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kingkat12 · 1 month

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pornography (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, foul language, groping/fondling, dry-humping lol, mentions of substance abuse

summary: when you finally talk to Eric Draven in rehab, it doesn't take long before you get drawn together by a force stronger than anything you have ever encountered. it doesn’t help the situation that you eventually find out Eric has been drawing pictures of you… nude

word count: 2,337 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is for all the girlies like me that just came home from watching The Crow and got their mind blown by how hot Bill was in it... holy fuck. had to write this blurb because I am so shaken up, I can't feel my face. enjoy!! there will be more parts hihi...

"I fucking hate pink,"

I couldn't believe that was the first thing I said to him-- the dark and broody stranger I had been eyeing through my first few weeks in rehab. He stared back at me, confusion swimming in his big green eyes, probably pondering why I had sat down next to him in the cafeteria. "Pardon?"

"It's a little ridiculous," I tried, watching as he put down his cutlery, pushing his food away as he gave me his full attention. Tugging at my pink sweater, which we were all wearing, I let out a nervous chuckle. "Whose idea was it to put a lot of addicts in pink, anyway?"

My eyes darted down to his hands as I waited for his answer-- they were huge up close, and completely covered in tattoos. I hadn't noticed them from afar; I had only noticed the ones peeking through the top of his shirt when he would pass me by in the hall, or the big eye he had on his chest that I had seen while passing by his room. I knew it wasn't nice to peek into his room while he was changing, but I was quite frankly starved of any male contact-- any girl would go crazy in here.

He eventually shrugged, giving me the answer I least expected; "I guess pink is supposed to be a calming colour. It's not that bad," I watched as the corners of his mouth tugged upwards, giving away hints of amusement. "Aren't you girls supposed to like pink?"

"Maybe," I mumbled, nudging food around on my plate with my fork. "I just don't like to wear it. It doesn't suit me."

The handsome stranger didn't seem to agree, another shrug following accompanied by a shy laugh. "I can't figure out whether you're being sincere or searching for compliments,"

This was most definitely not how I wanted to come off. I straightened up, resting my elbows against the table as I cleared my throat. "I'm just trying to make conversation,"

"... Why?"

"Because you've been staring at me almost as much as I've been staring at you," I put down my fork, hoping he didn't see how nervous I was. In truth, he had been staring-- it wasn't all purely one-sided. I had caught him staring at me in the courtyard, on my way to the shower, and I had also caught him lingering outside my room several times. He would usually leave when I came out, disappearing down the hall with speed I wouldn't even dream to catch up with.

He finally gave in to a smirk, nodding to himself as he lowered his head. "Sorry," It was clear that he hadn't thought he'd be called out like this. However, something told me he wasn't too upset about being caught either.

"Don't be," I said, feeling my anxiety ripping through my veins. Why was I indulging? "I just--"

It was at this moment that a guard appeared behind him, yanking him away from the table with a harshness that made me gasp. I clasped my hand over my mouth, watching as he barely reacted to the brutality.

"Guys and girls eat separately!" the guard yelled at me, slamming his fist down on the table.

My eyes widened, looking back at the handsome stranger. "But I-- I was the one who sat down here, he didn't do anything!" I protested, watching as the guard grabbed him and led him away. Groaning, I ran my hands through my hair, frustrated with the rules at this place. Why was it so fucking strict?

I eventually looked up just in time to see that the man had managed to turn around, smirking my way; "I'm Eric!" he said, holding back a laugh as he was shoved along the cafeteria for everyone to see.

Despite the horror washing over me for getting him in trouble, I managed to croak out my name as well. It seemed that he appreciated that I had at least tried to stick up for him-- What was it that I had just started?

My question would be answered a lot quicker than I had expected.

A few days passed, and more looks and stares were exchanged. I was dying to talk to Eric again. I knew I hadn't been sent to rehab to make friends or get feelings for someone, but something was gnawing at me to talk to him again. I wanted to be around him constantly; what was happening to me? I recognized this feeling-- it was the same feeling I got when I really, really craved something... Fuck, how I missed drugs. Maybe Eric was turning into a substitute?

It wasn't often that the door to Eric's room was open, but today it was. I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't taken the extra lap around the institute as usual, hoping to get a glimpse of him through the small window in his door. But today, I didn't have to get on my tippytoes to get a look-- there he was, picking up several drawings that had been scattered around the floor. His room looked like a mess, completely unlike how I was used to seeing it through the tiny window. This looked like the result of one of those raids that the prison guards sometimes did when they suspected there were hidden drugs in a patient's room.

I felt sorry for him; I knew how horrible it could feel to have someone rip through all your stuff. But as I bent down and picked up a few drawings that were at my feet, my lips parted in surprise.

It seemed I wasn't the only one caught off guard; Eric noticed me standing in his doorway, letting out a relieved sigh as he watched me inspect his drawings. He called out my name, leaning against the wall as he sized me up and scanned me, crossing his arms over his chest.

I cleared my throat; "Is this... me?" I held up the first drawing of the bunch. It was a sketch of me sitting in the courtyard, and I was sure that it was me-- I suppose it was my shock asking for confirmation.

Eric snickered, kicking off the wall. "Yeah... Sorry,"

"Stop saying sorry," I shuffled through the drawings, finding he had drawn me in multiple settings, and it was clear that I had been watched the few weeks I'd been here. "These are beautiful, Eric... I guess I'm honoured--" My words trailed off as I finally approached the last drawing. Was that...?

He didn't even try to take it away from me. Eric sighed, looking away as his cheeks flushed a light pink, similar to our uniforms.

Judging by his reaction, I had a feeling he wasn't so against me seeing this. It was a sketch of me, after all-- nude.

I had to swallow rather hard for anything to go down. I couldn't pinpoint why I wasn't absolutely horrified at this. "So... this is what you've been up to in here, huh?" There was no stopping the smirk that spread across my lips, holding back a flustered giggle. "This is next-level pervy, do you know that?"

It didn't take long before Eric's big hands ripped the drawings out of my hands, turning away as he shook his head. "Every artist needs a muse, no?"

"A muse? How can I be your muse if we don't know each other?"

"That's not how it works," he mumbled, throwing away the drawings into a heap on the bed. "Your beauty is all I need to get inspired."

This was enough to shock me into silence. I inhaled a sharp breath, stepping into Eric's room despite knowing it was forbidden. "So now you think I'm beautiful?"

Eric hummed, finally turning to meet my eyes. "It hasn't been the biggest secret, has it?" There was something playful about him, shameless, as though it didn't matter to him that I had just found his handmade porn. "It gets a little lonely in here, I guess. These drawings just... run out of me like water. Can't control it."

There was something so unimaginably tantalizing about Eric. Everything about him made me want to jump him then and there-- was it maybe the result of my withdrawals that were turning my brain into further mush? In a normal setting, this would have creeped me out to infinity and beyond, but knowing this was coming from the man I had been lusting after from afar for several weeks made me excuse it in a heartbeat.

I had no idea what possessed me to close the door to his room and lock it, knowing the repercussions could be severe if we were caught. But Eric didn't seem to mind; his green eyes widened, watching my every move like a hawk.

"It was really pretty and all... The drawing, I mean," I said, inching closer to where he had sat down on the bed. "But would you maybe want some inspiration for the next one?"

Eric's plush, pink lips parted, eyes rounding out in surprise. Despite his shock, his big hands reached out for me as I came closer, and he pulled me in between his legs. I could feel him caressing my back through my shirt, holding me with the utmost gentle touch. "I'll take all I can get," he murmured, looking up at me through his brows, a knowing smirk spreading across his face.

I let out a giggle as he pressed his lips against my stomach through my shirt, enjoying the intense feeling of someone against my skin again after all this time. Eric pulled away, glancing at the door before slowly trailing his fingers under my shirt, testing the waters.

It didn't take long before that wasn't enough for him-- my breath hitched as Eric grabbed my waist, pulling me down with him on the bed. I barely had time to think before the euphoric feeling of being kissed engulfed me. Our lips met in an open, soft kiss, almost as though we were scared to break the other if we were too needy or harsh. As I straddled him, I felt his hands tugging at my shirt, dipping back under the fabric once more. His fingers gently ghosted over my lower back, eventually ending up trailing small circles with his thumbs along the underside of my bra.

If I hadn't been so starved of any human contact in here, I would've never jumped the opportunity like this. But none of us knew how long we had until the guards would bust us, and it only fueled the adrenaline pumping through our veins. Our kisses became desperate, hungry, and I let out a whimper against his lips as he took the liberty of cupping my chest, feeling me up to his heart's delight. I knew I had been waiting for this moment since the first time I saw him, and I wasn't about to let it slip through my fingers-- I decided to let him do whatever he wanted to me, no matter what.

I could feel Eric's cock twitch beneath me, clearly aroused. It was also at this moment that he made me sit up, tugging my shirt off of me before laying back down to scan me. Was he memorizing my body for his next sketch? It wasn't every night that I had a handsome stranger beneath me like this, so I allowed him to trail his hands up and down my body, lips parting in delight. "Fuck... Yeah, this will do," he murmured, pupils dilating at the sight before him whether he wanted them to or not.

"You sure?" I asked, giggling to myself. My hands rested against his broad chest, letting out a sigh of delight; God, he was sexy. As I shifted in his lap, Eric's breath hitched as I seemingly sat down in the exact right spot. Almost as though he was possessed by instinct for a moment, he grabbed my hips, rocking me against him through the fabric of our clothes.

Who would've thought I'd be dry-humping this stranger and enjoy it so much? My hands gripped his shirt, a quiet moan spilling past my lips-- I had forgotten this feeling. This was mostly something I did when I was a teenager, before I figured out how to have proper sex with my high school boyfriend. But it felt so damn fucking good, desperate; it didn't take long before I leaned back down, capturing his plush lips in another kiss.

I craved him like water. I wanted him against me, in me, for him to take me in every possible position ever-- a deep, dark part of me knew I would be insatiable from now on.

But our moment of ecstasy was interrupted when a guard started banging his fist against the door, his muffled yells barely registering through my arousal. Despite my dazed state, it didn't take me long to drape my shirt back on, climbing off Eric with wobbly knees. "Shit," I mumbled, turning to him with wide eyes. "I'm screwed. We're screwed."

Everything about him was so damn beautiful. The kiss-swollen lips definitely didn't help how gorgeous I thought he looked right now. Despite the situation, knowing we were in deep shit, Eric let out a soft chuckle; "I don't think you're screwed enough, actually. We'll get to that another time,"

My eyes widened as I gave into a light giggle. There was no way this was happening-- had my naughty rehab dreams come true? The guard banging against the door was drowned out by the incessant ringing in my ears that festered through my mind as Eric leaned down to kiss me one last time; "I hope to see you around, if they don't kill us,"

"Yeah," I breathed, only now realizing how tall he was as I looked up to meet his gaze. This man was towering over me. Holy shit. "Can't wait to see your next masterpiece."

I couldn't wait. I really couldn't.

(a/n: PART 2, PART 3 here!! enjoy<33)

#the crow 2024 #eric draven x reader #the crow x reader #the crow fanfiction #eric draven fanfiction #the crow #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgard #eric draven

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strwberri-milk · 3 months

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Hi, good morning/ afternoon/ evening. I've probably read all of your work on LnD, and I love them all. If it's not too much, can I request like the boys getting a call/update from MC after a disastrous wanderer attack on the city after not being able to contact them?? If possible, established relationship😅 ... thank you for your time!

im glad you like all my writing for them!! im so aefjaweofaw please give me the next main story update - also theres lots of references/imagery of death so if youre not chill w that i will see you tomorrow [salute] - theres also some very very slight references to their myths!! it feels a little ooc to me but thats bc. i think theyd be a little ooc when faced w a tragedy like this!! i hope you like it anyway <3

Zayne holds his breath every time a new patient is admitted. The hospital is busy with all of the patients that are coming in with the disaster, a mixture of those hanging on and people running up to him because he's the closest doctor in the vicinity to confirm death.

He volunteered himself to do triage because he was convinced that he'd be able to stop you from dying, that if you came in through those doors he'd be able to separate his love for you from the mind that studied all those nights but that's impossible - he only got here because of you.

His mind runs circles around himself, almost separated from his body as he tries to figure out why you weren't there. Hopefully it's because you're fine - you don't need medical attention or the medics on site were enough for you. However, he knows there's an equal chance that it's just because a doctor onsite was able to confirm your death and now you were in some bag, stored away with the others waiting for him to come identify you.

When he finally gets a moment to himself he obsessively checks his phone, praying to something that might take enough pity on him to listen at the very least that you'll call him. Minutes turn to hours as he's called back to work. Silence is a commodity now as he's stuck in the theatre, only able to go home after he's exceeded the legal amount of hours he's allowed to work in one night.

The long turned cold water hits his muscles as his mind wanders in the quiet of his home. You still haven't called - nobody's called. He understands that surely, all of you are busy but he's been there when the calls have had to be made. To hear the sobs on the other side of the phone as a squad captain confirms the death of another hunter as they softly ask if they'd like to see the body. He's also seen the calls when the bodies are far too mangled, a sight that no loved one should have to bear. He's waiting for it, almost falling in his haste to grab his phone once it finally rings.

Your number pops up, the letters of your name taunting him as he tries to answer it. He's about ready to throw his phone on the ground from the water on his hand refusing to make picking up the call an easy feat.

"Hello?" Zayne asks, an uncharacteristic shake in his voice.

"Zayne! I'm okay!" you say, voice sounding a little weak but definitely better than he could have ever anticipated.

"Zayne? Honey? Hello?" you ask when you're met with only silence, now beginning to grow anxious yourself. You knew he must have been busy - you were too - and you thought he was safe. He should have been, you'd heard no reports of the hospital being attacked.

"You're alive," he chokes out, falling to his knees.

"Of course I am! Things have just been chaotic so I haven't had enough time to call you until now," you explain, continuing to talk to him.

You hear rustling on the other side of the phone, trying to get his attention again before he cuts you off.

"Where are you right now? Home?"

"Oh - yeah I'm on leave now. Most of us who were in active duty are to let his recuperate. How come?"

"I'll be there soon."

He hangs up immediately, leaving you a little stunned. You decide to clean up a little, having nothing else to do really until he comes over. Zayne never acts this impulsively so you assume that the day with no contact really wore on him.

Once he arrives you open the door for him, planning to apologise for the lack of contact when he almost throws himself at you. You hold him back just as tightly, a little shaken yourself as you close the door after him. You realise that for whatever reason he's soaking, unsure if you should confront that but you decide to ignore it.

He leads you right to your couch, too exhausted to even find your bedroom as he buries himself against your chest. It's not the normal way he lays with you - typically he likes to hold you - but you know not to bother him now. You can't deny you were worried about him too, knowing he probably put in a bunch of overtime at the hospital.

He holds onto you tightly, measuring out the beat of your heart. It's the only way he can remind himself that you're still alive, that the two of you have one more day together.

Xavier has never felt like he wanted to die more than in this moment. One minute you were running with him, trying to stop the Wanderer from attacking the group of civilians the next you're totally gone. Logically, he knows you're most likely fighting a Wanderer by yourself and you can handle it but somewhere he's convinced you'll die without him at your side. You've proved yourself more than capable but he worries about you all the time - he knows how to fight these things, he's been fighting them for far longer than you have - and if you died here he'd have no more reason for living.

He practically goes beserk, tearing into each and every creature with the hopes that one of them can take him to you. With each failure he starts to spiral, standing atop a pile of rubble as he watches the recovery teams start to spread into the city. It practically took an entire squadron to force him to go home, promising him that he'd be the firs t to hear once they found you.

You were diligently following Xavier when you noticed another Wanderer going after a child. You knew that he'd panic once he couldn't find you but you couldn't just abandon them. You tried to tell him you'd be splitting off but over all the screams and screeches he couldn't hear you and you couldn't waste any more time trying to get his attention.

You were able to defeat the Wanderer but not before sustaining an injury that made it too difficult for you to continue active duty, taking the child to a safe spot and staying with them until help arrived. You ended up passing out from the pain shortly thereafter, waking up a day later to Tara in your face heaving a sigh of relief as she called for a doctor to come check on you.

Your body was simply fatigued and after an extra day of monitoring and ensuring you were receiving everything you needed to make sure you wouldn't collapse again when you get home. You nod, knowing what procedure is at this point. You reach out for your phone once the doctor leaves, knowing that Xavier must be worried out of his mind.

You're right, of course. He's laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling as he waits for someone to call him. He saw the scale of disaster this attack was, knows that everything is absolutely awful and he's not the only one waiting for news but every minute that passes is another minute you could be trapped, praying that he's coming there to save you.

He decides to ignore the strict orders he's gotten, suiting up to go help the recovery efforts. He was going bad staying in bed all day, unable to get a wink of sleep as pictures of your suffering flash across his tortured mind. Working on pulling valuables and any remnants of life is depressing on a good day but right now it's downright torturous. He can't help but think that the next thing he pulls out is going to be your hand, severed far from your body.

When his phone rings everything disappears. He quickly picks up, steeling his expression to avoid making things worse should someone look over at him. He doesn't even notice who called him, just hoping that it was someone with news.

"Oh! You picked up fast. Are you just sitting at home then?" you ask casually, so casually he thinks it's almost cruel. How could you act so nonchalant about the fact that you held his life in your hands, that you are the only thing in this world he can bear to wake up for?

"No, I'm helping the recovery efforts despite orders. I...it was too quiet at home," he offers as an explanation and you hum. He can imagine you nodding, tapping your chin as you think to yourself.

"If you missed me you could have just said so," you tease, hoping that the ease in your voice will make him relax.

"Of course I did. Is that even a question? Are you able to take visitors?' You know what, doesn't matter. I'll just wait there until you are. I'll see you soon love."

He hangs up quickly and you know that he'll appear in the hospital within the next two seconds with that uncanny ability of his. You straighten yourself out a little, knowing that you were injured but not wanting to look like a total mess.

You can hear his footsteps running up to your door, slamming it open as he catches his breath. You've never seen him out of breath before - maybe he's much more tired than you initially thought.

"You made it," you laugh, making a slight sound from the impact of him practically jumping at you, holding you tightly as he buries his face into your neck.

"I was worried about you," he says softly, looking up at you. "I thought you'd been hurt, badly. And I wasn't there to protect you."

You sigh, helping him sit down into the chair at your bedside. You offer him your hand which he holds gratefully, never taking his eyes off of you.

"I know. I'm sorry. But look, I'm okay now, aren't I?"

He ignores the pain in his chest, trying not to imagine how heavy your hand would feel in his if you really had drawn your last breath. That weight is far too familiar to him, haunting his every thought in the hours that passed between then and now.

"You are. And I'm going to make sure you stay that way," he promises.

Rafayel didn't even know there was an attack until far after it. He knew you were working and that sometimes, you'd accidentally go MIA. You'd already texted him before your mission anyway and then he got drawn into another project of his and completely lost track of time. It's not until the next day that he finally sees his phone and the message from Thomas telling him not to come into the city for supplies for a day or so.

He immediately starts looking through articles, scouring pages that are constantly updating the death toll in search of your face. He curses himself for not paying attention earlier - every minute he wasted on some stupid was another minute you could have spent at Death's door, all because he allowed himself to forget that nothing matters if it's not you.

It's obsessive the way he looks through all of them, calling your phone non stop all the while. Every time he gets sent to voicemail he feels his breath get knocked out of his lungs, resorting to blowing up your phone with texts. When it's clear you aren't replying he grabs his keys to drive into Linkon despite Thomas' suggestion, knuckles white on the steering wheel as he heads to the hospital.

Even in all the chaos people can't help but stare a little as Rafayel makes his way to the counter, demanding someone tell him where you were. He's really trying not to be a brat, promising you that he'd be nicer to people but when it's your life on the line everything is up for debate. He goes through any and every possibility, figuring out what he can do to guarantee your survival.

Unfortunately for him, he gets escorted out. Jenna tries to calm him down, telling him that he'd be the first to know if they had any updates on you. Right now everything was just far too messy to know anything about anyone and there was a good chance that you were just being treated at a different hospital than usual due to the high causality count. He doesn't take no for an answer and manages to strong arm the name of the other hospitals you could have been sent to, starting up his car again right as his phone lights up with your name.

"What do you think you're doing not answering your phone?!" he yells, making you flinch.

Rafayel's never been mad at you, certainly not to this extent but you know that it's because he's anxious. He immediately catches himself too and you hear it, catching the sound of his hands against his steering wheel as he takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. Just - where are you?" he asks, sounding so exhausted that you feel like crying.

"I'm okay Rafayel," you say instead, adding the name of your hospital. He's immediately driving over as you talk to him, keeping your voice even.

"I was split up from the group is all, then triaged at a different hospital. I'm fine though - I managed to just sprain my wrist from overexertion so I'll have a sling for a bit-"

"You're staying with me then. I'm not having you stay alone with a broken wrist. Knowing you you'd do something dumb and make it worse," he scoffs, trying his best to drive safely to see you again. You don't bother to correct him, knowing that's the least of your worries.

You fall quiet, not sure how to respond. Rafayel has always been good at masking how he feels, rarely showing you what he's hiding behind his mask. Now he's an open book, making it clear that nothing will be okay until he sees you again.

"Okay," you agree, leaning further back into the pillows of your hospital bed. "They wanted me to be released into the care of someone if I could anyway. That's why I was calling you - that, and trying to return all your missed calls."

"Thank you," he says so quietly you barely hear him over the sound of his car.

"Of course my love," you say just as softly. "I knew you'd worry as soon as you saw the news."

Another moment passes between the two of you. Rafayel thinks his heart fell out of his chest - or it would have if it was still his to hold. Instead, it's beating firmly in your palm, only able to do so under your affections.

"Rafayel, I'm really fine, I promise. I'm just hungry. Let's get something for dinner, yeah?" you offer, hoping to redirect his energy.

"Yeah," he replies, exhaling deeply.

"Anything you want my beloved. Just name it and it's yours."

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imagining-in-the-margins · 2 months

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CM Friends-with-Benefits Challenge

Hey everyone, I’m back with another monthly challenge! For the months of August AND September, I am formally challenging any willing writer to take a stab at writing fanfiction including friends with benefits/situationships using their choice of Criminal Minds characters! Reader, Original Character, Character/Characterships, Gen/Platonic fics are allowed! Please check out the Rules below the Keep Reading.

There are a LOT of prompts below the cut, so keep going!

(**This is NOT a request list for me—this is a prompt list of other writers! Feel free to request from someone else, and be sure to let them know about the challenge!)

🥰 Song Prompts 🥰

"Sex" by The 1975

"Too Sweet" by Hozier

"dress" by Taylor Swift

"august" by Taylor Swift

"Casual" by Chappell Roan

"Dinner & Diatribes" by Hozier

"Close to You" by Gracie Abrams

“Stuck in the Middle” by Tai Verdes

"Good Luck, Babe!" by Chappell Roan

"I Wanna Be Yours" by Arctic Monkeys

“Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?” by Arctic Monkeys

💌 Dialogue Prompts 💌

“I’m just in it for the snacks.”

“No wonder you’re single…” (joking?)

“So... what’s the stance on cuddling?”

"You deserve something real. I want us to be real.”

“We’re just friends with benefits.” // “Right, and the benefit is being madly in love.” (sarcasm?)

“We’re… friends. With benefits.” // “Without sex? What’s the benefit?” // “My delightful company, asshole.”

"I'm your boyfriend without the benefits." // "Do you want the benefits?" // "Yes—No... I'm your fluffer!" ('New Girl')

“What is up with those two lately?” // “They’re sleeping together.” // “Yeah, right. Imagine… wait, seriously?”

General & NSFW Prompts Below!

🌹 General Prompts 🌹

Someone figures out the situation. A and B try to figure out how.

A is blindsided by jealousy when someone shows an interest in B.

A and B try to be normal so no one knows. Literally everyone knows.

A is so worried about B falling for them that A fails to realize A already fell for B.

A realizes they are happier with B than any actual significant other they’ve had.

A is totally B’s type, which has never worked out before. As a result, A keeps sabotaging things.

A agrees to a situationship with B because they think it's the only way they'll be able to have them.

A reaches out to B for a hookup but gets rejected, and they each struggle with their disappointment.

A is treating the arrangement like a formal business deal. B gets tired of it and shuts them up with a kiss.

A and B used to be friends with benefits. When they meet again later, the arrangement is still appealing.

A has to leave town for a long time. They have one last night with B but don’t tell them. They’re gone in the morning and leave B wondering what they wanted to say the night before.

Anything else you can think of!

💋 NSFW Prompts 💋

A completely defies B’s expectations of what they’re like in bed.

A and B decide to hook up one last time (or maybe not the last...)

A agreed to take B’s virginity as long as B didn’t catch feelings. It seems like B didn’t. A did, though.

A and B's no-judgment rule means they're finally comfortable to ask for what they've always wanted to try in bed.

A is annoyed with B, so they start loudly complaining/joking about their situationship. Angry/playful sex ensues.

A and B have never felt truly satisfied in bed until there were no strings attached... it definitely wasn't because of finding the right partner.

The fic can be a Reader insert, an Original Character, a character/character ship, a platonic ship, or a Gen fic. It can feature any Criminal Minds character. AUs and crossovers are more than welcome.

Tag me in the fic, or send the link to me in a Direct Message. It can be already written, or you can write it for the challenge - I’m collecting both! You can also tag it “#mentioningmargins” which is a tag I track.

The fic can be any genre, but ONLY send me smut if your bio states you are 18+. I DO NOT WANT smut written by minors. Ever. At all. I will check.Platonic ships and pure, fluffy fics are 100% allowed.

Please include Content Warnings and a one-sentence Summary of the fic in your post.

Have fun!

The Masterlist of fics will be posted around Sept. 30. If you finish after that, no problem - just send me the fic once you’re done and I’ll add it after-the-fact!

Feel free to message me if you want help developing a plot, have any questions, or just want to gush about your fic. I’m happy to help, and I’m happy you’re here ��️

Happy Writing!

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flawless-peach · 6 months

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change your life ✨️

feel free to join me in this. I'm going to try to post every day about how I did <3

- get at least 7 consecutive hours of sleep. I've found if I go to sleep and then wake up back for a couple hours and then finish the 8 hours I feel I incredibly unrested. I keep myself accountable by using pokemon sleep which has a great alarm, so I'm looking forward to trying this instead

- read or listen to an audiobook for 30 minutes. literacy is a muscle, and using it is important, but sometimes I can't just sit down and read a book, and audiobooks are great for when I'm cleaning or cooking or folding laundry

- get sun daily. humans are a lot more like plants than you would think and so it is important to get some sun, even when it's a wintery sun that's cold or when it's a blazing furnace. Since I have some mental health issues and am unable to go outside im going to at least open my curtains, and if possible, crack a window to get some fresh air

- start a hobby you can enjoy. this one can be difficult because a lot of things require some sort of financial investment. for me, my hobbies for these six months is going to be writing and annotating books. but being creative is great for the human mind.

- learn to be comfortable alone. honestly this one will be difficult. personally, I live in a studio. privacy is nothing i experience, butthe little moments where you find yourself escaping with TV playing or music pause it and sit with yourself, how else can you learn to love someone if you avoid them 🥰

- meditate daily. this will be something I struggle with so much, but I'm going to try in the mornings since that's my peak time <3 and that's when I plan on doing a yoga flow during the sunrise

- eat healthy nutritious food. I hate cooking and I hate eating. having autism can make these really difficult for me to do, but I'm really really trying. I started the week before last to work on figuring out what snack foods I can prep, and now i just need to work on planning out some meals.

- positive affirmations everyday. I really struggle to have positive self talk because it feels so awkward and uncomfortable because I've been pessimistic for so long, but I want to change that ^^

- reduce screen time. this is going to be specifically targetting mindless scrolling for me. I have a tiktok account that I use for motivation, same with my tumblr account, and I also read on my phone and use my sleep app that I need to keep open at night.

- practice gratitude. my goal is to at night reflect on the day to try and find the good. I already reflect on my days and pick a mood, but I want to create lists of things i am grateful for, especially while I'm in between jobs.

#aesthetic #clean girl #motivation #vanilla girl #photo collection #routine #self care aesthetic #self healing #self improvement #self impowerment #self love #peachy days #that girl

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nawoken · 28 days

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How will the NRC boys react when you overblot with the thought of suicide?

I don't know what I am doing, but since many people are interested in Suicide Overblot Reader, I will write something for it then. Reference to this post.

I think I will try to do all of them. I hope...

Some might be OOC because I don't understand their character enough (Trey and Cater in this post case), sorry if it bothers you guys.

I don't really write it as platonic or romantic, try to keep it neutral so u can read it the way u want?

Warning: Mention of suicide, self-destructive, angst, depression(?), blood,... a bit heavy thought I guess?

Part: Hearslabyul

Riddle

- When he reaches Ramshackle and sees you got overblot, he is uneasy but still remains calm and serious.

- Slightly think that part of this is his fault for not paying more attention to you. He knows that you had to bear a lot of things lately, with school, with Crowley's unreasonable quest,...

- But, he has to stay strong, he has to, he is a Housewarden after all.

- But... when Riddle sees you hurt yourself, he is stunned and terrified. This can't be happening, it shouldn't be.

- He hears your faint cries about your insecurities, your fear of being a burden... and your wish to disappear.

- It makes him heartache, wonder what has made you reach this point. Then, it hit him, every word he told you when you guys first knew each other, before his overblot, and before he changed.

- This must be his fault, he has hurt you... Riddle lost in his guilt, almost overblot right then and there.

- Even Trey can't pull him back to reality, but Ace's punch can.

- "Stop blaming yourself, don't you want to save them?" It actually helps Riddle calm down.

- Riddle braced himself, he had to make it right, so he could apologize to you properly.

- You got him traumatized. And you guys will also have a longgg conversation after things end.

Trey:

- He is... a lil bit shocked and worried about the situation. But, years of taking care of Riddle and his maturity helped him stay calm.

- Even when you hurt yourself, he only flinches a bit before pulling out his pen and trying to destroy the black inky thorns without hurting you.

- Things get worse when Riddle loses his sanity and starts to blame himself while Ace and Deuce lose their cool, kicking and fighting to get to you.

- Try to calm Riddle down. But it's no use.

- Ace's outbursts still make him surprised every time, but at least things have become more stable. They can focus on the main problem now.

- He keeps calm through it all, but when everything comes to an end, he falls to the ground and exhales all his built-up tension.

- He will check in on you a lot more. Reaching out to you, asking about your day, and baking you a lot of treats. Become your figure mother at some point...

Cater:

- Like Trey, being the third-year he is, Cater is much more mature and reliable than he seems.

- Use his unique magic, protect the first year, and even try to lighten the mood while keeping an eye on you.

- He is not too worried since everyone is gathering here, to save you! So nothing can be wrong... right?

- The moment he sees the blood splatter out of your body, he inhales sharply and trembles slightly before turning around to block the view of the freshmen.

- But he fails to keep them from the view, so now Ace and Deuce go berserk. At least Epel and Jack are still sober enough to hold the duo back.

- Multitasking. Become much more serious.

- After it all, he won't force you to tell him things but he will talk with you a lot more, maybe about this funny meme or some new trend on Magicam. Do his best to make you laugh.

Ace:

- He first tries to joke about this when he sees you in your oveblot form. Act cool and funny but can't hide his care for you. Swear that he will knock you on your head a few times for making them worry sick.

- The moment you hurt yourself? Ace and Deuce tried to rush toward you but got held back by other first-years.

- Scold you, told you to stop hurting yourself, and even threatened that if you don't stop he will fight you...

- Also scold you for being stupid. Yes, you're magicless but you also have survived many life-or-death situations that even a pro mage can't. You're not useless!!!

- Asked Riddle to do something just to find out his dorm leader is having a mental breakdown right there.

- He punches Riddle (the second time), how can he act like that when you're still in danger?!

- Ace also cooled down after that, he left the job of returning you to normal to the Dorm leader while helping others destroy those blot-made thorns to prevent them from hurting you.

- You guys will have to talk a lot after this, and you know can't avoid it, Prefect.

Deuce:

- His face turned pale the moment he saw you. Out of anyone, he doesn't think you're the one who got overblot.

- Especially when you stab yourself, he lost his mind. The moment he runs out to you, Epel holds him back. Others told him to calm down, to make a plan.

- But, Deuce can't even hear a word, all he can hear is your whimpering and the scene of the thorns lunging through your flesh keeps playing in his mind.

- Like Riddle, he also blames himself. The difference is that he blames himself for not looking out for you more. You guys have been friends since the beginning and you are always taking care of them, but they have failed to do so for you.

- The guilty feeling building up inside him made him mad, he wanted to punch, to fight, to take his anger out on something.

- After the "fight" between Riddle and Ace went off, Deuce finally calmed down.

- After things end, the moment you back to normal, he will immediately run to you and hold you close, afraid that if he lets go, you will disappear.

- Says sorry to you again and again...

- Become a bit paranoid and protective after your suicide attempt.

____________

5.C: This took me forever to finish, now I have 17 more to finish. Gotta say, Riddle is the easiest person to write about.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #ace trappola #riddle rosehearts #ace trapolla #deuce spade #cater diamond #twst x yuu #heartslabyul #heartslaybul x reader

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flemingsfreckles · 6 months

Text

Physio’s Daughter pt 3

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Read part 1, and part 2

Warnings: some arguing, some cursing

WC: 3.2k

A/N: hi, I think this is going to have 1 more part, maybe 2 if I end up with enough writing for it.

“Am I really that bad of a flirt that you thought all those conversations we had were strictly professional?”

“What?” Sounding like a stuck record you repeat yourself. You couldn’t believe the sentence you had just heard come from Jessie’s mouth.

“Do your other coworkers offer you their jacket? And stay late to talk with you?” She’s staring at you like you’re an idiot, like you should have known she had a crush on you. She’s acting as if she was walking around with a sign with it spelled out for you and you were in the wrong for not knowing.

You’re skeptical, there was no way she was actually interested in you. Your Mom was right, you didn’t have a career yet, you were so much younger than her, you were her physio, she was a professional athlete with her whole life sorted out. Maybe this was a test, maybe your Mom had sent her in here to see what you would do. Maybe she was joking with you, maybe she knew you had a crush and she was teasing you. Seeing if she could make a fool of you. You’re so lost in your own thoughts you lose track of time.

“I’m going to go. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, pretend I didn’t.” Jessie’s soft voice breaks your mental spiral. She pushes her chair back starting to stand up.

“No, wait.” You put out a hand to stop her. “Sorry, I just, it's a lot to process.” You’re not sure what to say next, she sits back down and you both sit there looking at each other.

“Why didn’t you just say something before?” The question comes out of your mouth as nearly a whisper.

“Because like you, I've also been told it’s unprofessional to date a teammate, let alone a staff member, my whole life.” She adds a small sigh, her breath moving some of the hairs that had fallen in front of her face out of the way. “Plus I couldn’t tell if you were feeling the same. You spent a lot of time with me but I couldn’t tell if you were just doing your job or if you were too nervous to tell me to shut my mouth and leave you alone.”

“I was, I do feel the same, it’s just, it’s complicated.” You sigh, you know you’re about to open yourself to the complexity of having mutual feelings, when you both know you shouldn’t. “It’s just, this is my job and you’re Jessie Fleming.” Your hands gesture up and down her body. You notice a small blush come across her face. “Plus, like you I figured this is your job, you were forced to spend time with me, how was I supposed to know it was by choice? I’m just a student trainer, so I thought why would you have any interest in me when you can have anyone.”

“Because, in the best way possible, you treat me like I’m not Jessie Fleming.” She puts air quotes up when she says her own name. “You just treat me like a regular person. You ask about my family, you ask about my aspirations, you ask about my favorite places to visit and where I want to go. Most people ask me about soccer and sure it’s nice but what’s even nicer is not feeling like I have to be a professional athlete all the time for someone to be interested in me.”

Not sure what to say, you stand up to throw out your coffee cup that you had essentially chugged in the past few minutes using sips of the drink to calm your nerves. Instead of returning to your seat you take a place leaning against the wall, off to the side of Jessie, looking down at her as she remains in her seat. You were too restless to sit back down.

You let out a sigh as you let your back hit the wall. Conflicted between the two sides of the situation. You could tell her you can’t see her, tell her it’s unprofessional, inappropriate. Or you could tell her you want to try this. You let your head fall back gently against the wall, you shut your eyes trying to get a clear thought through your head. Your hands are balled into tight fists at your side, both out of nerves and frustration, unsure of what to do.

When you lower your head back down and open your eyes you come face to face with Jessie. While your brain was screaming between your choices she had abandoned her chair to stand in front of you. You jump a bit, startled by her presence.

“Hi.” Her smile is infectious, she says hello as if she’s just greeting you, as if she hadn’t just confessed to having feelings for you.

“Hi.” It’s a breathless response to her but you’re at a loss for any other words. You do exactly what you know you shouldn’t, you subtly ask her to kiss you, breaking your eye contact to look down at her lips, your own tongue coming out to wet your lips. By the time you go to make eye contact with her again she’s already moving in toward you.

Her lips are on yours, your brain is short circuiting, her body is gently pressed to yours, your back against the wall of your office. The kiss was gentle, her lips softly melting into yours, it couldn't have been more perfect. You could taste her coffee on her lips, as she could likely taste yours. She smelled sweet, her hair, not pulled back like usual, softly brushed against your cheek as if bounced from her forward movement. Your hands found themselves placed on her hips where you could feel her shirt was tucked into her joggers. You couldn’t tell if the kiss lasted 2 seconds or 20 minutes, your concept of time completely thrown by her actions.

“Hey we need you upstairs-” the door opens, the voice of your Mom coming through as she comes to grab you for an impromptu meeting. She was expecting to see you at your desk finishing paperwork, or just on your phone. Not expecting to see the team captain pinning her daughter to the wall of the office.

Jessie pulls away out of surprise, turning toward the door, taking a couple of steps back from you so your bodies are no longer up against each other. You do the same, only you’re against the wall and unable to back up from her, you stumble slightly as you try to move, cursing yourself for not previously locking the door. If she hadn’t already seen the two of you, from the way you scattered from each other it was obvious what you both had previously been doing.

“Are you kidding me?” Your Mom shouts. She’s only looking at you, not acknowledging Jessie’s presence. You knew she wasn’t going to yell at Jessie, but you knew you were about to wish you had called in sick today.

“I’m going to go.” Jessie mutters under her breath before awkwardly rushing to grab her coffee off your desk and passing around your Mom to leave, she doesn’t look back as she turns the corner.

You can’t bring yourself to look anywhere but your feet. You can feel the anger radiating off of your Mom.

“Sit down.” She instructs you, she’s talking through her teeth, pointing at your desk chair. You obey, keeping your head pointed at the floor. She stands across from you. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You don’t know what to say or what to do besides sit unresponsive to her. Blinking rapidly you try to comprehend that Jessie had just kissed you, and also that your Mom had walked in seeing her kissing you.

“Fucking look at me when I’m talking to you.” Slowly lifting your eyes, your Mom is standing glaring, arms crossed, face red. “What the fuck are you doing? I just told you, you can’t be messing with her and you said there was nothing going on! Now I walk into her practically defiling you against the wall? So what, did you fucking lie to me before? You know how I feel about lying.”

“I didn’t lie before.” Lying was the one thing your Mom hated the most, you learned that as a kid. You didn’t lie to her, you didn’t lie to anyone, you were often honest to a fault. In this case it was the truth, or at least your truth, before it hadn’t crossed a completely unprofessional line, when your Mom had questioned you in the car, nothing had been going on. Now it had, you had kissed, that crossed the line into unprofessional.

“It’s one thing to have a little crush, you cannot be having sex in your work office.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” You couldn’t believe you had to be having this conversation with your Mom, you had hardly been able to wrap your brain around the fact that Jessie had feelings for you and that she had just kissed you. “It was just a kiss.”

“She had you against the wall. So help me god, if you fuck up this opportunity, I will be so pissed.” Her hands come down hard on your desk. You know that if Jessie or any other player was in the training room they’re hearing every word that she was screaming at you. “I’ve worked my ass off to get to where I am, and I was able to get you this job, if you mess up, it’ll come back on me!”

“I’m not going to fuck up this opportunity. You are so fixated on Jessie and I that you ignore all the good work I do! You don’t acknowledge that I’ve been helpful, that I was able to get Jessie back to playing, I help out the team, but you’re so fucking focused on my personal life you don’t see it! Mark sees it! He likes my work, he acknowledges me. He actually appreciates me, you don’t!” Now you’re yelling back, adding to your list of unprofessional actions today. You know you shouldn’t be yelling at her, she was looking out for you.

“I see the work you do but I’m not going to congratulate you when you clean up, that’s your job. But yes I’m focused on your inappropriate work relationship. I don’t want to see you ruin your life because you want to kiss a pretty girl.”

“She’s not going to ruin my life Mom.”

“She can. She’s the captain of this team. You realize that's a huge deal right? Do you know what it’ll look like if it came out that she was sleeping with the student on the training staff? That’ll ruin your future and tarnish her reputation.”

“I’m a student but I’m an adult mom, it’s not like I’m a 17 year old student. I’m an adult! I can make my own decisions.”

“Yes you’re an adult but this is work! You don’t get to make any choice you want, there are rules and paperwork and protocols you have to go through to do what you’re doing. It’s not as easy as the two of you deciding to make out. There are rules to protect you and to protect her, you two need to respect that. I have half a brain to drag her back in here and give her the same talk, but I won’t. You’re lucky I’m not up in Mark's office telling him to reconsider the offer you’ll be getting to take you to Paris with the team. You cannot be seeing her while you work on this team.”

“Okay.” Agreeing to your Mom’s statement but also not wanting to. You didn’t want to have to ignore Jessie again. You wanted to sit by her, talk with her, share smiles across the room, and you definitely were interested in kissing her more. But you also knew she was right, it was unprofessional, at least while you were still working for the team as a temporary student, regardless of age. There were policies, it was only right that you, and Jessie both follow them and odds are the Captain of the team isn’t about to go marching into the HR office to declare that she just made out with you in your office.

“Just so you know, I didn’t lie before. I promise, that was the first time.” Hoping it’ll ease your Mom’s anger a bit you try and explain the situation.

“Now, we’re both going to be late, thanks for that. We have a quick meeting upstairs.” She ignores your statement, and turns to leave. You follow her out of the room, thankful to see no one was in the training room and hopefully no one else had heard your screaming match.

When you walk into the conference room it’s both a mix of team and staff. You can feel Jessie’s eyes on you and your Mom as you both walk in. Even though no one knew what had just happened in your office, you couldn’t help but feel like somehow everyone knew. You could feel your cheeks turning red, taking a quick glance in Jessie’s direction she gives you a sympathetic smile.

You’re not even sure what the meeting was all about, talks of Paris, talks of getting enough sleep, talks of staying in communication with each other, all go in one ear out the other. It’s like a fog has covered your head, you’re unable to grasp anything being said by the coaching staff, by the training staff, by the players. After a couple of hours the meeting is dismissed. Everyone begins to clear out of the room. You stay sitting, drawing circles onto your notepad, not a single note from the meeting written down. A couple of the players say goodbye to you on their way out of the room, you give them a quick acknowledgment and well wishes, Jessie leaves without saying anything to you.

Mark makes his way over to you, placing his hand on the top of your pen, stopping your mindless scribbling.

“Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, I’ve got to help finish packing up but yes, I have a second.”

“I want you to come with the team to Paris. Is that something you’d be interested in? I understand it’s a large commitment, about two months of your time.”

“That would be incredible, I’d love the opportunity.” You’d get to travel, just like Jessie had said.

“That’s great, there’s some paperwork that’ll come with that, I’ll have the administration send it over for you to look at and sign. Since youlll be staying with us, I’d like you to continue your check-ins with Fleming. Keeping her up to date with the girls statuses as they have a few weeks away from camp. Is that something you can do?”

It takes everything in you to not immediately say yes, of course you wanted the excuse to talk to the girl but you shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t be given the chance to have private conversations with her anymore.

“I can, I think it would maybe be beneficial to have someone more senior on the team involved though, just since I’ve never seen how things operate not in the camp setting.” Making the mature choice, you try to incorporate someone else into your chats to make them professional.

“That’s fine with me, I’ll check with some of the team and see who can help you out getting comfortable with that. We really appreciated your help at this camp, it was nice having you, a lot of the girls were appreciative of you too.”

“Thank you, Mark. I learned a lot. I’m looking forward to Paris.” You stand up and shake his hand before he heads out of the room. You grab your note pad tearing off the top page with scribbling across it and you toss it into the trash as you walk out of the conference room.

“Hey.” You hear and feel her as Jessie grabs your wrist. She had been waiting against the wall outside the door. Looking around nervously at who might see you two you shake your wrist from her grip.

She doesn’t even begin to talk before you start, “Jessie we can’t, what happened in my office cannot happen again.” You try and keep your voice low, not wanting to alert anyone around you.

“I know. I crossed a line, it won’t happen again. I’m sorry. I’m also really sorry your Mom saw and I’m really sorry for whatever happened after I walked out.”

“Just a lot of yelling.” You kick your left shoe with your right, feeling uncomfortable at the mix of tension and guilt sitting in the air between the two of you. “She was mad, especially after I told you what she had told me already.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, it’s on me. I’m the older person here, I’ve been around this team longer, I should know better. I can tell your Mom that, if that’ll help. I can tell her it was all me.”

“I’d maybe avoid her, if you can help it. She thinks you were trying to ‘defile’ me against the office wall. And naturally she isn’t too happy about walking in on that.” A small laugh escapes as you quote your Mom’s words back to Jessie. Now that the initial fear of your Mom’s wrath is gone you found slight humor in the situation.

“Oh no.” Jessie’s hand comes to cover her mouth and the blush on her cheeks spreads.

“Yeah. At least you’ll be able to avoid her for a couple weeks until preparation for Paris starts.” Trying to make light of the situation. You can see Jessie is still a little uneasy about it.

“I guess.”

A silence falls between the two of you. Both standing in the hallway looking at each other. Knowing you both wanted each other but also both knowing you couldn’t have each other.

“I should go, have some packing up to do.” You point in the direction of the stairs that lead to the training room.

“Okay, so are we friends?” She asks you. The question is so innocent but it tugs at your heartstrings. You want to be able to tell her you’re friends but you can’t.

“I mean, maybe just coworkers for now? We can figure out if friendship is an option later. Once this all settles.”

“Right, that’s smart. So I’ll see you at the next camp then?” You can tell she looks a bit upset at your answer, but she accepts it.

“See you then Jessie.” You turn from her, it felt sad leaving her, knowing it would be weeks before you saw her in person again.

“Bye.” You hear her shout after you as you turn to go down the staircase. Hearing her call after you makes a smile break across your face. You knew you’d see her soon but you knew it wouldn’t feel nearly soon enough.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #jflem #woso imagine #woso x reader #canwnt

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benispunk · 26 days

Text

Good Company

logan howlett x reader

hello!!! guess who's back with a new story...I'm actually a bit nervous about it because I haven't (fully) written a reader insert fic in so long and I don't even know if it's a good depiction of the characters😭 anyway keep in mind that it was hard to write that, English is not my first language, and that I also want to write more, but I'm kind of shy around here. Okay enough about me. Enjoy!!

Wade worries that he’s seriously messed up with Logan, thinking he’s done something so bad that Logan might actually want to destroy him. Unsure of what went wrong, he turns to Y/n, Logan’s girlfriend, for advice.

TW: language, and Wade Wilson I guess.

Y/n was enjoying a quiet evening at her apartment, curled up on her couch with a book, when she heard loud knocks on the door. It was so insistent that she couldn’t help but roll her eyes, already suspecting who it was.

She opened the door to find Wade standing there, with a pizza box in one hand and a six-pack of beer in the other.

« Wade? » She raised an eyebrow. « What are you doing here? »

The man in question grinned brightly, shoving the pizza box toward her face as if it were an offering from a royal subject. « Surprise! I come in peace with gifts, for you, your majesty. I know, I know, you’re probably thinking ‘why is my most handsome friend standing at my door on this particular Friday evening, when I could be enjoying some alone time’- but here’s the thing, I was in the neighborhood, and I needed an excuse to come and see you, sunshine. »

Y/n’s skepticism deepened, her eyebrow arching even higher. « You were in the neighborhood? »

He shrugged, unbothered by the disbelief in her voice. « Fine, I was bored and I needed to see you and get away from the apartment. »

She frowned slightly, trying to figure out if there was more to this visit than he was letting on. « Alright, Wade. Come on in. »

Wade didn’t need a second invitation. He strolled into the apartment, setting the pizza and beer on the coffee table before flopping down on the couch with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times before. Y/n followed, sitting beside him, her curiosity piqued.

« Okay, spill it. What’s going on? » Y/n asked, tilting her head as she studied him.

Wade cracked open a beer, took a long sip, and then let out a dramatic sigh. « First, I did really miss you and I’m so happy to see you »

Y/n softened at that, a small smile playing on her lips. « I’m happy to see you too, Wade. But what is it? »

« Second… » Wade’s usual bravado faltered slightly as he searched for the right words. « You know how Logan’s got that permanent scowl like he’s auditioning for ‘Grumpiest Man Alive’? Lately, though, it feels like he’s been directing all that grumpiness at me. I’m used to him being grumpy—kind of comes with the territory—but now it’s like he’s gone from ‘mildly annoyed’ to ‘seriously, get out of my sight.’ »

He paused, looking down at the beer in his hand, his fingers fidgeting with the label. « And I know I’m an asshole and I annoy him every single minute of his life- like a sugar rush and a headache all rolled into one- but he’s been kind of on the verge of trashing down the place all because of one stupid joke. So I’ve been trying, or at least I think so, to be less…the annoying bitch that I am, but I feel like he’s getting worse with me? I’m trying to laugh it off, but honestly, it’s kind of eating at me, Y/n. You’re pretty much the Logan-whisperer—got any insights? »

Y/n’s expression softened at Wade’s revelation. She reached over and squeezed his arm gently. « Logan’s got a lot on his mind and, as you may know, he doesn’t know how to deal with that. And I think that, because he doesn't know how to express all of those things, and the fact that it takes a lot for him to open up, he might be pushing you away. He did the same thing with me at the beginning of our relationship. It was fuckin’ hard to deal with but I couldn’t let him do that. »

« Yeah, but your his girl. It's different. What if he decides he’s done with me? I mean, who else is gonna put up with my charming personality and endless movie references? » Wade’s attempt at humor fell flat, his unease still evident.

She chuckled softly, shaking her head.

« Sorry, I just- It’s just that I- ugh. Do I need to pay you at the end of this therapy session, counselor? »

« Go on, Wade. » Y/n urged, her tone gentle but firm.

He sighed, leaning back against the couch. « He’s my buddy. I don’t want to lose him. And I especially don’t want to be the reason he’s leaving me. I would rather have you telling him to stop being friends with me. If he even considers me as a friend…»

Y/n cut him off, her voice firm. « Of course, he does! You’re his friend, Wade. Probably one of the best at that. Never doubt that, trust me. And I’m sorry he has you feeling that way. Those walls he put up around himself, it’s not for his own safety, he truly believes that he’s a danger for others. Whatever he does to you, it’s because he cares too much about you to be a burden in your life. He’s a fucking idiot for that, yes. It hurts even more to know that, yes. And I’m certainly not trying to defend him, but you should know that I had to work hard to break those damn walls. »

Wade stared at her, a mixture of hope and disbelief in his eyes. « You know, for someone who spends so much time with a guy who barely talks, you’re pretty good at this whole talking thing. »

She smiled, her heart warming at the sight of Wade starting to relax. « Takes a lot of practice. »

As they settled into their usual banter, Wade felt a little lighter, knowing that Y/n understood his concerns and had reassured him. Logan might be tough to figure out, but with Y/n in the picture, Wade felt like maybe things would be okay.

He grinned, the familiar mischief returning to his eyes. « I’ll fight for our man »

Y/n laughed, shaking her head in amusement. « You’re ridiculous. »

Wade took another sip of his beer, his grin widening. « Yeah, but you love me for it. »

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the fond smile that tugged at her lips. « Yeah, I guess I do. »

___

Logan found himself standing outside Y/n’s apartment door, hesitating. He could hear muffled sounds of laughter from inside, recognizing Wade’s loud one. With a heavy sigh, he pushed the door open.

Inside, Y/n and Wade were on the couch, a pizza box and empty beer bottles cluttered on the coffee table. Wade was in the middle of an animated story, and Y/n was smiling at him. The sight made his chest tighten. He’d been so wrapped up in his own head lately that he hadn’t even noticed how much he was distancing himself from all of this.

Wade spotted him first, grinning from ear to ear. « Hey, Logan. Decided to join the party after all? »

Logan grunted, closing the door a little harsher than he intended, making Y/n jumped at the sound. « Didn’t expect to find you here. »

Y/n smile faded slightly, sensing the tension in the room. She moved on the couch, making space for Logan beside her. « We were just hanging out, figured you might want to join us » she said.

Logan hesitated, his eyes lingering on Wade for a moment before he finally sat down. The silence that followed was thick, the easy banter from earlier replaced by a heavy, unspoken tension. Y/n could feel Logan’s frustration radiating off him, and Wade’s nervous energy was practically palpable.

« So… » Wade started, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence. « You, uh, missed some prime pizza. And I even saved you a slice. It’s in the kitchen, waiting for you, like a good little slice of heaven. »

Logan just grunted again, staring at the coffee table instead of acknowledging the gesture. Y/n felt the tension mounting and knew she had to do something before things got worse.

She gently nudged Logan with her elbow, giving him a small, encouraging smile. « Maybe you should eat something. Might help you feel better. »

Logan glanced at her, his hard exterior softening just a bit under her gaze. But before he could respond, Wade cleared his throat, drawing both of their attention back to him.

« Listen, Logan, » Wade began, his usual bravado faltering as he tried to sound casual. « I know I’m not exactly Mr. Sensitivity, but…have I done something to piss you off more than usual? You’ve been, uh, a little more…murderous lately, and I’m starting to think it’s not just my charming personality. »

Logan frowned. « What are you talking about? You’re always fucking annoying, bub. »

Wade forced a laugh, but there was an edge of vulnerability in his voice that Logan couldn’t ignore. « Yeah, I know, but it feels like I’m more of a target than usual. Like, did I cross some line? Or is it just me being my usual, lovable self? »

Y/n squeezed Logan’s hand gently, trying to ground him.

He looked at her, his frustration battling with the guilt that was slowly taking over. Admitting that something was wrong was never easy for him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly conflicted.

« It’s not…It’s not you, Wade, » Logan finally muttered, though his tone was still gruff. « I’ve got a lot of stuff on my mind and, uh, I guess I’ve been taking it out on you. »

Wade’s expression shifted, a mixture of relief and concern. « Okay, so…what’s on your mind, then? Maybe I can help. Or, at least, I can try to stop doing whatever it is that’s making you want to claw my face off. »

Logan didn’t answer right away, his eyes darting between Wade and Y/n. He could see the worry in her eyes, the way she was trying to keep the peace between them. It only made him feel worse. He wasn’t used to people caring so much, and it unsettled him.

« It’s nothing you can help with, » Logan said after a long pause, his voice softer now. « Just…shit I’m dealing with. Doesn’t mean I hate you, Wade. Just means I’m not great at dealing with stuff. Also, you’re still a pain in the ass. »

Wade nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. « Okay, I can get that. I appreciate it. But, you know, I’m not exactly great at feelings and all that, but I’m here if you need to… I don’t know, punch something or whatever. »

Logan managed a small smile at that, finally meeting Wade’s gaze. « Yeah, I know that. Thanks. »

Wade grinned, his usual energy starting to return. “Well, now that we’ve had our little therapy session, how about we crack open another beer and watch a good movie? It’s like the ultimate bonding experience. And what’s the best thing for that? A fucking musical.”

Logan’s expression immediately soured. « You’ve got to be kidding me. »

Wade’s grin only grew. « Oh yeah, peanut! »

Y/n laughed, her eyes twinkling with excitement as Logan let out an exaggerated groan, his shoulders slumping as he reluctantly gave in.

Wade chuckled and patted Logan on the back. « Let’s fucking go. »

As they settled onto the couch, Logan couldn’t help but shake his head in amusement. Despite his grumbling, there was a genuine warmth in his eyes as he looked at Y/n and Wade. He found himself laughing at Wade’s over-the-top dance moves and Y/n’s infectious joy.

Logan glanced at his girlfriend, who was practically glowing with happiness as she sang along to the movie’s songs. It was clear he was enjoying himself, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

___

Later that night, after Wade had left and they were alone again, Logan stayed behind at Y/n’s apartment. He was still living with Wade but coming back home after tonight wasn’t the best idea. He needed the calm he found in Y/n’s home. They sat together on the couch, the remnants of their evening scattered around them.

« You know, you handled that pretty well. » she said softly.

Logan let out a long breath, leaning back against the couch. « Yeah, well, didn’t feel like it at the time. »

« But you did, and that’s what matters. » she insisted, turning to look at him.

He looked down at her, his gaze softening as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. « I don’t know what I’d do without you. »

She smiled, leaning into his touch. « Lucky for you, you won’t have to find out. »

Logan pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on top of her head. For the first time in a while, he felt like things were starting to make sense again.

He tilted his head slightly, brushing his lips against the top of her head. She lifted her head up, catching his gaze, her eyes reflecting a mixture of affection and relief. Logan's eyes softened as he looked at her, the weight of the past few days seeming to lift.

He leaned in, pressing his lips against hers, soft and slow, as if she was made of glass. The most precious thing in his heart. Y/n's hands found their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as she deepened the kiss.

When they finally pulled back, their foreheads rested together, both of them breathing a little heavier.

Logan searched her eyes, his voice soft and sincere, a contrast to his usual gruff. « I love you. »

Y/n’s lips curled up. « I love you too, Lo. »

For the first time in a while, he felt a deep sense of peace. And as they sat there, surrounded by the soft glow of the apartment, he knew that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, they’d be okay. They’ll always find a way.

Thank you for reading <3

#fanfiction #fandom #ao3 #logan howlett x reader #deadpool and wolverine #marvel cinematic universe #logan howlett #hugh jackman x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #xmen fanfiction #xmen x reader #wade wilson #deadpool 3 #deadpool movies #deadpool

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ghostsvacuumcleaner · 1 year

Text

You came — you called. | Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

credits for the header - ghost's pic by the very talented @ave661 ✦ Word count: 2.2k ✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader ✦ Summary: After being abused by your current date, in need of comfort, you call your ex-boyfriend and recurring fling, Simon, to talk. ✦ TW and general warnings: SFW, some kisses here and there but no smut, angst, you guys are in a complicated situationship, fluff, sensitive content (domestic violence) ✦ AO3 | Masterlist edit: I wrote a part 2 in case you're interested <3

A/N: I really need to finish my already started requests, really do but inspiration ONLY gets to me when I'm randomly existing and then a random prompt comes in mind and arghhh gotta write 😭 but I promise - if anyone reading this sent me a request, know I've started it already and I WILL finish. also, thinking really a lot about making a part 2 for this piece and making it smutty. pls let me know if anyone's interested! anyways, not proof read, hope y'all enjoy, x

━━━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━━━

It’s the same place as the last time you saw him. Ironic, maybe. You still smoke the same cigarettes he offered to you once in a promise it would help you calm down from your anxiety; it did. It did a little too much. You still wear that same necklace you refused to get rid off even after you dumped him, after you promised you’d never see him again, never talk to him again. God, hope he doesn’t get mad at that.

Truth is you’ve been failing at that for quite some time. You’ve been seeing him way more than it’s necessary, but contrary to how things used to be before, now every moment with him is a single time that ceases to exist once you get home. He texts; you ignore. He doesn’t text anymore till the next time he misses you. You ignore it till the next time you miss him. This time isn’t much different, only you have a bit more of a reason to be here, unsure if he’ll show up, smoking this damned red Marlboro and feeling like shit. Like absolute shit.

You exhale the smoke, your hair tied back in a ponytail through the cap gap. Hiding yourself.

His big broad figure fills the door in, and he comes inside. To your big surprise, he decided lastly to come; Simon looks at you with a bitter look on his face, his dirty blonde hair trimmed, his beard done, wearing one of his thousand black tight t-shirts and a pair of jeans. He looks the same as ever.

“You came.” You say, surprised as he pulls the chair back and takes the seat in front of yours.

“You called.” He replies simply, his body relaxing spaciously in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah, I did.” You let out some more smoke before discarding your cigarette on the ashtray. “But I thought you were still mad at me.”

He looks at you in silence for a couple seconds, and scoffs.

“And that never stopped you from calling, did it?” He snorts impatiently. “Did something actually happen or are you just lonely and needing someone to help you fall asleep?” You feel derision in his attitude and his voice is dripping with venom and bitterness.

You close your eyes. Can’t blame him, can you? You had your own good reasons to break up with him, although stupidly, without thinking twice - without thinking that you’d end up missing him. Trying to find him in all the wrong places, wrong guys.

“Well go on, Simon, what else do you still have to tell me?” You mimic him, crossing your arms and your face a little twisted in irritation facing him. “I was single, I still am. I had the right to be with someone else.”

“I never blamed you for that. I never fucking blamed you.” Simon wipes his mouth with his hand, his ever icy expression breaking into frustration the second you open your mouth again.

“You are blaming me. You-”

“I fucking am not. I’m angry at the poor fucking choice you did. Getting rid of me for that fucker? You’re making a joke out of yourself, even for someone like me that’s fucking downgrading.” He snaps, regretting it the second later and squeezing his eyes for a moment.

You remain silent. He’s right. He’s absolutely right.

You stare into the distance of the window by your side, silent - embarrassed, regretful. Your hands together over your lap and your silence put together make him raise his head at you once again, in a sigh.

“I shouldn’t be here. Our conversations won’t ever end in anything good but me taking you to bed, if that’s what you want then I’ll gladly do it without all the trouble.” He states. You tremulously raise your eyebrows and your lips curl in a small hurt smile.

Ouch.

You know he said it to hurt you. You know he’s angry, he’s hitting all the right buttons to get under your skin, he can’t help it. He can’t help but to be a bastard sometimes, he never learnt different.

Your eye stare down your own hands, you feel your lips tremble and the lump in your throat gets bigger each second. It's hard to hold back the tears, but for your dignity, you try. There's no less brutal way to admit something like that, so you vomit the words all at once.

“He hit me, Simon.”

His eyes open, the pupils slowly dilate like those of a shark that has just tasted blood for the first time.

Simon has blood on his hands. From too many people, more than you could count. And even if that's his job, never in all those hard years with him - you swore - had you ever seen him so pissed off.

The veins in his temples stood out and he swallowed bitterly, his mind empty; If he wasn't an extremely restrained man, then he would have gotten up and taken action right now. A thoughtless attitude that he might later regret - maybe.

“Tell me his address.” He snaps, his blood boiling enough for you to almost feel the heat increasing in his flesh.

“Simon, no.” You immediately cut him off, shaking your head, almost crying at this point. "That's not what I called you for, I don't want you to hurt anyone. I broke up with him, I don't have anything to do with that son of a bitch anymore, I just-"

He interrupts you with a gesture and claps his hands to his face. He brushes his own skin roughly, as a self-reminder that if he gives in to his own anger, he'll let you down.

When he makes room for his eyes through his hands again and sees your reddened

face, tears streaming down your cheeks - he dies inside.

He promised he’d always be there for you. He promised he’d never let you down, he’d always protect you, he’d kill for you. He said it plenty of times and you were completely aware that it was true.

He couldn’t possibly let you down.

“No, please, I can’t- I just can’t when you cry.” He mutters, getting up from his seat and offering his hand. “You come with me. Please?”

━ ⟡ ━

The hot steaming water falls over your head, sweeping your tears as you hug your legs. Simon's fingertips brush calmly your back, he contours the bruises on your lower half like he's grieving. The silence fills in the bathroom if not for the sound of water dripping on your head. He pours some water on your back to soothe your pain - even if you're not feeling any at this point.

"Why did you not call me before?" He asks, with painful confusion in his raspy voice. His hands are shaking and you know it's pure anger and his own incapability of holding himself back when it comes to feeling anger. You sigh, tired.

"I don't know. I felt like I'd be unfair to you." You try to explain, your hands caressing your shins while the water runs through your skin. "And because I didn't want to get you in this state."

His eyes narrow as he stares at you, and you shrug in response. It's clear to him why you don't like to get him stressed - he could never hurt you, but he was a danger to others.

He waves his hands to shake off the water and stands up, grabbing and opening a clean towel for you.

You stand up, your eyes don't dare leaving his. He silently admires you, although his mind can't think much more than how guilty he feels for letting this happen to you - even though there was nothing he could do about it. You dry your feets on the mat and turn your back so he can wrap you in the towel, and he does so.

Simon calmly brushes the towel against your shoulders, drying a bit of the water that drips from your whole body and once he’s done wrapping you in the towel, he places his hands on your back and leads you to his room.

His smell is everywhere around and what used to be intoxicating and lustful for you, is now soothing and quiet. You sit on the edge of his bed, silence seeming to be now a whole conversation between the two of you.

Your hand reaches for his and places it on your cheek. You look up at him with kitty eyes, your thumb circles the skin on the back of his hand till it finds the scar you were looking for – one of his oldest ones, according to himself. You close your eyes and snuggle into his hand, giving it a light, calming kiss.

He caresses your cheek and moves your hair from your face.

“I’ll get you some fresh clothes.” He says in a whisper. You nod, and he comes back moments later with a clean shirt of his. You tug it in your neck and quickly put it on letting the fabric run free on your body, loose.

He starts removing rubbish from his bedside table – an ashtray, an empty can of energy drink, a gun. As you notice he seems to be trying to empty the room for you, you speak out.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"I'll be in the living room if you need me for anything." He says simply. Before he can leave the room, you stop him by wrapping your hand on his arm. The sudden motion makes him turn around to face you, his dark eyes gazing at yours and seeming already aware of what comes next – a protest.

"Simon." You use a warning tone, and he closes his eyes.

"You don't want to have me around now, kitten. I'm far from calm…" He argues, calmly looking down at you now. The proximity burns you, he's too close.

"I'm not scared." You mewl, your hands on his tough chest, he doesn't move a muscle. Your hands start trailing up to his neck, and you get on your tiptoes to wrap your arms better around him; Simon closes his eyes, drunk by the overwhelming feeling of having you so close to him. He misses you.

One of his hands holds your wrist before you manage to curl up on his neck, and the other one gently holds on your waist. He bends down enough so he can reach your tiny self. He gives you what you want - his lips slowly catch yours in a slow, calm kiss; the warmth of his lips against yours is medicine to you – soothes all of your pain, eases all of your anxiety. He squeezes on your waist and pulls back once he starts feeling heaty and his breath starts to become uncontrolled, needy. He breaths against your lips, his eyes barely closed and his breath catching on his throat like panting.

You stare at his lips before going back to his eyes.

"Stop." He snarls, raising his head a bit, avoiding your face and the closeness you impose on him now. It feels wrong. You need space.

You close your eyes, you understand. It feels wrong.

After all of this time of failed attempts to let go, to sound nonchalant and be away from each other – after all the fails and the sex, devoid of feeling type of sex, rough, delicious but raw sex, he wants to fuck you straight. He doesn't want to be angry, he wants to take you and make love to you.

You understand. Feels wrong.

"Will you be fine here? You need to rest and I need to take a walk, clear my head." He mutters, avoiding your eyes for the sake of restraining himself. You nod.

"I'll be alright. You'll come back, right?" You ask, looking at him - looking for his eyes. He stands back from you and nods.

"Of course." He assures you, before caressing your hair slowly and giving you a calm kiss on the forehead. "Rest. Do not stay awake waiting for me, hear me?" He snarls, grabbing his keys and a hoodie of his, tucking it in and giving you space.

You sit in his bed and nods, watching him leave by the room door and close it behind himself. Now alone, you close your eyes exhausted by the lack of sleep you've been having for these past few days; it doesn't take you long to fall asleep, surrounded by comfortable pillows that smell like his perfume – woody and whiskey.

Walking in the streets, with his hands digging in his hoodie's pocket and tough stomps, Simon's face lit up by the light emanating from the street lamps. His body swings slightly to the weight of his steps, and he breathes heavily.

After several minutes – more than he probably told you he'd take, he stops in front of a very familiar residence. You should know it wouldn't be any trouble for him to find your abuser's house.

He took a familiar piece of cloth out of his pocket, it had been time since he last wore it. Now seemed like a good moment. A balaclava, full face mask – handmade, with a skull painted on. Simon hugs you and kisses your scars; Ghost wants revenge.

#simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod fic #simon riley fluff #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley imagine #ghost fluff #ghost x reader #cod ghost #simon riley #cod mw2

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bluegiragi · 10 months

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okay, first of all, absolutely goddamn feral about you, your art, writing, ideas and aus i am chewing on the bars of my cage and foaming at the mouth and screeching incoherent and rolling around on the floor and- ough... anyway

i do have a very self indulgent question, particularly about Monster AU Ghost and Price, but also extending towards the rest of 141 with their involvement

at one point you mentioned that wraiths were rare, and ghost would likely feel pity towards another one

what would happen if they did come across another wraith? especially someone fairly fresh, maybe even young, younger than any of them. is there anything anyone could do to help them? would they help? price seems to know how to handle ghost well enough, and seems like hes been around since ghost's transformation, but how would ghost himself handle seeing someone else go through something like what he did? if he had to, what advice would he give them that he never got?

just been rotting in my brain 😭 ily gira and i hope youre taking care of yourself, thank you so much for the work you put in and share with us 🥺💕

this!! is!! such a good question, anon!!!! I think there's a lot of sides to that kind of situation, especially if it’s a younger person since I hc Ghost as having a massive soft spot for kids.

lots of writing under the cut!!! my braincells were FEASTING.

I think if it was just Ghost and the newly-born wraith, he'd try to mercy-kill it. The circumstances that lead to the creation of a wraith are truly harrowing, and while Simon understands the desire for revenge that burns at the core of every freshly made wraith, he also believes their plight is a kind of torture. In his mind, it would be kind to put one out of their misery. He wouldn't take any pleasure in it - I think overall, it would be a miserable affair for all parties involved.

If Price or any of the others were around, I think they’d try to convince him to take them under his wing so to speak. But while Ghost currently operates decently with his support system, he’s extremely lucky and should be considered the exception to the trend. Price was instrumental in his recovery - years of working under him solidified Price in his subconscious as an authority figure he could trust. When Ghost lost control, he could still rely on instinct - even with his mind fracturing, Price never changed. But not everyone has this kind of person immediately available to them, and it was crucial that Price got to him as soon as he did. What Ghost is now is not what a wraith commonly looks like. Price dragged him back from a brink.

New wraiths are sort of like rabid dogs, with no sense of self preservation. They’d approach every confrontation with the kind of frenzy you’d see in someone fighting for their life. They’d also be basically impossible to immobilize - you’ve seen how Simon goes wispy at times, imagine trying to handcuff a cloud of smoke. If it came down to a situation where any of the 141 were in danger, Ghost wouldn’t hold back. He’d put the other wraith down.

But if Ghost met another wraith who’d survived that first explosion of fury and managed to calm down, AND the 141 were with him, I think he’d try to help. They bring out the best in him.

#also as an aside on the price ghost situation #it was a real blind leading the blind situation during his recovery #not a lot is known about wraiths and practically nothing about minimising their…wraithiness #so price was just acting knowing that this was Simon now #and Simon needed him #I promise I’m going to draw this whole thing in a backstory plot line #askbox #anon

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cherubshert · 14 days

Text

𝒫𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈, 𝒞𝓊𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉

Warnings: Kissing, Sunghoon was and is kinda mean, Slapping (reader slaps hoon), cursing, references to past bullying, anger, angst (i guess), bad writing.

a/n: I kinda wanted to write something a bit more mature, idk. This is so all over the place, im not the best at writing emotions or writing coherently. ngl i also really hate this, but i hope some else likes it.

The slap seemed through echo through the empty hall, the music from the party downstairs filling the empty air between you two. You chest heaves with anger, your fingers tingling as you finally made eye contact with Sunghoon for the first time that night. "What the fuck Sunghoon!" you scream, "What do want, why are you ruining this for me?!"

He stands there angrily, glaring down at you, his hand holding his face. "Don't put this shit on me! What were you doing with Jake?" "I'm doing exactly what you said I should! I'm wasting my time on someone whose worth the waste, isn't that what you told me to do?! I'm taking my feelings elsewhere because you don't want to reciprocate." Your voice shakes slightly, memories from the week before hitting you again harshly. Your words make him pause, his head moving away from you, cursing under his breath.

You scoff at him, turning on your feet towards the room you were so rudely pulled out of. "Where are you going?" You don't turn to him, your steps speeding up at this sound of his. "To the guy who actually wants me, I'm not wasting my energy on someone who only sees me as an object for his pleasure." He grabs your hand , effectively stopping you "I don't see you that way. " "Don't -" "Fuck can you let me speak."

"I wasn't in the right state of mind that night, that's why I said what I said. I didn't mean any of it." You rolled your eyes, struggling to twist your hand out of his grasp. "Save all that for some one else Sunghoon, you've shown me enough times what I am to you. You think I'm stupid? You knew I liked you ever since highschool, you treated me like trash, and then flipped cause you needed a distraction from that ex of yours. I know it all! I'm not an idiot anymore. Let go!"

"I've changed, I'm not like that anymore." He paused bitting his bottom lip. "I care about you, I really do." "Yea, that's why you got with Eunji, even after all she did to me." He let out a frustrated sigh, "I told you nothing happened between us! She lied, I'm trying to be honest with you, she lied!" Your stare into his glossy eyes, bitting your lip, your heart pounds in your chest, as you desperately try to find a sign that he's lying to you.

"I hate you." You mutter, tears trailing down your cheeks. "I love you."

Anger bubbles in your chest again, "No you don't!" You scream, ignoring the pain in your throat as you continue. "You never did! You never will! You said it yourself, while they all laughed, you said it, you said you found me vile, disgusting, You said it." You whimper your voice dying out with each word.

He watched you crumble, your head dropping forward. He searches deeply, into the treasures of his mind. It's in the highschool school's parking lot, its not clear but he remembers the camera, he remembers how you were brought up in discourse, the harsh scoff he let out, words he would now slap himself for leaving his lips. fuck.

He stares down at your crying figure, his hand raised to the back of your head, pulling you into his chest. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." his grip on your arm loosens, his arms wrapped around your shoulders. You hesitantly wrap your hands aound his waist.

You pull away slightly, letting his lips press to yours. He reaches behind you opening door slightly, your body stumbling back. He kicks the door shut, his right hand going behind your head, acting as a cushion as you both fall to the bed. Your hands rise to his hair, ruffling it slightly.

You bite at his bottom lip, hard enough to feel a metallic taste fill your senses. He groaned pained, pulling away to brush his lip with his thumb. "The fuck?" He questions affectionately, reaching down to cup your face. Shuffling in the hall catches your ear, before a door slams shut in the distance.

"I hate you." You whisper, not moving in your spot, you're eyes sparkling the same way they always did. He flips your body, still holding your close, your hands resting on his chest. "I deserve it." His tongue flicks out to lick his lip, your eyes moving to it. "It really hurts, can you kiss it better?" You hesitate, Jake flashing in your mind for a second before you lean down, gently pressing your lips to his.

#cherub𔘓works #cherubshert diary.#sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fanfiction #sunghoon angst #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #kpop angst #kpop fanfiction #kpop fluff #kpop x poc reader #kpop x black reader

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drchucktingle · 1 year

Note

Is there a reason you didn't include an acknowledgements section in Camp Damascus?

yes actually, as man name of chuck i have spent a lot of time FINDING MY IDENTITY through masking and unmasking. in early days there were many more layers hiding me away and it took a while for me to understand WHY. over the last ten years buckaroos have very much seen me find myself through art, accepting and talking about my sexuality, neurodivergence, and gender.

there is ALWAYS a layer to protect my privacy, and to allow myself room for POETRY. example i like to give is that if i post 'i pet a dog today' i might have actually pet a cat, but everything i say is true is some sense. in the early days that truth was stretched farther because even i did not quite understand it my dang self, and it has been my journey to strip away as much of this mask as possible (sometimes called removing my skin) and BECOME MYSELF on this timeline (which is something i have always talked about)

if you have been following chuck for the last decade you will see my older posts were much more abstract and difficult to parse, they reference themes that i have since come to terms with, and this journey to find myself is WHY i have been able to do this. some could say it was the journey of a reverse twin adapting to their new timeline, others could say it was the journey of a neurodivergent artist allowing themselves the freedom to find a healthy expression and conquer their chronic pain from constant neurotypical masking.

FOR INSTANCE this is why i am wearing buckaroo suits on tour now, an outfit that is more true to the INNER ME. i used to answer interview questions with metaphor and now i just answer, only hiding certain details when i need to. i talk less about figures in my life back in billings who were REAL IDEAS and PARTS OF MYSELF but sometimes not flesh and blood or ghostly buckaroos. this is my trot, and this is why i am so strongly against gatekeepers in the buckaroo community. i have been becoming myself long before i knew what that meant.

so when it came time for acknowledgments i realized i would have to acknowledge buckaroos who helped along the way but also ABSTRACT IDEAS who helped along the way, symbols and themes that i have since decided i wanted to leave behind. it was important to me to create a new era of my expression where those abstract layers are respected but also stripped away. i have to respect the inner truth i am trying to cultivate, for way of my mental health and also my physical health.

so i DID write out acknowledgments and sent them to my buckaroos privately, then i said please do not include this in the public book. these days i want to hide behind as few layers as possible, that is my artistic journey now. buckaroos were very respectful and supportive.

very quick before we finish, there was one other small and important reason. i am so sincere ALL the dang time it is kind of my natural state to get very emotional and thankful, that i kinda thought 'i am going to give myself space here to NOT stress out over this for once'. i am constantly thinking about acknowledging others and i LOVE this part of my trot, but doing it in a way that is so defined and specific and maybe even performative (gotta write your acknowledgments now bud. HAVE to do it) felt at odds with my inner way.

anyway thank you for this very good question what a dang treat to talk about this detail and how much it means to me to find truth in my inner trot.

#chuck tingle #tingleverse #acknowledgments #camp damascus

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bettyfrommars · 9 months

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.”

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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 ❤️

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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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