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blackmarketfruitrollups · 9 months

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There, All Better (Brand Walsh X FemReader)

Warnings: Swearing, but if you've watched the movie I doubt you're surprised

A/N the lack of Goonies fanfic is absolutely appalling

Amazing how life can get turned on it's head so suddenly, isn't it? One moment life is routine and mundane, and next thing you know, your life is falling apart.

This was the unfortunate reality for Y/N L/N, and by tomorrow her family would be leaving the home she'd spent her entire life in, so that rich douche Troy Perkin's father could bulldoze where she'd spent her formative years, the Goon Docks.

Unfortunately there was nothing to be done. Both her father and Mr. Walsh had both done everything they could to convince Mr. Perkins to change his mind, but the old leather shoe had decided that countless people's lives and memories were unimportant when compared with his personal agenda. And Troy Perkin loved to rub her face in the fact that she had to leave.

The same Troy Perkin dating her best friend, Andi. And loathing wasn't a strong enough word to describe the mutual feelings between her and her friend's boyfriend.

Nonetheless, here she was in the back of Troy's convertible next to Steph, Andi riding in the front passenger seat while Troy kept angling his rearview mirror to look down Andi's shirt.

"You disgusting pervert." She snapped, reaching across Steph to cuff the back of the jock's head. "Stop thinking with your crotch and watch the road before we crash and die."

"Jeez, Andi tell the buzzkill in the back to chill. You don't mind, do ya babe." Troy grunted, taking another peek down her shirt.

"Hey, who's that?" Steph interrupted, pointing down the road where someone was riding a comically small pink bike.

"Is that-?" Andi started, when Troy suddenly slowed down next to the figure.

"Brand?" Y/N leaned forward from the back seat, peaking around.

"Oh uh, hey Y/N." Brand stuttered, leaning his hand up on the car.

Brand and Y/N had known eachother a long time, grown up together in fact. Their fathers had worked together at the museum, quickly becoming close friends. One thing lead to another and next thing you know their families were never apart.

Whether it was barbeques, meeting to swim at the beach, or Y/N babysitting Mikey, they were always together, and over time both Brand and the girl had feelings for eachother. That being said, neither of them were going to do anything about it, terrified of ruining their lifelong friendship if the other person didn't feel the same.

Unbeknownst to them, their mothers had been convinced they were going to get married since they were both five, hopefully making the girl into Y/N Walsh.

But in the meantime, Y/N never expected to see Brand in sweats on some small child's bright pink bike, and Brand had never expected to see her sat in Troy's car, but here they were.

"Brand, can we give you a ride somewhere?" Y/N asked, Troy shooting her a scathing look while Steph and Andi wiggled their eyebrows at her.

"Uh, no." Brand panted. "Thanks anyway though."

Troy turned, looking at Y/N with a twisted grin, before starting the car again. "Yeah Walsh, let us give you a little ride."

Troy then grabbed onto Brand's hand on the car, before making the car move. "Hold on, here we go!"

"Hey!" Andi and Y/N shouted in unison, as Steph started smacking Troy's arm.

"Troy stop!" Y/N yelled, hitting Troy repeatedly as he continued to pick up speed. "Let him go!"

"Stop!" The other girls shouted, trying to help.

"Hey let go of my hand Troy!" Brand yelled, looking between Troy and the road as the bike started going faster than it was built to.

"Hold on!" The jock cackled, as Y/N continued to smack the back of his head.

"Let go!"

Suddenly there was an odd screeching noise, and turning around Y/N saw the training wheels that had previously been attached to the bike, laying in the middle of the road.

"Troy stop, you're gonna kill him!" She screamed.

"Let go of my hand!" Brand repeated, and this time Troy listened, releasing his hand to put them both on the steering wheel.

But it didn't matter, they had already been going to fast and despite Troy not holding him to the car anymore, Brand was going so fast that he kept up with them as they sped down the road. Until the curb on the side of a massive hill, the drop from the road being so steep and covered in rocks and trees injury was inevitable if you fell.

And Brand was speeding straight towards it with no brakes.

Steph and Y/N reached for him, but it was to late.

"Brand!" Y/N screeched as he was launched through the air.

"So long, sucker!" Troy shouted, continuing to speed down the road until he was smacked across the back of the head with a bag.

"PULL OVER."

"Holy shit, what's wrong with you?" He groaned, clutching the back of his head as he stopped the car.

"You're such an asshole!" Y/N yelled, jumping out of the car with her backpack. "If he's dead I'm calling the cops! Steph, Andi, I'll see you at school." She stormed off, running in the direction they had just come from.

"Yeah whatever." Troy spat, flooring it before either of Y/N's friends could do anything.

She ran back to the curve, finding the bike all mangled down the hill, and Brand having almost made his way back to the top, looking all dirty and torn up.

"Oh my gosh." She jogged down to where he was, cupping his face in her hands. "Are you hurt? Well, duh obviously, don't answer that."

He just stood there and blinked at her before she was pulling him by the wrist back to the top of the hill where she'd left her bag.

"Sit down, sit down." She pushed him to sit on the ground, recieving no resistance. Y/N knelt on the ground in front of him, digging through her bag for her makeshift first aid kit.

He watched her for a moment, feeling kind of ridiculous in his workout headband, but more focused on the pain in his face and the pretty girl in front of him.

Pulling things out of her bag she wiped at his face with a tissue before putting what he assumed was some antibiotic all over his wounds. She glanced down at her bag, then smiled at him sheepishly whilst raising her hand to show him a bright yellow bandaid with a smiley face on it.

"It's the only type I have."

"That's fine," he grins. "I'll take whatever you've got."

She returns his smile and puts a few bandaids on his face, neck and arms, leaning down to kiss the one on his forehead when she was done.

"There." She smiled. "All better."

Suddenly they were kids again, eight to be precise, riding their bikes in the middle of summer, when Y/N ended up face planting into the gravel. Brand, panicking, started digging through her backpack looking for bandaids (because even at eight her mother insisted she carry some).

Once he found some he placed them on her forehead, but was disheartened when he looked down and saw her eyes full of tears.

"My mama always kisses them better, but she's not here so what do I do?"

Brand looked around, before his eight year old brain decided that the most logical course of action was to kiss them better for her.

So leaning down, he left a big sloppy kiss in the middle of her forehead, before stepping back and smiling, proud of himself.

"There, all better."

#fanfiction #angst #fluff #x reader #x fem!reader #x poc reader #x plus size reader #the goonies #80s #80s movies #brand walsh #brand walsh x reader #mikey walsh #goonies never say die

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80s4life · 2 years

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Beauty And The Beast

Word Count: 6,686 (longest fanfic I’ve ever written, yay!)

Status: Requested!

Ask: I read your Jake Fratelli x Chunk's sister and I absolutely loved it. May I request another Jake and Chunk's sister fic?

@: @thatwinchestergirl02

A/N: I was WAITING for you to ask, so I'd have a viable reason to post this! Thank you so much! I worked on this for a few weeks and it was more dark than I’d expected initially (and took forever, I’m sorry).

Fandom: The Goonies 1985

Relationship: Jake Fratelli x Cohen!Female!Reader (Chunk's sister, and ironically, the same last name as the actor)

Summary: He wasn’t good - that was common knowledge - but he embraced it. He used it as a cloak that hid who he wanted to be, or really, who he feared to really be. He was mislead, misused, and misunderstood. No one could match up to him. Not. Even. You. Or, could you?

Warnings: language, kidnap, crime, age-gap pairing, slight Stockholm Syndrome (not really though because he’s a good boy)

Key: Un bel pasticcio- A beautiful/pretty mess

Masterlist Goonies Masterlist

{gif is not mine, credits go to @savethegoondocks}

“Chunk - Dammit!” Brand screams, alerting the rest of the group that was starting to drift away.

They’re trapped, Chunk having tried to fit through the same alcove as Brand once the initial sound of boots perked their ears. It was an innocent mistake.

Spinning on your heel, you catch sight of what’s causing Brand’s voice to become almost squeaky and rushed. Just some ways behind him, you see the Fratelli brothers gaining, swiftly trudging all over the traps you’d struggled to master.

You waste no time, pushing the others the opposite direction, “Go! I’ve got them!”

Stef, calm and collected, nods at you with adrenaline-fueled determination, “Go! Go! Go! They’ll catch up!” Doing the best she can manage, she starts shoving them, disappearing through the little passageway into protection.

Hurriedly, you start to pull Brand through, grabbing at his hands and yanking him as hard and as fast as physically possible. Chunk screams in pain, the rocks and Brand pinning him and causing him to rub and scrape against the sharp cave walls. You wince at each sound, but don’t let up. You can’t. Not now. “Just hold on Chunk, it’ll all be over in a second. I promise!”

Brand lets loose, tumbling to the cool stone floor languidly before regaining feeling. Turning to look at you, you wave him on in distress, already going to lunge for your brother. However, he stays grounded, standing in the entrance way of the exit, the remaining Goonies awaiting you on the other side.

Lightly grasping Chunk’s upper arm, you kneel to help him up, only for another yelp to break free. Confusion and fear washes over your face instantly, sending a chill down your spine. “What’s the matter, Chunk? Are you alright? What hurts?”

“I- My leg. It hurts, Y/N, it really hurts,” his voice breaks, tears instantly starting to pool in his eyes. “Y/N, they’re going to catch us. They’re going to-”

“No. No, Chunk. You’re going to be fine. We’re going to be fine! You just have to be brave!” you save face, smiling at him.

Slowly pulling him up, he reaches to hug you, instantly reciprocating in an attempt to calm him down. Shushing him, your breath catches in your throat, strong hands clasping your shoulders.

Breathlessly, you shove Chunk as far away from you as possible, “Run! Run, Chunk!”

“Y/N!” he screams, getting to his feet painfully.

“Go, Chunk! Go find the others and run!”

“I can’t leave you!” tears stain his cheeks, face getting red and eyes puffing with the sheer force of his cries.

Yanking you up from the hard ground, Mama Fratelli holds you in a vice grip as Francis goes to catch Chunk. You stick your foot out, slipping him up in his futile attempt. “You need to, Chunk! Go!”

Begrudgingly, he limps away quickly, sparing glances in uncertainty. Brand, not too far ahead, helps Chunk out quickly, coaxing him further as his eyes continuously stray towards you and your captors. Throwing you to the ground in anger, the brothers and Mama rush to follow the pair, but just as they reach the gaping entrance of the tunnel, a loud bang is heard, the hole closing up with rocks and rubble. Data.

You cover your head as the debris flies, getting up to your feet and trying to run the opposite direction. You feel the hard rocks beneath you again, slamming you back down and pinning you. Screaming out in anger, you start to kick. It didn’t matter who or what, you just needed to break free, legs flying any possible direction.

“Quit squirming you little rat!” you hear Francis grunt.

He rolls you around, straddling your stomach and pinning your arms above your head with one hand. Spitting at him, you knee him in the nuts, trying to wiggle free again. Managing to break off, you fall into a sprint, going back the way in which you came.

“Go after her!” Mama Fratelli orders, slapping her son’s head as he seems to stay locked in place. Hitting him, harder this time, his head knocks forward as she grits, “I said. Go. After. Her!”

Francis rolls his eyes, chasing you in annoyance, Jake not so far behind, slipping put of his momentary shock. He easily passes his brother, superseding the older, shorter man, following after you as he seems to regain his composure. The once blank eyes becoming much darker, more sinister as he basks in the cat and mouse game.

You struggle to keep ahead, his pace just seeming to speed as he exceeds patiently. Throwing rocks, sticks, or anything you can behind you, it does nothing to deter or derail Jake from his mission, simply smirking at the little obstacles. If you could even call them that.

Your hands slam against the rock wall, resting your forehead on it in despair. Dead end. Turning around to face the beast, you watch him stalk you like a predator does his next meal. There’s nowhere you can go; nowhere to hide.

He closes in on you, slowly edging closer until you are nearly chest to chest with him. You can feel his breath on your forehead, beating down on you whilst he stares, both arms caging your body within his grasp.

Eyes staying level to the ground, you stare at his feet, breath heaving in both fear and exhaustion. If you don’t calm yourself now, you might just hyperventilate.

Slowly, one of his arms drop from beside your head, hand coming up to grasp your chin - lightly. “Ah, look at you...” he mutters, eyes locking on yours. “Un bel pasticcio,” he smiles with a chesire grin.

Your body shivers involuntarily, eyes unwillingly stuck staring back at his. You try your best to keep distance, refusing to let your chest touch with your breaths, labored and hardly taking in oxygen. You want to know what he said, but with your fear and uncertainty, you keep your mouth clamped shut and locked.

“Lets go, Little One. You don’t want to make Mama mad now, do you?” he smiles, teeth glinting in the dim light the cave, flashlights and lamps provide.

Sliding off of you, all of your senses return to you in a rush, causing you to pant and keel over just a bit to regain composure. In your panicked state, you can hear him giggle at the end of the tunnel, imposing form blocking the only exit you had caught yourself in.

Slowly, your feet carry you with them, following them to the end of the tunnel until your hands were pinned behind you and rope was tied, searing the skin beneath. You don’t say a word. You don’t even make a sound; all you do is follow obediently with your face down towards the ground beneath, safe of the sinister and ugly glares you receive all around you.

The Fratellis, unable to return the way they used before, force you to follow the path the Goonies had taken before them. Slowly and almost tortuously, Mama and Francis led the group, you placed in the middle, and Jake’s looming figure following just behind yours.

The former Fratellis pay you no mind despite their incessant need to keep you; unspokenly keeping their trust and loyalties with Jake, who ironically, isn’t their favorite - you’ve noted this. It was rather funny, to say the least, and made you snort when they’d periodically turn around to make sure you were even following them anymore.

You’d also paid a piece of mind to the increasingly close proximity of the man behind you, slowly inching closer as time goes on; even more so as each more advanced trap goes off and causes an even bigger bang than the one before it.

He’s so close you could feel his breath fanning your back, hairs standing on edge in fear and confusion. What has him so anxious that he has to stay directly behind you?

“Piccolina,” Jake whispers just above the lobe of your ear, voice only as soft as his deep baritone could allow.

“Yes?” you ask, not turning back to make your encounter obvious. You don’t know why or how, even as the towering man scares you, you are able to find the strength to respond so lightly, so delicately. Almost as if you weren’t even trapped between three killers with no way out.

“You’re shaking.”

His comment causes you to almost laugh at him, muffling the sarcastic giggle with your teeth lodged in your lower lip. “I wonder why.”

Francis turns around, “Shut it.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you argue childishly, pitifully.

“I said ‘Shut. It.’”

Having no energy to argue with him any longer, you hang your head low again. Francis slows down his pace, shoving you ahead of him, and as you turn, you catch a glimpse at the two brothers. You are unable to hear them, but with a hushed whisper in Jake’s ear tells you that he was warned.

His eyes catch yours, watching as the softness that briefly escaped quickly turned to neutral, stoic brown orbs once more. He glares at you, sending a shiver down your spine and turning yourself back around.

Stepping through the entryway of the continued path, you take the steps down into what appears to be the treasure you’d been looking for. But, you know better. The Goonies wouldn’t leave this money behind if it wasn’t what they’re searching for; this isn’t the lost treasure.

As if reading your thoughts, Francis screams in anger, “This isn’t the damn gold,” he points to the bucket a little ways above everyone’s heads, “this is a fucking wishing well!”

“Thank you for that detailed analogy,” you grunt.

He almost goes to hit you before Mama speaks up again, “Shut it! I hear voices!”

Everyone quiets down with disgusted glares at the other, Jake leaning against the rock entryway behind the group, listening to the approaching voices growing louder as they come forth.

You know that voice; anyone that has an academic career as of now could tell you who he was. And, once his face pops up and over the cobblestone, Mama could tell you knew him, too.

Yanking on your arm, Mama pulls you closer to her, “Call out to him and do it right. You’re gonna go up on that bucket and pull us up after you.”

“And how do you expect me to pull you up?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, and we’ll kill you if you escape,” she grins, cutting the rope with a sharp blade passed over by Francis.

Obeying her command, you make a quick glance at Jake, acknowledging his nod. You feel your body stiffen a bit, looking up through the hole to the boy, “Roy!”

Suddenly, all cackling and pointless chatter comes to a stop, three heads popping up to peer down at you. “Y/N? Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Yeah...” you kick at the stone by your feet, head bowing down and quickly bobbing up at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind you.

“What the hell are you doing down there? You know, playing imaginary can get you seriously hurt.”

“Like you care,” you mumble, saving face, “I know, but you know how I can get when I venture out on my own. Do you mind, you know, helping me out?”

“Are those Goonies down there with you?”

“Do you hear them?” there’s a quick pause, sighing, “No, Troy, they’re not down here, just me and a couple...colleagues.”

“Well, where are they?”

“Troy! Can you please just help me out, so I can get them out of here, too? Can you do me the simple favor of lending a helping hand?” You knew of the effect the mentioning of saving someone would do, especially for a girl like you to so graciously call upon him.

“Why, of course, Y/N. I’m sorry,” he smirks, then giggles as one of his friends punch his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble again, smiling as the bucket is slowly rolled down to allow you to step on.

You nod to the Fratellis, sparing a glance at Jake before the boys start to pull you up. However, as they start to pull you up to freedom, their grunts and all coherent noises halt.

“Oh shit, Y/N,” Troy yelps, “Don’t you know who they are?” he whispers to one of his friends.

“Troy!” you scream, feeling your heart beat start to pick up speed, the mixture of being up so high and the impending doom of what’ll happen to you if you can’t do this one thing right.

“I- I-”

“Listen, I just need you to help me up and then you guys can run away as fast as you can. I’ll still tell everyone you’re a hero and all that, but I just really need one right now, sincerely.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Troy shrugs, shoulders straightening as his hands find the rope, effectively ignoring your pleas. “But, do you know how much more of a hero I’d be if I find the infamous crime family in our town’s wishing well?” Hands reaching for the knife in his pocket, you watch in horror as he slices the blade through the thin strands holding you up.

Screaming, you feel the air consume and hug your body as it lurches back down to the stone cold cave. Painfully, you try to block as much of the impact as possible, arms wrapping around your head as your shoulder and hip meet the ground. Hard.

Heaving with the excruciating pain and loss of air in your lungs, you can hear the familiar noise of a hand meeting the back of a head, and once peering up, your eyes meet the commonly sad brown, darkened by the dim cave. You can feel the tears sting your eyes, unable to regain any source of oxygen.

Mama Fratelli, fed up with your weak and unreliable source, kicks your stomach in anger, having stopped Jake and Francis from catching you. Slowly unwinding your arms, you search for any sort of comfort, catching a glimpse of a person in Jake’s eyes again; the person you’d seen earlier.

Francis goes to reach behind him, pulling a gun and shooting up at the cave, but the boys were already gone. Almost ironically, you think you’re gone, too, laying on the ground like a sad, worthless stepping stone.

“Well, what are we standing around for?” Mama Fratelli screams, “Lets go!”

“W-What about her?” you can hear Francis’s voice falter, your eyes closing as you pray this’ll be over soon.

“Take her,” Mama smirks cynically, motioning towards Jake as they start their trek again. This time, they don’t turn back around, Mama adding over her shoulder, “If she’s still alive.”

Watching as their forms go through another tunnel, Jake waits until they’re out of sight before he rushes to you. “Piccina?” Funny, he almost sounds worried.

Opening your eyes slowly, you look up at him, body frozen and curled on its side.

You can visibly see him sigh, almost relieved, as he slowly kneels beside you. As if asking you, his arms slowly reach to turn you over, laying your back tentatively on his thighs, holding your head with one big hand. “How- How do I-?”

Staring at him blankly, you spit, “Leave me.”

“What?” he asks, taken back.

“I was a dead weight anyway,” you cough, “I’ll never help you find the gold, let alone lead you to my family, so just shoot me for Christ’s sake!”

Trying his best to help calm you, he moves to sit back, allowing you space between his thighs and resting your body against his, arms wrapping around your waist stiffly - unnaturally. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Well if you won’t leave, they’ll leave you,” you try to wound him, slicing his heart with obvious reality, a secret he’d tried to keep hidden from everyone else.

Quickly, his demeanor becomes more darker, sinister as he shoves you off of him. You hurt him successfully, but now seeing as he gets up and makes his way by the next tunnel, wiping at something imaginary on his mouth, you regret saying anything.

You force yourself up to your feet, whimpering with a yelp as your ribs protest and jab at your insides. However, as you look up at Jake and see you’ve shown weakness, you force yourself to straighten and stiffly walk past him. Just to add salt to the wound, you insult his pride, “You missed something just below your eye.”

He shoves you ahead, grunting a forced, breathy laugh as he wipes at his watery eyes. “Your one to talk a big game, you’ve been bitching this whole damn time. Crying and whining,” he growls.

Spinning on your heel, throwing all precautions and fears to the wind, you point up at him, taking dangerous steps up to his face. “I wouldn’t be such a nuisance if you didn’t drag my ass down in an endless tunnel with killers. Monsters.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but coming up empty, his face falls and turns dangerous, his eyes boring daggers into your own. Then, he lands a low blow, “I should’ve killed you sooner. Put a bullet right between those eyes of yours.”

“That would’ve been a saving grace, don’t you think?” your glare matches his, form taking on its own strength and darkness.

Breaths labored, you didn’t realize the close proximity you’d caused in your anger, taking a step back as you size him up again, strength slowly dissipating. “I would rather be dead than to be forcefully dragged to a massacre of children. Either way, I’d die painfully, pointlessly.” Your eyes water again as you shove him away with your forearm.

Something within him shifts just below the surface of his skin, a magic switch he’d tried so hard to keep off his whole life. What he feels isn’t pity, no, it’s almost remorse, nostalgia mixed with bad memories of the child he once was. The child who saw the world in this bright light, watching as his mother and older brother consistently tore it down, made it darker before he lost all ambition, all determination, him.

You had your own demons. You work and work until you’re just old enough to move out, take your little brother with you and get so far away that you would never have to remember the fear of a good beating. But now, standing before Jake Fratelli makes all resolve and hope crumble, the ultimate truth of your positioning and helplessness tearing at your skin and turning you inside out.

Jake doesn’t say anything, rather brushing past you and joining his family ahead of him. Begrudgingly, you do the same, knowing that anything back here won’t help you; the last shred of hope being that you could at least see your brother one last time.

Yelping, you quickly stop yourself from causing any more noises; a force of habit when having to be the protector of so many younger children, of having to save Chuck from his panic attacks and anxiety.

Francis gives you a once over when you manage to limp beside him, head held high and eyes trained before you, but doesn’t give you any second thought. Jake stays behind, mind filled with the vivid nightmares of his past. You hoped he would feel a fraction of pain, he deserved it, you thought, eyes never straying to look at him anymore.

You walked blindly until the sound of a piano perks your ears, fear easily finding its comfortable place in your beating heart as you know of who’s playing it. Mama, seemingly excited and lusting for the children’s heads, motions for everyone to gather by the door, intent of counting down the surge they’d all play out simultaneously.

Walking across the long plank across the waterfall, Jake’s breath is on your neck once again, but you don’t turn, you don’t even shiver this time. Just as you reach the ladder up, you can hear their distinct voices and you whimper in longing. Francis shoves you aside, allowing Jake to take the lead, followed by you, then him, and Mama a little ways behind.

Just as Mama whispers the number 3, you scream on the top of your lungs, “No!”

“Get them!” Mama yells, growling at you as Francis and her start to hop over the rocks and ladder to the grand piano at the center of the room. The rubble of the ground to your left makes everyone slide on their heels, cowering back.

Voices booming over the walls, the Goonies spin their head around, Brand’s eyes meeting yours and urging Andy to continue playing as fast as physically possible. Francis was truly pissed this time, slugging you in the face as you attempt to run towards them, throwing you back onto your side again.

“Y/N!” Mouth and Mikey scream instantaneously, faces instantly reddening as tears perk their eyes and true terror spreads across their faces. You couldn’t help but notice the absence of your brother and you start to fear the worse, your anxiety similar to that of his. His disappearance causes a dull pain to radiate in your core, your only true reason for life possible held captive, lost somewhere, or worse, dead.

The commonality of fright makes you want to cry, but the pain in your ribs leaves you curled on the ground once more, and aching sensation on your jaw testing the ribs in which wants to be more painful.

Out of the shadows, Jake, swiftly and effectively, grabs Francis by the shoulders, throwing him into the ground just as he had you. He throws one punch at his face, dazing Francis and dodging just as Mama attempted to hit him. She lunges for him again, only for him to grab her wrist and shove it away from him, his sheer stature signaling for her to back off as he stands tall before her.

Echoing off of the stone walls, a cheerful beat signals Andy’s success, Jake turning towards you without second thought, “You’re getting out of here alive, Piccolina.”

Your eyes widen as he lifts your form from the ground, and despite the Goonies’ hesitation, they allow Jake through the secret tunnel along with them. Data grabs the map as Brand drags Andy through, Jake following not so far behind as Francis aims at you - to hell with his brother.

Hurriedly, the kids make their ways down the water slide, and once it was your turn, Jake’s voice finds its way hushed in your ear, “Hold on, Piccina.”

Your arms wrap around his tightly, burrowing your head in the crook of his neck as he positions you to hug the front of him, your legs wrapping around his back as he pushes off quickly, bodies lurching backwards as the slide quickly picks up speed.

Before you have time to register your quickly shifting surroundings, Jake’s arms search your waist as suddenly there was no slide at all, being lurched into a pool of water.

You kick and squirm to reach the surface, face breaking out of the water as Jake’s does, gasping to fill your greedy lungs. Eyes searching your face, Jake grabs your waist again, pulling you with him as the Goonies continue to the ship a little ways away.

Trying to be decent with him, you sigh and allow your body a momentary reprieve, fighting against the little voice in your head telling you to separate yourself, he’s not good for you. “You keep saying things in Italian. I don’t understand Italian,” you smirk exhaustively and spent. “Pic-something. And, you said something earlier,” your voice delves lower as you welcome the pain in your bones.

“What?” he asks, finding the sudden interest unmatching to all that’s happened.

“Well,” you exhale, kicking your legs in the water to help him along, “It’s only fair you tell me what it is. Name-calling is mean,” you chuckle.

“Piccina, Tiny. Piccolina, Little One,” he sighs, trying his best in this uncommon situation to ease you. He doesn’t know how to, you can sense that, and he doesn’t know how to be comforting or kind, it’s not his nature or the way he was brought up - not in his life anyway, not the Fratelli life. “Stop moving, I’ve got you.”

“Why?” your eyes close again as you allow yourself some relaxation.

“You’re small. Smaller than me at least, easy to break, too small.”

“How endearing,” you chuckle, groaning as it causes a sharp pain in your ribs and inhale.

“I- We have to go, Piccolina. They’re not too far behind.”

You give him a weird look, his nervous eyes searching yours. He tries to not give away too much, effectively blocking you out, moving to pick you up as he finds his footing.

Climbing up the ladder before him, you grab Brand’s hand as he pulls you up and into his awaiting arms. Hugging you close, his head buries in the crook of your neck, exhaling sharply as he takes in your scent and natural warmth. “I thought we lost you.”

Pulling away, your hands cradle his face, “I’m right here.” You smile warmly as a tear slides down his cheek, blending in with the water, wiping it away and pecking his cheek, pulling him into you again.

Jake pulls himself over the ladder with ease, standing before the Goonies as they gather around just before him, all taking turns in hugs and grateful reunions. Then, as the euphoria subsides, they turn to him, cold and glaring; a fury you seemed to not be able to hold as best as they could.

Awkwardly, he stands with his hands clasped together, playing with the rings on his fingers with his head bowed. For once, you depart to stand beside him, “Leave him alone,” you state plainly.

His head snaps up at the sudden change in demeanor, the way you suddenly become his savior instead of yours. “Piccolina, no-”

“I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t had a change of heart. Even if it was you that got me in this mess, I’m going to help you out of it,” you look straight into his eyes, piercing his soul. Turning back to the Goonies, they simply stare between the two of you in precarious disbelief. “He helped me get this far, it’s up to all of us to get us the whole way through.”

Brand’s the first to speak up, “How can we trust him?”

“We can’t,” you grunt, “but, we have to have faith, huh?”

“Stop this!” Andy breaks the silence, “Y/N’s here because of him, she’s standing because of him, they’re both here because of him. We’re Goonies, guys, we all have our own faults and backgrounds,” she sends a knowing glance your way, in which you smile weakly. “We’re Goonies,” she smiles, placing her hand before everyone.

Data throws his hand out instantly, “Goonie.”

“Goonie,” Mikey and Mouth throw their hands in.

“Goonie,” Stef sighs, elbowing Brand’s side as you throw yours in as well.

Brand groans silently, “Goonie,” he mumbles.

With a pointed look at Jake, you grab his hand, coaxing him to bring it the whole way himself. Giving you a look you don’t quite understand, he reaches over and mumbles the words, foreign on his tongue, “Goonie.”

The group breaks apart with satisfied union, hurriedly running down the stairs just as Mikey strays away, yelling for their attention. Watching as they go, you depart from their sides, walking up the creaky stairs that lead to the steering wheel.

Smiling like a little kid, you giggle at the sounds of their excited screams and cries of joy, you yourself playing with the steering wheel just as you had many years ago, playing in the backyard with Chunk after work while dinner was being cooked.

Eyes finding Jake’s, smirking at you as he leans against a post, he observes you as your eyes had seemingly gone to a different time, playing with the few good memories you had in your childhood.

You smile with heat rising to your face, “You know, you just saved a lot of children’s dreams.”

“How so?” he smiles, still staring at you.

“This gold was the only thing keeping us together. They wanted to turn our neighborhood into a damn golf course for the rich,” you laugh at the irony. “You saved us, saved me.”

“It doesn’t make up for what I’d done to you, to the many before you,” he sighs, eyebrows scrunching at the vivid memories, nightmares.

Motioning him to come closer, his ascends the stairs to stand beside you, looking down at you with discomfort, unease.

Allowing yourself the step into uncharted territory, you place a hand on his face stroking your thumb on the numerous scars scattered there, “You’re a hero in my eyes, in theirs, too,” you smile, a little teary-eyed.

His hand finds a comfort on your cheek, too, wiping at the blood on a scratch there, the bruised eye where Francis had touched you. His eyes search yours, watching as his demons come to the surface and allow you to feel them, to cradle them as your own just by the simply contact.

“You’re a good man, Jake, you just can’t see it.”

His facade falls with shock, never having hear the words come so easily, so sincerely. You stare up at him with admiration and sadness, finding his is one in the same as you are. Pulling him in by the hip, you hug him tight, allowing his head to fall on top of yours, even as he drops to his knees, head searching the lost comfort he’s spent his whole life searching for.

A bang, followed by screams just below deck, tears you both apart quickly. Jake’s hand instantly finds yours, pulling you down to the ground beside him, blow the steering wheel you were playing with.

A few moments later, the Goonies are being dragged up the staircase and on deck. Francis makes his entrance next, gun held high on Brand’s head, scaring Mikey to the core at the notion of potential loss with the pull of a trigger.

Without a chance to comprehend what’s happening, you feel his huge, warm hand grasp your bicep firmly, successfully pulling you into his body, underneath his protective arm. Then, with a hand over your mouth, Jake hides you with his body pressed tightly against yours in the small space he’s chosen to hide you away in.

You chest squeezes internally in a tight knot of nerves as your worst fears come tumbling back into your mind, chest to chest with the man that could turn on you so quickly, so easily.

Tears bubble up in your eyes again in fear, breathing hard and ragged as you feel the familiar sense of defeat brush over your shoulders, hanging your head. “We’re never getting out of here. We’re going to die.”

You knew it was unfair to feel this way towards him, not after saving you and seemingly picking your side over his family, but the fear is still hidden in your skin, disbelieving and uncertain of his true motives.

“No one’s going to die” he comments, eyes trained on the scene before you, the openness and lack of protection being a huge default. “But, I don’t plan on staying here, Piccolina. That was never the plan,” he smirks down at you, warm chocolate orbs training on yours with ease.

“Then what do we do? What can I do?”

“I need you to relax,” his hands come to rest over your head, stroking your hair in soft circles as if to relieve the troubling thoughts in your head. “I have a plan, but I need you to trust me and think clearly.”

You look up at him in disbelief, mouth slightly agape in both awe and a tinge of fear.

“You need to calm, please,” he smirks, noticing your breathing quicken again. “Here, follow my breathing, okay? In and out. In and out. That’s it.”

Slowly, you follow his lead as your breathing regains composure, allowing your forehead to fall against the hard flat of his hand. He slowly wraps his arms around your shoulders tighter, holding you a little closer in protection.

“You’ve been on the verge of hyperventilating for a while,” he giggles, “Can’t help you get free if you pass out on me, now can we?”

For once, you smile at his light-heartedness, despite the swift exchange in emotions portrayed. “Thank you,” you mutter, warm tears staining your face as you bask in his scent and temporary comfort.

“You’re not out yet.”

“What’s the plan?” you ask, sudden anticipation fueling your head instead of the agonizing fear and anxiety the Fratellis have caused you. The worrying for the Goonies and Chunk temporarily dissipating from your mind as you greedily indulge the criminal in his plan to free you of your shackles.

Giving you the rundown of the plan ahead, Jake leads you back up off the floor with a hand wrapping around both of your wrists, pinning them behind your back. Finally noticing your positioning, Francis calls out for you a great distance away, but not of concern, in an order for something of greater importance.

Making your way down the steps, Jake’s hand finds a soothing place on your wrists and taps a slow beat against them. Briefly, you cast a glance at him over your shoulder in a thank you before turning back to the other Fratellis.

“Ah, it seems our backstabber has found his way back to us, huh?” Francis states sarcastically.

“I just wanted to get them all in the same place like we needed them. All the gold’s in place, right?”

For once, Mama seems to be take back, a look of astonishment and pride swelling in her approving, sick smile. “Good job,” she praises, motioning to tie their wrists with the given rope and knife.

Doing as told, Jake bumps his forehead lightly, slyly, to the back of your head as comfort. This is all a part of the plan. Jake tries his best to pinpoint when to strike, having the Goonies line up to embark on the plank and back into the water.

However, with a thrilled yell from high above everyone’s heads, your eyes land on chunk tangled in the arms of another man, swinging down on a rope like true pirates. You allow yourself the chuckle you let out at the silliness, loving eyes watching as Chunk basks in the light as the savior, like he had when he was with you.

You seek out any of his weariness, fear, uncertainty, but he has none. He struts like a crazy little pirate with the other man, disarming Francis and managing to tie their wrists and gag their mouths, moving Stef off of the plank long enough to throw them off of the ship.

“Chunk!” you yelp in desire, wanting nothing more than for him to be reunited in your arms.

He smiles widely, teeth shining and cheeks pulled so hard that they turn a bright red with childish glee. He, alongside the man, untie your wrists, faltering slightly as the ship starts to take sail, rocks and rubble of the cave’s walls starting to fall into the cool, blue water below.

“Y/N!” he cheers, running into you full speed and causing you to tumble over and into the ground.

“Look at you,” you smile, hands pinching his cheeks as he lays on top of you, clumsily. “You saved us, Chunk! You’re all grown up now!”

“I’m a man now,” he giggles, making you grunt and groan in mock annoyance.

“Well, not that grown up. You’re still stuck with me for a little while. Unless you want to go pay for your own snacks?”

“No, I’m not old enough to do that.”

“Thought so,” you smirk, pushing him off of you enough for the both of you to regain footing. “Come on, you have to go get some of that gold for yourself,” you grab his hand.

Quickly, you both make it below deck, snatching up a little drawstring baggy and dumping as much gold as you can find. Laughing, you pluck the hat from One-Eyed Willie’s shelf, dropping it on Chunk’s head as he scoops as much gold and jewels into his pockets. Running back out with one last glance at the place that saved your life, you smile and usher Chunk off the ship.

Turning to Jake, you find him staring at his family, seemingly disappearing and nowhere to be found, “Maybe it’s for the best?” you whisper, just beside his shoulder. “You don’t have to fear them anymore.”

Grabbing his hand, you pull him to the edge of ship just as he stands still, “How can I move on now?”

“You’ll move in with me,” you smile at him, “We’ll get the fuck out of dodge and travel the world with Chunk. You don’t have to be on the run from the cops and I don’t have to live that shithole I grew up in. Chunk can have a better life somewhere else, even if it means coming back to the Goonies every now and then. I know it’ll be tough to move, but even if it’s just a couple blocks away, life will be different. Even for you.”

“I like the sound of that, he nods, still staring at the water.

“You have to,” you elbow him, “because you’re not leaving me.”

He looks at you this time, pulling you into him just enough to attach his lips to yours, arm wrapping around your waist as he greedily tugs at your being, finally feeling one. Finally feeling human.

Laughing hysterically, you pull away from him, shoving him off of the ship and into the cool water. You follow behind him soon after, swimming to the sand outside of the cave. Together, you hold hands with Jake and Chunk, watching longingly as the ship sails into the distance with the Goonies.

Slowly, the blaring of sirens and cars full of parents come bustling in, and when you turn to Jake, all you see is mutual faith, trust. You squeeze his hand, pulling at something inside your back pocket, and pulling it into his view, you smile, “I took some for you, too.”

You let the bag fall into his hands, watching as he lets the jewels pool in his hands, his future being secured no matter where it’ll take him. Even when he was swiftly taken from your hands and tucked into the police car, he looks at you with absolute certainty. “I knew I made the right choice the moment I gave into your charms, un bel pasticcio.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, Piccolina, soon enough,” he smiles, allowing the car to pull out of the beach and back onto the road.

Turning back to Chunk, you pull him into your side, introducing you to the man that saved him just as well as yours had. “We’ll be alright, Chunk, all of us,” you take Sloth’s hand in yours, “Welcome to the family.”

#jake fratelli #jake fratelli x reader #jake fratelli imagine #robert davi #robert davi x reader #robert davi imagine #the goonies #the goonies x reader #the goonies imagine #mouth #data #stef #mikey walsh #brand walsh #andy #francis fratelli #mama fratelli

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darlingshane · 4 months

Text

Dirty Laundry

Shane Walsh x F!Reader

Summary: Shane doesn't approve of the way you do laundry. He tries to school you, but he loves you so much he can't really stay mad at you for long, especially when you start taking your clothes off.

Content/Warnings: 18+. Explicit, Smut, Crack, Oral Sex (f. recieving), Vaginal sex, Pet Names, Bratty reader. No ZA.

Word Count: 1.9k // AO3 Link.

You were aware Shane had his quirks before moving in together. Some you already knew, like having five pairs of boots from the same brand, or the way he chews his thumbnail when he’s nervous, or how he frantically runs his hand on his hair when he’s pissed… Most of those were quickly revealed after you started dating. Others you'd only come aware of them upon moving in together.

One that is highly surprising is his obsession with laundry. You noticed that his clothes were always perfectly clean and ironed as he wore them on any occasion you went out, no matter how fancy or casual. But once you were sharing the same bedroom, you found out that even his underwear is always neatly pressed and folded in the drawer as if it had just come out of the package. With how much he works, you always thought he'd have taken to a cleaners or something, but that’s not the case. He not only cares for his own clothes but making laundry is something he actually enjoys. It relaxes him, he says. Which it’s the complete opposite for you. It makes you anxious anytime you have to do it. Especially the folding and sorting part. When you lived alone, there was always a pile sitting on that chair in the corner of your room. But not anymore. Now that you are living with Shane there are no more random piles collecting dust for days at a time in any chair of the house. Anytime he does laundry, you come home to find your drawers perfectly organized. It’s not something you can complain about because Shane is a true dream of a partner. Quirks and all, you wouldn’t have it any other way. So, in return, any time it’s your turn to make laundry, no matter how much you hate it, you make the minimal effort to at least take the same care of his clothes as he does for yours. Though you could tell that sometimes he doesn’t approve of your messy folding technique, and has to rearrange them when you’re not around, he never says anything either.

But today, when it's your turn to do laundry, he comes home to catch you transferring all the dirty clothes from the hamper into the washing machine, both yours and his without much regard of type, color, texture… That's how you've always done it. Yes, it's messy, and you've had a couple of mishaps, but nothing really atrocious ever happened. You never put that much thought into it, to be honest. It's just clothing. But not for Shane. Watching his precious shirts, and uniform with the rest of the load makes him physically ill. He stares at you as if you were killing a puppy.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he goes off, taking stuff out of the washer. “You can't mix delicates with towels. And what the fuck is this?” he picks up a pair of dirty sneakers from the bottom of the drum. “You were really gonna wash them with all these? You're a fuckin’ savage.”

You lean against the dryer and try not to burst into laughter at how annoyed he is. It's kinda cute actually to see him frown at you with scorn, and hearing his voice pitch a little higher than usual.

These past few weeks, you've been collecting a series of firsts since you moved into your new home. The first time you cooked in your new kitchen, the first time you disagreed when it came to rearranging the living room furniture, the first night you woke him up when you heard a strange noise in the hallway… And today it's the first time you've truly seen him irritated.

“It's just clothes, babe. Who cares?”

“I care.” He frantically goes through the heap of clothes, divorcing them into several piles on top of the washer. “Please tell me at least you're not using the speed cycle to wash everything.”

“What? It saves time, water, electricity…”

“Yeah, but at what cost.”

“Gee, it's not like I murdered someone.”

“You were about to murder my uniform. That's the real crime.”

“Hmm, you look better without it anyway.” You tease, reaching with your hand to pinch his booty covered by a pair of jeans.

“Stop, this is serious.” Shane stays firm in his position but tries to hide one corner of his mouth pulling up into a half-smile. “Look, I’m gonna show you how it’s done.”

“Ohh, fun. I'm about to get schooled by the laundry police. Please enlighten me, Officer.”

You roll your eyes and half listen to him explaining the washer’s control panel to you as if you were an idiot. It’s not that you don’t know how to use it, it’s that you’re lazy and rather put everything together and save time. Then, he proceeds to elaborate on which categories you should separate the different types of fabrics.

“That would take me all day if I have to do that many loads.”

“So? That’s what weekends are for?”

“Noooo. Weekends are for resting, watching movies, and chilling.”

“Who said you can't have that too?”

“You! I think I lost five years of my life by just listening to you explaining how to do laundry.”

“You’re being a little brat today.”

“Am I now?” You smirk and push one of the piles he had on top of the washer to the floor. “Whoops.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”

“Nothing.” You push the next one.

“You're playing a dangerous game, darling.”

“Yeah? I just want you to teach me again how to do it.” Next, you grab the hem of the t-shirt you’re wearing, pull it over your head and dangle it in your finger. “Where should I put this, deputy?”

“I'd put it up your ass. Bet it'd look real nice there.”

You snort and let the shirt fall to the floor.

“What about this, Mr. Delicate?” you unclasp your bra, slip the straps off your arms, and drape it on his shoulder. “Do you like it there?”

Then, you brace your palms on his chest, your lips draw a grin as you lean to whisper closer to his mouth. “Or do you want me to put it back on?”

“Don't fucking dare putting it back on?” He mutters, swatting the bra off his shoulder before having his hand holding your jaw firmly.

There's actually no other choice for him than to join your little game. Laundry be damned when it comes to choosing between you or clothes.

Licking his lips, he pulls his head back, eyes roaming down to your bare chest as you move your hands to hold his waist. When his stare travels back up, you both lock eyes for a second before having his mouth pressed against yours with a sloppy, pushing flick of his tongue forcing itself past your lips.

His hand keeps your head still while he shoves your back against the wall. His free hand snakes its way under the waistband of your sweatpants at the front. His fingers shamelessly rub your pussy back and forth over your panties, tucking the fabric in your slit. Hitting all the right spots, he earns a good moan out of you.

All of a sudden, his tongue comes to a stop. His hand too. Shane drops to his knees. From that position he pulls your sweatpants down to your ankles and grabs your hips as his tongue juts out to draw a wet circle around your navel. He then trails down, as your skin comes alive into goose flesh. He yanks your underwear down your legs to join your pants at the floor before having his mouth shoved at the junction of your hips. His mouth travels all over your sex, leaving kisses and nibbles your outer lips, licking your folds, teasing your clit…

“Shane… Fuck…” you bury your fingers in his hair and pull tight as the tip of his tongue circles your opening.

Your body writhes against the hard surface holding your back, your grip tightens on his hair while his lips viciously start sucking your clit. Your pussy melts as much as any time he goes down on you and just as fast as before, his mouth is suddenly gone before the job is done, leaving that sweet aching lingering all over your cunt. He lifts his stare to seize your unsatisfied expression as you gasp for air. He quickly yanks his shirt off before holding your hips and bringing you down to the floor.

“C’mere, dirty lil brat,” he growls, and you yelp as he manhandles your body, rolling you to your back right on top of the pile of dirty laundry you tossed to the floor.

Shane removes the clothing hanging around your ankles and sets your knees widely apart so he can kneel in between. He unzips his jeans, pulls them down to the middle of his thighs along with his boxer briefs to release his erection. He’s hard as rock. The flared tip of his dick is swollen and red, begging for some friction. There’s a dark shine in his eyes that matches the glossy layer of your juices smeared all over his lips and chin. As he lowers his body down, you frame his face with both your palms, pull his face closer to capture his mouth while he blindly guides himself into your opening. Your core knots tightly as he pushes all his length up to the hilt. His breathing shallows as you devour his mouth with hunger. He comfortably settles on top of you, holding one of his arms on the side of your head while his other hand clutches to your hips. His thrusts come sharp and steady, filling the room with the relentless slapping of his hips against your skin and the desperate sounds of your kisses.

“God, I love you,” you groan in his mouth.

“Love you more, sweetheart.”

You breathe the air of his lungs, eat his tongue and swallow the sweet grunts that come out of his throat one beat at a time as you both lose the ability to draw deeper breaths. His cock swiftly comes in and out of you as your legs tremble and lock. You move your hands to hold his ass as the erratic waving of his hips drives you out of your mind. A pulse later you're hit with a mighty climax that almost makes you lose consciousness. As your walls flutter around his thickness he spills all his warm juices deep in your walls.

“Fuck me,” his voice falters as he slips out of you.

He lays flat on top of you for a moment as your orgasm slowly ebbs. His skin is warm and damp against yours as your palm glides up his back to comb the hairs at his nape.

“Oh god, now the laundry is dirtier than before,” you laugh softly as his smile grows wide against your neck.

“And whose fault is that, huh?” he lifts his head to look at you with an eyebrow slightly raised.

“Technically… it’s yours. If you had let me do it as I wanted, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Ain’t that right?” he playfully pinches your side making you jolt and chuckle.

“I mean… I’d rather do you than do laundry, so I'm not complaining.”

“Yeah?” he sweetly dips to leave a chaste peck on your lips. “I'd rather do you, too.”

#shane walsh x reader #shane walsh #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #jon bernthal #jon bernthal smut #jon bernthal fanfiction #fanfiction #darlingwrites

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