had to fight for the right side. You’re perfect.”

Jenna watched as you jump into your preferred side, getting comfortable under her covers.

She doesn’t know why she feels a mismatched thump fall out of rhythm with her heartbeat at seeing you in her bed.

“Alright, are you gonna be weird about sharing a bed? ‘Cause I can just take the couch or call my driver to pick me up. I can get a hotel room or something.” You sighed sitting up.

Jenna furrowed her brows, “What no. Can you please stop jumping to conclusions?”

“I’m not.” You mumbled but don’t argue further. Jenna gets in beside you.

“You satisfied now?” She throws out but it sounds just shy of playful and maybe even flirtatious – definitely not how she meant for it to sound.

“Uh– sure.” You replied sliding the blanket up to your chin as you tried to get comfortable again.

There’s that weird tension again, Jenna thinks and she thinks it’s starting to annoy her.

“Okay, what’s your deal?” Jenna crossed her arms, turning to you.

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“Why are you being so weird?”

“I’m not.” You sat up to face the other actress.

Jenna frowned, “Yes you are. You have been since New York. Did I do something? Because you still haven’t told me why you just left town like that.”

“I told you. Jake wanted me back for Coachella. Why else would I have just left all of a sudden?” You explained.

“I just– I just feel like you’re not telling me something.” She admits, a bit insecure. “I, at least, thought we’re friends now and when I didn’t see you in the crowd or the dressing room after SNL I was a bit… disappointed? I don't know if it’s dumb but you really did calm me down before my monologue and I wanted to thank you over dinner. But, yeah–”

Jenna looks away, missing your guilty frown. “Jenna… it’s not dumb. God, I feel like an asshole.”

“Well, sometimes you can be.”

You laugh but it’s dry. “I’m so sorry. I–I should have been there.”

You grab her hands. “Look at me, please.” It gets her to look up, the light from the lamp is bouncing off your eyes making them look softer in the dim light. “I promise, I’ll always be there for the important moments from now on. Before, during and after – we are stuck together until the foreseeable future, so.”

Jenna snorts, looking down at your hands. You begin to rub lines with your fingers on her open palm making her shiver. “Yeah, I guess we are.” She whispers.

She doesn’t know when she makes the bold move to intertwine your fingers. But for the first time since SNL, you two hold hands and this time you don’t pull away. But she doesn’t miss the questioning glint in your eyes as you look down. Jenna ignores the attention and squeezes your hand to make you look at her again.

“You mean it though?”

Your eyes soften. “I mean it.”

–

“Where’s Y/N?” Mia asked over the breakfast table.

“Rehearsals,” Jenna mumbled sleepily shoving spoonfuls of food in her dry mouth – still trying to wake up.

When the actress had awakened, the sun was high above the horizon and the desert heat was already inching inside her cracked window. But she woke up, alone.

Differing from how she went to sleep the previous night with you barely pressed up beside her as you laid with your backs to each other. Jenna only found herself un-tensing after hearing your breathing fall into short even exhales.

When she turned over to grab her phone this morning, you had sent a text:

Sorry for not waking you up. You sleep like a rock but I had to go to rehearsals. I’ll be back by 3 :)

She couldn’t be too annoyed at the smiley face you leave with your occasional messages.

“She’s performing?” Mia asks shocked.

Jenna nods, too tired for words.

“The crowd is gonna lose their minds.” Aliyah laughs. “With who?”

“Won’t say.” Jenna muttered bitterly, thinking back to her incessant begging; you never caved.

“Okay… can we talk about it, now then?”

“Talk about what Mia,” Jenna sighs dropping her fork on her plate.

“You and Y/N.” She says like it’s obvious.

“There is no me and Y/N, it’s all for the cameras. Remember the NDA I had to beg you guys to sign?” The actress rolls her eyes.

“Then why were you so upset after New York?” She challenges; tired of her sister’s silence over this whole situation. There’s no way she’s just unaffected by this.

“Mia drop it.” Her mom says.

“No. I’m serious, she’s literally staying under our roof, sharing a room with Jenna. And no one is still saying anything? Am I the only one who thinks there’s something going on?”

“Yes.” Jenna says quickly.

Mia rolls her eyes, “You still haven’t answered my question, Jen.”

Jenna crosses her arms, sitting up. “Of course I was upset. She just left town without a warning, if we didn’t catch her in the lobby she was just gonna a send a text. A text! Anyone would be upset at that — but it doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

But her sister doesn’t buy it. She opens her mouth to refute but their Dad swoops in saving the day. “Leave your sister alone, Mia. I’m sure whatever is going on with Y/N and Jenna – they can figure it out themselves.”

Jenna groans, “Dad, not helping.”

He shrugs, sitting at the head of the table with his own plate of breakfast.

Eventually, her family scatters to their own corners of the house to get ready for the day. Her other family members would be arriving soon and the actress had to start getting ready. Crap, she forgot to warn you about game night because you left so early. Jenna decides she’ll send you a text after she gets out of the shower.

With the raucous of the day, Jenna forgets to send the text. Her cousins arrived much earlier than anticipated and she was already getting pulled out to living room to talk about her upcoming projects. She gets so lost catching up with her cousins that she doesn’t realize when you arrive.

"Jenna, your novia is here." One of her aunts shouts making her head snap up to you as the front door opens. "Oh wow, and she's brought the whole store!"

Jenna's jaw drops as you walk in, holding multiple large bouquets of different arrangements of flowers. "Y/N?"

"Hey!" You peek your head out from the large flowers. "These are for your family... but I may have overestimated how big these were and Link refused to help me."

"Oh god, these are beautiful Y/N." Jenna's mom gets up from her seat, grabbing as many flowers as she can. "You didn't have to..."

"Oh, it's nothing, really. You guys are letting me stay here, I just wanted to express a little gratitude." You duck your head, all timid now.

Jenna knows it's not nothing. Those flowers cost a fuck ton, she would know she gets gifted those whenever she has an event.

"Well, gratitude expressed. I don't even know where to put these. Mia, Aliyah help the girl, please!"

The two sisters grab all but one smaller bouquet from your hands, walking away with smug smiles.

"Jen, get up," Aliyah whispers in passing as all the women and Jenna's dad filter over to the kitchen to view the gorgeous flowers.

She still hasn't moved from the couch and briefly, she thinks she can feel her cousin's smirking at her reaction.

"You got my family flowers?" Jenna asks dumbly, walking over slowly; ignoring everyone's eyes on them.

"Uh—yeah. Sorry if it's a bit much. I wasn't sure what everyone liked so... I got them all." You scratch your head with a bouquet in hand, catching Jenna's eye.

"These are for you..." You smile, holding out a smaller albeit more personal? flower arrangement. It felt like Jenna, somehow.

“I picked it out myself.” Your smile turns shy.

Like, if she were to walk into a flower shop and see this bouquet, she would instantly grasp it and never let go.

We still talking flowers?

"Thanks..." Jenna mumbles, grabbing the flowers; your fingertips touching sends sparks down her arm.

"Um—you're back early..." Is all she manages to say.

“Yeah… they didn’t need me for a long time so I decided to come back.” You explained, glancing at the new faces in the room. “Uh– what’s all this?”

The actress sends you a sheepish smile, “Family game night, we watch the game every Friday and cook some barbeque, it’s a whole thing. I forgot to text you, I’m sorry. You can call your driver back if this is too much.”

You laugh, squeezing her shoulder. “And miss out on great food? No, thank you.”

Jenna scans your eyes for the truth, “Are you sure? I know this isn’t exactly your scene so I understand.”

“Jen.” Your hand slides down, softly grabbing her hand. “I can’t even remember how long it’s been since the last time I had a home-cooked meal. I’m so in.”

You squeeze her hand for good measure. “Guys close the door.” Someone shouts.

Jenna doesn’t let you drop your hands this time because she’s already gripping them, pulling you to sit with her cousins – introducing you.

She ignores the giddy feeling in her chest that you want to stay.

You don’t say anything even when you’re both sitting and she’s still holding your hand.

–

“Who are you performing with?” Jenna tugs on your arm.

You squint to see her through your sunglasses. The Californian sun was making its presence known today and there are crowds of people everywhere as you tried to find some shade. It’s just past 6 PM and people are already starting to get rowdy – before all the good sets are even on.

Fish nets, sparkles and bedazzles are all you see in the sea of people and you just know you’re at Coachella.

“I can’t say…” You fight the smile on your face, finding her begging adorable. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“But Aliyah knows! I heard you whisper it to her.” She glares back at her sister standing a fair distance away from you two – who was talking to Mia and her boyfriend.

“I didn’t tell her anything, Jen. We were just fucking with you.” You laugh, sliding your hand in hers.

An unspoken comfortableness has formed between you two. Light touches are a new development in this… situation Jenna had with you.

Whether it was knees touching under the dinner table, walking shoulder to shoulder on your daily walks around the neighbourhood (there wasn’t much to do as Coachella weekend approached) or leaning her head on your shoulder as she slept when you two watched TV before bed.

And now, it seems like things have escalated to a new level of comfort where you two willingly linked fingers whenever you walked anywhere. Neither of you make a peep when someone eventually reaches for the other’s hand.

“Rude…” She pinches your side making you flinch away from her.

Jenna’s immediately tugging you back closer.

“Hey… I can’t get an injury before my performance. I’m legally binded to a contract.” You state.

Jenna snorts, “I thought you were friends with the performer? Are you really not gonna tell me who it is?”

“Nope and sure we’re friends but, I’m still contractually obligated to the festival and all that.”

“Come on Y/N!” She groaned unconsciously stepping closer to you. “I’ve been so nice to you, I haven’t called you an idiot all day!”

You laugh, “Is that supposed to win me over?”

“You tell me? Is it working?” The laugh dies in your lips when she tits her head in question.

Jenna misses the gulp you take because she was leaning closer, trying to find your eyes behind the dark-tinted glasses you had on.

“No…” You replied with a vacant tone.

Jenna steps back when the sun blinds her eye. “You’re no fun.”

“I don’t know what to tell you… you’re gonna have to wait like everyone else.”

“Speaking of everyone else, I’m surprised we’re not surrounded by your groupies.” Jenna eyes the group of people hovering not too far away.

You snicker, “They are not my groupies. I barely know those people but it happens at every music event. They flock over like geese. I let Link handle them.”

Jenna frowns, “Doesn’t it bother you?”

“What?” You look down.

“That you can’t even enjoy yourself at a festival without someone hovering over your shoulder.”

Since Jenna’s started this PR relationship with you her fame’s only increased overnight. She hates to say it but Sarah was right, being associated with you has only made her more famous and well-known. She felt like a Kardashian or Tom Holland who couldn’t even step out of their own homes without a camera being shoved in their faces.

It’s getting so bad that Jenna has security with her everywhere she goes. She stopped driving herself to places. A headline even dropped that you two are official and serious now and that you have met her family; paparazzi tried to camp at her parent’s house until they called the police.

“Sometimes.” You answer honestly, shrugging. “But it’s part of the job.”

Jenna’s frown deepens, looking around. “This is not part of the job. At least not what I’ve seen.”

“Yeah, but we learn to deal with it, right?” You nudge her shoulder. Seemingly unbothered that made Jenna bothered for you.

“How?” Jenna couldn’t help her curiosity.

“Surround yourself with people that genuinely care about you. That still picks you even after all your fuck ups. Only got me about three of those, so I try to keep them close.” Then you let out a sad laugh, “I make it very hard for them sometimes, though.”

Jenna looks at Link as he holds a bored hand up when a girl tries to walk up to you. Then he’s shooing her away and whispering to both of your security guards.

She wants to fight the urge to say that you have a fourth person in your corner with her.

Instead, she says:

“I think you got a good one with him.” She nods to Link.

You follow her sight, “Yeah, I do... He’s usually right about most things too.”

“What do you mean?” She looks up in questioning.

Maybe Jenna’s not so bad? Flashes in your memory but you don’t tell Jenna. “Nothing.”

Jenna squints her eyes. “Fine… keep your secrets.” Tone a playfully bitter.

Eventually, you, Jenna and her sisters walk around aimlessly from set to set, taking pictures and enjoying the atmosphere. Jenna would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying herself right now. Somehow you all managed to find an empty corner by the Artist section of the performances which meant you had loosened up a bit.

Jenna decided she liked it when you’re smiling, carefree and happy.

It suits you better than your permanent scowl.

You’ve been so stressed this last week, taking phone calls and Zoom meetings. She tried not to express her concern at seeing how you obsessively fretted over some project, consuming you some nights.

Jenna knows obsessive. She knows anxiety. This was different.

She finds herself with more questions than answers when it comes to you.

Why are you so closed off all the time? Is this how you work all the time? Where did this recent streak of bad behaviour start? Is there more to it than what you’re saying?

Are you okay?

But Jenna can’t find the right words to ask, so she doesn’t.

Only offering her warm pressure on top of you to hopefully lull you to sleep when you both drift off in her childhood bed.

Somewhere along the evening, she finds herself close to you.

You've loosened up as the days progressed and somehow, you and Jenna have found yourselves wrapped up in each other's arms as you danced.

Jenna had her back pressed firmly against your chest; her head tucked under your chin as your arms wrap around her waist from behind; hands linked as you jammed along to the music.

“The Met Gala’s coming up.” Jenna speaks up after a few moments of silence. “I’m invited.”

“Me too.” You reveal. She perks up, looking back at you.

“Yeah?” She smiles, pleased with your answer.

“Mhmm. I’m actually a co-chair this year.” You send an embarrassed smile.

She turns in your hold, jaw-dropping. “You are?”

“Yeah… why do you think I’ve been taking those calls all week? I was getting ready for the Met.”

“I thought that was for Coachella?” She snorts but can't help but ask, "Do you ever stop working?"

“Says you. Miss Scream Queen.” You tease making her roll her eyes.

“Be my date.” She says all of a sudden. “and walk the carpet with me this time.”

You raise your brows at her bluntness. This time?

You remember the last time she said those words and a tiny part of you prayed she meant it differently this time. But you can't fight your smile because you couldn't even say no if you wanted to — overwhelmed with the sudden want, to show off the girl in your arms. “I would love to be your date.”

Jenna's eyes sparkled with delight, beaming at you widely.

"Great! I'll talk to Enrique and Thom Browne about it."

"But I'm a Prada Ambassador?"

"I'll handle it." She nods with finality.

But before you can say anything, Link slides in with a whisper in your ear and a knowing smirk in Jenna’s direction.

“Hey, I have to go.” You whisper into her ear, pulling away but Jenna tightens her grip.

“Wait.” She steps forward – much closer than she means to.

“Yeah?” You asked softly and suddenly Jenna can’t hear the loud thumping of the bass anymore.

“Good luck and break a leg.” She says in a whisper.

Her hand reaches up to brush your neck still looking into your eyes. Jenna feels the same overwhelming pressure in her chest that she’s recently felt around you and gives into her sudden impulse; leaning in, parting her lips; meaning for them to connect to your cheek but instead swerve and slot in between your lips instead, in a moment’s haste.

She feels you tense for a moment before giving in, cupping her cheeks too. Kissing her back. Jenna loses it a bit, not expecting your lips to feel so soft and smooth and perfect against hers. Jenna can't help but tilt her head to the side, allowing your lips to press harder.

She feels the same electricity from your first meeting – when you shook her hand. The same electricity she tries to fight off every time she's near you. Except this time, it's by tenfold.

Jenna is so lost in you that she can’t even hear her heart beating loudly in her ears anymore — only feeling your thumb softly stroking her jaw.

The sound of coughing breaks you two apart.

“Sorry but Y/N we need to go.” Link sends a sheepish smile but he's trying to fight his grin at having a front-row seat to the show.

When Jenna pulls away she looks deeply into your eyes searching for some kind of indication of your feelings.

You smile shyly, squeezing her waist and rubbing her back. “I’ll find you after the show?”

“Yeah…” Jenna whispers, still staring into your eyes.

“I’ll find you!” You yell over her shoulder as Link drags you away.

“Holy shit, finally!” Mia slides in beside her.

Jenna doesn’t have the energy to shrug off the arm Aliyah throws over her shoulder as she brings her fingers up to her burning lips. “I don't know why I did that...”

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot. The both of you.” Mia rolls her eyes walking back to her boyfriend.

Jenna looks around, blinking, immediately catching the phones held in the air capturing her moment with you.

She walks off, following her sisters.

Unbeknownst to you and Jenna, a headline is about to drop:

New developments in Y/N L/N's Vegas case. Caught with cocaine! Las Vegas PD makes no official comments on possible charges or arrests. But is this the end for the bright star?

The strip club and vaccine bit with Colin and Che is from a real line in one of their segments LOL.

yall happy now?

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#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega imagine #wednesday netflix

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