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idkdudethisisntpermanent · 6 months ago

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Over the Limit - pt.iv

jenna ortega x female reader

summary: You and Jenna each reflect on your own choices and the growing tensions between you both. Torn between loyalty, responsibility, and personal longing, what does this growing conflict mean for the future of your alliance?

word count: 12.8k

————

"So, victory sex?" Hunter teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Victory sex?" You echoed, genuinely confused. "With who?"

"Who else? Your little Viper girl," he replied, rolling his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

After dropping Jenna off at home, you'd shot Hunter a quick text, asking if he wanted to come over. After the whirlwind of the race, and the intense feelings stirred up by Jenna, you needed someone to debrief with—someone who knew about the tangled situation you'd gotten yourself into. Fortunately, your mom didn't know Hunter was part of the Sinners, so he was in the clear to hang out without raising any suspicions.

"Come on, Hunter, I barely know the girl."

"Doesn't seem that way to me," he shrugs, taking a seat on your couch and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. "You let her wear your jacket, didn't you?"

Did everyone see that?

You roll your eyes and flop down beside him, letting out a tired sigh. "That doesn't mean anything."

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say." Hunter smirks, but his teasing tone amplifies after a beat. "But there's no way you didn't feel Racer's High after winning."

You didn't need him to define Racer's High. You knew he was referring to that primal, raunchy, adrenaline rush of a feeling that overtook you once you won the race a few hours ago. You shudder remembering how much you yearned for Jenna in that moment.

"So, how are you feeling about it all? The race, the attention... her?"

You hesitate, considering how much to say. You trust Hunter—he's the only one in the crew you can really open up to, but you're also not ready to dive into the whole Jenna situation. Not with everything going on, especially since you're not sure how deep things go with Percy and this "Ghost Smoke" deal.

"I don't know," you finally say, running a hand through your hair. "The race was wild. Winning felt... intense. I get why people get hooked on that feeling."

Hunter raises an eyebrow. "And?"

"And... I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this. Like, there's this whole side to racing I'm not seeing."

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, watching you carefully. "What do you mean?"

You glance at him, trying to gauge how much you can say without tipping too much of your hand. "I don't know, man. I've been hearing things—whispers about this new stuff called Ghost Smoke floating around Brimstone. You heard anything about that?"

Hunter's eyes narrow, and for a second, you think maybe you've pushed too far. But then he exhales slowly. "I've heard the name. It's bad news, Y/n. Real bad. That shit's spreading fast, and people are already getting hooked. Some of the younger guys are sniffing around for it. Why are you asking?"

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "Just heard it mentioned. Thought it might be connected to some of the things I've been noticing. You don't think the Vipers are involved, do you?"

Hunter goes quiet, his face unreadable. Then he leans back, crossing his arms. "I don't know, and I'm not looking to find out. You shouldn't either. Percy's been getting into things outside of racing, and if Ghost Smoke's part of that, it's not something you or anyone else in the crew wants to be tangled up in."

You nod, though his answer doesn't satisfy you. Not because you don't believe him—but because you have this sinking feeling that the situation is bigger than either of you realize.

The conversation shifts after that, and the rest of the night passes with more casual banter. But the unease never fully leaves your mind.

"Looks like Madison's got a thing for you."

You raise an eyebrow, laughing lightly. "Mikey? That girl's never even cracked a smile at me. Pretty sure she barely tolerates me."

Hunter shrugs, smirking. "Nah, trust me. She was asking about you the other day in the garage."

Your brow furrows slightly. Was it because of what I asked about Percy? A small part of you wonders if Madison's caught onto your suspicions.

"And even during the Viper and Raven races, she was giving you these weird looks."

"What does that even mean, Hunter?" You roll your eyes, half-amused, half-worried.

He chuckles, clearly enjoying this too much. "Hell if I know, but winning that race definitely got you on some people's radar."

Maybe at one point, being on the radar of a few girls would've mattered to you, but not anymore.

————

While Hunter crashed on the couch, you spent the entire night tossing and turning in bed. If someone had told you a month ago that you'd be neck-deep in street races and shady dealings—all for the sake of a girl—you would have called them insane.

When dawn finally broke, you shuffled out of bed and headed into the kitchen, finding Hunter gone and your mom brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

"Morning, Mom," you yawn, stretching your arms out. "Did Hunter leave already?"

"You just missed him. He said he'd be back later," she replies with a gentle smile.

You hum in response, pouring yourself a cup of coffee, savoring the warmth. It was in these quiet, mundane moments that you hated the path you were on more than anything. Between the mess with Jenna, the unpredictability with Percy, and the weight of secrets and family legacies, you sometimes wished you could just be normal—not tangled up in rivalries or trying to make sense of feelings you didn't dare admit.

"You've changed," your mother's voice broke you out of your thoughts, catching you mid-sip.

"Changed?" You raise a brow, joining her at the dining table. "What do you mean?"

She sighs, studying you with a mix of curiosity and concern. "You seem... happier in some ways but also more stressed. Something's weighing on you."

You stare down at your coffee, catching your own reflection in its dark surface, letting your mother's words sink in. Of course she'd notice something different—you're her child. But she's right; you have changed. And now, in this rare quiet moment in the chaos your life has become over the past month, you're finally realizing just how much. You've changed so damn much—and the thought terrifies you, especially because you can't even pinpoint when it happened.

Or you do. And that was the scary part.

A month ago Anton told you to find what's your purpose, your drive. What makes your heart race. What's worth risking everything for.

But you'd been so careful, you tell yourself. You abandoned her the first night you met, didn't even share your name—but now, she's got far more than just a name. She's got you feeding her intel, leading her through Brimstone like her own personal guide, pulling you deeper into a world you swore you'd keep at arm's length.

When did it happen? When did you start dropping her home, buying each other jackets, eating ice cream together—and, hell, when did you start racing? Racing, something you'd vowed never to do. And now here you are, about to walk into a private meeting that likely involves drug lords fueling Brimstone's biggest epidemic—all because she needs leverage on Percy. Leverage to protect herself from some mystery he's holding over her, something she still won't tell you.

You try to rationalize. She's got leverage on you, too. She's got footage of you stealing her dad's car. But deep down, you know she'd only pulled that card to hook you in. She wouldn't actually use it. You knew that. You knew her.

Except—you didn't. You didn't really know a damn thing about this girl, yet here you are, throwing caution to the wind for her. Risking everything for her. Breaking your own rules, doing things you'd avoided for the past twenty years...all because of her. And all way too fast.

Maybe it's because you're finally sitting in front of your mom, and to her, you'll always be her little girl. And facing her now, all you can see is the woman who once opened the door to find cops there, telling her that her husband, the father of her nine-year-old kid, was dead. You remember watching her piece together her shattered heart, all while carrying the weight of resentment for the racing that took him. And now, somehow, you're part of it too. How could you put her through this?

"Y/n?"

Your mom's voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you lift your gaze from your coffee to her face.

"I've been calling your name for a while now. What the hell is going on with you kid?" she asks concerned.

Everything you wished you could tell her was everything you couldn't. Everything she warned you to stay away from.

"Look I know I haven't been the best mom," she sighs. "But I did it because I care. I'm strict because I know how quickly things can go south in this shithole of a town."

"You're not a bad mom, stop—"

"I can tell there's something on your mind, I don't know if it's good or bad. But I want to know Y/n/n."

Just as you were about to respond your phone pinged and of course it was Jenna.

Hey Oil spillage, just got news that the meeting moved. It's on Friday at 10p.m. now.

Wonderful news. After the realizations you just had, you were not ready to face Jenna again. In fact you would rather anything but see her. And now you can avoid her for six more days. Without replying to her message, you turn off your phone and turn your attention to your mom.

"I guess I've just been thinking about my future and what that looks like." You decide to open up a little, seeing no apparent harm.

Your mom nods slowly, her brow furrowing slightly as she absorbs your words. "And I also have to consider the fact that we're in Brimstone," you add, your voice dropping a notch.

She looks at you intently, searching your face for clues. "I get that this place can feel limiting, Y/n. But remember, it doesn't have to define you. You have the power to change your path."

You take a sip of your coffee, contemplating her words. "It's just...sometimes it feels like I'm caught between what I want and what I should be doing."

"And what do you want?"

"I don't know! I don't know what I want," you finish, softer now.

She squints, registering the tension in your voice. "Then, what do you think you should be doing?"

Racing. The Club. The Sinners.

But you can't say that. Not to your anti-racing mom, but clearly your face says it for you.

"Y/n," she sighs. "There's no place for you in that life."

"You don't understand, Mom! It's easy on paper to say 'stay away.' But people talk. I'm the daughter of a founding member; they expect me to be part of this."

"And how exactly are you hearing all this talk?" she asks, voice tinged with sass. "I thought I told you to stay away from Anton and that whole club."

"I am!" you lie. "But people at the warehouse still talk," you lie again. "Is working in a warehouse really what you want for me? For the rest of my life?"

"If it keeps you out of that club, then yes, a thousand times over. That club killed your father. I don't get your fascination with it!"

"Maybe I like cars! Maybe I want to feel close to him by doing something that mattered to him. You never even talk about him," you say heatedly, pushing yourself back from the table.

"Sit back down," she says, rubbing her temples.

You sit, your frustration simmering.

Your mom's eyes, usually a fortress, softened with a sigh. "You're right, I don't talk about him much. Not because he wasn't worth it, but because it's painful. But let me tell you something about your dad, something I should've told you sooner."

A shadow of confusion crossed your face.

"He was a founder, sure," she admitted, a bitter smile playing at her lips. "One of the Y/l/n brothers who started this whole thing. But that's not the part of the story that matters. Not the part that should define how you see racing."

Your heart stilled, anticipation prickling at your skin. "What do you mean, then? What's the part I'm missing?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, focusing on a memory only she could see. "Your dad wanted out."

The weight of her words hung between you, more jarring than the rumble of any engine. The idea of your father—the man who had seemingly built his entire world around speed, thrill, and the camaraderie of the club—wanting to leave felt impossible.

"What do you mean, 'out'?" you asked, the question barely a whisper.

She sighed, running a hand over her tired face. "He didn't start the club for the glory, Y/n. Not for the rush or to become some legend everyone would talk about. He did it because he felt trapped, and for a while, racing felt like freedom. But when things got bigger, more dangerous... he saw where it was heading. He knew it wasn't sustainable. He wanted out before it swallowed him whole."

You stared at her, trying to process this new version of the man you thought you knew. The stories you'd grown up on were all about victory, triumph, the unmatched skills of your father and the empire he helped build. But no one talked about the nights he lay awake, second-guessing the choices that led him there.

"Why didn't he leave, then?"

Her eyes glistened with a pain that seemed older than time, a sorrow she'd carried long. "He did, or... he was supposed to. That last race—the one that took him from us—it was meant to be his farewell. He promised me it would be the last time, that after that night, we would start over, somewhere far away from all of this."

You felt like the ground beneath you had shifted. The race that defined so much of your past, the race whispered about in awe and grief—it had been an ending, but not the kind you ever imagined.

"He was going to walk away?" you asked, your own voice thick with disbelief.

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the weight of old promises and lost dreams shining in their depths. "Yes," she whispered, a tear finally breaking free and rolling down her cheek. "He was tired of what it had become—the danger, the violence, the way it devoured everything good. He wanted out for you, for us. But fate had other plans."

You looked at her, seeing not just your mother but a woman who had lost everything for the sake of someone else's ambition. The image of your father—legendary racer, fearless leader—began to fracture, replaced by the vision of a man who was trapped, fighting for freedom that never came.

"And now," she said, drawing a shaky breath, "you have to decide if you're going to chase his ghost, or choose a different path."

Suddenly, the image of racing, of the thrill that had always called to you, shifted. It wasn't just the adrenaline, the wind whipping past and the engine's roar. It was what lay beneath—the fear, the drive to outrun something that couldn't be escaped.

"So, what does that mean for me?" you asked quietly.

Her fingers tightened around her cup, eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. "It means you decide if racing is freedom or a cage. For your dad, it became both. You don't owe this club anything."

You sat back, absorbing the truth. Racing had always felt like destiny, an inheritance carved into the fabric of who you were. But now, for the first time, it seemed less like a birthright and more like a choice—a choice you'd have to make on your own terms.

"Do you ever... want to get out of here?" you ask, almost too quietly, afraid of the answer. "Out of Brimstone?"

A question you should've asked your mother years ago, but is only leaving you now.

She raises her eyebrows, surprised by the question. It lingers in the air between you for a moment before she sighs, looking out the window to the tired streets beyond. "Sometimes," she says finally. "Sometimes I think about it, yeah. The way this place drags people in, holds them down... It scares me for you, Y/n. I don't want you trapped here. I want you to have options, a life that's bigger than this town."

"Then why do you stay?" you press, voice softer now.

A flicker of something unreadable crosses her face. "It's complicated," she says, her voice tinged with a weariness you hadn't noticed before. "Your father was here. This was where we met, built our lives, and after he... after everything, I felt like leaving would be... giving up on him. Like walking away from the one thing he was part of."

"But you don't owe this place anything," you say, echoing her earlier words back to her. "If it's just a memory keeping you here, then... maybe we both deserve better."

She nods slowly, her gaze returning to you, eyes softer, more vulnerable than you've seen in a while. "Maybe we do," she admits, voice barely a whisper. She makes a gesture with her hand of tapping a cigarette into an ash tray—a habit you noticed since you were a child. Something she does out of nervousness.

For the first time, it feels like you're seeing eye-to-eye, both carrying parts of the same burden—one that isn't really yours to carry. You've both been holding on, afraid of what letting go might mean.

You never thought you had a bad relationship with your mom. You both just worked and worked, trying to make a life for each other. Survival mode felt like autopilot—there was no time for bonding or deep conversations. Showing care meant keeping each other going, making sure you both were okay. Talking like this felt foreign, almost like a new skill you were both trying to learn. You wonder what prompted it, this sudden need to speak the things you both usually left unsaid

"So Hunter told me you had a girlfriend—"

You face palm, "for fuck sakes."

————

"Dude you told my mom I have a girlfriend?"

"She asked me if there was anyone special in your life!" He puts his hands up defensively.

You groan, feeling a wave of annoyance wash over you. What the hell are you supposed to tell your mom if she asks about this again? The image of her face pops into your mind. "Hey Mom, here's my supposed girlfriend I met at a race I snuck off to behind your back. Don't worry, she's not a Sinner—she's a Viper, though."

Luckily, Hunter had walked in earlier from whatever he'd been up to that morning, sparing you from answering your mom's question on the spot. Now, all you have to do is figure out what to say when she inevitably brings it up again.

It's still morning as you both settle into your room, falling into the familiar rhythm of your routine. You sprawl on your bed while he spins around in your chair, his energy infectious. Hunter dives into the latest gossip, animatedly sharing every detail, and you find yourself drifting in and out of his words, letting the sound of his voice wash over you.

You phone then starts ringing, and his voice suddenly stops. You glance at the screen, and let out a heavy sigh. You've really got to change her contact name.

"Who is it?" Hunter asks, hopping off the chair and leaning closer to your phone.

"Is she not your fave Viper anymore?" He jokes, sitting at the foot of your bed. "Come on, pick it up!"

You hesitate, staring at the screen as the name blinks back at you. The tension in the room shifts, Hunter's playful smirk fading as he senses your reluctance.

"Seriously? You're just going to let it ring?"

You shake your head, biting your lip. "I—I can't, Hunter. What do I even say?"

He leans forward, a look of mock seriousness on his face. "How about, 'Hey, Jenna, what's up? Oh me? I'm just living my perfectly normal life—definitely not spiraling into an identity crisis because of you?"

You roll your eyes but can't help the smile that threatens to break through. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah, but you know I'm right," he insists, nudging your foot with his. "Just answer it! What's the worst that could happen?"

A million thoughts race through your mind, each one heavier than the last. You're scared of what her voice will bring up—the memories, the feelings, the undeniable shift in your life since you met her. "What if she wants to see me again?"

"Uh, hello?" he raises a brow, giving you a look. "Isn't that the best-case scenario? Getting cozy with your fine, rich Summer Valley girl?"

You hesitate again, and the ringing seems to grow louder. Hunter's eyes are wide, filled with mischief and encouragement. "Come on! Just answer it already!"

"Huh, looks like I can't anymore, the ringing stopped," you smile, relieved that the ringing was cut short.

Hunter's expression shifts from playful to incredulous. "What the fuck, man? Why didn't you answer?"

You shrug, but inside, a storm of emotions brews, each thought heavier than the last. Jenna represents everything you're trying to escape, and yet everything you're drawn toward. She's the pull of a world that's dangerous, one you've seen tear lives apart—your life apart. And every second you spend with her, it feels like you're slipping further down a path you might not come back from.

You can't let that happen.

"Because I can't keep doing this," you say, the words coming out softer than you'd intended. Each moment with her feels like a step away from the life you once knew, from the version of yourself that kept your family safe. You're drawn to Jenna, but she's also a stark reminder of how much you've changed, of how close you're getting to undoing everything your mom worked so hard to protect, everything your father was trying to leave.

She makes you feel alive in ways you haven't felt in years. But that feeling comes with a vulnerability you're not sure you can handle. If you keep this up, you'll lose more than just yourself—you'll risk letting down the family that depended on you to be the strong one. The thought sends a cold chill through you.

"I don't think I'm doing the right thing, Hunter."

Hunter lets out a quiet sigh, watching you closely. "You were doing alright last night. What's got you all worked up now?"

You hesitate, the weight of it clawing at you. Saying it out loud feels like crossing a line you can't come back from. "Things just... feel different," you say, voice barely audible. "I've been doing things I never thought I would, getting in deeper than I should. I don't even recognize myself anymore."

Hunter frowns, studying you. "You're not a completely different person just because you're out there racing. Isn't this what you wanted?"

"It's not just about racing." You rub your face, trying to calm the frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Jenna's got this... hold over me. She's made me cross lines I thought I'd never touch. She's tied up in a world I swore I'd stay away from."

Hunter's gaze softens, like he's trying to understand. "Maybe she's just got you seeing things differently. Doesn't mean you're losing yourself."

But that's the problem—you can feel yourself losing your grip, and the need to push her away rises, desperate, like an instinct. You know that the closer you get to Jenna, the deeper you risk sinking into something that could destroy you both. "Maybe it's better if I keep my distance," you murmur, more to yourself than to him. "I can't let this go any further. She's in the Vipers, and that's not a world I can afford to be part of."

Hunter shakes his head, not fully understanding. "So you're just going to shut her out? Because of some fear? Even if she hasn't been around long, what you two have—it's something real—"

"No." You cut him off, a hint of desperation in your tone. "What I have with her isn't real. Not really. We just thought... we could help each other. But that's all it is."

Even as you say it, though, you can feel the lie settle in your chest, heavier than you expected.

Hunter doesn't know the whole story with Jenna and Percy, or how you got roped into digging up dirt on him. You bite your tongue, stopping yourself from saying too much. A part of you wishes you could tell him, though—because if he knew you were supposedly getting mixed up in things like Ghost Smoke, he'd be the first one pushing you to cut Jenna out of your life for good.

"Alright, let me ask you this," he says, leaning forward. "You've had your first race, you were technically a Sinner. But from what you're saying, it sounds like you've made up your mind. So, what—you're sticking to your car hijacking ways, no racing, right?"

You hesitate—even after everything your mom has told you today, and he catches it.

"There's still a part of you that wants it, Y/n. You're not sure, and that's okay. This isn't about you changing; it's about something else. Unless you can look me in the eye and say you're completely done with this racing stuff, I don't see why you have to push her away."

You don't know why either. Maybe this wasn't about racing entirely and how much you've changed. But it feels foolish now to drag yourself deeper into this world after learning your dad died trying to leave it. Point is, you need to step back before you lose yourself completely.

And as much as it hurts to admit, that might mean losing the girl who makes your heart race. Looks like you found what makes your heart race, but not what's worth risking everything for.

————

"So, should I throw the microwave at your head now or later?"

Jenna tears her gaze away from her phone, frowning at her sister. "What are you even talking about, Aliyah?"

Aliyah grins, enjoying the confusion on her sister's face. "You don't remember? You told me ages ago that if you ever fell for someone again—or got caught waiting on a text—I should throw a microwave at your head."

Jenna sighs, the memory of that ridiculous pact making her groan. "Yeah, well... Wait—hold on. I am not falling for anybody!"

Aliyah raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh. Says the girl who's been glued to her phone all day waiting on a text. Sounds exactly like someone not falling for anybody."

Jenna scoffs, rolling her eyes, but she can't hide the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "I'm just... checking my messages. It's not that deep."

Aliyah chuckles. "Right. Not that deep. Just let me know when to start unplugging the microwave."

The older of the two shakes her head, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "You're so dramatic."

"I just know you too well. Face it, sis—you're hooked."

Jenna scoffs, though her expression softens. "It's... complicated," she admits quietly, her fingers grazing the edge of her phone. "She's—" She stops, catching herself. She's. But she's not about to explain all that to Aliyah.

"Complicated?" Aliyah finishes, feigning shock. "You? In something complicated? Never."

"Okay, fine, enough!" Jenna laughs, trying to brush off her nerves. But her sister's words stick with her. She can't ignore the fact that she's thinking about her way more than she should be. And she knows all too well that if Percy found out, it would be a whole new problem.

Aliyah flops onto the bed, scrolling through her phone with a satisfied grin, fully aware that she's already planted the seed.

The Viper tries to focus on something else, anything else, but her mind keeps drifting back. "You're hooked."

Aliyah tilts her head, watching Jenna with a knowing look. "You don't even deny it. Whoever this person is, they've got you in knots."

Jenna rolls her eyes, trying to dismiss it, but the truth settles heavily in her chest. "It's not like that," she says, almost to herself. "It can't be."

Aliyah raises an eyebrow. "Why not? Because of Dad? Or because of that sleaze Percy?"

Jenna's jaw tightens at the mention of the men, and she looks away, fighting the urge to share too much about her mystery Brimstone girl. "Let's just say... it's not as simple as having someone in your life and calling it a day," she says finally.

Aliyah's playful demeanor fades a bit, sensing the weight in Jenna's voice. "Jenna... are you in some kind of trouble?"

For a moment, Jenna considers coming clean, but she shakes her head, forcing a smile. "When am I not in trouble?"

Aliyah's smile falters slightly, guilt seeping through her playful demeanor. She shifts in her seat, Jenna wouldn't even know this kind of trouble if it weren't for her.

Jenna catches the look in her sister's eyes and instantly regrets her words.

"Aliyah, don't," she says softly, the tension in the room shifting. "You know I don't blame you."

"I know, but I can't help feeling responsible," Aliyah whispers, looking down at her hands. The unspoken reality—that Jenna's entanglement with the Vipers was to shield Aliyah—lingered between them, heavier than any words.

"Dad shouldn't have made you—"

Jenna reaches out, squeezing her sister's hand. "We're in this together, remember? Whatever happens, I'm the one who chose to stay."

Aliyah looks up, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But it's not fair. You shouldn't have to carry this for me."

Jenna offers a small, sad smile. "Family isn't about fair. It's about being there, no matter what."

Aliyah's shoulders slump as she bites her lower lip, a familiar crease forming on her brow. The guilt that's been gnawing at her shows clearly in her eyes, and Jenna's heart clenches at the sight.

"I hate this," Aliyah whispers, her voice wavering. "Every time you walk out that door, I keep wondering if you're coming back. And it's because of me."

Jenna's tough facade cracks, and she leans forward, wrapping an arm around Aliyah's shoulders. "Hey, don't go there," she murmurs. The words are steady, meant to reassure, but the tightness in her chest betrays her. For a moment, she lets herself imagine a life free of this cycle—a life where neither of them has to look over their shoulder.

"I won't be stuck for long," Jenna finally admits, a determined edge creeping into her voice. She pulls back just enough to look Aliyah in the eyes, hoping to pass on some of that conviction. "I'm working on something, alright? This isn't forever."

Aliyah searches Jenna's face, her eyes widening with hope and hints of disbelief. "You mean it?"

Jenna nods, "I mean it. I promise."

Suddenly the sadness in Aliyah's expression is replaced with a smirk, "Does she have anything to do with it?" she asks glancing at her sister's phone.

"Don't change the subject," Jenna says, trying to sound stern but unable to keep the corner of her mouth from quirking up.

Aliyah's smirk grows, the earlier heaviness giving way to something warmer, more familiar. "I knew it. Your mystery girl isn't just another risk, is she?"

Jenna rolls her eyes but can't fully suppress a small, reluctant smile. "It's complicated, Ali. She's... well, she's a lot more than I expected."

Probably the biggest risk of all, Jenna thought

Aliyah's smirk softens into a genuine smile. "Good. You deserve more than this mess, Jen."

Jenna's heart tightens at her sister's words. "Yeah," she whispers, more to herself than to Aliyah. "Maybe I do."

Suddenly an idea stirs into the younger Ortega's mind. In a swift motion, her hand darts out and snatches Jenna's phone from the bed. Before Jenna can fully process what's happening, Aliyah is already on her feet, eyes dancing with mischief as she clutches the phone to her chest like a prize.

"Aliyah!" Jenna's voice sharpens "Seriously? Hand it over."

Aliyah tilts her head playfully, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Relax, big sister. Just checking if your mystery girl left a love note or two."

Jenna takes a step forward, trying to maintain her composure as she reaches out for the phone. "I mean it, Ali. Give. It. Back."

Aliyah shifts her weight, effortlessly dodging Jenna's reach as she chuckles. Taking advantage of the height, she holds the phone above her head, reading the chat messages. "Greaser? Pet names already?"

"Aliyah."

"Left on read for almost three hours? And here I thought you had game."

"I don't like her."

"Sure you don't," Aliyah teases, tapping the screen. "Let's see if your non-existent feelings show up when I—"

Before she can finish, the familiar ringing tone starts, and Jenna's heart drops. Aliyah's eyes widen with mock surprise. "Oops. Guess we'll see soon enough."

"Aliyah!" Jenna lunges, grabbing the phone from her sister's hand after the phone rang for a while. Without hesitation, she swiftly hits the end call button. The silence that follows crackles with tension as Jenna clutches the phone, her face flushed.

Aliyah bursts out laughing. "Wow, if that's not feelings, I don't know what is."

Jenna takes a steadying breath, unable to mask the way her pulse races. "It's not like that," she insists, more to herself than to her sister.

She couldn't help but wonder why you didn't answer your phone. You had more than enough time to answer the phone while it was ringing.

————

Two days have passed since you left Jenna's call unanswered. The rhythmic clinking of tools filled the garage as you worked tirelessly on your latest project—the stolen Aston Martin. For the past two days, the garage had been your refuge, the metallic smell of oil offering a sense of your old routine amidst the chaos. In that span, you had buried yourself in work, starting early in the morning and ending late into the night, determined to keep your mind from straying.

You stepped back to study the Aston Martin, now wrapped in a deep green that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. The change from the initial black colour was supposed to help, to make the car feel less like a painful reminder of her. But as you ran your hand over the freshly smoothed surface, sighing at the ghost of memories it evoked, you realized that nothing had changed. No matter how much you worked, every inch of that car still spoke her name.

Your phone buzzed on the workbench, a sharp intrusion that pulled your attention. A name lit up the screen—Jenna's. A message providing you the address of the meeting, nothing else. Seeing her message made your chest ache with a guilt you tried to ignore. You glanced at the glowing screen, your resolve wavering for a moment before you shoved the phone into a drawer, the metallic clang echoing in the small space.

Out of sight, out of mind.

As you smoothed out the last stubborn air pockets on the Aston Martin's fresh wrap, the sound of footsteps echoed in the garage. It was nearly 1 a.m. and no one should be around at this hour.

"Y/n?"

You turned at the familiar voice, eyes narrowing slightly before recognition softened your expression. "Mikey?"

She walked toward you, eyes curious as they swept over the car. "What are you doing here so late?" she asked, curiosity lacing her voice.

You shrugged, forcing a nonchalant tone. "Just working on a car. Needed the distraction. And you?"

Mikey tilted her head, not satisfied with the answer. "I felt like going for a drive. Thought I'd stop by first."

Her gaze shifted between you and the green Aston Martin, catching the tension in the air.

"This is the car you rolled up in with your girl right? What was on the surveillance?"

Ahh yes my girl. Now you need to come up with a believable break up story for the crew.

You clenched your jaw at her question, the mention of Jenna sending a pang through your chest. "Uh, yeah," you muttered, hoping to keep the conversation brief. Mikey's sharp intuition wasn't something to underestimate.

"Trouble in paradise?"

You sigh, "something like that, I don't really want to talk about it."

Mikey nods carefully, and deliberates her next words before speaking, "Did you want to join me on my driv—

"Okay I brought Chinese!" Hunter's voice booms through the garage.

Hunter set the bags down on a nearby workbench, the crinkling of paper and the scent of takeout breaking the heavy silence. He glanced between you and Mikey, sensing the charged atmosphere and shooting you a raised brow.

"Am I interrupting something?" Hunter asked, his usual playful tone laced with curiosity as he tossed a napkin your way.

You caught it mid-air, forcing a smirk to hide the knot in your chest. "Just working late," you replied, shrugging as if that explained everything.

Mikey's expression softened, the slight edge from moments ago replaced with a grin. "Nope, you're just in time. I was about to drag Y/n out for a drive," she said, her voice lighter now, as if trying to pull you into an easier conversation.

Hunter's brows lifted. "Oh? That's a miracle. She's been glued to that car for the last 48 hours" he teased, nudging your arm.

The mention of the past few days made your stomach tighten. You hadn't told Hunter or anyone else why you'd been so buried in work. The truth was, it kept you from thinking about Jenna. The guilt, the confusion—it all seemed simpler when muffled under the sound of engines and the smell of oil.

Mikey leaned against the Aston Martin, folding her arms. "Come on, you've been cooped up in here long enough. What's a quick drive gonna hurt?"

Before you could answer, Hunter grabbed a takeout container and tossed another to you. "Food first, you too Mikey. And then drive second," he said with a grin. "Don't think we'll let you skip out on both."

You took the container, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. Maybe stepping away from the garage—and everything it represented—would be good for you. Even if just for a moment.

You could tell a lot about a person from how they drove, and never in a million years did you think Mikey would be a careful driver. She would teeter on surpassing street limits, but was a relatively relaxed and smooth driver.

The car rolled through the night, the city gradually giving way to quieter roads framed by dark silhouettes of trees. A comfortable silence settled among the three of you, broken only by Hunter's occasional commentary and Mikey's bursts of laughter when he cracked a particularly absurd joke.

"Remember that time you tried to drive with only three wheels?" Hunter leaned forward from the back seat, his eyes dancing with mischief. "You swore it would work."

You chuckled despite yourself, shaking your head at the memory. "And you were the one who dared me to, you idiot."

Mikey laughed, the sound deep and genuine. "And you actually tried it? That's commitment."

"Or stupidity," Hunter added, and the three of you erupted into laughter that carried through the night, momentarily easing the tension that had wrapped itself around your chest for days.

The conversation meandered through old stories and lighthearted teasing as the car hummed smoothly down the open road. But then, in a pause between topics, Mikey glanced sideways at you, her gaze more serious. "So, do you plan on racing again anytime soon?"

The question hung in the air, a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Before you could respond, Hunter's smirk dropped. He leaned back in his seat, his voice more subdued. "Don't bother, Mads. She doesn't know."

Your eyes flicked to Mikey, watching her reaction. She didn't miss the slight hesitation in your expression, the way your hands clenched. Her brow furrowed, a mixture of concern and curiosity flashing across her face.

"Still figuring it out, huh?" she said softly. "If you haven't made up your mind yet and you're not already back on the track, it's probably a no."

You kept your gaze on the road, the rhythmic whoosh of the wind outside acting as a buffer for your thoughts. Mikey's insight stung more than you'd admit; she was right. Your lack of being back on the track had to mean something.

"Maybe," you said finally, offering no real answer. Hunter glanced between you and Mikey.

Mikey settled back in her seat, a subtle understanding flickering in her eyes as her expression softened. "Trust me," she said, her voice calm yet pointed. "Most racers, when they're trying to get something off their mind, they hit the streets and push their limits. But you? You're here, spending your nights working on a car. That says a lot about where you really want to be."

She was the first person to openly discourage you from racing, and you couldn't help but appreciate it. It felt different, almost liberating—a break from the endless pressure to prove yourself. For once, someone saw the side of you that wasn't caught up in the thrill, and it was a relief.

But there was also that suspicious part of you. Mikey was close to Anton, and she knew how much Anton wanted you in the crew. Does she fear that you'll replace her spot in the club if you join? You brush off your intrusive thoughts and try to enjoy the rest of your drive.

————

Two more days had passed since Jenna had sent the text with the updated meeting address, and the silence on the other end gnawed at her. She leaned against the balcony railing outside her room, eyes skimming the darkened city skyline in the distance each blinking light a reminder of how life pulsed and moved without pause.

The air was crisp, biting against her skin as she shivered, but it did nothing to numb the restless ache in her chest. She scrolled back through the last messages, the words on the screen staring back at her like a mockery of the certainty she'd once felt. It wasn't like you to go this long without responding, but then again what did she know about you? You were the definition of uncertainty, you couldn't figure your own shit out how could you help with hers. She should've seen the red flags for your ghosting tendencies from the first time you met. You had no reason to help her, there was no personal gain.

Aliyah's voice broke through her thoughts, calling from inside. "Jenna, you're doing it again."

Jenna blinked, tearing her gaze from the phone as Aliyah stepped out onto the balcony, eyes filled with concern.

"You're still thinking about her, aren't you?" Aliyah's tone was soft, not judgmental, but knowing.

Jenna sighed, slipping her phone into her pocket as if hiding it would erase the gnawing uncertainty. "I can't help it. Something's off. She's... pulling away, I can feel it."

Aliyah's expression shifted, guilt briefly clouding her features before she masked it with a small, encouraging smile. "Maybe she just needs time. You know how it is—this life, this... chaos we're in. It's not easy."

Jenna met her sister's eyes, searching for reassurance that felt out of reach. "Yeah, maybe." But it wasn't enough. Aliyah didn't know the extent of your relationship. How you were going to help her get dirt on Percy. How you were her best bet.

Jenna had noticed for a while now that Percy was spending a lot more time in Brimstone, and that anything she could find would be found in that shady town.

"I saw the messages with her... something about a meeting? If she won't go with you, maybe I could?" Aliyah ventured, her tone eager but tentative.

Jenna's reaction was immediate, sharp. "Absolutely not. It's too dangerous."

Aliyah crossed her arms, a defiant glint in her eyes. "Come on, Jenna. It could be good to do something together for once."

"I'm serious, Aliyah. This isn't up for discussion. It's not safe," Jenna said, her voice firm, eyes blazing with protectiveness.

Aliyah lifted her chin, stubbornness radiating from her. "Too late. I don't care," she declared, turning on her heel and striding out before Jenna could argue.

"Aliyah, wait—"

Jenna's phone pinged, jolting her from the tense silence that followed Aliyah's departure. For a split second, hope fluttered in her chest—a foolish, fragile thing—as she thought it might be you, breaking the days of silence that gnawed at her. But that hope quickly crumbled as she glanced at the screen.

It was from Percy.

Get yourself dolled up. Race tomorrow night. Be there. And you're on my arm. Look the part, don't embarrass me.

Jenna stared at the messages, her fingers itching to throw the phone across the room. He knew exactly how much he got under her skin and used it at every opportunity. And tonight was no different; he needed her there, not just as a racer, but as his accessory, some trophy to drape over his arm. Like she was at the Sinner race almost a month ago. It was a power move, one he'd pulled too many times, trying to keep her bound to him and his schemes.

Another ping. Don't even think about bailing. You know what happens when I'm not happy.

Jenna scoffed, fingers hovering over the keyboard. She could imagine Percy already preening in the mirror, smugly counting on her to show up, loyal and subservient as always. She could almost hear his oily tone, the mock concern he would flash when she hesitated, only to follow it with another thinly veiled threat. Percy loved to remind her how "lucky" she was that he'd given her a place in the Vipers—and what a shame it would be to lose it.

Jenna pushed away from the railing, the metallic chill of it seeping through her skin as she stood upright. The city lights looked dull now, swallowed by the storm brewing in her mind. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a part of her tempted to tell Percy to shove it. But she knew better. Defying him could mean losing her only leverage, the tiny foothold she had in this game of shadows and lies.

With a sharp sigh, she typed out a reply, each keystroke feeling like a betrayal to herself.

Swallowing her disgust, she replied. Fine. I'll be there.

It was almost too easy to imagine the smirk that would be stretching across his face as he read her reply. She could feel her muscles tense, a quiet storm brewing beneath the surface, made worse by the fact that she'd lost any sign of you as a reprieve.

The phone slipped back into her pocket, but the weight of it pressed heavier than ever. The ache in her chest turned sharper, a reminder that even though she needed you, even though you were the one who was supposed to stand beside her, the silence between you spoke volumes. She just wished it wasn't so deafening.

Her eyes drifted to the hallway where Aliyah had disappeared moments before. She couldn't let her sister get pulled deeper into this mess, not when it felt like she was barely holding her own head above water. Yet, with every passing moment, the line between protecting the people she loved and keeping them at a distance grew blurrier. And Percy's summons felt like another shove towards the edge she was already teetering on.

Tomorrow night, she'd play the role. But Jenna swore, as she stared out at the city, that she would find a way out of this tangled mess.

Aliyah popped back into the room, her eyes bright but cautious as she took in Jenna's guarded stance. "Hey, so, the family's heading out to catch a movie right now. Are you coming?" Her tone was light, hopeful even, as if she already anticipated the answer but wanted to hear it anyway.

Jenna's gaze shifted to her sister, the corners of her mouth pulling into a tight line. The unspoken question lingered between them, though Aliyah's expression faltered as she awaited an answer.

"Is Dad going?" Jenna's voice came out sharper than she intended, and Aliyah's smile dimmed slightly.

"Yeah, he is," Aliyah admitted, her eyes darting down for a moment before meeting Jenna's again, trying to read her sister's mood.

Jenna's jaw tensed as she looked past Aliyah, the weight of years of resentment and disappointment pressing down like a vice. "Then no," she said flatly, the finality in her voice leaving no room for argument.

Aliyah's face fell, but she nodded, understanding etched into her features. She didn't push, didn't try to convince Jenna otherwise. The silence between them grew heavy, filled with all the things they weren't saying.

"Okay," Aliyah said softly, turning to leave. But before she stepped out, she cast one last glance over her shoulder, eyes shadowed with a mix of concern and quiet resignation. "Just... don't stay up all night, okay?"

Jenna forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah. I won't."

But as Aliyah's footsteps faded down the hall, Jenna knew she was lying. The night was already hers to wrestle with, haunted by the things she couldn't change and the person she wished she didn't need.

————

Before you knew it, Friday had arrived—the day of the meeting. The meeting you weren't planning to attend. You started your day the same way you had over the past few days—in the garage.

You had been avoiding your phone all morning, afraid of what new messages might appear. Each buzz was a test of your resolve, a reminder that giving in would undo everything you had decided. You needed to stay strong, keep your distance, and not let the past pull you back in.

The project car in front of you demanded all your attention. You poured every ounce of focus into it, the sleek curves of the Aston Martin glistening under the dim garage lights. Tonight, you were determined to take it out for a spin, using it as an excuse to push out the stress gnawing at your mind.

The garage was unusually quiet, lacking its usual bustle. The regulars, including Anton and Mikey, were conspicuously absent, skipping their usual stops at the garage. You welcomed the peace; the last thing you needed was their relentless teasing about the car's dubious origins.

The sound of footsteps broke the monotony, and you didn't need to look up to know it was Hunter.

"Got a minute?" His voice came from the doorway, casual but laced with concern.

You nodded, wiping your hands on a rag before tossing it aside and standing up. "Yeah, what's up?"

"So you're really done with Jenna?" he asks wasting no time.

You couldn't even bring yourself to say the words.

"I'm hoping the drive with Madison the other day doesn't mean yes," he frowns. "I don't think she's right for you."

"Neither do I dude. I never said I wanted anything with Mikey. We literally all went on a friendly drive, nothing more."

"Good, she kind of gives me an off vibe," he shares. "I mean, she's cool and all, but there's just something... I don't know.

Hunter leans against the workbench, studying you. "But that still leaves Jenna," he says, quieter now. "Are you sure cutting her off is what you really want?"

Your chest tightens, and you look away, focusing on the glint of metal on the project car. "I don't know," you admit. "But staying away feels like the only way to keep things from going up in flames."

Hunter's eyes narrow with concern, but then he smirks, the corner of his mouth curling up. "Just don't forget—sometimes running from the fire only makes it burn hotter when it catches up," he finishes with a wink.

You roll your eyes, but a small chuckle escapes despite the tension in your chest. "Trust you to turn everything into a dramatic line."

————

Hunter left around the 6 p.m. mark and time slipped through your fingers, and before you knew it, the clock had struck 8 p.m. The Aston Martin stood before you, polished and ready. It looked solid, steady—exactly what you needed. Without a second thought, you grabbed the keys, took a breath to steady your nerves, and slid into the driver's seat. Tonight, it would be just you, the car, and the open road.

You eased the car through the streets of Brimstone, your hands gripping the wheel, your mind drifting as you weaved through the winding roads. The town looked different at night—darker, quieter, with the occasional flicker of neon signs casting long shadows on the empty streets. You passed by abandoned buildings, alleyways where the stray figures of drug addicts huddled together, their glazed eyes staring into the nothingness that had consumed them. They barely registered your presence, too lost in their own world.

You drove without a clear destination, allowing the car to take you wherever it wanted to go. The sound of tires on asphalt was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. The rush of the road beneath you, the flicker of streetlights, the occasional blur of other cars passing by—it was all you needed. Just you and the road.

And then your mind went to her. Of course it did. How could it not when you were sitting in this car. You were fooling yourself by thinking a single car wrap can get the job done.

You remembered the day you took this car, how you spilled your guts to her in the midst of your chaos. The way she'd listened—really listened—and kissed your cheek when you dropped her off. The memory was so vivid, you could almost feel her lips on your skin again.

She should be heading to the meeting now. The one you weren't going to attend. The one she was walking into, blind. No idea what it was really about, no clue what she was getting herself into. Alone.

For all you knew, she thought Ghost Smoke was some sort of cereal. But no. You knew better than that. She wasn't stupid. She was smart, and she could handle herself. You tried to tell yourself that, tried to calm your racing thoughts. She could handle herself. She would be fine. Nothing bad would happen.

But even as you tried to convince yourself, the doubt crept back in. The image of her walking into that meeting—unprepared, vulnerable—made your stomach churn. You couldn't help but picture the worst. What if they used her? What if she got caught up in something deeper than either of you realized?

But then, as you took a sharp turn, you found yourself on the road you hadn't meant to be on. The track.

The place where it all went down.

You didn't intend to end up here. Not tonight. But there it was, the race track standing still under the muted glow of the moon, the outline of the old fence barely visible against the darkness. The stories rushed back like a wave—your father, Anton's dad, both gone in an instant after the crash that took their lives. The race had been their last, the night that changed everything.

You slowed as you approached the entrance, the cars long gone. There was no movement, no sign of life, just the emptiness that had followed the tragedy. The track had been abandoned ever since. The Sinners stopped racing there out of respect, unwilling to return to the place that had claimed so much.

You parked the car on the side of the road. For a long moment, you just sat there, the hum of the engine ticking down as the silence of the night pressed in. The weight of the past, of your father's legacy, of everything you thought you knew about this town and the racing world, settled on your shoulders.

You couldn't help but feel the ghosts of the past watching, waiting, taunting you—what are you going to do Y/n?

You shifted the car into drive, the road ahead a blur.

————

"Can you not be mad at me anymore please?"

Jenna rolls her eyes, frustration evident in her posture. "I told you not to come. I seriously can't believe you followed me here."

Aliyah huffs, crossing her arms. "You're in this mess because of me, and god forbid I want to help! It's not like your girlfriend was dying to come with you, so you should at least be grateful I'm here."

Jenna's stomach clenches at the mention of girlfriend, but she holds her tongue. She's too tired for this. She could've corrected Aliyah for the thousandth time, but it wasn't worth the fight now. Better to focus on getting this over with. At least until this little mission was done, she needed to push all thoughts of you to the back of her mind.

You're not here anyway. You're not helping her anymore.

Aliyah continues, clearly trying to lighten the tension, but there's a note of sarcasm in her voice. "Seriously, there's no way you're not happy I'm here. Look at this place!" She gestures toward the imposing, dark warehouse ahead, a shudder running through her as she takes it in. "It's straight out of a horror movie."

Jenna doesn't disagree. The place does feel like something out of a nightmare. She can feel the resentment bubbling inside her, a sharp, unwanted feeling that she tries to push away but can't. How dare you ghost her, leave her to face this alone? If you were here, Aliyah wouldn't be, and maybe she wouldn't feel so exposed, so vulnerable. But you aren't, and her little sister is. The sting of abandonment hangs in the air, heavier than the looming shadow of the warehouse ahead.

Jenna sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing in from all sides. With one final glance at the door to the meeting place, her shoulders slumped in resignation. "Fine," she muttered, voice tinged with exhaustion. "But stay close, stay quiet. Don't do anything stupid."

Aliyah gave a small, relieved nod. "You've got my word."

Jenna leads the way into the dark warehouse, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the cold, concrete floor. The place is completely abandoned, with broken windows casting faint, eerie light into the room. There's nothing in sight but dust and the lingering smell of stale air.

Aliyah looks around nervously, her eyes darting from corner to corner, but all she can see are the dim shadows creeping along the walls. The place feels like a ghost town, unsettlingly empty.

"Is this really the right place?" Aliyah's voice is low, the uncertainty clear in her tone.

Jenna pauses, squinting into the darkness, trying to make sense of the scene. She's not sure why the meeting is set up like this, or why it feels like they're walking into the unknown, but she can't let herself doubt now. "Yeah," she answers, her voice steady but with a hint of something unspoken. "This is it."

They keep walking, the air growing colder as they venture deeper into the warehouse. Aliyah keeps glancing at her sister, confusion written across her face. "What exactly is this meeting about?" she asks, her voice tinged with concern. "I mean, what's going on here? Is this about the club or—?"

Jenna cuts her off, shaking her head slightly, her gaze focused ahead. "Don't worry about it," she says, her tone sharp and final. "Just stay close."

And then, they saw him.

He was standing in the far corner of the warehouse, facing away from them, his silhouette sharp against the dim light filtering in through the broken windows. Dressed all in black, his figure was imposing in a way that sent a chill down Jenna's spine. He hadn't noticed them yet.

Instinctively, both sisters ducked behind a stack of old, dusty boxes, their breath held as they exchanged a look. The quiet tension between them thickened, and in that moment, everything felt so much more real—so much more dangerous.

On the phone, the man spoke with a low, almost mechanical tone. "Yes, boss. I'm the first one here, waiting on the other two."

Jenna made a mental note on the words. So this was a meeting between three people. Percy would be one of them.

Aliyah's voice was barely a whisper. "Do you know who that is?"

Jenna didn't answer at first. Her eyes stayed fixed on the man, analyzing his every movement, trying to make sense of the situation. Finally, she shook her head. No, she didn't know him. But something about this felt wrong—like they were in deeper than they had anticipated.

She reached out, squeezing Aliyah's hand tightly to calm her nerves. "Stay quiet," she murmured. There was no turning back now.

Jenna's heart skipped a beat when the door creaked open, and two figures stepped into the dim light. Percy walked in first, his usual calm confidence unmistakable, but it was the figure beside him that made Jenna's breath catch in her throat.

She remembered seeing him at the Raven race. The night you were racing. What the hell was he doing here? Her mind raced, the weight of the situation crashing down harder than before. Why was he with Percy? Was he the club leader? This meeting was about something far worse than she could have imagined.

Aliyah's grip on her hand tightened, her eyes wide with uncertainty and fear. But Jenna couldn't look away. She barely registered the tension in her sister's hand, too focused on the strange alliance before her.

Without a word, Percy and the Raven exchanged brief glances before walking further into the warehouse with the mysterious person in all black. The air around them seemed to thicken, the sound of their voices indistinguishable.

Jenna's pulse quickened as her instincts screamed that she needed to get closer, to hear more.

She crouched low, glancing over at Aliyah with an intense, silent plea. "Stay here," she whispered sharply, her voice low but firm, knowing the weight of the situation.

Aliyah nodded, her face pale with fear.

Jenna barely gave her sister another glance before she began moving, silent as a shadow, staying low to the ground as she crept closer to the three men.

But the floor of the warehouse wasn't as kind as she hoped. Her foot caught on a jagged edge, and in an instant, her body lurched forward, her heart skipping a beat.

Time slowed, the rush of panic surged through her, and in that split second, her heart seized with terror. She was going to fall—she was going to make a noise and blow their cover. Aliyah was going to be in danger.

She braced for the inevitable crash, for the sound of her body hitting the ground and the betrayal of her hiding place.

But just as the world tilted beneath her, strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back from the brink. Her heart raced, her breath catching in her throat. She blinked, disoriented, but when she looked up, her world seemed to freeze.

There you were, standing in front of her, holding her steady. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. You were here. You had come for her.

In the six days you had ghosted her, Jenna had planned what she was going to do if she ever saw you again. First was a slap, possibly the silent treatment—a taste of your own medicine. She even toyed with the idea of keying one of your cars. But falling into your embrace, wrapping her arms around your neck and letting out a sigh of relief was certainly not part of the plan.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You could feel her breath against your chest, soft and steady, and despite everything, her warmth was exactly what you needed.

Jenna pulled back slightly, her hands lingering on your arms as she looked up at you, her eyes searching for something—answers, maybe, or just reassurance. She was still upset with your disappearing act. "You really are something," she muttered, her voice softer than usual, almost vulnerable.

You couldn't find the right words, not when your heart was racing from the sudden rush of emotions. Instead, you simply nodded, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, a quiet acknowledgment of everything unspoken between you. "We'll talk afterwards," you whispered.

She nodded, knowing you both have a bigger issue to deal with at the present moment. You notice Jenna worriedly glance behind you and you follow her gaze to see another girl you've never seen before.

Jenna noticed the fear that was once on her sister's face melted into a mischievous grin as she looked at her, raising an eyebrow and pointing a finger at you while mouthing, Greaser?

You'll have to figure out who that is later, but for now you take your attention away from the girl who is very close to you, and look up at the scene in front of you. Pissy, the Raven crew leader, and an unfamiliar man.

“Who thought holding the meeting here was a good idea?” Percy muttered, annoyance dripping from his tone as he glanced at the dust clinging to his shoes.

“We can��t afford any slip-ups,” the unknown man replied curtly. “Let’s keep this brief.”

The Raven crew leader smirked, eyes glinting in the dim warehouse light. “We’ve already pushed about fifty keys of Ghost Smoke into Brimstone over the past two weeks,” he said, voice smooth but full of intent. “No hiccups, no heat—just a steady stream. And trust me, the streets are starting to bite. By the time the next batch hits, they’ll be begging for more.”

"Okay, and you Percy? How's the Vipers' distribution going?"

You clenched your jaw as the conversation confirmed your worst suspicions. These guys were flooding Brimstone with product, exploiting the town's vulnerable, turning the Brimstoners into their playthings. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Jenna stealthily recording the exchange between the three men, every tense word.

Percy shifted uneasily, a flash of frustration in his eyes. "We've moved about eight keys so far," he said tightly, the disappointment in his voice evident. The number wasn't enough compared to the Raven's progress. "It’s not easy for a Viper to operate on Sinner territory without drawing attention."

"Maybe if you'd stop cozying up to your girl at races and focus on your job, things would be different," the unknown man snapped, his tone biting.

His girl?

"Relax," Percy retorted, his voice strained but defiant. "No one wants Brimstone to become a zombieland more than I do. Some of those Sinners have been getting way too fucking cocky."

Jacob, the Raven leader, let out a low chuckle and placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Easy there," he said, smirking at the unknown man. "I can’t blame the guy. It’s hard to stay focused when your girl’s a knockout like that." He finishes with a whistle.

A whispered "ew" sounded behind you, and you felt Jenna tense, a silent fury radiating from her. Anger roared in your chest. Not only were these men scheming to drown Brimstone in Ghost Smoke, but now they were talking about Jenna like she was just another trophy. The rage that simmered inside you sharpened into a razor's edge.

But now was not the time to get angry. You had to remain calm, get all the info you can and get the fuck out of there.

Jacob, the Raven leader, crossed his arms, his gaze sharp as he looked between Percy and the unknown man. “And what if this operation doesn’t go as planned? What happens if someone decides to interfere? I know you tried this once and failed.”

The tension in the room crackled like static. The unknown man’s expression darkened, a slow, menacing smile creeping across his face. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, voice low and chilling. “We wouldn’t want a repeat of Bullet and Apex.”

You freeze.

But before you could fully process the implication, a sudden noise shattered the silence about 15 meters to your left.

“Hey! Who’s there?” one of the men barked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Heart thundering, you whipped your head in the direction of the sound and spotted the familiar mop of curls.

Hunter.

He was crouched low, eyes wide with a reckless determination that sent a jolt of both dread and relief through you. Before you could even react, Jenna’s urgent voice sliced through the fog of panic clouding your mind.

“We have to go,” she hissed, fingers locking around your arm like a lifeline and yanking you into motion. The edge in her voice snapped you back to the present, and your body jolted into action. The girl—clearly someone Jenna trusted—was already sprinting ahead, weaving between crates like shadows. You cast a quick look back, your gaze catching Hunter’s for a split second as he, too, bolted to follow.

This was a fight against time, and survival was the only thing that mattered.

Jenna’s grip on your hand anchored you as you both tore out of the warehouse, feet pounding the ground as adrenaline roared through your veins. The cold air bit at your skin as you charged towards the first car in sight—yours.

“Stop right there!” A shout from behind sent a surge of terror down your spine.

“Hey!” you yelled to the girl ahead. She glanced back, eyes sharp, just in time to catch the keys you tossed her. She was closer to the car, and with no time to spare, she slipped into the driver’s seat.

The three of you scrambled in—a blur of limbs and frenzied breaths. Jenna flung herself into the passenger seat, while you and Hunter dove into the back, your heart hammering in your chest like it might explode.

“Go, go, go! Step on it, Aliyah,” Jenna commanded.

Aliyah didn’t hesitate. The engine roared to life, and the Aston Martin peeled away from the warehouse, tires screeching against the asphalt. The last thing you saw in the rearview was the shadowy figure of the man pursuing you, growing smaller as you sped into the dark night, leaving danger and revelations in your wake.

No one dared to speak. The air in the car was thick with tension, the adrenaline still simmering just beneath the surface. Once Aliyah had put enough distance between them and the warehouse, she eased off the gas, slowing to a steady, legal pace. They were in Summer Valley now, the bright lights of the town casting fleeting shadows across their faces.

Ten minutes ticked by in silence before the red glow of a traffic light gave them a momentary pause. It was then that everything unraveled at once.

“Hunter, what the hell are you doing here?” you demanded, voice tight.

“How the fuck did you go from boosting cars to this?” Hunter fired back, eyes wide with disbelief.

Aliyah leaned back, throwing a teasing look Jenna’s way. “You didn’t tell me Greaser was cute!”

"Since when did you know how to drive?” Jenna shot back at Aliyah.

The car was filled with a low hum of murmured conversations, each person settling into their own thoughts as the road stretched on.

“Did you follow me here?” you asked Hunter, still in disbelief.

“Yeah, I did. And I’m glad I did.” His voice was filled with concern. “What the hell are you mixed up in, Y/n?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m just finding out about all this today, too.”

Hunter let out a frustrated sigh. “We need to tell Anton. They’re trying to destroy Brimstone.”

You exhaled, mirroring his sigh. “Yeah, this is bad. Real bad.”

As soon as Anton’s name left his lips, your mind raced back to the meeting. What the men had said.

Hunter could see it in your eyes—he knew exactly what you were thinking, and the tension in the air between you both grew thicker.

Up front, Jenna’s voice broke the silence. “Okay, yes, I get it! She’s cute. Can you just… shush? She’s right there,” she muttered in exasperation, turning back to her sister, who was practically grinning.

Jenna slouched back in her seat, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. This was not what she expected when she set out to gather dirt on Percy. She couldn’t wrap her head around it—Percy, the same person she thought she knew, was tangled up in a plot to destroy Brimstone. Yeah, he was a jerk, but this... this was murder, drawn out and deliberate.

The crew she had once considered family was directly linked to the distribution of Ghost Smoke, targeting people from the town over. She knew there was always a rivalry between Brimstone and Summer Valley, but she didn't think it would resort to elimination techniques. The shock of it all left her breathless, the pieces clicking together with an unsettling finality.

She got her dirt. But this feels far from over.

Despite everything, Jenna couldn’t ignore the pull to check on you. She knew you had to be feeling the weight of it all—learning that your town was the target of such destruction. But there was also the anger. The unresolved frustration from you walking away earlier. She couldn’t just let you back in without confronting it, could she?

But as the drive wore on, the pull to turn back softened, and she glanced at you instead. You were lost in your own world, staring out the window, looking like you’d retreated into yourself. Nothing could touch you right now. And she didn’t blame you. Tonight had been a mess.

She turned her gaze to Hunter, raising an eyebrow, silently asking if he knew how to handle this. He met her eyes, shaking his head in that subtle way that said, Not tonight.

Jenna nodded in acknowledgment, her expression a mix of concern and frustration. She gave a quiet command to Aliyah, who turned the car toward their place. The drive was silent, the weight of everything hanging thick in the air. When the car finally stopped, both girls exited, but Jenna couldn’t help but glance back at you one last time. Her gaze softened, seeing how much this was affecting you. You didn’t look at her once as you stayed seated in the back, your face unreadable.

Somehow, without even realizing it, you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat of Hunter’s car. The shift had happened so subtly that you hadn’t even registered the transition. You assumed once the girls had left, Hunter must've taken over the drive. But the ride felt endless, every minute dragging in uncomfortable silence, like you were trying to outrun the truth without really knowing how.

When Hunter finally pulled into his driveway, the car came to a stop, and the air between you two felt suffocating. No words were spoken for a long moment.

Finally, Hunter broke the stillness. His voice was low, sincere, and filled with an understanding that made your stomach churn. “I’m sorry, Y/n,” he said, his tone full of empathy. “That must’ve been a hell of a lot to take in.”

It wasn’t easy, not by a long shot. You could feel the weight of the words pressing down on you like a heavy stone.

Bullet and Apex. Your dad and Anton’s dad, their racing names. You had tried to convince yourself that you had misheard at the meeting, that it was some twisted misunderstanding. But as you turned to look at Hunter, his pitiful eyes told you everything you needed to know. You weren’t wrong.

Your father and uncle’s deaths wasn't an accident. They’d been taken from you on purpose. And now, the truth of that hit you harder than anything else.

next chapter

#jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x female reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #beetlejuice #jenna x you #jenna x reader #jenna marie ortega

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ferrariswiftiespace · 2 months ago

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chapter 5

busy woman - art donaldson x fem!oc

faceclaim mikey madison as emma zweig

warnings no tashi duncan; nsfw +18; my first story; a little of patrick x art but it’s not reciprocated

summary emma zweig always got what she wanted—except for art Donaldson, the one person her brother, patrick, had forbidden her from pursuing. that only made him more intriguing. but emma always get what she wants.

2004

mark rebellato tennis academy

patrick zweig

art and i decided to go to a party that was being thrown deep in the woods, far from the academy. it was friday, and we’d had a long, grueling week—early morning drills, late-night conditioning, and matches that left our muscles aching. we needed a break. something different.

the drive there was reckless in the way all teenage boys drove when they thought they were invincible. art had his window down, one arm resting casually along the frame, the wind ruffling his hair. the music was blasting, some indie rock band he was into that i didn't care enough to remember the name of. he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, humming along while i checked my phone.

emma had texted me earlier, asking if i was still alive. i rolled my eyes and responded with a middle finger emoji before locking my screen.

“reckon this party’s even gonna be good?” art asked, glancing at me.

“it’s booze and people who don’t have to wake up at 5 am tomorrow. good enough.”

he snorted. “fair point.”

the road was dark, barely lit by the headlights, and by the time we arrived, the place was already packed. cars were haphazardly parked along the dirt road, music pulsing from somewhere deeper in the trees. there were people everywhere—on the hoods of their cars, laughing in groups, some already stumbling from whatever they’d been drinking. the air smelled like pine and smoke.

we stepped out, and almost immediately, someone shoved a beer into my hand. art grabbed one too, cracking it open and taking a long sip.

“let’s find the fun,” he muttered, already scanning the crowd.

we drank. we smoked. we danced, or something close to it. i wasn’t much of a dancer, but alcohol made me care a lot less. at some point, art had disappeared into a conversation with a girl i barely recognized, so i found myself leaning against a tree, watching the fire crackle in the center of the clearing. the heat licked at my skin, the flames making everyone’s faces glow.

then someone called out, “truth or dare!” and suddenly, we were all getting pulled into a circle.

art appeared again, beer still in hand, eyes a little unfocused but amused. he nudged me with his knee as he sat beside me.

“this should be interesting,” he murmured.

the game started off as expected—stupid dares, harmless secrets. a guy was dared to take a shot of hot sauce. someone else had to take off their shirt. it was typical, mindless fun. then, after a few more rounds, it was my turn.

“patrick, truth or dare?”

i scoffed. “dare, obviously.”

the girl who had asked grinned, eyes glinting with mischief. “kiss the person on your left.”

i barely had time to process what she said before my brain registered who was sitting there.

art.

he went rigid beside me, his smirk vanishing.

“oh, come on,” someone whined. “rules are rules.”

i turned to look at him, already laughing. “what, scared?”

he huffed, shifting awkwardly. “it’s just fucking dumb.”

“then do it and move on,” i teased, raising an eyebrow.

art exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath before leaning in. it was barely a kiss—just a quick press of his lips against mine, chaste and fleeting, but it still sent a ripple of surprise through me. he pulled away fast, shaking his head like he was shaking off a bad idea, reaching immediately for his beer.

the group whooped, someone whistled, and just like that, the game moved on.

art didn’t look at me. i didn’t know why that irritated me.

the bottle spun again. this time, it landed on art.

“truth or dare?”

he hesitated, then sighed. “truth.”

“lame,” someone mumbled.

the girl smirked. “alright. tell us a secret.”

art took a slow sip of his drink, his gaze fixed on the fire. his jaw tightened slightly, and for a second, i thought he’d refuse. but then he said, voice calm but deliberate—

“i like emma zweig.”

the words didn’t hit me all at once. it was like my brain needed an extra second to process them.

then, when they did, my entire body stiffened.

i turned my head to look at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. he just stared at the fire, like he’d said something as simple as i like strawberry ice cream.

the group around us reacted predictably—whistles, teasing comments, someone nudging me like i was supposed to think this was funny. but i didn’t.

i felt something twist in my chest, something hot and uncomfortable.

i couldn’t decide what pissed me off more—the fact that art had never told me this before, or the fact that, out of every girl he could have liked, he chose my sister.

2019

new rochelle

emma zweig

it was like the third wine bottle art and i were drinking, celebrating his first-place win at the challenger. the room smelled like expensive perfume and spilled alcohol, and i could feel the slight ache of laughter in my ribs. right now, i was straddling art’s lap on the couch, my arms around his shoulders as we both sang off-key to *dancing with a stranger* blasting from the tv speakers. his head fell back in a drunken laugh, his hands gripping my waist to steady me.

“i love this song,” i giggled, pressing my forehead against his.

“yeah? you just love singing it terribly,” he teased, fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on my lower back. “don’t ever audition for anything.”

i gasped dramatically, smacking his chest. “rude.”

he grinned and leaned in, brushing a kiss over my lips before resting his head against the couch. the song faded into another, something slower, and i leaned my weight into him, feeling warm, content, and just the right amount of tipsy.

after a few moments of silence, he murmured, “you know… patrick knew.”

i lifted my head, looking at him. “knew what?”

“that i liked you,” he said casually, his voice thick with alcohol and something else, something serious. “i told him. back then.”

i blinked at him, thinking i misheard. “what?”

he let out a slow exhale, his hands stilling on my waist. “patrick knew. at the academy. i told him one night, and he lost it. and—” he hesitated, rubbing a hand over his face before letting it drop, “—he and i kissed once.”

i stared at him, waiting for the punchline. but he wasn’t laughing. his face was open, a little hazy from the alcohol but clear enough that i knew he wasn’t messing with me.

“…shut up,” i said, half-laughing. “you’re so full of shit.”

“i’m not.” his voice was quiet, steady. “it was a dare at a party. but after… he knew i liked you, and he—” art sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “it was weird. i think it messed with him.”

i felt my stomach twist, the laughter completely draining out of me. “patrick—he never—” i stopped, my thoughts tangling. “why wouldn’t he tell me?”

“i don’t know,” art admitted. “maybe he didn’t want you to know. maybe he thought i’d take you away from him.” he exhaled sharply. “maybe he didn’t know what he wanted.”

something in my chest clenched, emotions i couldn’t even name swirling inside me. patrick had always been possessive, sometimes even cruel about it—but this? had it really been that deep for him? had he looked at me and seen something i had never even considered?

i stood up abruptly, needing space, needing air. the room felt too small, too hot. art immediately reached for me, his fingers grazing my wrist. “emma—”

“i just—i need a second.” my voice sounded strange to my own ears, uneven. before he could stop me, i turned on my heel and locked myself in the bathroom.

the second the door clicked shut, i pressed my back against it and let out a shaky breath. my hands felt cold. i wasn’t even mad—at art, at patrick. i just… didn’t know how to process it. all those years, all those fights, the way patrick acted around us. had he really been jealous? not because i had someone, but because i had *art* in a way he never could?

i sank down onto the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees. silent tears slipped down my face, but i didn’t sob. i wasn’t breaking down, i wasn’t furious—i was just lost.

a soft knock at the door. “emma,” art’s voice was gentle, laced with worry. “please talk to me.”

i didn’t answer. i didn’t know *what* to say. i heard him sigh, his forehead resting against the door. “i didn’t mean to upset you. i just… i didn’t want to keep anything from you.”

more silence. then, after a minute, “i’m not mad.”

he exhaled, relieved. “then open the door.”

i wiped my face with the sleeve of my shirt, taking a deep breath before standing up and unlocking it. the moment i did, art was there, looking at me with the saddest, most worried expression i’d ever seen on him. his eyes were searching mine like he was trying to figure out how bad the damage was.

my throat tightened, and before i could stop it, my eyes welled up again. art pulled me into his arms instantly, holding me against his chest.

“i got you,” he whispered, one hand cradling the back of my head. “i got you.”

i closed my eyes, gripping the fabric of his shirt, letting myself be held. i wasn’t sure what i wanted to do—if i wanted to talk to patrick, if i even wanted to *know* more—but i knew one thing for certain. i didn’t want to lose art. not now. not ever.

it was almost 3 a.m. when i called patrick. he picked up after the second ring, his voice still clear but not quite awake. i told her i was going to his motel.

i drove the ten minutes to the motel he was staying at. the road felt eerie and quiet, a stark contrast to the buzz of the hotel, where art was waiting. i was trying to gather my thoughts for what i needed to ask patrick, but i wasn't entirely sure how to begin.

at the motel, i told the guard i was heading to room 204. my heels clicked the floor and my coat tied in my waist, when i knocked on the door, i heard some ruffling inside, and then it opened. patrick stood there, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair a bit messy, and the room behind him was much tidier than i expected—just a few clothes scattered here and there.

we hugged eachother and then i stepped inside, and we sat on the edge of the bed, exchanging pleasantries. he congratulated me for art winning, and i thanked him, but there was something lingering between us, unspoken. it felt like the right moment, so i asked, my voice steady but curious:

"why didn’t you tell me you kissed art?"

patrick's expression shifted, and he looked away for a moment, like he was processing my question and was remembering something. after a beat, he shrugged, his tone softer now.

"why would it matter?" he replied, his voice slightly defensive. "it was a stupid thing... from years ago."

i leaned forward, wanting him to know that this wasn’t an accusation. "but it does matter, patrick," i said gently. "i need to know where you stand. i want to know if it’s going to bother you that art and i are together. i need to know if it affects you, or if you're okay with it. my youngest years, i spend half of them waiting for your approval"

he didn’t answer right away, his gaze shifting as if he were thinking carefully about what to say. i could tell this was more complicated than just the kiss, but i wasn’t angry. i just needed clarity.

finally, he sighed. "it’s... complicated, em. you’re my sister, and i care about you. it’s hard to see things change sometimes. but i’m not gonna stand in your way, okay? if art makes you happy, then that’s what matters now. this all happened when we were still kids, and i grew up to what we are now, i got over it"

i felt a weight lift off my chest, but i still needed to hear more. "and what about you? how do you feel about it? i mean, really."

patrick shifted his posture, running a hand through his hair, and i could tell he was wrestling with something inside. "i’m okay with it, emma. i think. it just... took me a while to process." his voice dropped slightly, almost like a confession. "i never really thought about how much i... how much i cared about you being with someone else. it’s not about art. it’s just about—" he paused, trying to find the right words. "it’s just weird."

i understood that. it was weird for me, too. but hearing him say it aloud made me realize that we both just needed time to adjust.

"i get it," i said quietly. "you’re still my big brother. and nothing's changing that. but i needed to know, because i don’t want to hurt you. you’re important to me, patrick."

for a moment, we both sat in silence, the weight of everything slowly dissolving between us. finally, he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "i know, em. i’m not angry. i just... i didn’t know how to talk about it."

i let out a soft breath, feeling the tension ease between us. "well, now we’re talking."

patrick chuckled, reaching out and giving my shoulder a quick, reassuring squeeze. "yeah. we are."

we sat in silence for a few moments, both of us just processing everything that had been said. the air between us felt lighter, but there was still something lingering, something unspoken. patrick shifted uncomfortably, his hand resting on his knee as if unsure of what to say next.

finally, he looked up at me, his expression softening. “em… i know i’ve been a lot to deal with sometimes. i—i don’t always know how to handle things with you. i’m sorry if i ever treated you like shit.”

his words took me off guard. i wasn’t expecting an apology, not like that. patrick had always been protective, sometimes overbearing, but hearing him acknowledge it… it hit me harder than i thought.

i looked at him, searching his face for sincerity. “patrick, it’s okay. you were always looking out for me, even if it came off the wrong way.”

he shook his head, his brow furrowing. “no, em. i pushed you away sometimes. i was controlling, and i made things harder than they needed to be. i was jealous and... just trying to protect something i didn’t even know how to protect.”

i felt my heart soften. “i get it now,” i said quietly, my voice steady. “i know you care about me. but i need you to trust me, too. i’m not that little girl anymore.”

he looked at me for a long moment, his eyes filled with something i couldn’t quite place—guilt, maybe, but also a desire to make things right. “i know. i’m trying.”

i gave him a small smile, reaching out to place my hand on his arm. “we’re good, patrick. we really are.”

he exhaled a relieved breath and smiled back, a little crooked but genuine. “thanks for not hating me.”

i couldn’t help but laugh softly. “i could never hate you.”

we sat there for a moment, a quiet understanding passing between us. it wasn’t perfect—nothing ever was—but it felt like we were getting closer to that place where things made sense. where we could just be, without all the weight of the past hanging over us.

“now, let’s just make sure art knows i don’t hate him” patrick said, his tone lightening, and i couldn’t help but grin.

“deal,” i said, laughing. “but don’t worry, he’s too scared of you anyway.”

patrick chuckled, and for the first time in a long while, i felt like we were finally on the same page.

final

interact with the story or i’ll kms

taglist: @spiderval

#art donaldson #challengers #art donalson x reader #fem oc #fanfic #writers on tumblr

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lafiametta · 4 months ago

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Definable agree with you about the script. Baker has said it was written in a way that allowed the actors room for interpretation. I think Ani is quite similar in script and movie because he was consulting with Mikey Madison as he was writing it and taking in ideas she had. With the other characters I think they became more developed when the actors got there (Madison mentioned that she pictured the Ani/Vanya relationship differently when she read the script because Mark played him much more endearingly). With Igor specifically , Baker's said that they didn't want to show their cards too early with him, that he'd be the one to sympathetic with Ani (probably why the draft has him more similar to Yuras character in Compartment no.6) but Borisovs performance was probably subtle enough that they could soften him a bit. And Yura has said in interviewsthe characterisation of Igorwas mainly born on set.

Also, Baker has also said a few times that he didn't notice many times Igor looks at Ani during filming because he left it up to Borisov and Madison to respond in return. He's said it wasn't until he started editing that he realised "ohh there's something very special here". I think it's so interesting how editing can make a storyline that basically was born on set look like it was meant to be there all along.

So basically yes, the films interpretation of the characters is the one we're supposed to go with. (If you couldn't tell I'm majorly hyperfixating on this movie lol).

Seriously, Anon, let's just majorly hyperfixate on it together — as you can tell, I'm already in too deep!

The more I read, the more I really appreciate the way that Sean Baker seems to collaborate with his actors, not just about the characters and their arcs, but about aspects of the plot and even the deeper interpretation about what's going on between the lines. Realizing that the editing could subtly transform the story into something different (and I would argue more powerful) makes it clear that Baker was really open to the process and allowed things to happen in a creative and organic (and also, it sounds like, improvisational) way.

When you watch the film, it's so fascinating to realize how often we're seeing direct shots of Igor, simply watching Ani or reacting to things she's doing (or are being done to her). He's not doing or saying anything, often he's just in the background, and therefore there's no reason for the camera to be on him, but it serves to emphasize his growing connection to Ani, the way that he's looking at (and out for) her as the movie progresses. Even the shot on the tarmac with Ivan, which theoretically should center on the two people talking, Ivan is mostly cut out of the frame, while Igor is fully visible, watching silently over Ani's shoulder. This is the way you do storytelling without having to hit the audience over the head with it. Because you're right — it really does feel like it was meant to be there all along.

#anora 2024 #anora movie #anora #anora mikheeva #igor #sean baker #meta #ask and answer #anon asks

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wrongsalad · 1 year ago

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So, I watched All Souls last night with my buddy who’s an investigator. She liked the cop bits, said they were reasonably accurate as opposed to what you normally see in movies. There’s a scene where Samuel's character disparages a confidential informant and she pointed at the screen and went “Hey, I used to work with that guy!”

I’m surprised at how much I liked the movie, considering that this is not a genre that interests me much. G-Easy as Silas was actually a stunning and rather unexpected performance and Mikey Madison and Mia Love absolutely killed it. The director, Emmanuelle Pickett, kept things dark and shaky and just right for a one night of a “the drug dealer is after me” bender. Even the side characters were well done, each with their well executed and fully owned place in the story.

Samuel plays a rather excellent “I’m bad but only a little” cop to Zach Villa’s “I’m the okay one” and it works. The opening sequence sets them both up beautifully (and very accurately) as two cops gunning for a drug dealer and the attendant consequences unfold throughout the movie, although in the end you might just think that Carcillo ain’t as bad as he’d like people to think he is.

I saw someone poke at Samuel’s American accent. Carcillo is an Italian name and if you hang out with folks who grew up in the US in homes that spoke Italian, that’s the kind of an accent you might get. Also, towards the very end, you can catch Carcillo growl a suspect into submission in a very Ghost-like fashion. Riley retired and went cop.

All in all, I think everyone did a great job and managed to make a movie about one of the most gruesome aspects of the ill-thought out and unnecessary war on drugs that one can watch with interest and on the edge of the seat.

Obligatory Carcillo shot, because he’s sure got the right to bear arms.

#all souls 2023 #samuel roukin #emmanuelle pickett #mia love disnard #Mikey Madison #G-Eazy #carcillo

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woodsborostabathon · 2 months ago

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god it is so vindicating to have been a fan of mikey madison literally since the day scream (2022) dropped and to know that she won best actress tonight. walked out of that theater back then w her already living in my head rent free. went thru (3) solid years of then only seeing her every (6) or so months as like 2 pixels at most in the bg of one of her friends ig posts that fanpages would repost. mind you spent that whole time fighting behind not only amber but mikey herself bc this fandom has been weird as hell abt her and would take shots at her talent just bc they didn’t like her as gf. as if she could not act circles around sm ppl out there. and then saw her win a literal OSCAR tonight?!?!?!?!?! i could not be prouder like i literally couldn’t this is EVERYTHING!!!!

#THATS MY BABY AND IM PROUD LIKE PUT SOME RESPECT ON HER NAME!!!#SHE HAS COME SO FAR IK SHE HAD IT IN HER #MY LOVEEEEE #ceci speaks #mikey madison #anora #anora mikheeva #oscars #scream #scream 5 #scream 2022 #amber freeman

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castlebyersafterdark · 6 months ago

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It’s been so quiet on here that no one has talked about Noah’s Letterboxd reviews post Saturday Night. Here they are (warning- some minor spoilers):

The Substance (5 Stars):

One of the best films I’ve seen in past months. Wow. The jaw-dropped look on my face when the credits hit tells you all you need to know. It was truly flawless from start to finish, with not a single dull moment in its 140-minute runtime. Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley deliver outstanding performances, fully embodying their characters. The story is a horrifying but important celebration of self-acceptance, reminding us that we are perfect just the way we are. This is the ultimate anti-Ozempic / plastic surgery film of the year.

It Follows (4 Stars):

So so goood…. And then they just don’t end it. What the heck?! It was so well shot and well acted and then they just didn’t bring it home. Unsatisfied.

We Live In Time (5 Stars): Beautiful tale about making the most of your days you have. I sobbed in the last scene. I loved how they didn’t show her dying but rather a soft transition into the aftermath. Felt like more of a gut punch.

Heathers (5 Stars)

“I love my dead gay son!!”

Anora (5 Stars):

WOWWWW man that was amazing. Everything about it. I loved how real it felt. The scenes were so much longer than normal and I loved that about it. You would sit with these characters in one moment for such a long time and it made it feel so authentic. Nothing felt produced or scripted. It was also SO FUNNY at parts. Mikey Madison was amazing.

I also really appreciated her dynamic with the bald guy. It was such a stark contrast to her relationship with the Russian boy, which was purely physical. With the security guard, it was about connection—they’d just talk or share silence, and it felt real. Their journey from enemies to lovers was so satisfying.

Mermaids (5 Stars):

Cher, Winona Ryder, and Christina ricci? Iconic. Love that Noni’s thing became ending movies with dancing scenes. She eats everytime

Cinderella (4 Stars):

“Be kind, have courage and always believe in a little magic.”

I love him, he's so cute!! Crossing my fingers for the dream scenario of the core 4 boys actors starting up a movie review podcast one day. Literally the biggest dream. Noah is so insightful and honest and I love that he's not afraid to show passion and sincere thoughts on films. I love Letterboxd for the tracking and lists aspect, but so many people on there use the review function just to be quippy and it's so NOAH to be sincere and show his love of exploring film. Even when he doesn't say much it's still pretty fun and honest.

Also him being Winona's number one fan is the sweetest thing 🥹❤️

#Noah

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moorheadthanyoucanhandle · 3 months ago

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FLOW CHART

The Oscar nominations came out earlier this week; Your Humble Narrator graciously waited until afterwards to present my Top Ten List for 2024, so as not to make the Academy's announcement an anticlimax. Here, roughly in order of preference, are the ten films that I think I liked best this year:

1. Flow--No movie last year meant quite as much to me as this wordless, visually exquisite animated feline adventure from Latvia.

2. Conclave--This Vatican melodrama has the sweep of a great silent, but also humane and lovable performances, especially that of Ralph Fiennes.

3. The Bikeriders--Compelling, beautifully shot wheeler held together by the funny, sensible performance of Jodie Comer.

4. Heretic--Comparative religion debate in horror movie form; it goes a bit too gruesome in the homestretch, perhaps, and it's defamatory toward blueberry pie, but Hugh Grant's performance is a tour de force.

5. A Complete Unknown--Dylan's early years make for a conventional but enjoyable and musically rich biopic.

6. Nickel Boys--The horrors of a Florida reform school for boys, and the triumph of friendship, both seen from the point of view of two of the boys. Heartbreaking but thrilling.

7. A Real Pain--Two Jewish cousins from New York go to Poland together to explore their grandmother's Holocaust experience. Kieran Culkin is marvelous as the loud, nervy inappropriate one; writer-director Jesse Eisenberg's performance as the quiet one would be easy to overlook, but he's also terrific.

8. Kneecap--West Belfast lads stir up trouble performing hip hop in Irish, as in the Irish language; hard to resist.

9. Sing Sing--Colman Domingo is a powerhouse at the center of this drama about the Rehabilitation Through the Arts program at the title correctional facility; many of his superb costars are actual veterans of the program.

10. Anora--Brooklyn sex worker marries Russian oligarch's playboy son and imagines it's forever. The movie goes on too long and has a few complications too many, but it's ruefully funny, and Mikey Madison is great in the title role.

A few other titles that I found worth watching in 2024: The Fire Inside, Love Lies Bleeding, Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga, Queer, My Old Ass, Between the Temples, Saturday Night, Thelma, Challengers, Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, the long-belated Pitch People and Francis Ford Coppola's infuriating yet inspiring Megalopolis. Further, it's important to note that there are also many major flicks, notably The Brutalist, The Substance, Wicked, Hard Truths, The Last Showgirl and September 5, that I haven't caught up with yet.

You can check out my short article, online at Phoenix Magazine, on this year's Chandler International Film Festival, running today through February 2.

Finally, for the kind few who might possibly care, here's the embarrassingly short list of books I read in 2024 (excluidng, as always, short stories, articles, poems, comics, fridge magnets, instruction manuals, road signs and stuff I'm re-reading):

The Great Time Machine Hoax by Keith Laumer

Prequel: An American Fight Against Fascism by Rachel Maddow

Godzilla and Godzilla Raids Again by Shigeru Kayama

Eneas Africanus by Harry Stillwell Edwards

Billy Summers by Stephen King

Playback by Raymond Chandler

Bound to Rise by Horatio Alger, Jr.

My Childhood by Maxim Gorky

She'll Never Get Off the Ground by Robert J. Serling

#flow movie #conclave #the bikeriders #heretic #a complete unknown #nickel boys #a real pain #kneecap #sing sing #anora #phoenix magazine #godzilla

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the-thing-withfeathers · 7 months ago

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jenna ortega masterlist

ongoing series: the archer’s arrow

-> wednesday addams x f!reader

one shots

envy — mild angst to fluff

-> wednesday addams x f!reader

winding down — fluff

-> jenna x f!reader x sabrina carpenter

princess has a request — smut

-> jenna ortega x f!reader x mikey madison

let me do this — fluff

-> wednesday addams x f!reader

#hope’s masterlists #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x f!reader #jenna ortega x female reader #jenna ortega one shot #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega fic #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x f!reader #wednesday addams fic #wednesday addams one shot

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yesimtrashforit · 3 months ago

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Oscars 2025

As a huge film fan, I'm fairly happy with this year's Oscar nominations!

Best Picture

I'm very happy to see Anora be nominated. It was one of my favorite films of 2024 and personally, it is one of my favs to win. I haven't seen The Brutalist and I have chosen not to. I'm sure the film is fantastic, but I've read about what it depicts and I'm concerned it may be triggering for me. I'm personally frustrated that, as I've heard, The Brutalist depicts gratuitous nudity and scenes of SA. I only hope that it's depicted in a negative light and it serves the story. I might see the film if it comes to streaming, just so I have a chance to pause. I did see A Complete Unknown the other day and thought it was fine! Timothee Chalamet is absolutely great as Bob Dylan. I started listening to Dylan's discography a while ago and I'm fairly happy with how the songs were used in the film. I saw Conclave a while ago and liked it! It's far from my favorite film of the year, but I thought it was beautifully shot and had great commentary. Dune: Part Two being nominated for Best Picture is more than appropriate. I love love loved it. It's a perfect movie. I have mixed feelings on Emilia Perez that I'm probably going to post about later. I'm quite surprised that I'm Still Here made it into Best Picture. I haven't seen it yet, but it is coming to theaters near me in February so I will definitely go see it! I haven't seen Nickel Boys yet. The Substance is one of my favorite films of last year and i'm so so overjoyed that a feminist body horror film about beauty standards directed by a woman is nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars?? That is so cool!! Wicked was obviously fantastic and amazing. Such a well-deserved nomination.

Best Actor

I've only seen A Complete Unknown and Conclave, so out of the performances that I've seen in this category, my pick is Timothee Chalamet in A Complete Unknown. However, I do think it is hilarious that Sebastian Stan is nominated for an Oscar for playing Donald Trump in a movie that depicts how terrible and abusive he was to his wife in the year Trump got re-elected.

Best Actress

I've seen all performances in this category except for Fernanda Torres. Out of these, I'm stuck between Mikey Madison in Anora and Demi Moore in The Substance. However, I have to celebrate the fact that Karla Sofia Gascon is the first openly trans actress to be nominated for an Oscar. That is absolutely incredible.

Best Supporting Actor

I've seen Anora, A Complete Unknown and A Real Pain. My personal pick would be Kieran Culkin in A Real Pain. I thought his performance was awesome.

Best Supporting Actress

This is one of the only categories where I'm rooting for Emilia Perez. Zoe Saldana is easily my pick for Supporting Actress. She has been since I saw the film.

Best Director

Either Sean Baker or Coralie Fargeat. I will be happy with both.

Best Cinematography

It's between Dune: Part Two and Nosferatu for me. I love both of those films and their cinematography.

Best International Feature Film

I've only seen Emilia Perez and Flow. Between those, my pick is honestly Flow.

Best Original Screenplay

It is so hard to choose, but I would go with Anora or The Substance here.

Best Adapted Screenplay

I'm choosing Conclave here, out of the ones I've seen. I liked its script the best and I think it is a very important story to tell.

Best Animated Feature Film

I've seen all except Wallace and Gromit. My pick is Memoir of a Snail. However, I did love The Wild Robot and will be happy if it wins, too!

Best Original Song

My pick is El Mal from Emilia Perez here. It's the best musical number in the film and the best sequence in the entire movie. Despite my mixed feelings on the film, I loved that part.

Best Original Score

I'd go with Wicked here. Beautiful score with some great details.

Best Makeup and Hairstyling

I've seen all except A Different Man, but I am planning to watch it now! My pick for now is The Substance, but wow, all the makeup nominees were really good.

Best Costume Design

Nosferatu. Period. The costumes were incredible and seemed very accurate to the time.

Best Editing

Anora is my pick. That entire second act is basically one continuous scene and the incredible editing made it work.

Best Sound

Dune: Part Two. Easily. It's fricking astonishing.

Best Production Design

Got to give it Wicked. Those sets were all practical and built for the film! Absolutely stunning.

Best Visual Effects

I loved Alien: Romulus and I'm very happy it was nominated. However, I'm giving it to Dune: Part Two.

#oscars #academy awards #oscars 2025 #anora movie #anora #anora 2024 #a complete unknown #a real pain #conclave #dune: part two #emilia perez #awards season #wicked 2024 #wicked movie #the substance #the substance 2024 #memoir of a snail #flow #academy awards 2025

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mychrysanthemumdiaries · 6 months ago

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The Wild and Charming Beauty of Anora

When this film debuted in film festivals earlier this year, it became one of the most unexpected breakout hits for audiences to anticipate. Early reviews established this film as a front runner for best picture and best actress due to Mikey Madison's leading performance.

I remember reading these headlines shocked by how well received this film was becoming since it felt like it came out of no where. On top of that, I could not believe the how much high praise Mikey Madison was receiving for her role. Prior to this film, I had only seen Madison in Scream (2022) and had known she appeared in Quentin Tarantino's Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2019). While she stood out in both of those roles, I hadn't expected much from her coming out of those films. So it truly was shocking to hear that she was really taking it with this role.

With ravishing reviews continuing, I could not wait to watch the film and see for myself the hype behind this film. I finally got to watch it a few days ago and to simply put it: Anora is a masterpiece.

This film follows Annie (aka Anora), a sex worker from New York, who meets a young 21-year-old Russian Boy, Ivan 'Vanya', who charms his way into her heart. We are quickly shot through their love story, before complete madness ensues when his family hears of their relationship and tries to break them up.

It feels like this film could easily take a dark turn and become intense, but it doesn't do that at all. Instead, we get to watch a hilarious and odd take on a romantic comedy. We are taken on an adventure along with Annie as she falls for Vanya and then as she chases for answers to what their relationship is. Along the way we meet a trio that are very reminiscent of 3 stooges. Each bringing their own hilarious personality to the table as they try to situate Vanya's family trouble.

The best performances obviously came from Madison with her sexy and spunky portrayal of Annie. She stole the scene at every moment possible making her irresistible to watch. The most unexpected character to pay attention to though is Igor. He is one of the 3 stooges, but he has this quiet and lovable demeanor about him. I found myself rooting for him throughout the film. He slowly creeps up to be one of the most beloved characters in the film.

The stylistic takes that director Sean Baker took were marvelous. The film was beautifully shot, the soundtrack added to the character of the film, and the wardrobe made this film so much more attractive. This film excels in its writing and transcends itself with the performances.

I cannot praise this film enough. Sean Baker did an amazing job creating something so refreshing to watch. I highly recommend anyone and everyone to hit the theaters as soon as they can to catch this film while it is still playing because it is a mesmerizing film.

youtube

#Anora #film review #women in film #sean baker #mikey madison #Youtube

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thornedclover · 1 year ago

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⋆∵ thornedclover ∵⋆

· overview ·

i go by: Saylour or Maxie my pronouns are: she/her i am: +18

✧ night owl writer ✧ writing blog for Mikey Madison & Jenna Ortega characters ✧ pics, writing works, + a lot of randomness

· where else can you find me? ·

➺ archive of our own (AO3): ThornedClover ➺ discord: @//ssnitchwolfie

· other characters i will consider ·

✧ Sam Carpenter ✧ any other character i approve of (if requested)

· my writing ·

what i write: ✧ one-shots ✧ hcs ✧ character x readers ✧ short stories (1-3 chapters) ✧ novels (4+ chapters) ✧ vent/personal experience-inspired works ✧ mature/smut works (no explicit content)

what i do not write: ✦ explicit mature/smut works

· requests │ my inbox is open! ·

i am more than welcome to write requests as long as the requester respects my preferences listed above & acknowledges the notes below, please & thank you! ♡

✩ i have the right to decline any request! my writing = my rules. ♡ ✩ be patient. i do have a life outside of writing that requires a lot of attention. i would love to write everyday but that is not possible for me at the moment. if i choose to accept a request, it may take anywhere from a week to 1 month to complete (for a requested story, it may take longer). ✩ respect my writing. some requesters have problems with the way a writer executes their requests & i don't think this is fair to the writer. some writers, like myself, put a lot of thought & effort into their work so if you would like something to be written a specific way, please tell me in advance. for requests, i want to be sure i write everything that the requester is looking for. ♡

· what am i currently writing? ·

☾ my writing queue! ⋆

· what have i published? ·

𐙚 my master list! ♡

this may be updated often/occasionally. thank you so much for stopping by my blog... catch ya later! ♡

#writers on tumblr #writing blog #writeblr #jenna ortega #mikey madison #scream #miller's girl #better things #all souls #meet the admin #blog intro #blog post #not my gif

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ferrariswiftiespace · 2 months ago

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chapter 2

busy woman - art donaldson x fem!oc

faceclaim mikey madison as emma zweig

warnings no tashi duncan; nsfw +18; my first story; a little of patrick x art but it’s not reciprocated

2004.

zweig’s house.

emma zweig.

patrick’s room smelled faintly of cigarettes and the cheap cologne he’d been obsessed with all summer. the window was cracked open, letting in a faint breeze that barely masked the smoke curling from the lit cigarette in his hand. art stood next to him, mirroring the same motion—fingers tapping ash out the window, the occasional puff—while i lounged on patrick’s bed, flipping through an issue of vogue

patrick was talking, as he always did, about something from the academy—probably a new drill or some coach’s advice. i wasn’t really listening. i could feel art’s gaze on me, though, like a warm weight against my skin. every now and then, i’d glance up from the glossy pages to catch him quickly looking away, pretending to focus on patrick’s words. it made me smile, though i kept it to myself.

minutes later, art excused himself to the bathroom, and patrick immediately flicked his cigarette into the ashtray on his desk and flopped down on the bed beside me.

“can you do me a favor?” he asked, his voice low, almost conspiratorial.

i raised an eyebrow at him. “what kind of favor?”

patrick shifted uncomfortably, propping himself up on one elbow. “stay away from him.”

my smile faltered. “what?”

“you know what i mean. it’s fine if you’re friends or whatever, but don’t... you know, don’t mess with art. he’s my only friend.”

for a moment, i just stared at him, trying to process what he was asking. patrick had always been the center of attention—charming, confident, the guy everyone wanted to be around. it was strange to hear him admit, even indirectly, that art was the only person he really had.

“you’re out of your mind,” i finally said, my voice sharp with disbelief. “go back to mom’s vagina and get born again if you think that’s going to happen.”

patrick rolled his eyes but didn’t back down. “c’mon, emma, i’m serious. just stop flirting with him.”

“it’s just how i am, patrick,” i shot back, anger bubbling beneath the surface. “what, you can flirt with all of my friends, but i can’t even *exist* around yours?”

he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “look, it’s different, okay? art told me—”

but before he could finish, the bathroom door opened, and art stepped back into the room, looking between us with a curious expression. patrick and i both froze, like kids caught sneaking cookies before dinner.

“what?” art asked, his confusion deepening as he glanced between us.

“nothing,” patrick said quickly, the kind of nothing that was obviously *something*. “we were just talking about how emma’s got a boyfriend.”

my head snapped toward patrick, disbelief and fury flashing in my eyes. “what are you talking about? i don’t—”

“she does,” patrick insisted, cutting me off with a pointed look at art. “she’s just embarrassed to admit it.”

art’s brow furrowed as he looked at me, something unreadable flickering across his face. “you do?”

“no!” i said firmly, my voice rising in frustration. “patrick’s full of shit.”

“don’t believe her,” patrick added casually, taking a long drag from his cigarette like this was all some harmless joke.

i couldn’t take it anymore. i shot up from the bed, the magazine tumbling to the floor as i stormed toward the door. “you’re such an asshole, patrick,” i spat over my shoulder.

as i stepped out into the hallway, i heard patrick mutter something to art, his voice low but not low enough. “c’mon, man, she’s just got this little-girl attitude still. ridiculous.”

the words stopped me in my tracks, cutting deeper than i expected. little-girl attitude? patrick, my brother, the person i thought understood me better than anyone, had just dismissed me like i was nothing. like i didn’t matter.

i didn’t turn back. i didn’t want to see art’s reaction, didn’t want to give patrick the satisfaction of seeing how much his words had hurt me. instead, i headed straight to my room, slamming the door behind me and locking it.

i sat on the edge of my bed, my heart pounding in my chest. patrick’s words played on a loop in my mind, each repetition twisting the knife deeper. he didn’t want me to take art away from him—not because he cared about me, but because art was more important to him than i was.

tears pricked the corners of my eyes, but i blinked them away, swallowing the lump in my throat. fine. if patrick wanted to act like i didn’t matter, i wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurt.

2006.

stanford university.

emma zweig.

the days at stanford were moving faster than i’d expected. between classes, figuring out my new routine, and meeting people in passing, it was easy to lose track of time. still, there was something thrilling about it all. for the first time, i felt untethered, free to make my own choices without patrick hovering over me.

patrick had always meant well, but his protective nature sometimes felt suffocating. and now? he wasn’t here to give me disapproving looks or warn me off the “wrong” people

it was late friday afternoon when a girl from my psych class approached me as we were packing up. she was petite with a sunny smile that seemed almost too perfect after a long day of lectures.

“hey! you’re emma, right?” she asked, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“that’s me,” i said, smoothing my hair out of my face and giving her a polite smile.

“i’m naomi. i think we have, like, two classes together?”

i nodded, even though i wasn’t entirely sure.

“so, i’m hosting a party tonight at my place—just off campus. you should totally come! it’ll be fun, and you might meet some interesting people,” she added, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm.

for a moment, i hesitated. i didn’t know her that well, and i wasn’t exactly in the mood to make small talk with strangers. but then again, what else was i going to do? sit in my dorm and scroll through my laptop

“sure,” i said, letting a small smile creep across my lips. “why not?”

“awesome!” naomi said, clapping her hands together. “it starts around nine. i’ll text you the address.”

i waved goodbye as we parted ways, slinging my bag over my shoulder as i made my way across campus. the evening sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. my boots clicked against the pavement as i walked, my mind drifting.

the idea of a party sounded fun—maybe even necessary. i hadn’t really put myself out there yet, not the way i wanted to. and who knew? maybe i’d run into someone interesting. someone familiar.

when i reached my dorm, i tossed my bag onto the bed and took a moment to stretch, glancing around the room. it felt emptier than usual, the silence pressing in.

walking to the mirror, i ran a hand through my hair, thinking about what to wear. if i was going to this party, i wanted to make an impression—not that i ever minded turning heads. settling on a black skirt that hit mid-thigh and a fitted red crop top that hugged me in all the right places, i paired the outfit with my favorite combat boots. a spritz of my signature perfume—warm, a little spicy—and i was ready.

the walk to naomi’s house wasn’t far, maybe ten minutes. the streets were alive with students heading in the same direction, their voices and laughter filling the evening air. i could hear the music long before i arrived, the bass thumping steadily as i approached the house.

stepping inside, i was met with a wall of sound and heat. the living room was packed, bodies moving in sync to a pop remix blaring from a set of speakers. i weaved through the crowd, offering polite smiles to a few strangers, and made my way to a makeshift bar in the kitchen.

“vodka ice,” i said to the guy manning the drinks. he handed me one without hesitation, his eyes lingering a little too long.

i gave him a polite nod before stepping back into the living room. for a while, i danced on my own, letting the music move through me. but soon, a group of girls invited me into their circle, their energy infectious. one of them, an asian girl i vaguely recognized from class, introduced herself. the rest of their names slipped past me in the noise, but i didn’t mind.

time passed in a blur of music and laughter, but eventually, the heat of the room started to get to me. my drink was long gone, and i felt the need to escape, to breathe.

i slipped out the back door and into the cool night air. the backyard was quieter, a stark contrast to the chaos inside. a large pool reflected the glow of string lights strung overhead, and lounge chairs lined the patio. i made my way to one of them and sank down, pulling out my phone.

1:32 a.m.

a message from patrick lit up my screen: “i’ll be visiting soon. just a heads-up.”

i stared at it for a moment, my thumb hovering over the reply button. i left the message unread and leaned back against the chair, letting the silence settle over me.

the sound of footsteps broke the quiet, and i looked up to see art donaldson walking toward me, a beer in hand.

“i didn’t know you were going to be here,” he said, his voice warm and steady.

i tilted my head, a grin playing on my lips. “i didn’t know i was coming either,” i said. “what about you? here alone?”

“with some guys from econ,” he explained, taking a sip of his drink. the movement lifted his shirt just slightly, exposing a hint of his toned stomach. my eyes lingered for just a second too long, and when i looked back up, he was watching me, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“enjoying the view?” he teased.

i laughed softly, leaning forward. “maybe. you’re not bad to look at, you know.”

his smirk faltered, just slightly, and i felt a flicker of satisfaction. art was always so composed, so steady—it was fun to push him, to see how far i could go before he cracked.

“you always this direct?” he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

“always,” i said, letting the word linger. “why? does it make you nervous?”

“not at all,” he replied, though the way his hand tightened around his beer bottle said otherwise.

i stood, brushing invisible lint off my skirt, and stepped closer to him. the height difference between us was stark—i had to look up to meet his gaze—but i liked the way it made me feel.

“so,” i said, my voice low, almost daring. “wanna come to my dorm?”

for a moment, he didn’t reply. the question hung in the air between us, bold and unapologetic. i saw his jaw tighten, his eyes scanning my face as if trying to figure out what i was really asking.

“your dorm,” he repeated, his tone careful.

“unless you’re scared,” i added with a grin, stepping back just enough to give him space to decide.

he laughed softly, shaking his head. “i don’t scare that easily.”

“good,” i said, brushing past him toward the house. “try to keep up.”

the walk back to my dorm was quieter, but the tension between us was anything but. every step, every glance felt charged, like we were teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

when we reached my door, i unlocked it and stepped inside, leaving the door open behind me. “well?” i said, turning to face him.

art hesitated for just a moment before following me in, closing the door behind him.

“nice place,” he said, his eyes scanning the room, leaning against the edge of my bed. “so, what now?”

i tilted my head, crossing my arms as i leaned against the wall. “you tell me. you’re the one who followed me here.”

the corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk, and for the first time, i saw a flicker of something in his eyes—something bold, something that matched my energy.

“maybe i was curious,” he said.

“about?”

“you,” he said simply.

for a moment, we just looked at each other, the silence stretching between us like a taut string. and in that moment, i realized that whatever was happening between us, it wasn’t just in my head.

i didn’t know where this was going, but i wasn’t about to back down. and from the way art was looking at me, i could tell he wasn’t either. he proved me right when he took a step closer, then another, until i felt my back press lightly against the wall of my wall. his movements were deliberate, slow, as if he wanted me to know he was giving me time to stop him—but why would i?

“you don’t know how many times i’ve thought about having you like this,” he said, his voice low and rough, the words sending a shiver down my spine.

the boldness of his confession scratched my brain in the best way, and i couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at my lips. he leaned in closer, his face hovering just inches from mine, his breath warm against my skin. i could see the hesitation in his eyes, a flicker of uncertainty that only made me want to close the distance myself.

so i did.

i tilted my head and kissed him, cutting through the tension in an instant. his response was immediate, his lips parting against mine as his body pressed fully against me. his hands found their way to my lower back, pulling me closer, while my fingers threaded through his hair, soft and slightly damp from the dorm’s humidity.

the kiss was needy, an unspoken acknowledgment of everything we’d left unsaid over the years of teasing. he tasted like beer and a hint of mint, his mouth warm and insistent against mine. i wasn’t thinking about patrick, or stanford, or anything else—just this moment, just the way art was kissing me like he’d been waiting for this as long as i had.

his hands slid down to my hips, gripping them firmly, and i felt the cool texture of the wall at my back contrast with the heat of his body. i smiled against his mouth, pulling back just enough to look at him.

“is this what you’ve been thinking about?” i teased, my voice breathy.

“more than you’d believe,” he admitted, his forehead resting lightly against mine. his eyes were dark, his pupils blown wide with desire, and i felt a thrill knowing i’d gotten under his skin.

“good,” i said, trailing my fingers down the back of his neck and letting them rest on his shoulders. “because i’ve been thinking about it too.”

he groaned softly, his grip on me tightening as if to keep himself grounded. “you’re going to ruin me, you know that?”

“maybe,” i said, smirking. “but you’ll enjoy every second of it.”

“we can’t—” he started, his voice strained, but i cut him off with another kiss, silencing whatever excuse he was about to make.

“you’re thinking too much,” i murmured against his lips. “and i’m tired of thinking.”

he laughed softly, a sound that vibrated against my skin. “you’re impossible,” he said, but there was no fight in his voice, only surrender.

“you’re just figuring that out?” i teased, pulling him closer.

his response was another kiss, deeper this time, his hands sliding up my sides going up under my top sending shivers down my spine. i helped him take it off, leaving me in my bra.

he grabbed both my legs and carried me to the bed, him sitting in the bed while i was on top of his legs. making his hands a way under my skirt, i take off his shirt moving my hands over his chest, softly scratching him with my nails. art’s hand hooked on my underwear and quickly pulled them down.

once they slipped off, i pulled down my skirt and his hands cupped my bare ass, squeezing and kneading my soft flesh. he shifted me lightly, allowing his hardened bulge to grind against my now exposed sex through his jeans.

"jesus" art moans against my neck, nibbling and kissing the sensitive skin there. his calloused hands leave trails of fire as they move from my ass up to my back, unhooking my bra. the straps fall away, exposing me fully to his hungry gaze.

i looked at him, moving my hand to his face “you have too much clothes” art smirks at my impatient words, his eyes darkening with desire. with a quick motion, he grips the waistband of his jeans and pull them down, along with his boxers. his impressive erection springs free, throbbing and ready.

my hands wrap around his length. the sensation is overwhelming - my firm grip coupled with the soft stroking motion drives him crazy. his hips buck slightly involuntarily as a deep moan escapes his lips. "fuck..." he mutters.

art helps position me, gripping my waist as i straddle him. my warmth presses against his shaft, making him throb against my wetness. i look down at him with hooded eyes, biting my lip in a way that drives him wild.

the room fills with the sounds of our passion - heavy breathing, moans, and the gentle slap of skin against skin. as the night progresses, we lose ourselves in each other, our bodies moving in sync on my bed.

chapter 3

#art donalson x reader #art donaldson #fanfic #fem reader #challengers #mike faist #josh o'connor #written

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