#I wish they filmed this scene 20 more times | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 1 year ago

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PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT ─── cillian murphy ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I am turned inside out by the ache in your voice, the taste of your tongue." — ‘Afternoon Masala: Poems’, Vandana Khanna

pairing. cillian murphy x actor!reader

summary. you and your co-star, cillian, are having a hard time performing a sex scene for your movie. they do say, however, practice makes perfect.

warnings. swearing, thigh-riding, creampie, p in v, unprotected sex, mentioned/implied age gap, probably inaccurate depictions of actor-life, mirror sex, slight breeding kink, kinda innocent reader(?), AU cillian murphy (not married/no kids), SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 4.5k

a/n. this is not in any way meant to disrespect cillians wife😭 i js made this a not married AU to be convenient!

“Cut - cut, cut!” The director repeated, his increasing irritation colouring his voice completely. “Now, I said it earlier, but—“

You scrubbed your face with a sigh, getting up off of Cillian and the desk, who was propping himself up by the elbows. “It’s not passionate enough,” you finished flatly for your director, who nodded earnestly.

“I promise, this is as tiring for me as it is for you. Remember,” the director continued, the script half curled in his hands and making a thin flapping noise, “it’s the culmination of six months of pining. Six months of taboo, unrelenting, electric tension. Nothing more than stares in class and brief touches- you are supposed to be bordering feral for one another.”

You, and your co-star, Cillian, were currently filming the first sex scene of a movie portraying the forbidden, toxic love affair between a barely 18 teenage student and her much older teacher. Well, not exactly filming- you weren’t getting far with the scene, for the two of you just couldn’t get it right. Or, as the director liked to say, passionate enough.

The role was already incredibly taxing, even without the added stress of the sex scene: it was 20 hour work days, living on set in a trailer far from home, having to devote at least half of those hours to filming this very sex scene, and had a perfectionist director like yours.

The problem was that it was long, and the director wanted it done in one take. Brilliant man, he was, and had a love for this project you wished every director had for theirs, but he was adamant on it being done perfectly. He said it was intended to be the “primary and most iconic” scene of the entire film, for it was the crux of the story; the point of no return for the characters.

“With all due respect, I’ve never imagined such a scenario, much less had experience. Just how can you expect me to portray a student-teacher romance accurately?“

“That’s your job: to imagine and perform.” The director demanded, obviously up to his ears in frustration.

Just before you retorted irately, Cillian cut in smoothly. “I think what she means,” he said, watching the veins in the director’s forehead nearly burst, “is that it’s hard to perform because it’s not common. S’easy to act in love because there’s love all around, yeah? We don’t have much to go off of, visually.”

The director’s gaze rapidly flitted between you and Cillian for a moment, before letting go of his anger and sighing wearily. “You’ve never even thought about a superior that way? Someone older than you?” he pressed, obviously joking and trying to lighten the set’s mood.

You paused, and tried not to look at Cillian, your blatantly gorgeous forty-something co-star who was chosen for this role firstly, because of his stellar acting and secondly, because of how fucking attractive he was.

His character was a total fucking creep, and you knew casting Cillian had been a calculated choice; all in the name of making the audience’s guard come down to be smacked in the face by his immorality later. He was meant to be charming, handsome, and terribly, totally, off-limits: the object of completely forbidden desire, the line your character was desperate to cross.

It seemed the same in real life, too: the young inexperienced actress wanting to ignore those societal niceties and pine wholeheartedly over the middle-aged actor with decades of knowledge under his belt.

You weren’t, like, in love or anything, but you certainly reveled in his presence: he was patient, kind, and completely understanding of your lack of experience, always guiding you through all the steps an actor takes during filming like when to take off hair and makeup, what best to say to family and friends prying for details- all the things, he said, he wished someone told him when he was first starting out.

You were afraid you two had unknowingly fallen into a mentor-mentee dynamic, but there were always those spare moments, between hearty fits of laughter and silly conversation that you’d never expected to come from such an intimidating man as Cillian, where his rough hands would brush past your waist, gaze dragging up and down your body, sounding sensual and provocative despite nothing dirty leaving his mouth at all.

He made your insides pulse, especially when your more intimate scenes came about, and you could only have a lusting woman’s pipedream that he felt the same.

You still remember the first sequence you’d done with him: in the movie, your characters met after-class to make up for a missed exam, and it was the start of their corrupt attraction. Cillian had been pressed against your back, leaning over you to pressuringly peer at the test, large hand gripping your shoulder. The air felt steamy then, his body warm, low voice making you feel lightheaded as he recited his lines.

You shivered at the remembrance of the moment, coming back to reality, and you answered the director’s question with a vehement shake of the head.

The director let out a (strained) laugh, and smacked his palm lightly with the script, shoulders slumping. “Okay. Okay, we’ll - we’ll break for today. Take this extra time to imagine, research, anything- just practice the scene, alright? Practice makes perfect.”

You and Cillian nodded simultaneously, giving eachother a look that just screamed “he’s ridiculous” before tearing away from each other's stare to return to your trailers.

Later, you were getting ready to go to bed, peeling your freshly showered hair out of a small towel, when there was a knock at your trailer door.

“One second,” you called out, pulling on your silk sleep shorts. You vaguely registered how awkward it might be to be seen in your pajamas if the director or one of your fellow actors came about, but you were way too tired to care.

You did care, however, self-consciously crossing your arms and covering your thinly-clothed chest, when you opened the door and there on the steps stood your co-star, Cillian.

Before speaking, he looked you up and down, icy blue eyes gleaming behind an unfamiliar pair of tortoise shell frames. “You goin’ to bed?” he finally asked, tone husky.

His gaze lingered on the bare skin of your legs for a few seconds longer and you shifted uncomfortably, crossing your ankles together in a poor attempt to hide yourself.

“What do you need?” you asked briskly, more sharp than you meant it to be.

“Sorry,” he corrected himself, shaking his head and finally looking you in the eye. “I meant’a come by earlier… got caught up. I know this, ah, sex scene is tripping us up, so…” he trailed off, lifting up the white script he’d been holding behind his back. “Y’up for some practice?”

You blinked rapidly at the simple, innocent request. Mere rehearsal, not some lecherous late-night escapade you’d been dreaming up in your mind. “Oh… yes, of course,” you nodded numbly, moving out of the way to let him step in.

Only moments later, when he’d perched onto the edge of your vanity — looking uniquely casual in what you assumed was his version of pajamas: baggy gray sweatpants and a fitted, well-worn black t-shirt — did you realize the connotations of rehearsing your sex scene.

Sure, it was all pre-determined, every word you’d say and every action you’d perform, but still. Saying- and doing, such suggestive things after-hours? That was beyond your dirtiest fantasies.

However, you shook yourself internally: Cillian had come to rehearse the scene with professional intentions. Honestly, he’d probably done so because he was tired of you messing up the scene. He could do his own part masterfully, and you knew that if it’d been a better, more experienced actress by his side, filming would’ve moved on ages ago.

You took shaky, tentative steps near him, settling on your bed, watching him flip through the script— when he looked up and frowned.

“What’re you doing? Come here,” he gestured for you to come closer, almost a command. “We don’t have a desk, so we can use your vanity.”

You nodded, biting your lip and nervously complying with his words. “So, we’ll start from the beginning?” you asked, your voice -- and legs -- suddenly feeling terribly weak.

His eyes were still trained on the paper as he answered. “Not necessarily. The sex part s’really the only thing we’re having trouble with, yeah?”

You gulped, throat dry. “Yeah, I guess so.”

With that, he chanced one last look at the script, before diving into the scene. His actions were ones you were extremely familiar with, having attempted this scene everyday for at least a week now.

His body turned to yours, hands coming up to your jaw, and pressing your back onto the table slightly. He held you tightly, and made you look at him, while delivering his lines softly, memorable Irish accent replaced by his character’s generic American one.

Jiltedly, you did the same, poorly remembering what you needed to say and dragging through it like some amateur. “Fuck, sorry,” you cursed suddenly, tearing away from his touch and sighing.

He gave you a small, careful smile, immediately breaking out of character and taking a step away from the vanity. “No need t’be nervous. Practice makes perfect, right?”

You snorted at his quoting of the director. “I just… I don’t know what he means by passionate. I’m trying to be professional about this but - but I’ve seriously never been in some steamy love-affair.”

“Can’t really expect that of you, can we? You’re too young, too much’ve a good girl for that kinda ‘ting.” He said, hand coming up to your shoulder, the one where your silk tanktop’s spaghetti strap had slipped off, rubbing it soothingly.

You practically melted into a puddle at both the pet name and how the rough pads of his fingers brushed against your sensitive skin. You were so entranced you almost whined when he stopped and pulled up your fallen strap, but instead you wordlessly snatched the script that was dropped onto the table and found one of the lines, inhaling sharply and readying yourself.

Your hand came up to tug on the sleeve of Cillian’s shirt, as dictated by the script. “Sir, please,” you whispered out in your character’s high pitched voice, “I - I… want you to touch me.”

“This is -- wrong. I’m your teacher, and I…” Cillian responded, swiftly back in character, the back of his palm grazing your cheek. “I gotta break your heart, darling.”

You looked up at Cillian, summoning crocodile tears to fill your gaze. “Please. I need you.” Then, one of your clammy hands ran down Cillian’s chest as you spoke, like it did back on set. “I think of you, at night. I soaked through my shorts the day you scolded me.”

You heard Cillian’s breath hitch- his character, you reminded yourself. “Fucking hell… I think of you in class, sweetheart,” he growled out perfectly.

So far, so good, you thought. It wasn’t awkward, and was already miles better than the lackluster performances you’d given previously. You continued by leaning into Cillian’s touch, making him sit on the vanity— the part of the scene you’d gotten to this morning, before the director called cut.

This time, however, Cillian’s actions differed from the ones he was supposed to perform: instead of petting the crown of your head, his fingers trailed down your hips, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’ll be good for you, sir,” you recited, face growing hot as his hand inched closer to the curve of your ass. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

Cillian’s gaze had darkened now, flitting over your features. He didn’t say his line - or, had at least missed the timing, and you removed your hands from his body worriedly. “Are you alright—“

Before you could finish your sentence, Cillian had grabbed you by the ass, switching your places and setting you down on the edge of the vanity.

“Cillian!“ you squeaked out, the only thing you could really say as you processed what exactly just happened. Your mind was swimming with confusion — and anticipation — as he stood before you, legs pressing on either side of your knees and trapping you on the vanity.

“Improv,” he promised quietly in his telltale Irish accent, a sly wink appearing on his sharp features.

You bit your lip, nodded, and repeated your line. You trusted him to guide you — and the rehearsal — because, as mentioned before, he did these kinds of things often. If he thought you’d act better if you sat on the vanity, you’d sit on the vanity.

His hand then pet your hair, the other hand coming up to your chin and making you look up at him. “Whatever I want?” he murmured, back on track with the script.

You bat your lashes at him. “Everything. I’m yours.”

Now, this is where you thought Cillian would stop— because after your line came the kissing and the touching and the heavy petting: all things you thus far hadn’t filmed at all, because you couldn’t even get the dialogue out right.

Instead, he leaned down and began to press hungry kisses down your neck, making you gasp.

“What are you—“

“Shh,” he demanded softly, “it's all part of the scene, remember?”

You blinked dumbly, mouth opening and closing, unable to register a coherent thought or word. He said it was part of the scene but you’d read that script, and his teeth nipping lightly at your skin was not written anywhere within it.

But, you gulped down your thoughts, and belted out several more of your lines in tandem to his own. With his other hand gripping your thigh so tight you thought it might bruise, you were starting to think that maybe this was one of those lecherous late-night escapades you were dreaming of.

All you’d been doing was acting, like he’d asked, but still, you could see clear as day how that’d affect him— how easily it could be to succumb. After all, you were just barely restraining yourself from jumping his bones: how could you not, with his gorgeous face just inches away from yours?

Well, acting or not, you’d enjoy every minute of this.

When one of his hands began playing with the waistband of your shorts as he suckled on your pulse, that just right spot on your neck, you couldn’t help the whimper that left your mouth.

However, the noise seemed to startle him; jumpshock him back to reality, and your suspicions became completely confirmed when he pulled away from you roughly.

“Fuck, I’m—“ a pained grimace washed over his features, looking you up and down like he just realized what he’d been doing. “I don’t know what came over me, I— shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have come here tonight.”

You stared at him, body disappointed at the lack of touch, watching him press his pink lips into a conflicted white line. “What - what d’you mean?”

His gaze coursed over your every feature, so intently you thought he was admiring your face. “I can’t— we can’t happen. Y’too young, you’re, you’re too…”

“Then we can stop. If that’s what you want,” you murmured coyly, hand coming up to pick a piece of thread off his thin shirt. “But only if you ask. C’mon, say it: I don’t want you and I want this to stop.”

He groaned, biting his lip. “Don’t do that. I can’t do that.”

“Do what?” You tilted your head to the side.

“Tease. Because you know I won’t tell you to stop. ‘Cause I won’t be able to fucking control m’self,” he grumbled, before pressing a desperate, deep kiss to your lips, pulling you off the vanity and continuing down your chest.

“Then don’t. Take me for everything I have,” you whined, following his every move and manhandling touch.

He breathed heavily between kisses. “Saying those kinds’a words with that pretty voice of yours… fuck, you’re doing things to me.”

Your hands were trailing all over his body, and then you tugged his shirt off, desperate to feel him. He had similar thoughts, fingers dipping into your silk shorts and petting your hot mound.

“Need you,” you panted, and, at your words, he suddenly tore off your silk shorts and panties in one clean go, making you shiver.

He then sat down on your vanity chair and roughly grabbed you by the hips to place yourself onto one of his thighs. The thick fabric of his sweatpants, taking in your wetness like a sponge, made you wince.

“Go on then,” he demanded darkly, “get y’self off on my fucking thigh. Show me how bad you need me.”

You bit your lip, face burning with shame at the order. But there was an aching need in your gut, and the way he crossed his arms, watching and waiting for you to get the hell on with it, had you clenching around his thigh.

Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, and you began slowly rutting against him, the soft fabric of his pants doing poor work for pleasuring your core. You pressed your face into his shoulder, screwed up at the lack of friction.

“Can’t do it,” you whined, “Please.”

He rolled his eyes. “You said you needed me. You’ve got me,” he gestured to his thigh, “so get to work.” Then, he suddenly flexed, making an unwarranted mewl leave your mouth.

You wanted nothing more than his fucking cock, but here you were, pathetically pleasuring yourself on his thigh until he allowed otherwise. You nodded resignedly, and dug your fingernails into his shoulders, starting to set a steady pace of grinding down on him, slowly building up the heat within your insides.

You were moaning now, vigorously dragging your hips against him harder, needier, feeling the pressure in your cunt grow hotter and more rampant.

“Y’hear that?” He asked, one of his fingers tilting your chin back up to face him. “D’you even realize how fucking delicious you sound, all needy f’me?”

You nodded, but weren’t really paying attention: you were closer than ever, just moments away from falling off the edge— when Cillian stopped you.

“Stop,” he spoke, voice filled with sheer lust, and you whimpered at the abrupt loss of momentum. Then, he got up, holding you against him by the waist, looking down at his sweatpants. “You made such a mess… soaked all over m’pants.”

You didn’t — no, couldn’t respond to his musings, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to return friction to your needy pussy, biting down on your lip to muffle your breathy pants.

He noticed this, however, smirking and quickly pressing you stomach down onto the vanity. You caught a glimpse of yourself for the first time since your shower, and you flushed with shame: your eyes were heavy-lidded and dilated, lips pink and slick with drool, your brows in a perpetual knit.

You looked fucking filthy, and when you felt Cillian press his thick head to your entrance, something you hadn’t noticed he’d pulled out, too enraptured in your dirty expression, you shut your eyes.

You were suddenly so much more aware of the situation: you’d fucked yourself silly on your co-stars thigh, the co-star who was twice your age. He now knew you weren’t a talented aspiring actress, no, you were just a desperate little thing begging to be fucked.

“Hey, hey,” He tutted in mock-disappointment, “open your eyes, and fucking watch yourself. It’ll be good for our scene.”

You whimpered helplessly, obeying him and fluttering your eyes open, as he pushed his cock past your dripping folds inch by inch.

“Oh my god,” you cried out when he finally pressed all the way in. You felt so full, stretched to the brim with his hardened cock, so deep his balls touched your sticky clit.

“So fucking wet,” he commented, chuckling darkly behind you. You were totally slick, helping him enter you faster, but his cock was still a foreign intrusion to your inexperienced cunt: you were young, and had never been the type to “get around” — at least not with the intentions of getting fucked so much you could take any length of dick easily.

You clenched around him, a groan leaving his mouth at the increased pressure around his cock, and he snapped into you, making you bounce forward as your lips parted with a sweet moan.

You’d been focussed on his face, in the mirror, but Cillian’s hand suddenly tangled through your hair, grabbing a fistful of it and lifting your head to face yourself. “I told you to fucking watch yourself,” he spat, gripping your hair tightly. “you’re the reason we can’t wrap up, so do your job and fuckin’ practice.”

With that, Cillian started pounding into you, digging the rough pads of his fingers into your hip, and you would’ve protested such a fast progression — having been given barely any time to get used to his long cock — but your expression was even worse than before, if that was even possible.

Your mouth was open, tongue out and panting like a fucking dog, your lustfully sticky spit spilling down your chin to your chest, and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head with each hearty thrust Cillian delivered you. The sounds you were making weren’t helping your embarrassment either, all unintelligible mewls and needy whines for his cock.

“You’ve wanted me for so long, haven’t you? I always knew what a filthy desperate girl you were, pressing up against me during shooting… those naughty hands on my thighs,” he snickered.

“Needed you in me so bad,” you whimpered, nodding enthusiastically, barely able to register what you were doing now with the pleasure washing over you and clouding your senses. Your back was arching into him, sucking in his cock and never wanting him to leave despite the mind-breaking ecstasy that was coming from his pounding.

“Just look at your dirty fuckin’ face… so pathetic.” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek; sweet and lovely, a stark juxtaposition to his unrelenting rutting and degrading words.

You whined at his words, but you knew they were true: you’d never seen yourself get fucked, always too busy with, well, getting fucked, but seeing yourself in the mirror like this had you unexpectedly hotter than before. There was just something about it, your face unabashedly contorting around the pleasure, Cillian’s hands snaking up your body as he rammed into you in the background.

Kind of like your own personal porno, you thought offhandedly, and you wondered how it’d affect you if you filmed yourself. Hopefully, with Cillian.

His other hand then came up to your folds, spreading them apart so he could see himself disappear into your hole. “Fuck, your cunt’s so perfect,” he growled, his head falling back, losing himself in the pleasure.

The orgasm building in your gut wasn’t like the one when you’d been grinding down on his thick thigh, no, it came faster, making you sweat and your knees shake. You wanted more, and you gasped out “faster,” and “harder,” to Cillian, needing him in the stick spongy spot deep in your cunt.

“Please,” you begged without any expectation of a real answer or action, “please, Cillian, please.”

He did go faster, though, to your apparent shock, both hands coming to your thighs to steady himself. “So needy,” he grumbled, pushing himself deeper and more swiftly into you, feeling how deliciously your fleshy walls tightened around his new pace.

With that, your high came just as quick, hitting you like a fucking freight train and making you scream out his name. Your orgasm wrecked you, made your vision go white and your thoughts stutter to a complete halt, and you vaguely made out Cillian’s proud hum, whispering “Good girl,” in your ear.

When you came to, your head was hanging low, your eyes blown out, lips puffy. Cillian was still thrusting into your worn-out pussy, but it was more jilted, shaky and needy.

“Come in me,” you pleaded suddenly, gripping the vanity to keep your trembling legs up, “fill me up, please, make your come spill out of me.”

“Good god, girl,” he groaned, pounding one last thrust into you before letting go, his cock pulsing around your wet core. He was pressed up to you so deep you could feel him shoot his load right into your cervix, and you grinned weakly, a sweet image of you: knocked up with his kid, your cunt so young and fertile you’d get pregnant from just about anything from him, entering your mind.

After a moment, he slipped his softening cock out of your filthy cunt and picked you up by the waist to set you down on the vanity and keep you from falling onto the floor.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your lashes. You then bit your lip, feeling his thick load of creamy come ooze out of your used hole onto your vanity.

He noticed too, letting out a satisfied groan, spreading your legs lightly, before collecting himself on his finger and pushing his come back into your cunt. “Such a good girl,” he reiterated, going back to being sweet and petting your hair, doting on your weak form, looking deep into your eyes.

You swooned at his delicate actions. “Is this a good time to say I like you?”

He laughed, all adoringly. “It’s as good a time as any. I like you, too, if it’s any consolation.”

“But you, y’know… you said I was too young,” you reminded him, frowning slightly.

He sighed, gaze drifting away nervously for a moment before coming back to you. “That I did, but, well… if you wanna take this old man for a ride before I keel over,” he shrugged.

You couldn’t help the laugh that belted out of you, his words so ridiculous and completely not based in reality. “Oh, sure,” you said, shaking your head, lips still in an amused tilt, “you’re mine, old man.”

Before he could speak, probably say another stupid joke, your hands wrapped around his neck and you pulled him toward you, pressing a soft kiss to his plump lips.

“I like you like you, okay?” You whispered, sounding incredibly juvenile but twice as heartfelt, your tone wavering and self-conscious. You were bearing your heart on your sleeve here, okay, acknowledging feelings you thought should never come to light.

His hands came up to your face, gently holding you. “Good thing I like you like you, too.”

ii.

“Cut!” The director called, and you swore you felt your heart drop to the floor. Fuck, you thought, mind racing, what went wrong this time? Was it the kissing, or the hands in the hair?

However, the director came up to you and Cillian and let out an uncharacteristic shriek of delight. “Perfection,” he said simply, bordering on catatonic with how content he was.

Your shoulders slumped with relief, and you leaned into Cillian, who was subtly dancing his fingers across your thigh. “It’s finished?” you asked, breathless with excitement.

The director nodded. “That was electric, needy, tense, delicious, passionate, so, so passionate,” he continued with a gasp, hands clasping together tightly. “You are two of the most amazing actors I have ever worked with— you are incredibly talented, so convincing I’d have thought you did sleep together.”

You preened at his praise, but not without looking up at Cillian, meeting his gaze and barely keeping your expression happy and neutral and not at all warm at the thought of the other night's events.

As the director went off rambling about the utter masterpiece the movie was to be, Cillian trailed behind you off the set, murmuring lowly in your ear, “I guess practice does make perfect.”

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy rpf #cillian murphy x reader smut

6K notes · View notes

nouvxllev · 8 months ago

Note

Hi, love your writing! I have a request where reader and Jenna are in a long distance relationship and reader decides to surprise Jenna after hearing Jenna’s been having a tough week filming or something. Just something along those lines haha

a flight away

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Summary: ^^ request!!!

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: bittersweet

a/n: first of all,, thank you so much!!!! and second of all, ill try my best! hope this is to ur liking anon

masterlist

You didn't know what you were getting into the first thing in the morning when you checked your phone at exactly 6:34 AM.

Normally, you'd do the routine where you stare at your wallpaper (it was a picture of Jenna) for a good 20 minutes before internally dying inside because of why should she be such a hardworking woman to the point you only get to see her for about 1-2 months before leaving again, but then fall in love with her like it was the first time for that exact reason entirely.

Now, you woke up to Jenna's notifications flooding her digital face, more voicemails and missed calls rather than messages.

Obviously, you panicked out of your fucking mind.

You knew she was safe in Ireland where she was filming season 2 of Wednesday. She has more bodyguards around her than people trying to get her autograph, and she has her co-stars with her at all times.

She was safe. Safe. The word almost sounded like a prayer you repeated in your head as you eyed her messages.

You couldn't open the voicemail for the reasons that you might hear an announcement that Jenna has got into some serious shit and might need to be hospitalized and you absolutely need to be there for her right now.

But after 5 minutes of going through all stages of grief, you pressed play.

You were not expecting Jenna to outright scream at her phone in the middle of the night.

"Y/n. Y/n, I—God, I don't even know where to start with this. I'm just so… so tired. From everything, from everyone. I don't know why, seriously, I don't know why but i just—I just broke down when I came back to my apartment."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I have to message you like this in the middle of the night. I'm doing well in Ireland, but I'm having such a rough fucking time in shooting every scene. It's not like I hate everyone on the set, I love them, I… I don't know."

"I need you, please Y/n. Even if it's just your voice, just please give me a piece of your presence. I need something to hold on, someone to tell me that it's going to be okay and I'll get through this. I know, it's a bit overdramatic but… I just miss you so damn much, and this distance is killing me more than ever. We haven't seen eachother atleast a year now. I'm so tired."

"Please pick up, y/n. It's selfish for me to ask, but I just want to hear you. It feels like I'm losing myself in all of this. I don't want to break down in front of everyone on set tomorrow. But, y/n. Y/n, y/n, y/n, it's so hard."

"I love you. I love you so much. So damn much, it's killing me. I miss New York, I miss our home, I miss you. I wish you were here. I'm sorry for letting you hear me like this over the phone, it's unbecoming. I love you, goodnight."

Your heart sank.

It was all too surreal, all too agonizing, like you feel bile coming up to your throat.

The daunting feeling of Jenna experiencing all of these emotions at once dragged your heart, her voice like a film tape in your mind as if were right there with Jenna in her room.

You heard her cry, you watched her curl herself up on her mattress all while she clung to her phone as if it was your hand she wished she held everyday.

You craved for the warmth of her hand, and you imagine she craves yours as much as you do with hers while you longed to be there with her, for her. To hold her close to you and offer the comfort she needed. The very touch that healed every scar, present and future, was replaced by the lifeless screen of your phone.

You were there, you swear you're there, but you couldn't do anything but listen.

On top of everything, you blamed yourself.

You called her almost everyday, the long-distance relationship being almost a mere label to the both of you.

You texted her every morning and went to bed with her every night. You were there, always. Yet, it felt like you neglected her. Like a piece of you was missing before you even realized it.

Now all you can think about are her restless nights.

The days where Jenna staged a performance with a heavy heart while you smiled with joy, the nights where you slept peacefully in your own bed while Jenna tossed and turned in discomfort in something unfamiliar, sacrificing her rest for your peaceful evenings to remain the same.

You don't know how many days she's been like this, nor do you want to know, the thought was unbearable enough.

And you almost feel bad of booking a plane ticket rather than responding to her. You were just a flight away anyways.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shit, her head hurts.

Hammering, actually.

Like someone cracked it open with an axe made out of obsidian right down the middle and served it to her on a silver platter.

She never should've accepted that afterparty invite from Georgie.

If she never got absolutely wasted to shots from bottles of alcohol, maybe Jenna would've had the brain capacity to curse him under her breath for being such a good damn friend.

Worst of all, she was missing someone. Horribly.

You.

Not just you, but everything of you.

Your scent, your warmth, your presence, your heartbeat against hers—a cruel reminder on how she was missing all of these.

She longed to hear the way you laugh as if you heard the funniest joke ever, the way you smile at Jenna as if she was a saint that had done nothing wrong, the way you loved her oh so dearly like she was the only person that made you crawl out of your skin in a good way.

Now it was taken from her. All of it. She felt like she was nothing without her muse, which was actually the case here.

Jenna was supposed to stay for a year with you—a whole fucking year! A whole year was watered down to a pathetic one to two months because of a change in filming schedule that Jenna had, somehow, no right to turn down.

That's not even half of the time Jenna spent miles away from you, and she couldn't even apologize properly in person since she had to depart so early in the morning.

The thought of you expecting Jenna to wake up beside you with a smile and a kiss only to be woken up with a cold bed with a note apologizing a million times made her flight to another country worse.

She would've been happier if the plane crashed then she would be begging to whatever afterlife she was in to bring her back to the living and spend her life with you.

It's gotten to that point where she looked just like Wednesday off-cam if not worse. She even almost snapped at Emma when she tried consoling her.

Now she sits in her trailer, on a chair, not with you, but with... a chair. Along with her script on a table.

Jenna tried a few lines, repeated them, tried a few lines, repeated them, and it all just comes back full circle.

No matter what she does, she still fucking missed you and wished she could just tell everyone she wanted and needed a nap along with her girlfriend by her side until it reaches winter of 2025.

She could take a nap right now, but you weren't with her. The cold surface would make you appear in her dreams like the loving parasite you are to her and she would only yearn more.

She could take a walk right now, but little ice cream shops along the way would only make her reminisce about the times you would take her out on dates every damn day like you had buckets on buckets of gold to spend it all on Jenna. She would only miss you even more.

She could talk to one of her co-stars, but they weren't you. The stupid and fuckass conversations you'd often bring up, they wouldn't do that. Even if they did, it wouldn't have the same effect.

Why did life suddenly become so difficult when she now has the most gorgeous, talented, and loving girlfriend a billion miles away from her!?

After putting her arms over her eyes, trying to calm down the impending woe and sadness she was facing, a soft knock on her door interrupted all of it.

"Jenna?" She heard Emma's voice, soft like she was hesitant to talk to her if not for Jenna responding with a hum, "we've been calling you for 5 minutes now. It's our scene."

Her voice was serious, though quiet. Or maybe that was just concern, Jenna has been distant for a while now.

Letting out a sigh, she replied, "Right, I'll be there in a minute."

She pulled herself up from the chair. She didn't really need to return to the makeup team, just thankful she didn't cry herself to death thinking about you.

She turned her back to see Emma standing in front of the door, half opened, peering half of her body, "Jenna, you know you can take a break if you want—"

Jenna only offered a weak smile, her steps matching Emmas as they walked over to set, "It's fine. Don't worry about me too much."

Her thoughts are too different from what she was saying, but it wasn't like she could say she'd rather kill herself before even stepping foot out of her trailer without seeing y/n.

"Jenna!" Tim Burton called her out, his voice calm, stretching out her name like he was going to say something completely off-guard.

The girl in question was already staring him down as he spoke, "We've got a change in script"

The girl in question was already staring him down as he spoke, "We've got a change in script. Nothing too big, just that we've added a new extra that Wednesday needs to interact with on this scene."

Isn't that a slight bit unprofessional?

Jenna could let out the most exhausted and exasperated sigh if not for Tim being the one of the sweetest, yet often odd, directors she ever worked with.

"Yeah, sure, can I atleast meet this person—"

"Sorry, Jenna," He lead her to the place she needed to be, the extra in question being no where near in Jenna's sight, "but this is really a last minute change and we just need you both to improvise."

"Wait, but—!"

Her protests were already too late, looking like it went through one ear and out the other through the audio. She was just grateful she had enough training and years in this industry to immediately get into character.

It was supposed to be her scene with Emma, lurking in the woods, a lantern between her fingers as they approached a silhouette of a figure.

Now it was just Jenna in the scene, lurking in the woods, leaves crunching under her combat boots as she watched the camera move alongside her body, not a lantern but rather a flashlight gripped on her palm.

She was informed that the silhouette in question was one of her co-stars that she had met before hand, a tall figure in the distance that she could immediately distinguish based on the back alone.

Now... it's... not exactly what she was expecting to see when she got in character.

She approached the figure, confused as ever, not because it was in her script to do so, but she was actually so damn confused it wouldn't be a surprise to her if she was imagining things.

Because the silhouette looked exactly like you.

Jenna knew you from the slightest shade of your skin, even when it's so damn dark outside.

She knew you from the way you stood, the way you sometimes would do whatever it is with your hands when idle, the way you'd often slightly tilt your head back when you're suppressing a hard giggle—which you were and failing to do so—the way you, in your own words by the way, aren't a good actress for Jenna to practice her lines on without laughing like a total maniac.

Holy shit.

Jenna's mind raced, all too fast for her liking, her heart pounding in her chest, and her body almost in flames at the thought of you being here. Finally being here.

It couldn't be real, of course it wouldn't, why would you be on set in fucking Ireland? It must be a trick, much so a figment of her imagination and maybe more or less girlfriend deprived of everything you gave her. But as she drew closer, her steps doing all but walking slowly to the silhouette, it because unmistakable who it was.

It was you.

Her best friend ever since she learned how to act in middle school, a friend that stuck with her forever even in times where you could've left her all alone.

Her girlfriend. The girlfriend of almost a few years that she loved and cherished with all her might, even if she were to commit a sin, there would be no greater wrong than Jenna disliking you.

It was her home. At last.

Without a second thought, Jenna abandoned everything, forgetting that she was even supposed to be the character she was and rushed towards her, arms already stretched in a desperate embrace to feel your warmth against her body once again. Your heartbeat against hers. It was all too surreal, all too fucking real.

Jenna threw herself into your arms, wrapping you in a tight hug that almost knock you both off of balance in the dirt. Your body stumbling forwards as your back was faced on her.

You still smelled like New York, mixed with that familiar airpot scent that Jenna always got used to. But now, it felt so new, so new that you were hugging her, touching her like it was the last symphony you'd play in your life.

She hugged you, tight. Her hands gripping your clothes like you'd disappear in a matter of seconds. You can hear her taking deep breaths against your body, gulps, and her hold tightening onto you with each passing moment.

As you turned around, you waited for Jenna to slowly loosen her grip, her eyes searching yours as if she still could hardly believe that you were here, standing in front of her after all this time apart. And now, you couldn't believe devotion was still present in her eyes, that warm of a gaze that you always managed to capture in her eyes.

"You're here. Y/n, you're—" She sniffed, looking up at you as she cupped your cheeks, a stray tear trickling down her eyes that shimmered, "You're really here." She whispered, her voice cracking almost to a fault. Her voice was fragile, it crushed you. "Why, how? What, I don't under—"

You smiled softly, chuckling even, you didn't expect it to go this way. "That's not part of the script, Wednesday." You joked, even if it was a serious moment, you always seemed to have one.

"You're not part of the script, why are you here!?"

You reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from Jenna's fringe as Wednesday, your touch gentle and reassuring like it never changed over the years. It was still there, your love was still there, and you were waiting for your lover to come back once in your arms to show how much you missed her oh so dearly.

"I missed you." You simply said, slightly swaying the both of you back and forth

Jenna couldn't say anything, let alone form a few words, but the way she hugged you yet again after a few seconds of silence with such tenderness and compassion, it said everything that you needed to know.

Everything that you lost and you hold today, nothing mattered. Not even the heart that wouldn't stop beating against your chest, it wouldn't matter if you died, atleast it was in her arms.

"So I don't get to have an I miss you back?"

Jenna pulled back slightly, you can see how her eyes glistened looking if it was something that not even renaissance artists could sclupt.

"You don't know how many nights I've spent crying because of how I missed you." She mumbled, voice below a whisper, her mouth hung open from her slight crying, taking a deep breath as she let herself be in the most vulnerable state with you yet.

"You cried?"

"Without you? Terribly so."

Your heart ached when Jenna started to cry, she looked small. Smaller than ever in your arms when you once held her for the first time when she became a busy actress.

She broke down, almost melting in your presence as you try to hold her up. You knew there were cameras rolling, that there were people on set watching this go down, but you knew that you were the only one witnessing her vulnerable state, no matter how many people would see right through her.

You reached up to gently wipe away the tears that streaked down her cheeks, her freckles being in view, something that you missed so dearly, your touch light and tender as you held her—your world—in your hands.

"I wish I could've been there for you," you regretted, "I wish I was there every night, to wipe away the inevitable tears that would grace your face, to hold you in my arms every night.

Jenna shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips, "all that matters is that you're here with me." She chuckled. "Why are you here?"

"Booking a small plane ticket from New York to here was the smallest price to pay for the chance to hold you in my arms once again."

"You know those are expensive, y/n," she scolded you, yet her tone was playful. "How long are you planning to stay?"

You hummed, a grin curling on your lips, "As long as you want me to be here," you replied, "I can't go back when I don't have a return ticket."

Jenna leaned into your touch, her eyes closing as she savored the warmth of your embrace, she didn't know how much she took advantage of this until now. She was afraid you'll be leaving soon, even with all assurances, everything you'll be giving her wouldn't be enough to ease her fears of you departing from her soul once more.

"I love you, y/n. Too much."

"I love you too, Jenna. You know I was only a flight away."

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Y: i heard your voicemails, by the way. J: i sent voicemails?

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a/n: sorry if this request was so so so late!! i still have more requests in my inbox and they'll probably be delayed for a couple of days or maybe even weeks because of exams. buttt ill try to post as much as i can with requests and super sorry in advance to those who requested! ill be updating future posts in my masterlists

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x female reader #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega

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bettyfrommars · 10 months ago

Text

Dirty Metal Summer

a Dirty Dancing au

Part 1: Big Girls Don't Cry

Eddie x fem!Reader

MASTERLIST PLAYLIST

It's 1987, the same year the movie Dirty Dancing was originally released. 21-year-old reader is spending the summer with her dad and aunt at an all-inclusive resort in Indiana while she figures out what she wants to do with her life. After that summer, nothing will never be the same. Eddie is in his late 20’s and works as maintenance staff, he is also the frontman for the house band, begrudgingly delivering top 40 hits for the guests, and a secret third thing. When work is over, there is a completely different scene happening at a place the employees call The Hideout. Wayne is the head maintenance man, Chrissy is a metalhead, and a few other surprises. Bonus: Steve as a sexy, tattooed musician because I can't help myself.

my blog is always 18+only, MDNI please. The only warnings for the first chapter have to do with mention of a death of a parent, mention of grief, allusions to depression, a tiny bit of aggression, and alcohol consumption. But please read chapter warnings as the story progresses, because there will be angst, hurt/comfort, violence (fighting), and smut. Reader is called Bird as a nickname.

A/N: this is a rewrite of an OC fic I wrote over a year ago, and damn, I really needed to change a lot because my writing has evolved so much. I know I posted a snippet last week, but it's all been changed. Thank you to those who have been excited about this, I know Dirty Dancing is a cherished film, so I am treating this retelling with reverence, while adding some creative spins, and I truly hope you enjoy. The ST characters in this fic do not know each other in the same way they did in the show. For instance, Eddie, Steve, and Chrissy all grew up together, but I do my best to stick with their original character traits. This first part lines up very close with the film, but after that, it diverges and becomes a bit different. Same story line, but also not.

Part 1: Big Girls Don't Cry

word count: 6.3k

The soft murmur of a talk radio station hummed in the cement gray Mercedes-Benz 560, with your dad behind the wheel and his sister, your aunt Kim, in the passenger seat. From the backseat, you stared out the window with your headphones on, wishing for rain. The scenery was what you would expect from a place on earth that everyone considered idyllic, but you’d been exposed to so much lush greenery with that bright blue, theater backdrop of a sky for the last hour that you were starting to get a headache.

You pushed your wayfarer sunglasses up to rub the bridge of your nose, and then flipped the tape over in your Walkman before clicking it shut to press play. You were listening to a mixtape you’d made especially for the trip, the spine even said “road trip from hell”, but the first one on side b was Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac, and you closed your eyes for the next several songs. You were doing your best not to think about how you’d be trapped in BFE Indiana for a whole month.

You were also doing your best not to think about how your mother would not be home when you got back, or worse yet, the fact that you would never see her again. Never feel her generous hugs in those Laura Ashley dresses, smelling of Shalimar; never hear her voice at the other end of the line reminding you to eat something.

Your aunt said your name and your eyes snapped open. It was perfect timing because tears were beginning to form at your lash line. She had turned around in her seat and was trying to get your attention.

You pulled your headphones down around your neck. “Sorry?”

“The lake,” the expression on her face harbored more excitement than you’d ever felt in your entire life. “Isn’t it gorgeous? We’re going to get pedicures at the spa tomorrow, I already booked it.”

You glanced at your father’s stoic profile and then back to Kim. You felt bad for your aunt, getting stuck on a trip with two sad, mopey fucks who were too depressed to get excited about the things that thrilled normal people. You were the walking wounded.

“Pedicures, great,” your smile did not reach your eyes, but she didn’t seem to notice, as her enthusiasm doggedly refused to wane.

It had been almost four months since you lost her, and the world was still too…bright. Everyone was so talkative and alive and you couldn’t relate.

You looked out over the smooth expanse of lake that was nestled perfectly in the trees like you were in some type of miniature scale model rebuild of a town. Your aunt asked your dad, Owen, if he was still listening to the news, and when he shook his head, she changed the radio station to a golden oldies station and was satisfied with the tune Big Girls Don’t Cry by Frankie Vallie.

“You’ll love this cabin, Bird,” your dad said to you as the Mercedes crested the hill and began to maneuver down to your destination on a narrow, two-lane highway flanked with towering trees. A big green and white sign welcomed them to Hawkins Landing. “There’s a whole top floor where you can set up for your lessons.”

You turned away, back to the window, hiding the way your nose wrinkled. You thought maybe a perk of this getaway would be to have a break from practicing the cello you’d been tied to for over a decade, but no luck. He’d been forced to give up his dream of being a musician, and now you were expected to carry the torch for him.

You tried to come up with one thing you did in life that was not to please someone else, or boost some idea they had about you, and couldn’t come up with squat.

Besides reading. And taking long walks with music to clear your head. Those two were yours, and they could only be taken from your cold, dead, hands.

From the Hawkins Landing brochure your aunt had given you, it was clear that the property was enormous. Some 30 or 40 guest cabins scattered around, a main house that functioned as a hotel but also housed two different restaurants. A golf course, boat rentals, tennis courts, an outdoor theater, and a third restaurant situated on the water. Along with the full service spa, there were indoor and outdoor swimming pools, plus any class you could imagine wanting to take, from salsa dancing and water skiing, to chess and crochet.

Hawkins Landing was like a camp for adults who enjoyed alcoholic beverages.

There was a security checkpoint at the main entrance with two guards inside. The taller one with the neatly trimmed red beard recognized your father from the jacket cover on one of his many books. Thrillers mostly, horror if you squint. He nervously asked for an autograph, but Owen was very polite, adjusting his tortoise shell glass as he took the black marker that the guard was offering him.

After the checkpoint, it wasn’t long before the road opened into an expansive rose garden with a large fountain dead center, and the big main house with its wrap-around porch just to the right. You pushed your sunglasses up to get a look at the people mingling around, getting the idea that the median age there was 45, and it was mostly families.

The guards had given your dad a foldout map of the property and told him to check in at the main house to get the keys to the cabin they were staying in. The car moved at a crawl at the roundabout, and then came to park where a sign announced new guest check-ins.

Your dad told you to sit tight while he went in to grab the keys, and your attention trailed off to a black golf cart with a white awning that wheeled in like a racecar and took position in front of the Mercedes. It sat there close to the curb, idling. You could see there was a woman behind the wheel, and she was looking straight ahead, giving you her profile. Chin length, dark gold hair, just long enough for a ponytail, and the words “Hawkins Landing Staff” written in yellow cursive on the back of her navy blue jacket. Where her sleeve was pushed up at her elbow, you noticed some type of tattooed lettering there, and her fingernails were painted black.

Up ahead, you caught sight of someone strolling down the sidewalk toward the car with a hand in his pocket. It was a guy with honey tipped chocolate hair styled in a pompadour with a curl that bounced at his forehead, wearing tan chinos and a maroon, button down short sleeve with the square bulge of a pack of smokes in his front pocket. A tattoo peeked out from the V of his shirt, and there was another design on his bicep. He wore a pinky ring on one hand and rolled a toothpick around in his mouth as he sidled up to the golf cart to say something to the woman driving it. They bumped knuckles and talked for a bit like they were very familiar, him with one foot up on the running board of the cart.

“Steve, there you are,” from the open window, your attention bounced to a short, dark haired woman who’d just come out of the building and stood alongside your dad on the sidewalk. A closer look told you that her name tag said Joyce.

The guy with the toothpick in his mouth straightened, smoothing the front of his shirt with his hand. “Hey Joyce, I was just—”

Apparently uninterested in what he was about to say, she took him by the crook of the arm. She introduced you all by your family name, and let him know that you were “her special guests”, and you assumed that had to do with your dad being a famous author, or maybe she said that about every new family. While you chose to not do much else than offer a small wave from the back seat like you had no autonomy, Kim got out to greet them properly.

“This is Steve,” Joyce gestured to him with a Vanna White hand. “If you ever want to take guitar lessons this summer, he’s one of our best.”

“Or, if you just want to have some fun,” Steve’s eyes seemed to be searching Kim’s face, and then he shrugged. “I mean, I run the boats on the dock too, so if you want to ski or—”

Kim got flustered and tried to find her words, fussing with the lapel of her corduroy jacket in a way you’d never witnessed before. “I’m…I mean, sure, who wouldn’t want to be on the lake at a place like this?”

Kim hated boats and got seasick very easily, so you found her new interest amusing.

Joyce politely waved Steve off and he went, albeit reluctantly, backing up with slow steps to wave farewell. The smile stretching across his face grew wider the longer Kim couldn’t take her eyes off of him. When he was finally jogging up the sidewalk to get to where he needed to be, Joyce continued to try and sell Kim and your dad on the resort, even though you were already booked for the month.

“Sunday night is Bingo night. There’s karaoke in The Antler Room on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and you need to check out our house band if you can. They’re playing tonight on the back patio, and the rhythm guitar is sensational. She used to perform with Vixen and Lita Ford,” she handed over the necessary keys and pointed the way to get to the cabin on the map.

“Just follow us,” Joyce said, hopping into the golf cart next to the girl with the forearm tattoo.

They led the way down a long, winding stretch with lush lawn and manicured hedges on either side, littered with people coming up from the pool in their bathing suits. There appeared to be a Tai Chi lesson happening on the lawn near the rose garden, and some type of painting class going on just above them on a balcony.

Made you wonder why summer people always had to stay so busy.

The cabin you’d be staying in was down a side road, tucked at the end of a private driveway with a view of the lake. It had five bedrooms, which was more than enough, but one of them would immediately turn into Owen’s writing room so that he could work on his latest novel.

You were careful to tuck your Walkman into your bag as the Mercedes coasted into its parking spot. Squinting up at the place, you were somewhat distracted by how much you liked the creepy, old feel of the whitewashed cabin, and you underestimated how far from the curb you were when you stepped out, stumbling to the side.

The girl with the forearm tattoo caught you in both arms, preventing you from putting all of your weight on your twisted ankle.

“Whoa,” she moved her supportive grip from your waist to your elbow as you righted yourself. “You okay?”

Your heart shot into your throat, and then you coughed a laugh, covering your face. “What a way to start the summer.”

She said her name was Robin, and there was a polite handshake exchange. She tripped over her words a bit. “It’s not every day that someone falls for me.”

“Well, I’m pretty clumsy, you might need to stay close,” and the two of you shared a self-conscious laugh as you led the way to the trunk full of baggage.

When you reached in to grab your suitcase, Robin teased, “hey, that’s my job,” before leaning further in to take the oddly shaped black hard case, the satin of her jacket skimming your arm. She struggled with it at first, but then held it up by the handle and gave you a sideways look.

“This yours?” She asked, cocking one eyebrow up. “You’re a musician?”

“No, well, yes I am but no I, I play the cello,” you stammered, not sure why it was hard to get the words out. “But here, I can carry that. It’s big and heavy and—”

Robin winked. “I got it,” and then she snatched another suitcase with the other hand and shuffled by you to make her way up to the porch.

Once you were all settled inside and Joyce had explained all of the amenities, you and Kim pushed back the curtains and watched the two go from the living room window. Just before they took off in the cart, Robin sent you a wave.

“She looks like a nice girl,” Kim had her arms folded over her chest. “Maybe the two of you could—”

“I know you’re worried about me, okay, but I don’t need to make any friends this summer,” you were holding the case for your cello in front of you with both hands, using it as a metaphorical barrier. “I like being alone.”

By the time you put your stuff away in the bedroom you’d be staying in, your dad was already typing away in his writing room, you could hear the keys of his Selectric click-clacking.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” you called across the rustic but spacious cabin living room. “I’m going to look around the main house.”

Kim barely caught your words as she was struggling with her glasses to read an ingredient label as she put some dry goods away in the kitchen. “Mhmm sounds good, have fun. Be back in time for dinner, we have reservations at…whatever that place is called. Your dad knows.”

You tapped the Swatch on your wrist and gave an absent wave over your shoulder.

With your headphones on, you made your way down to the main sidewalk that split off in two directions, bordering either side of the swimming pool and tennis courts. You found the bike path that wound down along the lake to the boat dock, and then up into a lush pocket of dense forest. Two teenage girls on rollerblades almost crashed into you as they bolted around the bend, giggling. Trying to decide if you wanted to go toward the water or into the woods, you watched a staff member veer off onto an uneven stone pathway and your curiosity was piqued.

Creeping along in their wake, you marched up a hill for what felt like forever, with Bring on the Dancing Horses by Echo and the Bunnymen playing in your ears, until you realized with a start that you’d already arrived at the main building. It loomed up ahead like a mansion from some old gothic romance novel.

You continued to plod your way along the trunks of trees, until you spotted a group having a chat on the wide porch, and took a few steps back.

They were all leaning against the railing in a semicircle, facing each other, so that you could see the Hawkins Landing Staff on the back of a few of their navy jackets.

One of them was Steve from earlier, next to him was a girl with a blonde ponytail, and then two others.

“I met that author guy today,” Steve took a drag and then blew the smoke up in the air, away from everyone’s face. “The one who wrote Darkness on the Hill, that one they made into a movie.”

You realized that it was your dad he was talking about.

Not looking where you were stepping, you caught your toe on a tree root and your arms windmilled before you were able to find your balance, floundering to duck behind another tree. Your mouth opened in a silent scream, trying not to gasp at the pain in your foot. Grimacing, you turned the volume down on the headphones that were around your neck to better hear what they were saying.

“That actor from that one show about law and order is staying in cabin 8,” the girl with the ponytail said. “Housekeeping says he finishes a bottle of whiskey a night.”

But then, there was another voice. “Now that sounds like a great fucking vacation to me,” followed by the heavy footfalls of boots on wood as a new person approached the group.

The sight of the new arrival made you feel like your brain was wiped clean—-the whole world came to a screeching halt.

Swallowing hard, all of your attention tunneled on him; his long dark hair with bangs that crowded his eyes, a thin but muscular build, tattoos scattered over his exposed arms, and a leather jacket hooked over his shoulder with one finger. He combed a hand through his hair as he walked, chunky metal rings catching the light, and headed over to the blonde girl. You took note of every movement as she passed him her half-smoked cig and he gave her a quick kiss on the temple.

Was that his girlfriend?

He stepped back to introduce the younger guy he had with him. “This Jamie, my new maintenance trainee,” he used the hand holding his smoke to point to each one on the balcony individually. You really didn’t pay attention until he got to the blonde one. “...that one there is the lovely Chrissy, and the moody one with the hairy chest is Steve. They’re the other musicians I told you about.”

Jamie had short black, curly hair and a hoop piercing in one ear. He lit his own smoke while the metalhead started in with a story about a pump exploding at the pool house, complete with wild hand gestures.

“Hey, there the fuck you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you losers.”

Another voice, another person making their way down the long stretch of squeaky wood planks from the front of the building. You stepped closer, snapping a twig under your foot, eliciting a worried lip bite.

Everyone stayed right where they were, but for Eddie who moved in front of Jamie in a protective way. The guy approaching at a stroll had very nondescript good looks with his wheat blonde hair in a tight cut that looked freshly trimmed. While the others were dressed more casually, this one wore a white dress shirt and tie with black trousers, as if he had some fancy place to be.

“You talking to me?” The metalhead flicked his cigarette ash and stepped forward to meet the new guy before he could come any closer to the group. “Cause, if so, you might want to change your tone, precious.”

“Eddie, don’t,” Chrissy said, and then she stood up, addressing the guy in the suit. “Jason, what the fuck do you want?”

Eddie, you moved your lips, whispering the name to yourself. His name was Eddie.

Jason put his hands up in mock surrender. “Why so hostile?” He turned to Eddie. “Joyce has been trying to find you for an hour. There’s a toilet backed up in one of the cabins, and trash that needs to go to the dump. Sounds to me like you’re having a hard time doing your job, Munson.”

You scuttled like a crab, moving to a spot where you could see their faces instead of the backs of their heads.

So that you could see Eddie’s face.

Steve checked his watch and pushed off of the railing to snub his cig out on the bottom of his shoe. “I gotta run. See you bastards at the show tonight,” he said in passing, shoving both hands into his trouser pockets. He walked right into Jason, shoulder checking him, before casually going on his way. Jason shot him an evil look.

“Well,” Eddie took a deep breath. “Tell Joyce I got the message,” and then he motioned for Jamie to follow him.

“Too bad we can’t take you out with the rest of the trash, freak,” Jason mumbled, loud enough for you to hear every word, and a tension crackled in the air.

The metalhead stopped dead in his tracks and drew his shoulders back.

When he finally turned on his heel, he wore a satisfied smirk, inclining his head, as if he’d been waiting for Jason to say something all along.

Chrissy moved as if she were about to go over and break up whatever was about to happen, but one of the others put a handout and stopped her.

“Just keep sending your laundry home to mommy, baby boy, and leave the real work to me,” Eddie said, and then he flicked the butt of his cigarette at Jason’s face.

Jason moved his head just in time so that the hot cherry missed his cheek by a hair and bounced off the wall behind him, spraying sparks. Chrissy and the others snickered at how beet red Jason’s face got, but he didn’t say another word, he just waited for Eddie and Jamie to be far enough away before he went back around to the front entrance.

When the coast was clear, you stood and made your way to the path again. With a curse you realized you were going to be late for that dinner reservation, and picked up speed to a slow, sad jog.

You found yourself thinking that maybe being trapped at Hawkins Landing for the summer wouldn’t be so bad after all.

—----

Your aunt Kim gave you an exasperated look when you all finally sat down for dinner, being that you’d made everyone 20 minutes late for the reservation. There didn’t appear to be a single open table when you arrived, but Joyce had made sure to keep the one by the window facing the gardens open for your party. She came around to introduce the guy who was to be your waiter, and you sat up a little straighter in your seat when you realized it was Jason from earlier. The way he’d been dressed out on the porch made sense now, as his uniform was the same as all of the other waitstaff.

Near the end of the meal, Joyce returned to the table in her black pencil skirt and fitted jacket, but this time, she was with a guy who you could tell wanted to look like Don Johnson in Miami Vice, but it came off more as Gary from Weird Science.

“I'd like you to meet Troy, he’s the son of Mr. Brenner, the owner of the resort,” there was a reluctance about her, as if she’d been forced at gunpoint to introduce him.

Troy stared at you with an uncomfortable intensity, making your attention fall to your plate.

“I’m in charge when my father isn’t around,” Troy said with a smug grin, putting his hands in his white trouser pockets, and you spotted some type of metal retainer on his teeth.

Joyce cleared her throat, annoyed that his statement was far from true. But she recognized that it was part of her job to indulge the little shit.

“I just graduated with a business degree from Georgetown,” he gloated, giving you a wink. “This place will all be mine one day.”

Your father exchanged a look with your aunt over his chocolate mousse.

“Well, it’s nice to know someone else your age here, isn’t it, Bird? Maybe you two kids should go have some fun tonight,” Kim chirped.

If your aunt wasn’t so far away, you would’ve kicked her under the table.

Troy bent at the waist so that his face wasn’t far from yours. “I’d love to show you around after dinner, if you’re interested in a tour?”

Before you could issue a vague excuse like, “sorry I can’t, I have a headache,” Kim spoke for you again.

“I think that’s a great idea,” she even clapped her hands, applauding it.

In the end, you went with him to make Kim happy, to get her off your back, hopefully for the rest of the trip.

An hour or two with a pretentious prick wouldn’t hurt you.

—-------

Troy wasn’t bad company, but he was quite full of himself. He had interesting stories about his extensive travels, but then he also told awkward stories that were possibly fibs about how many models he’d dated, and expanded on how he wanted to be married with two kids by the time he was 30.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t imagine thinking that far ahead, and he wouldn’t let you get a word in edgewise.

You followed close behind through the huge, busy kitchen of the restaurant you’d just dined in, and he tried to hold your hand when he introduced you to the head chef, but you were sly, and pulled it away to cross your arms over your chest. He gave you a tour of the ballroom and took a stroll through the other restaurant on the opposite end of the building that had a much more relaxed feel, low lighting, red carpet, and a bar at the center.

You went down to the boat docks and walked along the pier. The stars were breathtaking, but Troy didn’t notice, he was too busy trying to convince you to go out on his boat with him. You declined, taking a page from Kim’s book to mention a freshly born curse of violent seasickness.

You had your elbows on the railing at the pier, enjoying the velvet reflection of the crescent moon in the lake, and you could feel your jaw grow tense under the weight of Troy’s stare.

On the verge of telling him you were ready to head back to your cabin, the sound of music drifted down from somewhere on the property.

Yes, no mistaking, it was Take Me Home Tonight by Eddie Money, but it was being executed with someone else’s voice, and whoever that person was had some serious pipes.

And then there was the distinct sound of a feminine voice chiming in with the parts from the song Be My Baby Now by the Ronettes in the chorus.

"Is that a live band?" You turned away from him to try and find the source of the music. It wasn’t coming from the restaurant on the water or any of the cabins to your right.

"There's a cover band every Friday out behind the main house. You want to check it out?" He held the crook of his arm out to you and hesitated before you took it. His ego sufficiently stroked now that you wanted to spend more time with him.

Around the side of the building, overlooking the golf course, was a huge, fenced in back patio garden area with a private hot tub and pool for hotel guests. Troy led you through a white arbor wound with ivy to find that there were plenty of people mingling, drinking, and dancing. The area was mostly manicured lawn, with stone pathways meandering around from a concrete floor that was right in front of the small riser that was meant to be a stage. You imagined that a million weddings had taken place there.

At the door was a bar, and Troy got you a flute of champagne, which you downed with abandon and asked for another. While he was getting your second glass, you made your way along under several boughs of white string lights to get a view of the stage and who was performing the top tier Eddie Money cover.

Just as you stepped into the crowd of people shuffling to the beat, you stopped dead in your tracks.

There he was at the mic: Eddie the metalhead.

Guitar slug low at his hips, wearing a tuxedo with light blue cummerbund and bow tie, his hair neatly combed back and fixed into a knot at the back of his head so that you could really see the curves of his face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was performing the song against his will.

The rest of the band were dressed similarly, and you instantly knew the one strumming the bass guitar as Steve, and the woman on backup vocals rocking on the rhythm was Chrissy, who wore a conservative skirt and flats. There was also a keyboardist and a drummer, both of whom you did not recognize.

“What’s your major?” Troy asked, breaking your reverie to pass you the glass of champagne. “In college?”

You were confused for a second but then, “oh, I took the year off to…figure some things out.” The full truth of it was that you had dropped out completely and had no intention of going back.

“I spent a summer in Greece my freshman year,” he offered, unprovoked. “The women there are, wow, so smoking hot.”

The song finished and Eddie took his tuxedo jacket off, rolling up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, exposing the scattered tattoos you’d noticed earlier. He leaned over to whisper something to Chrissy, motioned at the drummer, and then stepped back into place, brushing a loose wisp of hair off his cheek.

“Find someone special for this next one,” he told the crowd, and was answered with a rush of murmurs.

The first notes to In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel, a slow song, lit up the space, and your stomach tightened, fearing that Troy would ask you to dance. As he escorted you to the floor, you tried to keep your head down and stay to the back of the crowd, but Troy kept maneuvering you closer to the stage.

I get so lost, sometimes

Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart

When I want to run away

I drive off in my car

But whichever way I go

I come back to the place you are

You watched the performance from over Troy’s shoulder and followed his lead, shifting from foot to foot. You were mesmerized by the muscles in Eddie’s hands as he played each note, and the way Chrissy came in like an angel on the chorus.

He’d captured the attention of everyone in the garden at that moment, and there was a group of women watching him from the sidelines, whispering to each other, possibly about how they wanted to eat him alive.

They were all thinking the same thing you were: Eddie was magic.

He liked to close his eyes when he sang, so you weren’t expecting him to be staring right at you when he opened them again.

All my instincts, they return

And the grand facade, so soon will burn

Without a noise, without my pride

I reach out from the inside

He wouldn’t break eye contact, so you eventually had to; the intensity of it was giving you butterflies.

Troy stepped back and tried to get your attention. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

You nodded, but your gaze only drifted back to Eddie. Troy followed your line of sight and then dropped both of his hands with a frustrated cluck of his tongue.

"What the hell is he doing up there?" He hissed to himself when it dawned on him that Eddie had been behind the mic that whole time. "That's our goddamn maintenance guy. He shouldn't be up there."

In a huff, Troy pushed through the crowd and headed over to one of the other staff members against the fence. Bird could see him shouting and pointing over at the stage. Whatever the staff guy said did not seem to cheer him up a bit, and he came back to your side, shrugging his shoulders.

"I guess our normal front man Drew has the flu," he reported back. "It's just so hard to find reliable help these days."

Eddie was making the song his own, and that was what you liked about it.

“Let’s get out of here,” Troy put his hand on your lower back to escort you out. “The music sucks.”

—--

It was 9:30 when you made it back to the main foyer, standing in the middle of the lobby next to an obnoxious floral arrangement, when Troy tried to get you to go back to his cabin and watch a movie, only to get respectfully declined.

“Don’t worry about your parents,” Troy said, brushing his finger over your chin. “They know you’re with me, so they’re probably the happiest parents at Hawkins Landing.”

The guy had quite an ego on him, you had to give him that. It was unsurpassed by most.

In the end, you got away, and as soon as your Mary Jane’s hit the cobblestones outside the front door, you could feel yourself trotting at a quicker pace, eager to put some distance between you and Troy and everyone else, for that matter. You didn’t stop until you were far enough away from the main hotel to be able to check over your shoulder and not see it through the trees.

It was then that you realized that you had a free chunk of time, and you could do with it whatever you wished. Your dad would think you were still with Troy, and as long as you made it back to the cabin before midnight, they wouldn’t worry.

As much as it was the dead of summer, Indiana by the water had very cool nights, and you buttoned up the jean jacket you were wearing just as you noticed a yellow sign on a lamppost to the right that said: Staff Quarters, No Guests Allowed Beyond This Point

And that made you want to venture in even more.

You checked around to make sure there was no one there to notice that you blatantly ignored the sign, and just kept going. The path at your feet changed from stone to a well-worn dirt path through the grass, and it wasn’t long before you could hear the sound of music erupting in the distance.

You passed by staff quarters, a few weathered red cabins with white trim, lined close together, and there were some people hanging out on their porches who gave you curious looks, but didn’t seem too concerned with your presence.

Following the source of the music, you descended down into unknown, poorly lit territory that no longer looked like it was part of the Hawkins Landing property.

(song playing in the distance is Dangerous Meeting by Mercyful Fate)

It was then that you noticed a pale yellow light coming from the windows of a building up ahead. Just as the dirt path turned to gravel, you identified the music you were hearing as heavy metal, and it was bolstered by distinct shouts and cheers, even a high-pitched scream or two.

“Hey,” a voice startled you from out of the dark and you jumped. “What are you going out here?”

Heart racing, you spun around to find out it was Robin.

She was struggling to carry several things in her arms as she walked and you rushed over to her.

“Where did you come from?” You asked, grinning ear to ear at how glad you were to see someone familiar.

“My cabin is right over there,” she bucked her chin in a direction behind you.

She had a crossbody bag over her shoulder, an amp in one hand, and she was juggling two guitar cases, one of which she fumbled, and you managed to catch it before it hit the ground. You wrapped your arms around the hard case with the Scorpions sticker on it, silently offering to carry it the rest of the way.

“You don’t have to—” Robin started, adjusting the bag over her shoulder.

“I want to,” you looked back up at the house where the music was coming from, assuming that was where she was headed. “I carry that big cello around all the time, remember? I’m used to it.”

Robin moved her jaw from side to side and she looked conflicted. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Your eyes were still locked on the house hidden in the trees. “What is that place?”

“Listen,” she gave you an imploring look. “I will get in so much trouble if they find out you came out here. Your dad won’t want you here, trust me.”

Her warning did nothing to squelch your curiosity. “I’m a big girl, I go wherever I want. Plus, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Besides,” she gave you a knowing look, raising her eyebrow. “If your boyfriend Troy finds out you were here, Brenner will fire all of us.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you snapped. But then, softer, you added, “I barely just met him tonight.”

Robin wasn’t in the mood to try and rip the guitar out of your hands, and so, with a heavy sigh, she caved.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But stay close to me, okay? You’re not at the resort anymore, sweetheart.”

You nodded, waiting for her to lead the way.

She took a step forward and then stopped and turned on her heel to point at the instrument in your arms.

“Be extra careful with that, it’s Eddie’s baby. He’ll grow horns if anything happens to it.”

----

Hi! If you are familiar with the movie Dirty Dancing, you have an idea about what scene is coming up next. I've really enjoyed lining up certain events with the movie, but things will obviously be different in this because I want it to have some surprises in store for you.

Every chapter from here on out will start with a list of the songs, ones that will give hints for what to expect. I wanted to make music a big part of this fic, because it was a huge deal in the movie, and the original soundtrack is still dear to me.

as always, thank you so much for reading and interacting with this story! Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated. or send me an ask and let me know what you think ❤️

------

taglist: @tlclick73 @micheledawn1975 @kurdtbean @katethetank @elvendria @spookysqaush86 @somethingvicked @stylesxmunson @laurenlokirby @sapphire4082

#Dirty Metal Summer #dirty dancing au #Eddie Munson series #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson smut #Stranger Things fic #Steve Harrington #robin buckley

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ccsainzleclerc5516 · 8 months ago

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This Is Where You Stand With Me

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: none

A/N: pls read this for better understanding thanksss!!

Sooo once upon a time, a few months ago actually, I started writing a Charles fanfic - never finished it - I had a reeeally good story in mind, wrote around 20 chapters and then I just got bored of it, BUT! I wrote some really good pieces that I'd be sorry no one ever read so I thought I'd post them. Actually I've already posted one part of the story that comes waay later than the ones I'm gonna post now, but anyway it's the one called Lovers .

Basically, it's a story about a girl (you) who broke up with her boyfriend of five years. She was very unhappy in the relationship because her boyfriend didn't treat her right all those years and then after she gathered her strength and broke up with him, she decided to live a little and go visit her best friend Sophie in Monaco. Sophie has been in a relationship with Carlos for a while, and his teammate Charles is in a relationship with a girl (Ava) who isn't with him for the right reasons and doesn't really care about him. due to a combination of circumstances, you stayed in Monaco to live in Sophie's apartment and started running social networks for Ferrari, filming behind the scenes and similar things. From the very beginning, you and Charles have a love-hate relationship. He keeps sending you mixed signals and you never know where you're standing with him.

Ok, hope you'll like it, let me know if you'd even like to read more parts! Bye!

This is the part where you, Carlos, Sophie, Kika, Pierre, Charles and Lando are on the yacht. Sophie introduces you to all of them here for the first time and you're very nervous about it so you drink a bit too much..

Y/N's POV

Carlos, Sophie and I were the first ones to arrive. Their firends, Pierre and his girlfirend Kika, Charles and his girlfriend Ava, and I guess the only single friend Lando, arrived shortly after us. For me, the biggest introvert on the planet, this was quite a large number of people to meet at once and I did feel very anxious.

Luckily there was a vast amount of drinks on the yacht so I found mine tranquilizers - cranberry vodka and sangria. As soon as the alcohol started coursing through my system, I soon opened up a topic to talk about with everyone. Well, almost everyone. Charles and his girlfriend Ava seemed to have some disagreements so they weren't really in the best mood. She looked like she didn't really wanna be here and he was annoyed that she didn't wanna be here at least that's what I heard when I was going to the toilet because they were alone inside and arguing.

The evening went on with us all sitting in the lounge area, talking and drinking. I was truly having so much fun and I got along the most with Lando. He's so sweet and caring and funny, I was enjoying his company. Eventually Ava left. She was able to leave since we didn't set sail but stayed in the marina. Charles was fuming that she left. When Carlos asked him why she left he said she made arrangements with her friends earlier, he didn't want to talk about it much. Charles went on the upper lounge area and Lando went after him so he wasn't alone and I stayed with Carlos, Sophie, Pierre and Kika in the lounge area on the main deck.

"I love you." I hear Carlos quietly says to Soph while looking at her lips. She was in a half-lying position in his arms. I was scrolling through my phone across from them but I couldn't help but look at them out of the corner of my eye.

"I love you." Sophie smiles and gently kisses him. My eyes got watery at the sight of them. My heart hurt a little and for a second I wished I had what they have. I wasn't envious of them, not at all, I was actually very happy for them and for the first "I love you". But for a second the excitement about the single life passed me and looking at the couples I felt a little lonely.

I get up from the couch and head towards the back of the yacht were was the entrance to the inner part of the yacht. I lean my elbows on the fence and look down at the sea.

Did I make a good decision?

Should i have given us another chance?

Will i regret giving up on us?

Suddenly questions that I constantly avoid facing start to roll around in my head.

No! Of course I made a good decision, he doesn't deserve another chance and I'm not gonna regret anything!

I attribute those thoughts to the excessive amount of alcohol I've consumed since we got here.

Y/n, you were miserable with him, pull yourself together please, you are stronger than these thoughts. I say to myself, but one tear escapes from my eye. And then another one. And one after that.

"Shit.." I breathe out putting my palms over my eyes.

"What happened, Y/n?" A voice asks and it startles me.

"Oh, you scared me." I say looking at Charles standing beside me, but quickly look away wiping the tears from my cheeks.

"Why are you crying?" Charles asks looking at me.

"Too many drinks led me to a moment of weakness. That's all." I say not really wanting to talk to him about my emotional state.

"And what is the reason behind that moment of weakness?" He asks.

"I don't feel like talking about it, but I was wondering how long have you and Ava been together?" I suddenly blurt out turning to look at him. My mind is racing. I was curious about their fight because the way he looked at her, he seemed like he's really in love, but her, not so much according to my estimate.

"A year and a half now. Why do you ask?"

"Sweet. And why did you fight today?" I ask shamelessly and he rises his eyebrows at my question.

"Not that it's any of your business, but-" Just as he was about to say something a strong pain shoots through my stomach. Rocking of the yacht from the waves together with cranberry vodka and sangria equals nausea.

"Oh no.. I-I think I'm gonna throw up.." And just in that moment as I lean over the fence it starts shooting right out of me.

I was hoping that somehow I would be able to control myself and not throw up in front of him, but it was stronger than me. And honestly if I were sober, I would be ten times more embarrassed than I am now.

"Oh come on." He sighs and to my surprise he moves my hair out of my face holding it back. "Please don't fall over, I'm not jumping in for you."

"Oh my God, I'm gonna die.."

"Out of embarrassment? Yeah, I would too if I were you." Charles mocks me, but still holds my hair.

"Oh give me a break, I'm going through a breakup!" I manage to say bitterly because of his lack of understanding for me. As if he should understand me. he doesn't know anything about me except my name, and I don't know anything about him either except that his name is Charles and that he has a girlfriend with whom he had a not so pretty fight today.

"Did he leave you because you were a drunk?" He continues with his provocation.

"Ha ha, not that it's any of your business, but I broke up with him." I'm being sassy like I didn't just throw up in front of a rich and hot F1 driver, but in that moment that fact doesn't phase me one bit.

"Okay, if you say so." He laughs. "Come here, sit on this couch please." I can't help but notice his hand tightly being wrapped around my waist as he leads me to the couch. "Not that I care, but I'm so bored that I'll listen to why you broke up with your boyfriend."

"Well, now I'm not gonna tell you." I cross my arms acting childish making him laugh again. I roll my eyes and chuckle a little myself.

"Y/n? Where are you?" Right in that moment Sophie shows up breaking the sweet moment between the two of us.

"Your friend is running wild over here, she wanted to throw herself off the yacht because her boyfriend left her." Charles says getting up from the couch and my mouth falls open.

"What?!" Sophie's eyes go wide. "Throw yourself because of him? Are you out of your fucking mind?" She asks in complete shock.

Before saying anything to Sophie to calm her down I follow Charles with my eyes as he leaves laughing.

"He's lying of course, I got sick from the alcohol and threw up."

"Why is he suddenly being all smiley like that? Until a little while ago he was furious because of Ava?"

"I don't know, he obviously has issues." I shrug with my shoulders wanting to laugh but manage to control myself.

I'm usually very good at reading people at first glance. Whoever doesn't make a good impression on me in the beginning, whoever doesn't sit well with me, almost always turns out to not have the best personality. Unfortunately, it rarely happens that someone pleasantly surprises me if I don't like them at first. I could say that my intuition is very good and accurate and I really should listen to it more often.

But with Charles that wasn't the case. I couldn't read him at all. He's kinda mysterious, he seems a bit cocky and conceited, but gentle and caring at moments. At least that's what I think I got from today.

He's interesting though.

Part 2 here

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marauder-exe · 21 days ago

Text

Press Tour- Sebastian Stan

A/N: this is a rewrite of a fic from like 5 years ago, if you want to check out the original here to see how much has changed. Feel free to leave requests! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK IN COMMENTS OR ASKS PLS i need to know if i’m still writing like i’m 14 😭

Word count:1.9K

Bang Bang Bang

Your eyes shot open as the incessant knocking reverberated the walls of your small apartment. You looked across the dimly lit room and threw a glance at your alarm clock. 3AM? Who is knocking on your door at 3AM? Whoever it is better be dying, or they will wish they were in a minute. You slipped on your night gown, and slipped your socks on, the cold floor shocking your system for a second. You threw open the door to your bedroom and trudged to your door, still reeling from your rude early morning awakening. You opened the door, not expecting a drenched Sebastian Stan at your door, surrounded by a few bags of things, equally soaked from the rain that was currently hammering against your windows.

“God Seb its 3AM, get in here.” You rushed him inside, taking note of his shivering. you had met Seb 6 months ago. You had been cast in the same movie, with you sporting a slightly smaller role than him. It was one of your first in Hollywood, being a fresh 20 something coming onto the scene, so you sought out Sebastian for advice. Since then, most days on set were spent together, running lines, or sneaking food from the buffet into your trailers for little dinners together when you got the chance. He has taken to you so well, and you would say you were closer to him than anyone you had met in the film industry so far. Your friends would claim you had a little crush on him, but some things are better left unaddressed.

“What are you doing at my door at 3AM?” You let out a slight chuckled at the absurdity of the situation, whilst collecting some of the bags that sat at your doorway. You had secretly hoped for some sappy love declaration in the rain like you'd seen in the movies, but judging by the look on his face, and the bags that lingered outside the door, you figured that would be a bit of a stretch.

“Funny story actually” He let out an awkward laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “My neighbour, he, did something, I'm not too sure what, but the whole floor of apartments is flooded, including mine.” He looked around sheepishly and took in your apartment. It was cute and dainty, much like yourself. He took note of some of the things hanging across the walls. Posters of a few movies you’d been in, certificates from high school, pictures of you and your friends. He saw a picture that he had taken of you two on the set front and centre, smiling at the memory.

“So you came here?” You stared at him as you grabbed a towel and some blankets from the cupboard. He stared back with a smile.

“Where else?” He spoke, making a smile break out on your face, and tiny butterflies float in your stomach. You knew Sebastian had never thought of you the way you thought of him. He was a lot older, and likely viewed you as a little sister more than anything. But it's not wrong for a beautiful man to give you butterflies, right?

You moved back to the couch to hand him the towels and blankets. “Well stay here as long as you like.” Offering him a warm smile. “Let me get changed and we can sort everything out.” With that you rushed back into your room and threw on some shorts and a vest top. You popped back out of your room and started to make some hot chocolate, Seb's favourite. “So, when do they think they will have everything fixed?”

“They said it'll be about a week, so I should be out of your hair soon.” He let out a small laugh, still watching you.

“Not too soon I hope, you know I love best friend time.” You let out a small smile, still focused on heating up the milk. If you hadn't been so preoccupied, you would've seen the look he was giving you, and you would've known it wasn't a look that best friends give each other.

That day, however, was 3 weeks ago now. Now, you two were dressed up to the nines, and about to leave for your first press conference.

“Seba! Come on!” You shouted through the door of your apartment. Turns out it wasn't a week to fix his apartment, it wasn't even a month. There had been no news on his apartment for the last 3 weeks, so he had been staying on your couch indefinitely. You didn't mind, you revelled in everyday spent with him, like a dream come true.

He stepped out of the room, and you couldn't help but stare, he cleans up very well. In a way that makes you sweat just a little more and your mouth run dry. You offered him a smile, trying to distract from the blush creeping up your neck.

“Do I look okay?” You asked quietly, noticing the way his eyes racked up and down your figure. You wore a fitting dress, something recommended by your stylist, it had to be special for your first press conference.

“You look...” He didn't finish, as he drunk in your appearance, just the sight of you intoxicated him. Safe to say his feelings had grown over the shared time in your apartment, but that was something he could never admit to you. He was supposed to be a mentor, not fall in love with you for Christ's sake. During your time spent together, he felt as though he got to know you on a deeper level, days filled with midnight talks and cooking together, I mean it's hard not to fall for someone like you.

“Seb?” You questioned, waving your hand in his face after a minute of silence and an unfinished sentence.

“Yeah, yeah I'm great.” He pulled himself out of his thoughts, as a smile spread across his face as he stared down at you. The car beep outside took both of your attention, as he snaked a hand around your waist. “Our carriage awaits, my dear.” You both laughed as you headed to the door, nervous as ever.

You slipped through the double doors of the hall, Sebastian protectively behind you. You glanced back at him with a nervous smile, your head feeling fuzzy before you had even entered. He instinctively squeezed your hand and whispered calming notions in your ear. You walked into the centre of the hall with Sebastian in tow. As soon as you stepped up, a chorus of ‘look over here’, ‘Sebastian’, ‘Y/N’ rang out, and blinding flashes of pictures being taken. It all felt like too much. You glance up at Sebastian, and e gave you a warm smile, and snaked his hand around your waist, something that instantly calmed you. You felt ready to take it all on.

After hours of interviews, intricate questions and plenty of pictures, you and Sebastian barged through the door of your apartment and threw yourselves on the couch. Sebastian loosened his tie and undid his top button, whilst you took your hair out and jewellery of before falling back into his arm that was threw across the couch.

“Why didn't you tell me press conferences were SO exhausting?” You sighed, loving the feeling of the soft couch treating your back.

“I couldve told you that, lovely.” He laughed a little, settling into the couch. And thats how you drifted off, for the next 12 hours. Shoes strewn across the floor and bits of your outfits across the coffee table.

The repeptitive sound of your phone buzzing woke you up. As you moved to reach for it, Sebastian stirred and woke up, glancing up at you through his lashes. “What time is it?” His groggy voice came.

“Oh sorry i didnt mean to wake you, its 10Am, and my phone is going crazy” The phone screen lit up your face as you looked at the countless notifications on your phone. Your eye was caught by a text from your friend that read ‘YOU AND SEBASTIAN STAN ARE TOGETHER ARE YOU SERIOUS?’. Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion as you continuted to scroll and finally opened twitter. Sebastian moved closer to you to see what had caused your silence. Your screen lit up with photos of you from the press conference, with the hashtag #AVImovie.

“Guess the press tour photos havfe been released.” He chuckled, thinking over last night.

“i guess so, i dont know why my friends are blowing me up though.’ You clicked on the screen and saw a collage of misleading hashtags. #sebsgf. #couple. #AVImovie. What is going on? You clicked on a hashtag and scrolled. Hundreds of the same photo. You and sebastian centred, his arm around your waist, and staring into eachothers eyes. They had all kinds of captions. ‘i want someone to look at me the way she looks at him.’ Oh god, if he didnt know you liked him before, he might be getting the picture. Another headline, ‘Sebastian Stan smitten on the carpet with co-star Y/N’. You turned to look at Sebastian, who had the most horrified expression on his face. Gut Punch. Fucking Twitter. You coughed awkwardly, hoping to draw the attention away from the never ending stream of notifications.

“Okay, you dont have to look at me like the mere thought of being with me would end the world” You got up from the ciuch and cleared your throat.

He just stared at you, day old makeup, with a bedhead. He stared like you were the last thing on earth. He realised they were absolutely right. He was completely smitten by you. He rushed to follow you. “Wait thats not whats happening.” He gripped your arm lightly and turned you to face him. You looked up at him through your lashes expectantly. “Theyre right.” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Whos right?” You looked to him confused.

“The people, the people on the phone, i am completely smitten with you” He chcukled lightly, throwing a glance toward your phone.

Ypur breateh hitched in your throat. “I thought you only thought of me like a sister, Seb you literally said that to me not 6 months ago.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I know, but that was before i started staying here, and i saw you in a whole different light” He cupped your face with his hand and stared at you hopefully. But you didnt have to say anything. You just leaned in and brused his lips against yours.

“i think theyre right about me too.” You whispered before closing the gap between you too. So much emotion got poured into the kiss, months of waiting, watching, hoping, all being taken out in your living room at 10AM. It was everything you had both imagined it to be. Soft. Passionate. Felt like a dream come true. You both pulled away breathlessly, staying close.

“You know,” He whsipered softly, “My apartment was fixed last week.” A sneaky smile grew across his face as you pulled away, slack jawed, an incredulous look on your face.

“You bastard!” You shouted playfully, giggling as you threw a pillow at him. He caught it swiftly, and picked you up as you let out a loud laugh.

#sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #bucky #bucky barnes x reader

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whimsiwitchy · 2 months ago

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I hear the secrets that you keep (series)

chapter seven: k.

Pedro Pascal x plus size F!reader

series masterlist

series summary: 24 year old y/n is an insecure and struggling actress in Los Angeles until she finally books a leading role in a big Hollywood movie next to her leading male, Pedro Pascal. A spark of friendship flickers between the two and slowly begins to blossom into something more. As y/n is navigating a new found fame and a new found romance, she fears that a lie she has been sitting on might ruin everything.

Warnings: plus size afab reader, she/her pronouns, use of y/n, swearing, age gap (24/14 years), descriptions of the female body, use of the word fat, descriptions of a bigger body (stretch marks, cellulite, rolls, etc.), descriptions of nudity, sexual themes.

Please let me know if I missed anything! Warnings may change as the story progresses.

chapter summary: conversations and intimacy training.

authors note: Y’all this took me way longer to write than expected. I had something else planned for this chapter but it ended up coming out like this. I really like the first half but I feel like it goes downhill towards the end. This idea is way more complicated to write for than I thought it would be lol. I still hope you enjoy!

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

“It never made sense for you to love me.”- Twilight New Moon

Love wasn’t what Pedro and you had- you understood that- but the consistent pain in your chest was telling you otherwise. In your short lifetime, you had never felt such strong emotions towards someone like you have towards Pedro, it was easy with him. He was so respectful and sweet- his charisma and it was all beginning to piss you off. Why couldn’t he just let you do your job and leave you alone? You were grateful for the friendship he had initiated because it meant your on set experience would be easier, but now that everything has gotten out of hand, you honestly wish the line between professional and personal was never crossed.

It's been a short 24 hours since your conversation with Pedro and after your intense two hour cry sesh the night prior, you felt numb. Not numb in a painful way but numb in a sense that you'd accepted what had happened and were trying your best to move forward in a reasonable manner. When you woke up this morning, you spent 20 minutes sitting on your toilet holding two icy spoons to your puffy eyes trying to reduce the swelling as much as you could, trying to hide any evidence of the pain that sat deep in your chest. It didn’t help.

Keeping yourself busy seemed like the only way to keep your mind occupied on anything other than Pedro. At first, you found it best to read over your upcoming scenes but after about 30 minutes, your head was hurting. Your mind wandered back into the forbidden territory, flashes of Pedro’s award winning smile appeared every time you would read over one of his lines. Seeing his face in your head reminded you of the hurt in his voice and the look of disappointment he had given you. Everything you did brought your thoughts right back to him. You closed your script abruptly and picked up a book instead. You’d been rereading the Twilight series and were currently nearing the end of New Moon. You hoped that Pedro and yourself would have a similar ending, that you two would be brought back together and realize that you needed each other, that you couldn’t live without each other. It was dramatic and cliche but you didn’t care. All of your common sense left your body when it came to him. Thinking wasn’t something you needed to do with him, you just had to feel. You finished a single chapter before shutting the book and giving into the inevitable thoughts that clouded your mind.

Letting out a sigh, you let your mind begin the analyzing it had been begging to do. The next time you would see Pedro would be in two days. The two of you have intimacy training early that morning and you'd film those scenes later in the afternoon. Having fake sex in front of a room of people isn’t exactly ideal for the first time you’d be seeing him again. Maybe you should reach out to him beforehand, talk things over, but you being the one to reach out first wasn’t something you wanted to do. It didn’t seem like the right thing to do. You had absolutely no clue as to how Pedro was feeling right now. He said he wasn’t mad but the tone of his voice and his body language said otherwise. You didn’t want to upset him more by bothering him before he even had time to process everything. He was at the forefront of your mind and you were praying that he wasn’t as hurt as you were. You couldn’t imagine that he was.

It never made sense, the connection, the spark, the comfort. It was all too confusing and quick. But you let it happen without much thought and looking back, you wish you hadn't been so stupid. It has never bugged you so much, losing someone, no one ever mattered enough. All Pedro had to do was actually be nice to you and you were a puddle at his feet. It was a little pathetic- but he said he liked you too, so maybe it wasn’t that pathetic.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

The next two days passed by way too fast, leaving you in the studio parking lot trying to find the will to leave your car. Your body was filled with anxiety from the thought of seeing Pedro- and from being late. You waited until the very last moment to get out of your car, being late this one time was something you were willing to do to avoid any early interactions with him. With slow strides, you made your way towards the studio doors, to the reception desk, and to the room where intimacy training would take place.

When you entered the room, Pedro was already there surrounded by a few other people. His eyes quickly met yours before he looked away just as fast.

“Sorry I'm late…traffic.” You muttered out before sitting in an empty chair across the room, praying that no one saw that you actually pulled into the parking lot 30 minutes prior, sitting in your car staring down at the steering wheel for longer than you'd care to admit.

As soon as you sat down, a woman immediately grabbed the attention of the room. She introduced herself as Elise, a trained intimacy coordinator. She briefly went over how the training would go, letting us know that we would go through some safety procedures before starting. Elise spoke for about 40 minutes on how important it is to feel comfortable with your co-star and the proper way to go about doing these types of scenes without incident. As she introduced the other crew members in the room, you stole a glance at Pedro. It’s as if he could feel your eyes on him, because he turned around, once again his eyes leaving yours just as quick as they met them.

“Okay, so before we get started, I'm going to have the two of you do a check-in. Let each other know what you’re feeling and if there's any boundaries that need to be set.” She takes a seat and is talking to one of the other people in the room. Pedro doesn’t move, so you take that as a sign to walk over to him. You were hoping he’d at least be mature enough to work with you without dragging anything personal into it.

“Good morning.” You took a moment to look at him. He was wearing a pair of charcoal gray cotton shorts with a random graphic tee. You thought he looked divine, drool worthy even.

“Morning.” He still doesn’t look at you.

You take initiative to start the check-in, letting him know where you’re at today and that you’re ready to go, no boundaries. When he responds, his voice is very mundane and his eyes continue to avoid you. You awkwardly let out a brief ‘cool’ to acknowledge that you had heard what he had said. There was a silence between you two, leaving the only noise coming from the light conversation from the group of crew members across the room.

“So, are you guys ready to get started?” Elise asked with excitement in her voice. She was way too cheery for the uncomfortable mood that lingered in the air. However, you decided to match her energy as best as you could to make the day easier on yourself.

“Of course!” You let out accompanied by a smile that didn’t quite match your tone of voice.

Everyone in the room was then instructed to make their way to the set. You walked closer to the group of crew members, while Pedro walked slower leaving a good six feet between you guys. The set wasn’t anything too crazy. Just a cliche 70s themed bedroom, filled with orange, red, and brown. A king size bed sat in the middle of one of the makeshift walls with two night stands on either side. There was a funky pattern that lined the walls and a shag rug on the floor that matched. Everyone took a seat at some chairs that sat behind a white taped line that ran across the floor behind a bunch of expensive looking equipment, leaving Elise, Pedro, and yourself standing.

“Okay, so we’re going to start by giving you a quick rundown of what you’ll be learning today.” She’s opening a binder that she had been holding and starts to spew the details of the scene.

“So this scene follows Daniel admitting to Janet that he has feelings for her ,this is going to be a very passionate and steamy shot.” She turns towards the set and instructs the two of you to do the same.

“To start, you’ll both bust through the door into the room. Daniel will be leading the makeout session, slowly pushing Janet towards the bed, but stopping right at the red tape that’s on the floor.” She’s pointing across the room with her pen as she speaks and looks back every few words to make sure Pedro and yourself are listening.

“Once you’re there, you’ll have a moment to show the love between the characters. At this mark, you’ll both be removing some clothing and Daniel will push Janet onto the bed to crawl above her, leading into sex. Any questions?” She turns to look at the both of you. Pedro shakes his head and you follow.

“Cool. Okay we’re going to run through it, stopping a few times along the way to choreograph each touch between the characters.”

This whole process was so fucking awkward. You were trying your best to be professional, but nothing was ever professional when it came to Pedro. Every time the intimacy coach placed his hand on you or vice versa, you felt your body tingle. It had only been a few days but you had already forgotten how good it felt to feel Pedro’s skin on your fingertips. He still hadn’t looked at you, avoiding your eyes when you had to be face to face.

“For the push, it doesn’t need to be a harsh push. We want it to be more of a sexy playful push rather than a dominant one.” She's speaking directly to Pedro but turns to you right after.

“When you fall, try to land with your arms propping you up on the bed. Your forearms should be touching the bed, like this. If it’s uncomfortable at all, we can change it up.” She falls back onto the bed to show you her vision. You give her a thumbs up and stand at the red mark on the floor.

“When you’re on the bed and he starts to climb over you, you’re going to crawl backwards, using your arms as leverage. Let’s have you guys try that out real quick.” Elise steps off of the set and stands past the cameras where the other crew have been sitting.

She yells a quick ‘action’ and Pedro is pushing you onto the bed. When you land onto the bed, you look up at his face to see that he’s already looking at you with an intense stare. He starts to lean onto the bed to crawl over you and you’re moving backwards as instructed. Once your head hits a pillow, Pedro is fully hovering over you. The two of you never break eye contact and you could feel your heart beating out of your chest, your breath wavering. You could feel the temperature of your body rising rapidly and a slight pulse hit your core. Having Pedro completely over your body like this was torture. His hands were on either side of your head and if you looked down towards his lower body, you could see the weight of his-

“Perfect!” Elise lets out with an excited squeal, making you snap out of the trance you were under.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

Elise had you guys run the full choreography three more times in full, minus the kissing and getting naked part. Once she and the other crew members were satisfied, everyone was sent on an hour and a half break before you all had to come back to actually film. You were feeling extremely hot and bothered. Pedro’s touch was intoxicating and the way he looked at you when he was on top of you made you feel feral.

You desperately needed to talk to him. You scanned the room and saw him walking out of two large doors that led to the parking lot. Following him, your eyes sweep over the large parking lot as quickly as possible, hoping you’d be able to catch him before he was gone.

“Pedro!” You called out the moment you found him. He was reaching for his car door but abruptly stopped when he heard his name.

“Can we please talk? Just give me five minutes. Please.” You knew you were probably the last person he wanted to talk to, but you really needed to clear some of the tension between you two.

“Okay.” He stands there for a minute before motioning for you to get into his car. When you sit down, you can feel all of the emotions from the last time you were in this seat still lingering in the air.

“How are you?” You asked genuinely with a hint of awkwardness.

“Fine.” He huffs out.

“Pedro please don’t be like that.” You practically begged. You were hoping for a productive conversation but this wasn’t going to do any good if he wasn’t willing to actually talk to you.

“Like what y/n?” He finally looks at you and he looks pissed. You let out a sigh.

“Look…I know that you’re mad at me or whatever but I don’t know what else to do here P. I didn’t mean to lie to you and I told you the truth before anything furthered between us. If you can’t forgive me then at least be professional and work with me as a costar. Please?” Your voice began to waver but you held it together. You see his eyes soften slightly.

“I told you I’m not mad at you.” His voice is soft.

“Then what are you feeling? You’ve left me in the dark P. I’ve given you space and I understand if you want nothing to do with me, but can we at least talk this out? Let me know how you feel so I’m not jumping to conclusions in my own head?” The car goes quiet, no sound other than the light thumping coming from your nails tapping the center console.

“You’re so young…” He practically whispers. “You have a whole life ahead of you, I'd only be holding you back baby.”

Your heart flutters at the endearment.

“And with how the world works, no one would approve of us. You can’t start out your career like that, having people judge you because of me. You deserve someone your age, someone you can have fun with.”

“Were we not having fun before I told you my real age? How does that change anything?” You could feel the frustration rising in you. You absolutely hated when people tried to tell you what was right for you. Pedro just struck a nerve he didn’t even know you had.

“Yea but it’s different-” You cut him off before he can finish.

“How exactly is it different P…hm?” There's a slight hint of anger in your voice, the patience you once had completely dissolving.

“You're just a kid.”

If it were physically possible, you would have steam shooting out of your ears from how angry you are right now. Looking away, you take a deep breath and think over your thoughts before your mouth spews words you’ll later regret.

“I understand that the age difference between us is way more than you bargained for but I’m not a kid. I am fully capable of making my own decisions and deciding what’s best for me and my career. I appreciate the concern but it’s not your place to think for me. If this whole thing is too much to handle then that’s fine. We can just be friends, or not even friends.. I don’t know P. I just can’t do whatever we’re doing now.” Your irritation falls off towards the end, feeling more hopeless than anything.

“I don’t want to be your friend.”

Ouch.

You’re searching his eyes trying to find any hint that he’s being mean to make this ‘breakup’ easier and not just being mean because it’s the truth.

“Okay…we can just be coworkers then.” You turn your head forward. All you can feel is the same pain that you had felt that night, but this time it felt final. There wasn’t more guessing Pedro’s feelings, no more maybes. This was it.

“Y/n…I don’t think you understand.” His hand reaches out for yours but you're moving it away before he has the chance to grab it.

“Then make me understand P… I’ve been trying to understand.”

“I can’t be your friend because I won’t be able to be close to you without longing for you every second. It’s been so long since I felt what I feel with you and it’s been eating me alive, sweetheart. All I want to do is be near you, hold you, be with you, but fuck y/n, I shouldn’t want you the way I do. I can’t have you the way I want you.” His eyes were on yours the entire time, showing you the sincerity behind every word.

You don’t know if it’s his confession or the pent of horniness you'd been harboring for the past two hours that made you jump at him but before he, or even yourself really, had a chance to process what was happening, you were leaning across the center console, lips moving with his. All of the tension in your body melted away as Pedro softly grabbed your face with his hands. This kiss was soft and full of passion, like you were making up for lost time. It was nothing short of perfect. When you pull back, you’re smiling. When you open your eyes to see the look on Pedro’s face, your smile drops.

“Y/n we can't do this.” He says giving you a pitiful look and pain tucked behind his eyes.

“K.”

You’re getting out of the car before he could protest, you needed to get away from him. Slamming the passenger door, maybe a little too hard, you’re practically stomping back to the studio. You decided to get your hair and makeup early to calm your brain down a little bit before you were surrounded by people again. God you were being so childish right now but why would he kiss you back if he still didn’t want you.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

You were zoned out the entire time you were sitting in the dressing room getting dolled up for the cameras, only speaking when one of the stylists asked a question. Your brain was working overtime right now, trying to calm your emotions while also trying to focus on the scene you'd have to film in just a few minutes.

Over the past hour, you’ve been trying to create some sort of plan to get Pedro to change his mind. You didn’t want to lose him, he was too good of a man to fumble, so you decided that you wouldn’t stop pursuing him until he told you to your face that he didn’t want you. What you were planning wasn’t ethical at all and broke all kinds of work relationship rules but your relationship with Pedro had already crossed that line the first day you had met.

Walking over to the set, you could feel the nerves rising. You wanted to seduce Pedro as best as you could. He was obviously attracted to you and you were going to abuse that. You were hoping that him seeing your naked body for the first time would send him spirling, leaving him no other choice than to want you enough to take the chance and be with you.

“Quiet on set! Can we get Daniel and Janet on set please? Thank you.”

You step onto the small platform that separated the set floor from the studio floor and walk over to Elise. Pedro stands next to you, ignoring your presence once again.

“Are you guys ready to run it?” Elise is asking with a big smile. You could see Pedro nod his head and you do the same.

“Okay, just make sure you’re doing exactly what we rehearsed. If anything feels uncomfortable let us know and we’ll stop rolling and fix the issue. You guys got this!” Elise raises her hands to give you both a high five and she's walking to sit next to the director.

“Places!”

You're both walking over to the door that you'd be bursting through in a few moments. Pedro places his hands on you, preparing for them to yell “action”. You’re looking into his eyes, getting into character and he’s doing the same.

“Ready baby?” You ask him with a smirk, wanting to fuck with his head as much as you could. His eyes go wide but before he can say anything the director's voice booms over the space.

“Action!”

He gives you a nod before diving down to kiss you. He's pushing you into the door that flings open as you walk backwards, lips still attached. When you reach the red mark on the floor, you pull apart from him. Looking into each other's eyes with the love and passion you so badly wanted from him outside of this scene. You’re reaching down to grab the hem of his shirt and lift it, just as rehearsed. He pulls the rest off by himself, leaving you to marvel at his chest for a moment before he’s reaching for your own shirt. You're looking at his eyes but he is trained down onto your cleavage, which is pushed up slightly by your bra.

When he looks back at your face, you could feel your core pulse in excitement. He had this hungry look in his eyes and you were confident that it wasn’t because he was acting. You grab his face to pull him back into you, continuing to clash tongues and teeth. Pedro reaches behind you to grab your ass, pulling you closer to him in the process. You let out an involuntary whimper. He slides his hands up the sides of your body, trailing his hands to the clasp of your bra. He pulls back and pulls each strap down your arms, letting it fall onto the floor, leaving your chest exposed to him.

“fuck ..” He lets out but it’s barely audible and it definitely wasn’t scripted.

He’s pushing you back onto the bed and the two of you began the crawl that you had practiced many times before, never breaking eye contact. Once you were laying down, Pedro hoving over you once again, you started to feel exposed and slightly insecure. Before you can think further, Pedro is pulling down your pants, leaving you in nothing but the lacy black thong that had extra lining that matched your skin tone. He takes a moment removing his own pants, leaving him in a pair of tighty whities. Even with the protective sock he wore for actor protection, you could still see the outline of his dick.

He crawls back over you, his eyes dark. You reach up to kiss him again and you begin the ‘grinding’ into him. All that was going through your head were the events of the night in your trailer. How he felt against you. Another weak moan slips past your lips and his hands are reaching down, removing the black thong and leaving the skin tone underwear that sat under it.

This was feeling way too real and you were soaked. You knew that whoever was in charge of cleaning costumes would hate their life when your soaked underwear made their way to them. Your mind refocuses to see Pedro’s own underwear had been removed, leaving him in his own weird skin toned thing, sock thingy. He looks down, pretending to grab his dick and ‘enters’ it into you. You let out a breathy moan, not entirely fake as you imagine how it would really feel. Pedro lets out a grunt and starts to rock his hips forwards onto you. The pressure of his heavy cock was rubbing you a little too good. There definitely wasn’t enough protection between the two of you and if you hadn’t had such a strong attraction towards Pedro, you’d definitely feel uncomfortable right now. He’s kissing you again but all you can do is let out tiny breathy moans into his mouth, trying your best to focus on acting. He’s giving you a nod, signaling to start the big finish. You’re both letting out boasting moans, his head falling into your neck as your hands are clawing at his back. Both breathing heavily, he gives your neck a small kiss.

You can’t help but let your mind freak out. That kiss wasn’t for the camera, it was out of view. That kiss was just for you.

“Cut!”

Pedro makes his way off of you, grabbing a robe that is being handed to him. You slowly got up, feeling dizzy and confused. You wrapped the robe that was offered to you and listened to whatever was being said by whoever was talking. You couldn’t focus even if you had tried.

You sat in the corner as everyone watched the footage, making sure it was good before releasing the team. Once the director gave the thumbs up, you were rushing back to your dressing room to get undone.

“You guys were amazing out there, the chemistry was insane. Everything looked so real! I guess that’s why you guys get paid the big bucks huh?” One of the girls in the room gushed about the performance. You simply let out a small thanks to show your appreciation.

You wanted nothing more than to go home and wallow in self pity over a man that doesn’t want you. You still planned on not giving up but you really needed a breather and a break.

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Thank you for reading <3

series tag list: @nuetralcolorsenthusiast, @kungfucapslock, @hansilandgretel, @ashleyfilm, @titabel, @fifitheragertot, @maryfanson, @ktluvsmen, @eldauvs, @dionneroyal49, @godlypresley, @bloody-bunni666, @beautiflybybri, @a-beautiful-but-sassy-world, @amo-nix

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x plus size reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro x female reader #pedro x y/n #pedro x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedrohub #pedro x plus size reader #pedro x you

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camshell · 23 days ago

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Watched '89 Batman just so I could read the original script and get mad at the changes. Spoilers, but also this won't make a lot of sense if you haven't already seen the movie

Starting off strong with the descriptions. I'm sure cranking up Jack's age some 20 years wouldn't make much of a difference to the plot...

I was going to say that the casting director is no Andrea Romano, but considering his name drops before Keaton's, I'm sure Nicholson was chosen through a more particular process. I wonder though, was that choice alone responsible for the "Joker kills Bruce's parents" idea? (side note, did Joker 2019 come up with *anything* new at all??) Or was it something that came up after they decided to erase Dick Grayson from the film to replace the original conflict?

Oh yeah, the Flying Grayson's episode happens in the original script. But let's look at Ace Chemicals first — which is not the name they used in the movie, just to piss me off

They cut out a whole section of the gang breaking into the plant. It's not a bad choice, I just liked the date makeup observation. Now to the meet cute--

Paralyzing talons? Are you kidding me, they got rid of that?? Oh, silly me, of course they did — that would get in the way of Batman's classic blowing-up-thugs rule.

Bruce didn't throw Jack off the platform here, but interestingly enough we still see him feeling guilty when he finds out that he inadvertently created Joker

And yes, this is almost the exact same moment that Tom King wrote in Batman/Catwoman. Gotta love the trope of Bruce bringing up his guilt over creating his arch-nemesis in the middle of an intimate moment with a beautiful woman on his bed. Now some random things they changed that stood out to me:

Every single time Joker acts blatantly childishly or is described as being on the verge of a tantrum is so funny. Sad that we could've had this instead of him thirsting over Vicky Vale.

This is the during the attack of the mimes on the city hall. I assume they decided to cut it out because that sort of ptsd goes a little against installing machine guns on the batmobile and striking down your enemies with military grade missiles.

They didn't pull a Joe Chill/Joker switcheroo here, Vale's guilt just dreamed of this scenario. The script goes a little deeper in expanding her relationship with Bruce. She figured out he's Batman on her own — saving up Alfred's skin — but unfortunately so does her colleague. As a self-designated nice guy, Knox tries to get Batman to break things off with Vicky. He's also waiting for the news of Joker's attacks to quiet down before exposing Batman's identity, but don't worry, the scripts solves this beautifully later on.

Anyways, instead of the confrontation at the apartment of Vicky Vale (also known as Bruce's "let's get nuts" moment and the devil in the moonlight quote) we have a chase scene that leads to Dick's introduction. Before that though comes probably the second scene I most wish they had kept in the movie

Yes, Batman chases Joker on a horse, first wearing a tuxedo, then his whole gear. Do you see what they took from us? What could've been?

Joker kills the Graysons with pretty explosions, Dick jumps onto Joker's van and tries to kill him but alas is detained by Batman and batnapped.

Batman then asks Alfred to take care of Dick and the last act is set in motion. Pushed by anger and guilt, Batman blows up Ace Chemicals (tho here we're supposed to believe the thugs managed to run out before the place crumbled) but Joker escapes and goes to set the balloon parade in motion.

Before he can blow away the public, Knox and Vicky create the bat signal to alert Batman about the balloons and Joker's plans are thwarted. Unfortunately (cough) this costs Knox his life. But hey, at least Batman's identity is safe.

Big explosions ensue, the batwing goes down and Bruce is almost left dead in the debris. Dick Grayson, now dawning his makeshift Robin suit, saves him and runs to enact his revenge on Joker.

They enter the cathedral, Joker and Dick exchange some bullets and Batman eventually catches up with Dick, knocking him out again. Then Batman manages to crawl up the stairs through inhuman effort against his fatal injuries, passes out just before reaching the final floor and uh... I'll just post this next part in full

He's made a friend... Attempted murder-suicide... Joker's taken out by a horde of Bats... This would probably have replaced Fight Club in my list of favorite movie endings if it ever came into existence.

Before I close up on our villain and hero's demises, I do have something to point out that I think was improved in the final script. Joker's Smylex — basically Joker Gas, originally meant to be called Smylenol — got added to beauty products and caused some people to die in the movie. I say some, because while we see 13 deaths reported there, here it's something that comes closer to the class of hundreds. He doesn't even invent it, originally; he just steals the formula from an old CIA project. Because the fatal product doesn't happen only when certain products are mixed together, a whole lot more end up becoming victims and Batman can't do much about it except cut out the source. It's just a detail, but I liked that they thought of an alternative. I may not like the Joker mob boss origin, but at least they let him keep his chemical prowess.

Now to the ending. Batman had a last minute bout of clarity and threw the bomb away, tangling it in the helicopter's ladder

Something something Batman offering Joker a last comfort before death... Endgame and Arkham City and...

Okay, that's pretty much what I've got. Am I mad we didn't get to have this? Kinda. But also, I didn't have big expectations for what actually came out, and it's still a pretty funny film. Besides, I think when it comes to Batman and mainly Joker, sticking to the comics, games and animations is the best way to go. Best to keep the incels focused on the live adaptations anyhow

#batman #joker #Batman 1989 #Michael Keaton #Jack Nicholson #batjokes #batman × joker #script #movie review #kinda

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multifandom-exe · 8 days ago

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Press Tour- S. Stan x Reader

Word count:1.9K

Bang Bang Bang

“So you came here?” You stared at him as you grabbed a towel and some blankets from the cupboard. He stared back with a smile.

“They said it'll be about a week, so I should be out of your hair soon.” He let out a small laugh, still watching you.

That day, however, was 3 weeks ago now. Now, you two were dressed up to the nines, and about to leave for your first press conference.

“Seb?” You questioned, waving your hand in his face after a minute of silence and an unfinished sentence.

“Why didn't you tell me press conferences were SO exhausting?” You sighed, loving the feeling of the soft couch treating your back.

The repetitive sound of your phone buzzing woke you up. As you moved to reach for it, Sebastian stirred and woke up, glancing up at you through his lashes. “What time is it?” His groggy voice came.

“Oh sorry i didnt mean to wake you, its 10Am, and my phone is going crazy” The phone screen lit up your face as you looked at the countless notifications on your phone. Your eye was caught by a text from your friend that read ‘YOU AND SEBASTIAN STAN ARE TOGETHER ARE YOU SERIOUS?’. Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion as you continued to scroll and finally opened twitter. Sebastian moved closer to you to see what had caused your silence. Your screen lit up with photos of you from the press conference, with the hashtag #AVImovie.

“Guess the press tour photos have been released.” He chuckled, thinking over last night.

“i guess so, i dont know why my friends are blowing me up though.’ You clicked on the screen and saw a collage of misleading hashtags. #sebsgf. #couple. #AVImovie. What is going on? You clicked on a hashtag and scrolled. Hundreds of the same photo. You and Sebastian centred, his arm around your waist, and staring into each others eyes. They had all kinds of captions. ‘i want someone to look at me the way she looks at him.’ Oh god, if he didnt know you liked him before, he might be getting the picture. Another headline, ‘Sebastian Stan smitten on the carpet with co-star Y/N’. You turned to look at Sebastian, who had the most horrified expression on his face. Gut Punch. Fucking Twitter. You coughed awkwardly, hoping to draw the attention away from the never ending stream of notifications.

“Okay, you dont have to look at me like the mere thought of being with me would end the world” You got up from the couch and cleared your throat.

“Whos right?” You looked to him confused.

“The people, the people on the phone, i am completely smitten with you” He chuckled lightly, throwing a glance toward your phone.

Your breathe hitched in your throat. “I thought you only thought of me like a sister, Seb you literally said that to me not 6 months ago.”

“i think they're right about me too.” You whispered before closing the gap between you too. So much emotion got poured into the kiss, months of waiting, watching, hoping, all being taken out in your living room at 10AM. It was everything you had both imagined it to be. Soft. Passionate. Felt like a dream come true. You both pulled away breathlessly, staying close.

“You know,” He whispered softly, “My apartment was fixed last week.” A sneaky smile grew across his face as you pulled away, slack jawed, an incredulous look on your face.

“You bastard!” You shouted playfully, giggling as you threw a pillow at him. He caught it swiftly, and picked you up as you let out a loud laugh.

Please tell me how i did in comparison, and dont forget to leave requests

#james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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my-rose-tinted-glasses · 1 month ago

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How is it that summer is over? There were too many shows and a lot of really bad endings. So anyway as usual, spoilers and opinions below, read at your own risk.

QL - Currently Watching

🇹🇼 First Note of Love [9/12] - The actors are the only thing making me believe the main romance. Their scenes together are good but overall I'm just not connecting to their romance. I really enjoy the language banter of the side couple but they don't have enough screen time for me to be all that invested. This show is suffering from having two couples with such short episodes.

🇹🇭 I Saw You In My Dream [11/12] - I like the couples a lot and I'm here for all the good communication. Both between the couples and the friends. I think it was @he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle that first wrote about the two types of dreams, the ones with floating objects and the ones without and the first ones being about insecurities and the rest are things that can happen in the future and it's all about the couple. I guess that's okay but honestly I was hoping for more. Still, I'm really enjoying this.

🇹🇭 Jack & Joker [4/12] - I love War. He's beautiful and I love to watch him act. His face is just amazing. This show is so unserious but aware so it's just incredibly fun to watch.

🇹🇭 Kidnap [4/12] - Like I said, it's the most bl, a bl ever bl'd. And the show knows it, so I'm just enjoying the ride and Ohm being so pretty on my screen.

🇯🇵 Love is a Poison [3/10] - I love it here. I love that Shiba knows exactly who Haruto is and still can't help but fall for him. I can't wait to find out why Haruto is so invested in Shiba. I am living for these succulents.

🇹🇭 Monster Next Door [10/12] - I'm gonna be honest. I'm not as invested in this one as other people but that was heart breaking. I really felt for God. Like I get where Diew is coming from but he needs to communicate. Yes him getting stuck in the lift was not his fault but the problem had already started by then so God's fears were understandable. I really hope that Diew can overcome his anxiety to be able to communicate with God. The sides are just doing the friends to lovers usual dance.

🇹🇭 Peaceful Property [5/12] - This is gonna be so interesting with the latest revelation. I'm having such a great time with this and I really like how their using the weekly cases. I love TayNew, they are married already in my mind.

🇹🇭 Reverse 4 You [4/8] - I'm enjoying this one. I like how they're using the powers, although I wish Wa would've let Khun confess because that was bit cruel considering he doesn't have a shot, so he would have had a chance to just move on. Also the show is just really pretty.

🇯🇵 Smells like Green Spirit [2/9] - This is less bl and more coming of age and it will not be the easiest of watches, but I really like the pacing and the visuals. Very curious to see a couple of scenes adapted.

🇻🇳 Teenager Judge [1/20] - Another stepbrother trope bl. There's only one episode yet but this has a very student film look about it. The pacing is also a bit different but I'm reserving judgement. I like the leads and the friend group.

🇹🇭 Unlock Your Love [3/8] - It's okay. I like the couples, and I do like Love a lot, she has a gorgeous smile, but I'm more into the side couple.

QL - Finished

🇹🇭 4 Minutes - the first of so many bad endings lately. I'm gonna keep this short. It was a fun ride but ultimately undermined by the ending.

🇯🇵 Happy of the End - It was a painful ride that seemed more interested in depicting the horrors than in telling a cohesive story or one about healing. And although on the surface it might look like an happy ending, I don't believe these characters have actually grown or healed at all. The actors did an incredible job but I felt like the show just gave us pain for seven and half episodes and then slapped a pretty picture at the end.

🇯🇵 I Hear the Sunspot - Great first half. The second half completely destroyed Taichi and like her or not, Maya's introduction was not handled well and it didn't serve the main story. This could've been one of the best shows of the year and instead it goes down as one of the biggest disappointments for me.

🇹🇭 Live in Love - I don't really know what to say. This has got to be one of the worst endings of all time, and that's saying something. Just awful, nobody watch this.

🇯🇵 Mitsuya Sensei no Keikakutekina Ezuke - One of the biggest surprises for me. Yes I wish I had a kiss, cause god knows Ishida was so readyand had earned it, but it was such a wholesome and fun show, with beautiful direction and great performances. Oh and the dog.Frito is one of the best bl pets ever.

🇯🇵Sugar Dog Life - The most adorable of boys. Perfect ending. Final thoughts here.

🇯🇵 Takara No Vidro - I love them. That's it. I need to rewatch but I just adored this show and the way our couple came together. Takara has my whole heart.

🇹🇼 The On1y One - I am still pissed. There were so many ways to end this story and they chose that??? It feels manipulative, specially considering the director has been begging for fan support in order to get a second season.

🇰🇷The Time of Fever - I'm so normal about this show. I don't even think of it as a prequel. Just a stand alone show, it was beautifully acted, incredibly shot and I'm still thinking about it daily. I wish I could watch them do ten more shows. It was perfect for me.

🇯🇵Twilight Out of Focus - What a beautiful show. The art is incredible and I loved all the couples in different ways although the first remains my favourite. And the little red thread at the end was a nice little gift. 🇹🇭 The Trainee - Well I guess Jane couldn't be too perfect. It wasn't amazing but I loved it. It was a good ensemble show with a side of bl, but it was so much fun to watch and well written. I will always watch a OffGun show, or really a Gun or a Off show, so what's next?

Dropped / On Hold

Dropped - 🇹🇭 The Hidden Moon

Waiting to binge - 🇹🇭 Addicted Heroin | 🇹🇭 The Loyal Pin

Rose Watches OJBL

So my journey continues and since I've watched most of the 'good' ones, most of what's left will definitely not be the best. I'm going through the list that @absolutebl was kind enough to share in this answer. Check it out in case you wanna watch some classic jbl.

Boys Love (2006)- There's an attempt at something here but it's completely failed by the execution. The pacing is all over the place, the character development is very superficial and it just doesn't allow for any real connection to them or the story. Basically this is not good. First Love (2007) - Again, not good. I honestly don't really understand what it wanted to say, except as the title suggests first love, but the whole plot feels disjointed and that ending just felt like it came out of nowhere. Just poor quality all around. Kota has a sweet smile though.

Others - Watched