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somekindofpoet · 1 year

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Spin Me Round

Summary: Reader plays spin the bottle with the Scream gang

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: 18+NSFW!, Language, smut

A/N: This was meant to be drabble and I got carried away…as usual. Writing Tara as not non Ghostface was so weird but I kind of loved it. Also I wrote this on my phone so if the format is weird I’ll fix it later. Based on the prompt from @jennasslut

The Carpenter’s apartment is dim, the overhead lights off and the table lamps emitting a soft glow. Beer bottles rest on every flat surface, sticky rings leaving marks on the wood. A pop song plays in the background, the melody full of quiet bass.

Tara, Mindy, Chad, Anika, Quinn and Ethan all sit in a circle on the living room floor with you wedged between Chad and Mindy. Mindy reaches for the empty beer bottle in the middle of the circle and spins it. The group laughs and jokes, watching the bottle turn lazily. It stops, pointing at Quinn.

Mindy smirks, “What’ll it be Quinn? Truth or Dare?”

Quinn narrows her eyes at Mindy, a daring smile on her face, “Truth.”

“Yesssss,” Mindy hisses, her eyes bright. “I’ve been waiting for this one all night. But these chicken shits,” she pauses and pointedly stares at each face, “never pick truth.”

“That’s because you ask truly horrifying questions.” Chad grumbles.

Mindy reaches around your shoulders and slaps him on the back of his head, making him flinch away from you. She turns back to Quinn, a devious glint in her eye.

“Who do you think would be best in bed, Quinn?”

Quinn rolls her eyes, smirking like it’s the easiest question she’d ever been asked. “Please, we all know it’s me.”

“Uh uh, no picking yourself that’s a cop out,” Anika chides, earning a kiss on the cheek from Mindy.

“Fine,” Quinn says, “If it’s not me it’s gotta be y/n.”

You perk up, your chest puffing in pride. Across the circle from you, Tara snorts audibly.

“What?” You ask, frowning at her. “You don’t think so?”

The group simultaneously ooooooh’s at your challenge. The tension between the two of you has been high for weeks, but neither of you have had the sense to make a move on one another.

You’re absolutely terrified that Sam will hang you out her window by your ankles if you even dared to try something with her sister. Why Tara hadn’t tried though, is a mystery to you. Probably something to do with her well earned trust issues.

Tara scoffs, “You’re a teddy bear, no way you’re the best in bed.”

You place your hand over your chest, acting more hurt than you actually were, “Okay, first of all, ow. Second, who you you think would be best?”

Mindy elbows you before Tara can reply, “Hey, I’ve got to say that besides myself and Anika, I think y/n probably has it in the bag.”

“Thank you!” You turn to her, wrapping your arm around her in a side hug.

Chad and Ethan laugh, but keep their mouths shut. They know better than to put their asses in the crossfire. Tara never gets to answer and you’re disappointed. She looks relieved though, grinning down into her beer bottle.

Quinn spins, and the group watches it circle around with bated breath and wide eyes. Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest when it slows to a stop pointing at Tara. She grimaces, drinks her beer, and waits for Quinn to ask the question.

“Okay Tara, you know what’s up. Truth, or dare?”

Tara squeezes her eyes shut, her nervous smile baring her teeth, “Dare.”

“Booooo,” Mindy heckles her. Anika slaps her thigh.

You switch between watching Tara and watching Quinn, curious about what she’s going to cook up. Tara glances at you for a split second, and you can feel heat rising in your cheeks. Your stomach flips when she bites her lip and looks back to Quinn.

You can tell Quinn has come up with something good. Her face says it all, and she leans forward.

“Tara, I dare you to prove me wrong.”

The circle goes quiet, jaws hanging open as they realize what she’s saying. It takes you longer than the others; you look around with a clueless expression on your face as they all stare between you and Tara.

“You owe Quinn your life,” Mindy says under her breath, leaning in so only you can hear.

You’re still confused, until your eyes land on Tara. She’s watching you, considering something heavily. She looks back to Quinn and nods, and it clicks in your head.

Prove her wrong. Prove Quinn wrong that you’re not the best in bed…oh shit. Tara is thinking about it, you can see it. You don’t know if you should be terrified or fucking ecstatic. If Tara agrees, Mindy is right. You owe Quinn big time.

Tara finishes her beer, sets it aside with clear intent. She pushes herself to her feet, crosses the circle and holds her hand out to you. Decision made.

You gulp, glance past Tara’s legs at Quinn. Mindy shoves you.

“Go you idiot.”

You take Tara’s hand and let her help you stand, your heart racing. She pulls you back through the circle and toward the hall where her bedroom is. You look back at your friends and they’re all cheering, shooting you thumbs up and clapping. By the time Tara has dragged you out of the room they go back to the game, continuing without you.

Tara is a woman on a mission, pulling you along. You try not to stumble behind her, obediently following her to her room. She shuts the door behind you and brushes past you to sit on her bed.

You stand at the door, a little awkward and unsure. Tara raises her eyebrows expectantly, waiting.

“Do you really…wait what is happening right now?” You ask, hesitant.

Tara grins, holds out her hand toward you, “I planned on proving Quinn wrong, but hopefully, you can prove me wrong.”

The look in her eyes tells you she’s dead serious. You take her outstretched hand, and she pulls you down, lying back on her bed. You brace yourself with your hands around her head and lean into her, stopping just inches from her lips. Her eyes search your face, then she closes the gap.

Her lips are so soft, warm on yours. She closes her eyes and pulls you into her. You let your weight settle over her, pressing into her body. Her tongue runs over your lips, and all the pent up sexual tension between you breaks. You throw yourself into it, kissing her like you’ve wanted to for weeks. Her hands roam over your arms, down your sides. You push your leg between hers and rock into her, suddenly feeling too hot.

The clothes between you are quickly departed with in a haze of hurried hands, wet kisses and wanton sighs. You pause over her, appreciating her naked body for the first time. You’ve wanted this so badly, it feels a lot like you’re dreaming. It’s only a short, hushed moment, and then it snaps, the lust between the two of you crackling like electricity in the air.

You’re both rushing, hands frantic, and mouths messy. You’ve forgotten that you have a point to prove, forgotten about your friends sitting in the living room. The only thing that feels real now is Tara. And just how badly you want to touch her.

Your lips are on her neck, and her hand is around the back of your neck, her fingers sliding into your hair. Your leg presses into her, and you can feel how wet she is when she rolls her hips up into you. Her hushed whimpers drive you into a frenzy, your mouth descending to her breasts, your hand sliding down her side. She grips your hair tight in her fingers when you suck on her nipple, making her gasp.

Your fingers find their destination between her legs and you pause, looking up at her.

She nods her consent, adding a desperate, “Yes, yes please.”

She’s so wet, and so tight around the single finger you push inside of her that it makes you both moan. She pulls you back to her lips, kissing you recklessly, biting your bottom lip. You add another finger, and her nails drag down your back. When you curl your fingers, she squirms under you, her whole body responding to you.

She tilts her head back, her lips swollen and parted, her breathing fast. You dip your head down to suck on her neck, searching for a reaction and repeating it when it comes.

“Have you changed your mind yet?” You ask, your voice low in her ear.

She groans, her nails digging into your shoulder, “Fuck, y/n, keep doing that and I’ll admit it.”

You smile against her skin, and decide to go double or nothing. With the initial fervor gone you can think more clearly, and as much as you’ve already enjoyed fucking Tara, you now have a point to prove.

You kiss your way down her body, your fingers still steadily stroking her g spot until you’re settled between her legs. You don’t bother teasing her, she’s already worked up enough. If she’s loud enough though, she won’t have to tell anyone in the next room what she thinks of you. They’ll know.

With that thought in mind, you duck your head and wrap your lips around her clit, sucking hard. The sound that leaves her throat is akin to something holy. It simmers through your whole body, tingling your ears all the way down to your toes. You’ve settled with being a sinner, if sex with Tara is your absolution.

She writhes under you, her hands unable to reach for you and settling on gripping the sheets instead. Your name leaves her lips and something white hot sits in your belly, ready to shatter. You feel it building when she clenches around your fingers, pushing her hips up into you.

Her breath catches in her throat, her hips stutter and her body locks up, her back arches off the bed and her fists clench at the sheets. She comes unraveled around you, whining and shivering. You wait until she comes down before pulling out of her, kissing her stomach and crawling back up the bed.

You lie on your back to her side, both of you trying to catch your breath. She turns her head to look at you, a dopey smile on her face. She rolls into you, throwing a leg over your waist and tuckers herself into the crook of your neck, her breath warm on your skin.

You turn your head to smile down at her as your breathing finally begins to slow. “Well, what’s the verdict.”

She giggles, hiding her face, “We might have to try again, to be really sure.”

“I’m in. But I think after that, every neighbor in town is gonna know what you think about me.”

She slaps your arm, her face heating up. You laugh, feeling proud of yourself.

“Should be go back to the party?” You ask her, hoping for her to say no.

“Why? So you can gloat? No. They’ll see themselves out.”

“Quinn does love it when she’s right.”

#jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader

2K notes · View notes

aouiaa · 1 month

Text

Reflect

Outline: When all the leads dried up, Ellie is forced to accept the heart wrenching reality that she’s never gonna see you again. Until two years and half later, the unexpected happens. People don’t come back from the dead so, How did you?

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: Tlou au + Death and a lot mentions of it + Mentions of suicidal behavior + Angst (alot of it) + Fluff + Self-deprecation + Flashback? + Mention of weapons + Mentions Harm inflicted to R and others + Torture + Depression + Mentions of blood + Mentions of grieving + Mentions of survivor’s guilt + Description of a corpse (I think that’s it, comment if I missed any!)

Previous Chapter -> Chapter two -> Next Chapter

Two and half years ago…

Five weeks after the Calamity.

Get out of bed

Get dressed

walk to…

Everything since the…incident, felt like a task. Obligations that only got harder and harder to complete each day. Shower…check. Make your bed…check. But today was the hardest.

It was your funeral, and fuck was it the hardest task to get done. But she couldn’t miss today, no she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. So here she is, standing beside Joel staring down at her shoes. And the tension being around your family was suffocating. She felt their stares, their fucking stares.

Did they blame her?

Wouldn’t blame them if they did.

The priest’s soft-spoken tone only made this feel more real, “Today we are gathered here to celebrate the life of Y/N L/N, who left the world of the living to start the journey in that of the dead. Though she lives...” his voice faded as Ellie submerges into her overwhelming thoughts.

She couldn’t believe it, you were really gone. This is the first time in weeks since she’s been outside her once vibrant, and happy room, rotting away. Replaying it over and over, thinking what she could’ve done. What could’ve kept you alive.

But if she’s in her head for too long that’s when her self conscious begins to gnaw at her and sometimes enflaming her. She hated herself for letting you down, letting you spend your last moments in fear. Not a peaceful and soft moment, but in one where the world was on fire. Where hands of the devil himself were pulling you back into the pits.

What’ll forever keep her up at night is your scream, and the look of pure terror on your face as you were pulled back before darkness took Ellie’s vision. She often loathed about if your final moments were merciful and not cruel. If it was quick and painless rather than torturous.

God she hoped not—

“May she rest easy now” The voice of the priest disturbs and elicits Ellie to look up.

As the priest finishes the last of your eulogy, One by one everyone begins throwing their roses onto your casket. And when it was Ellie’s time to let hers go, she kisses it as a final form of goodbye and watches as it falls in with the rest.

“Rest easy, angel.”

Present…

“Y/n?”

Every night before today she’d pray. Prayed, that she'd open her eyes and you’d be there, sleeping peacefully beside her—like nothing ever happened. But it never did happen, and she stupidly secretly held on to that possibility. Even if it sounded ludicrous, she still held on to that small hope.

And now that hope was in front of her, getting off a horse. She didn’t want to believe it, she couldn’t. She thought that she finally lost her mind. Seeing your face on different people.

Snap out of it.

She scolds herself, closing her eyes, and taking a few deep breaths. Feeling her face reddening up from embarrassment from how stupid she must’ve seem calling out to a dead person. She doesn’t know how long she stood in the dark, terrified to meet the disappointment that always shined at the end of the tunnel.

“Ellie?”

But there it was, your voice. The sweet sound that could only be heard in her dreams. That euphoric feeling Ellie would get just by hearing it, turned into despair, when she couldn't remember it anymore. Locked and sealed away when she woke up. Like her mind was playing against her. How torturous it felt to be humiliated by her own mind.

But she heard it, one that couldn’t be replicated.

She opened her eyes hesitantly, but in front of her was you. You weren't a hallucination—No you were real and here in front of her face. Tears welled up in her eyes as she rushed towards you, giving you the tightest hug. Not loosening the grip she had around you once because she’d be damned if she did again.

Only once to cup your tear stained face, “How—How is this real?” She stammers, scanning your features. The amount of blemishes that littered your face didn’t ravage your beauty. Her thumb lightly grazed over a scar on your left cheek, What happened to you? She didn’t question you, of course. The timing wasn’t right.

“We have to get them to the infirmary, Ellie.” A voice snaps her out of her thoughts, and looking to the side to see standing beside her was Maria with her hand on Ellie’s shoulder. Still in her frenzy state, she just stares at Maria before replying.

“Yeah, yeah—let’s go.”

She stayed in the infirmary with you for sixteen hours just staring at you as you slept. You were being supplied with the appropriate amount of nourishment via VI. And she just sat there in that uncomfortable ass chair just staring at you, scared to even blink. Because maybe if she did, you’d disappear. She had so many questions rightfully so. But she didn’t want to overwhelm you with them all. You were in a fragile state of mind.

Next morning, you woke to see Ellie already looking at you. Her eye bags were more prominent, Did she not get any sleep? Did she stay up all night just staring at you? “Hey, how are you feeling?” her voice still sounded so familiar, yet so foreign. You just stare at Ellie not knowing if this was real, your mind had to be fucking with you again. You begin to tear up which Ellie catches on immediately, and wipes the fallen tears rolling down your cheek.

As soon as you feel her touch, her finger grazing over your cheek lightly, you gasp. Your mind wasn’t playing with you, you were here. Back home? “Relax, it’s okay, just breathe. You’re home again.” her voice was so soothing, it made your stomach twist into uncomfortable knotting.

“Are—are you real?” you stuttered, not truly believing after everything you’ve been through, you’d see the one person you’ve yearned for—just in front of you. Her freckles, you'd count every night but mess up halfway and give up an hour later out of frustration. Her hazel green eyes, you’d stare into every single moment of the day. Her plumped lips, you’d kiss everyday.

If you had anything in your system right now, you’d barf it all up.

“I am, just relax.” Ellie says, placing her hand on your arm. You look down at her hand gently placed on your forearm as you feel something bubbling inside of you. Not a love feeling but a weird one. Ellie could see it in your demeanor which causes her to remove her hand away with a quiet “sorry” falling from her lips before resting that hand on her lap.

You meet her gaze again, “Are you hungry?” you take a second to respond making Ellie uncomfortable slightly before replying with a small “Yeah.” Ellie nods, getting up and returning with a tray of food. “The nurse left it for when you woke up.” You grab the tray immediately, stuffing your mouth with food as Ellie settles down into her chair.

Ellie watches you before looking away and shifting in that stupid uncomfortable chair while scratching the back of her neck. Contemplating on what to do or say, anything to relieve this tension that strangled her. For a while, it’s just her mind eating at her and when she does finally decide to, she can’t bring herself to look at you when she begins, “I’m sorry for everything...” She whispers. You stop and look at her, confused. “What?”

“I’m sorry for everything.” she repeats in an audible tone, looking at you with tears forming at her waterline.

You catch on to what she’s referring to immediately and shake your head, “No it wasn’t your fault, Ellie.” You say, watching Ellie’s walls she built so high and secure, crumpled.

“No it is all my fault, why you're even in this position. I didn’t save you—“ she says in between sobs. “—I was weak and stupid and, and—“ she stammered over her words, placing her hand over her chest, trying to desperately breathe.

You look at this girl who you called call your girlfriend just cry. You didn’t know how to respond to this random burst of emotion. But one thing was for certain, you never blamed her once. Why would you? It wasn’t her fault, it was the people who captured you. Who ruined you. But you dealt with them.

“I never blamed you, not once.” you set your tray aside and move towards Ellie's trembling figure. Cupping her face gently to make her meet your soft gaze, “never once in that hell I was in did I blame you.”

When Ellie met your gaze, It only made her want to cry more. Throughout those two agonizing years, she sat in her hatred and guilt. She couldn’t accept the fact that you were gone because of her but here you were alive and telling the opposite. It felt confusing.

“What?”

“I never blamed you, Ellie.” You repeated, “You did everything you could.”

“Ellie, no!” you screamed.

You felt your heart drop when the grip your girlfriend had on your hand faltered. But that wasn’t the only thing she lost grip of. Her footing, you could see the fear on her face as she fell off the roof. That’d be the last expression you’d see on your lover’s face.

Fear.

Without the resistance you fall on your back, and you’re met with the difficulty of breathing. Every breath is met with the same irritation of carbon monoxide causing you to cough and wheeze. The fire has already spread to the bedroom and is slowly killing you. It went at a rapid pace up the walls and to the ceiling. The smoke created silhouettes of demons, it was hell on earth. And the devil had grabbed you pulling you with him to inferno.

You wouldn't let him though, no you wouldn’t go out like this. You kicked his hand off your leg, giving you a chance to crawl towards the open window and just as you’re gonna pull yourself up. A voice behind you says in a menacing song-like tone, “You’re too slow!”, and grabbing you by the hair, slamming your head against the windowsill. Upon impact, you felt your world spinning and your ears began to ring. Throwing you on the ground he gets on top of you, wrapping his hands around your throat.

You let out a choked mewl, bring your hands to his face, scratching at him. But to no avail, it only makes him add more pressure, “Don’t fight, it’ll make this more difficult” the gruff masculine voice said. You desperately try to break free but slowly succumb to the lack of oxygen. “Yeah, there you go.” is the last thing you hear before going unconscious.

You jolt awake from a sharp pain to your cheek. “Ah—fuck..” you hissed. Instinctively, you try to lift your hand to soothe the stinging pain, but you can’t. Confused, you look down at the lower half of your body to realize both of your hands are bound to the chair, along with your legs. Your eyes shoot up to investigate your surroundings.

Where am I? Why the fuck am I tied to this chair?

Upon inspection you realize you’re in a dimly lit bathroom. There’s filthy and dry splattered blood on the walls. Looking at the ragged mirrors mounted on the wall ahead, blood splattered and dried in its crevices. The sinks below are a whole nother story by themselves. But what’s more prominent in the room is an amazon of a woman in front of you. Or to help to understand—The one who rather rudely awakened you from your slumber.

Oh fuck..

You have so many questions racing through your mind; Where’s Ellie? Did they capture her too? Is she okay? Or is she dead? Who is this woman? What is she gonna do to me? Where the fuck am I? So many questions that litter your mind like a landfill, but gets soon disrupted by the beefy woman sitting in front of you.

Clearing her throat, she says, “I need your name.” she slouches forward into her chair, placing her elbows on her thighs. Her hardening gaze set on you as she waits for your answer. Your train of thoughts abruptly stops and goes blank. “I—Uhm…Y/n” you respond.

The muscular woman seems amused by your answer, “phff—“ She blows out a breathy snicker, “We already forgot our name? What a world we live in, huh?” She sneers, standing up and walks to one of the broken sinks, grabbing something. But you can’t quite see what it is due to her figure blocking your view, but the sound of a knife slinking out of its carrier is all the confirmation you need.

Your demeanor immediately tenses as the woman turns around with a knife in hand. You begin squirming in your chair, letting out a shaky breath. “Woah—what—what are you gonna do?”

Your immediate reaction makes the woman cackle, “Here’s how this is gonna go” She starts, kneeling down, and putting the knife dangerously close against your skin. “You’re gonna tell me what I wanna know and I won't ruin this pretty face of yours, yeah?” She taunts, turning her head to the side, a sinister smirk displayed on her face.

The knife blinds your left eye from little light that shines perfectly down onto the blade making you wince, your breathing starts to become erratic, “What are you gonna do to me?” you repeat, sheepishly, now staring at the woman in front of you.

“What I‘ma do to you?” She restates your question, “What Ima do depends on your choices.” She answers, grazing the knife gently against your cheek. You gulp, watching the woman as she stares at the knife grazing over your skin, seeming fixated by it before snapping out of her sick trance and meeting your gaze once again with an ominous smile on her face, making your guts twist and turn into unbearable knotts.

“So what’s it gonna be, huh?” She asks, but doesn’t let you answer, continuing, “Gonna die for your friends and that little girlfriend of yours or cooperate? The choice is yours.” She proposes, staring at you keenly as if she could scan your facade hard enough, she’d find the answer within your expressions.

With your choices layed out, you contemplate on your next move. Your landfilled mind only returning and overflowing with more thoughts. Why were you even contemplating this? There was no way in hell, you’d rat on Jackson, on Ellie. Even if you were to, this stranger would have no reason to keep you alive anymore since you would outlive your usefulness.

It was clear what you've chosen.

And the look on your face must’ve given it away because the woman's jaw suddenly clenched. “You seriously think your friends are looking for you? That girlfriend of yours doesn’t give a shit about you.” she insinuates, “because if they really cared, they’d be here by now—“

“Shut your fucking mouth, you dont know what you’re talking about—“ Your booming voice intrudes, you don’t know what empowered you to say that, but you should’ve just bite your tongue because your ears begin to ring as you endure a powerful smack to the face causing your head to fly to the right upon impact.

Turning your head slowly to face the woman, you’re met with an enraged expression plastered on her face, “You wanna keep fucking running that mouth, Huh?!” She spits out, “Better choose the next words out that stupid fucking mouth of yours carefully or I’ll cut your tongue out.” she threatens.

Still dazed from the assault, it takes you a second before mumbling out an incoherent sentence. “What was that?” she taunts, seeming to enjoy your suffering.

“I said—“

“Didn't hear ya, What was that?” She taunts, laughing.

“I said If you cut my tongue out” you huff out, watching her laugh, “how the fuck am I gonna tell you.” you remark.

The sound of laughter turns into silence with an inhuman look in her eyes morphing within seconds before saying, “Don’t say I didn't give you a chance.” She deadpans before plunging the knife into your thigh causing you to let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Interrogate, Torture, and Repeat.

That cycle had been going on for god knows how long. You were merely unrecognizable, the blood and bruising that littered your face was disturbing. You wondered how much more your body could take before death. Every blow she gave you, you wondered, Will this be the final blow? The final blow that takes me out of my misery? You hoped it did every. single. time.

But you didn’t go down, just kept withstanding the pain.

And when she felt like it was enough, she momentarily pauses and asks, “Ready to talk?” With all the strength you managed to gather, you lift your head and speak, “Is-is that all you got?” letting out a weak chuckle that turns into wheezing to coughing. The woman jaw clenches, “You just don’t know when to shut the fuck up, do you?” she sneers before landing a blow against your swollen cheek.

It sends your face slanting to the side upon impact causing you to spit out blood. It was a dumb move to even say that, you knew that. But if you were to die right now, you weren’t gonna die showing fear. You couldn’t show the one thing you knew she wanted to see you express. No, you’re not gonna let her get that satisfaction.

Grabbing your jaw, she redirects your gaze firmly to meet hers. She opens her mouth to talk, but a knock on the door leaves her speechless. You watch her huff in annoyance and look at the door.

“Enter.” she instructs.

The door opens to reveal a blonde woman, she scans the room and her eyes immediately land on you, seeming to scrutinize you.

“What is it?”

The sudden interruption causes her gaze to set on the woman in front of you, “Oh right,” she says softly before speaking in a firm audible voice,”Ma’am, Louis and Regina are here.”

A nod is shot at the blonde,” Alright, take them up to my office. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Alright, and her?”

“Take this one back with the others, she isn’t gonna talk…yet.” That “yet” runs a chill down your spine. You watch the woman in front of you let go of your jaw causing your head to go slack. The rough landing causes you to let out a weak groan as you hear the sounds of footsteps and soft murmurs with the shut of a door following behind it. There was a lot of eerie silence that came after that, a lot of it. You wanted to lift your head up to see what was happening but you couldn’t. Your body was tired and too weak to support that action.

So you waited.

Waited and waited until you heard the sounds of muffled talking and footsteps. The sound of the door opening is when you move your head, looking up you see a different pair of people. A woman and a man, their voices became more apparent.

“Alright, be ready. Ima cut these ropes off.” the woman instructs.

You hiss at the added pressure to your sore wrists as she undoes the ropes roughly, but as soon as the aching pressure is relieved, you fall forward. But the man in front of you breaks your fall, “Shit…Liana really fucked this girl up.” he says with a grunt as he lifts you up.

Liana…that was the woman who I was with…

“Yeah…Let’s hope our little medic can fix her up.” the woman behind you responds in a condescending tone, and ending it with a chuckle.

A gruffy laugh erupts from the man as he throws you over his shoulder which elicits you to groan. They were so rough and careless with you—With that action completed, they began to walk out of the dingy room and walk down a hallway. Your world was literally upside down, you tried to see what this new uncharted territory was, but the swelling around your eyes proved it to be difficult. Every once in a while, light would seep into view causing you to wince.

You don’t know how long you were lounged on this random man’s shoulder, but it’s the sudden halt in their movements that catches your attention. “Alright everyone, step back. New arrival coming through.” The woman announces.

But to whom?

You can’t even process what just happened until you’re on the rough concrete floor. The impact causes you to wheeze and turn on your back. The blinding light above begins to become fainter as the sound of multiple voices only increases the ache in your head.

But one is more prominent than the rest, “Oh my—Alright everyone—Stacy, grab anything we can use.” Her voice is strong and impactful and you begin to feel the softest hands grazing over your face, “Stay with me, sweetheart.” she directs towards you.

Such a sweet gentle voice, a voice you’d only hear from a mother soothing her offspring. It brought you comfort to the aches in your body. Only a little. You really tried to stay awake, obey what you were told to do, but soon darkness invaded your senses once again and everything went to muffled to silence.

Death is many things; Terrifying, Inevitable, Unpleasant, Unpredictable, Unbearable. But in this case for you, death felt right. The only way to stop this nightmare that you couldn’t seem to wake up from. The only way to move on, to become a form of energy in this universe, but a memory to some.

Jackson.

Your parents.

Ellie.

No, you didn’t want to leave. You couldn’t leave, not now! You’re not ready to go. Not when you have to get back to her, your lover. You couldn’t bear the thought of her living the rest of her life believing you’re dead. No, no, You wouldn’t, you couldn’t let it happen! You’ll do anything in your power to get to her, no matter the cost. So wake up.

Wake UP!

A sharp gasp leaves your throat stinging, you shoot up in bed, drenched in sweat. Every inhale you take, you feel the windpipe becoming more and more tight. You place your hand on your chest, and desperately try to breathe. It’s until you feel a hand on your back that snaps out of it.

“Breathe, Y/n. Breathe.” The familiar voice says.

No, It couldn’t be.

The drumming in your chest only becomes more erratic as you hesitate to look beside you. This can’t be real. Until you do and see the face you thought you’d never see again.

“E-ellie.” you stammer, tears forming at the waterline.

“Yeah, I’m here baby. Just breathe.” She says gently as she wipes your tears away, “You okay?”

You’re not…how?

“How…how are you real?“

She looks at you, confused, “Real? baby, you just had a bad dream.”

“No, no, This isn’t….no because in my dream—“

“We got separated.” she answers for you.

How the fuck?—Was that all just a nightmare? No, It felt so real. This couldn’t be the reality. You immediately look down at your arms, No scratches, no bruises. You let out a gasp upon seeing clear arms then look at Ellie who’s staring at you with a worried look.

“Y/n, calm down. you’re home, okay?” she says and touches your shoulder.

God, that touch felt so…real. You stare at her with tears forming once again, “Ellie?” you say shakily.

Ellie sees the look in your eyes and immediately pulls you into her arms, “I got you.” she says softly in your ear, pressing a kiss on your head.

You sigh, Everything about this felt wrong. Part of you was screaming to wake up. That this wasn’t real, This couldn’t be, but…another part of you felt peace. Peace, you’ve been searching for your whole life before you met Ellie. Being in her arms, you felt it like you did when you were.

You need want it to be real.

Ellie gives you a gentle squeeze, “Alright, try to get some rest.” she says, letting you go to let you lay down. And you do, lying down on your side. You stare at the girl in front of you as she begins to do the same. Once on her back, she catches you staring and smiles, turning on her side to face you as well.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know…I’m just scared.” you finally admit.

“Scared?”

“Scared…scared, I’ll wake up and you won’t be there.”

“Don’t fear that.” she says softly, moving a strand of hair away from your face and behind your ear. Her touch felt real, it brought more tears to your eyes. “You know that’s just your mind talking. Rest. I’ll be here in the morning, by your side.”

Her reassurance puts you at some ease, some, “Yeah, Okay.” you say quietly.

Your response makes Ellie to move closer to you and wrap her arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You happily embrace this familiar warmth. It always made you feel so safe, so comforted, so loved. As you feel yourself drift back into oblivion, a smile adorns your face.

You’re finally home.

The soft caresses that feather your face cause you to move away and groan in response. Ellie must’ve been drawing on your face! Oh you’re gonna fucking kill her��…What. Upon opening your eyes, you’re not in your girlfriend's infamous room, You’re not laying down on her comfy bed, No, you’re still in that nightmare. Opening your eyes, you see the same older woman sitting beside you with a cloth in hand.

You didn’t wake up with her by your side.

You try sitting up, but she immediately stops you, “Don’t move, dear.” She says gently, helping you lie down once again, “You'll strain something and we don’t want that.” she says with a smile, but god it felt so creepy to you. “The painkillers have already set in so you won’t feel any of the pain for now.”

“Painkillers…Where…where am I?” You lift your hand to rub your forehead with a groan.

“Yes—You’re in Cell B.”

“Cell B?”

“Yes, Cell B.” she confirms, “You went into shock after taking that fall, so just take it easy. Your body is still fragile.”

“What’s Cell B? Where the fuck am I?”

She settles down the cloth in the bowl beside her and sighs, “If you really wanna know where you’re at, you need to know who you’re gonna be dealing with.” She has this look in her eyes that makes you shudder, but you simply nod and let her continue.

“Well, These people; They’re slavers. They stalk and capture. Sometimes go for big communities and make them no more. They…my community had that same fate.” She says the last part quietly with a glance of sadness in her eyes.

Seeing the look that this woman portrayed enraged you. How could they do this to someone who seemed like an angel sent from god himself?! To anyone for that mattered! This wasn’t right, but it also held so many questions for you.

“And why the fuck hasn’t anyone tried to retaliate?” you said in a louder tone than anticipated.

The woman’s eyes widened and she immediately put a finger to your mouth, hushing you and looking around to see if anyone heard you. As if on cue, a guard came strolling by with a rifle in hand, seeming to be perimetering the area. Your intrusive voice only seems to cause the guard to glance inside the cell and a few people inside with the both of you to stir in their respective beds.

The woman above you seems visibly shaken, but is immediately relieved when the guard doesn’t pay much mind to your outburst. Setting her gaze onto you, her facade hardens slightly, “Don’t talk like that, those types of things get you killed around here.” She warns.

You gulp and nod as she removes her finger from your lips and looks around once again before speaking in a lower tone, “People have before, but they’ve all perished or worse.”

“So….there's no way...outta here?” you say, feeling all of your hope slowly dwindling.

“Yes, but it’s almost impossible. Only way to “escape” is to fight, but everyone here is terrified of standing up against these people.”

“So we encourage them! You said it yourself, it’s almost impossible, but not impossible.” you whisper-yell, “You seriously can’t see yourself living here for the rest of your life!”

“Of course I don’t” she sighs and with her tone softening before she continues, “I have no other choice, dear. I’m getting old and my knees don’t go how they used to anymore. My chances are dismal. So I just follow the orders and avoid getting punishments.”

“Then I'll do something about it. You won’t be—“

“No.” she says sternly, “You don’t even know what you’re up against and with the state you’re in…you’ll die.”

You let out a breath, you didn’t know you were holding. She was right, and you knew it. You couldn't do anything in the condition you’re in, you’d be killed on the spot. So you had to wait. Wait for how long? You don’t even know, but you won’t rush it. Patience brings success—or some shit like that, meet the right people and resources. But for now you need to get your strength up.

“Hurry the fuck up and pass it before they catch us!” Ashley warns with a quiet giggle.

You exhale with a chuckle and pass the stick over to her, “Shut up, you’re just being paranoid.”

She scoffs, “Me, paranoid?”

“Yes, you.” you reply with a smile, watching her inhale then exhale a few seconds after, “How many times have we smoked back here and gotten caught?” you say with a cocky tone as you grab it and bring to your lips.

You watch her huff in defeat, “None…” she mumbles.

“Exactly.”

“Oh, suck my dick.” she responds with an eye roll, taking and bringing it up to her lips. “We should get back anyway, stupid ass Tammy might wonder where we’re at.”

You cross your arms and sigh, “Yeah, I don't need her squeaking in my ear.” you remark with a chuckle.

Your comment eclits a laugh out of Ashley as she throws the joint on the ground and stomps on it with her foot, coating dirt over it as if it never happened.

“Right, let’s go.” she says, beginning to walk back to the others.

It had been a year and half since the whole incident went down. And life since you’ve healed from your injuries hasn't been great. Immediately after you were cleared for work, you were put on the job. It wasn’t light work to get you used to it, No. It was rough, blazing sun hot work.

Forced to work in insalubrious conditions with others plucking various fruits and vegetables. It was the same greenery that would be poorly rationed to you and those around you. Rationing it as if they didn’t have an endless supply of it, just sitting in their pantry. It was one of the many cruel acts these people did.

But you had to consider yourself fortunate, lucky even. That you haven’t gotten a punishment like those unlucky few. Because every single time they'd blow that “death horn” as you called it. You knew someone was either gonna be dead or left to die, bleeding out.

It was a sick guessing game.

And everytime someone initiated that heart dropping tune, a shudder would run down your spine. But what was strange about it was that everyone knew what to do without even being instructed too. Like machines, everyone would drop everything they were doing and make their way to the courtyard.

As if it put them under a trance.

You remembered the first time you heard it. Just after you dropped the last apple into your basket. That twisted melody aired through the establishment causing you to freeze in fear. The ambience of everyone’s demeanor changed from lighthearted to stoic in a blink. It was terrifying to see it without context. But now knowing the meaning behind it, you understood why they acted that way.

You weren’t gonna lie, seeing people die so savagely, it scared you. Made you lose hope of actually trying and planning an escape. You could see it in everyone's eyes; despair and hopeless. And you were starting to get that mentality too.

Hopeless.

Mallory was the only hope you truly had. Just seeing her every single day after a long and rough day working in fields brought a smile to your lips, even if you had no reason to smile that day. She didn’t just earn that title, “medic” she owned it. She taught you the ropes of basic and advanced medical care.

It wasn’t the lessons you loved—well of course you loved it, but you loved hearing the woman talk about her past and dreams as a child. You never knew why, but every conversation you had with her felt like a mother and daughter bonding over fresh cookies, they baked together.

You loved her.

You want better for her.

You knew she wouldn’t get it here—no…with the way they treat her.

It’s impossible for her to live a peaceful life for when she grew too old and can’t move around without complaining about joint pain.

Because the truth was, she was getting older. Time wasn’t stopping for her. And you could see it. And you’d be lying out of your ass if you didn’t say you were worried about her. The endless nights of caring for wounded people, was taking a toll on the old woman's body.

That sweet old altruistic woman who nursed you back to health and still does. Scolding you like a little girl who tripped over a rock from being unaware of her surroundings. But you knew she loved and worried about you—all the time.

Parents say they know everything about their child, and in this case. She definitely knew something was up when you started to act weird. Suspicious.

But of course, she never questioned you—mostly because she thought you were grieving. And she’s never questioned the way you grieved—even if your ways of grieving could get you killed or worse.

Now why were you grieving? Omid, it’s one of the biggest burdens you’ll ever have to carry. He was one of your closest friends. One out of the many people you knew, you could truly trust. He was actually one of the people you confided in with your ideas of escaping.

And he encouraged you.

He told you, he’d help you for as long as he could because he had an advance. An advance, so little had, but honestly so many that people wouldn’t want to have. He was Liana’s personal maid, or pushover. He would take you the amount of bullying he’d take from her and her fucking goons.

And he was such a good person, he didn’t deserve any of it.

None of it.

Liana would threaten to kill him in brutal ways in front of everyone if he fucked up—even if it was the little mistake. And of course it was all talk—never bite. Until she did bite, and hard. Hearing from friends, you heard that Omid was tripped on purpose by one of Liana’s members while holding a tray of drinks during a meeting. Spilling all the drinks over Lianas fresh plans for future establishment builds.

It wasn’t pretty finding his body, strung up like a pig, gutted. It broke you, left you in a depressive, guilt trip state. Because you weren’t quick enough. He gave all the information he could find on layouts, patrol routes and more. But you were slow, it was hard finding people who were brave enough to help.

And now your lack of being effective payed it’s price.

Now, you sat in front of his makeshift grave that everyone pitched in to make, watching the dirt falling from your hand as you continuously kept playing with it.

Should’ve been me, not you..

I was slow..

I’m so sorry…

You. Should’ve been, you. Staring at the ground, unable to stare at your friend, even now in death. Your mind is tormenting you for being incompetent. Wiping a tear away, you get up from your kneeling position and finally look at your friend's grave—for the last time.

“I’m sorry, O-Omid.” you say quietly.

It was a mistake that wouldn’t be made again. Because walking away, you leave with a sense of determination—and maybe honor, too. You were gonna escape this fucking nightmare in honor for him. Because the truth is you were scared of losing everyone you loved and being alone.

And that was happening—slowly.

You couldn’t cower in a corner in hopes of a person with more bravery to rise and lead you to freedom because the truth was everyone was just as terrified as you.

So, You had to.

And the following months to now, have been twisted to worse to good. You manage to sum up a large number of people to join. Thanks to the help of a black sheep. Or to be less cryptic—a traitor.

Ada, a rat willing to ruin everything that benefits her, seemed fishy. Because why would a slaver ever think to help you? It smelled like hardcore bullshit—at least at first. Because when she pulled you to the side and began begging you to reconsider—made you feel indifferent.

But it shocked you how alike the two of you were, both what did whatever the two of you needed to do, to survive. Just that she joined a cause that wasn't a good one. She hated every single time that happened to these innocent people, but pretended to be okay with it for the benefits that came with being a soldier.

And now having someone from the enemy side on yours was one of the best things to happen to you, from Omid and Ada’s little hideout she found, it made the process much easier.

From mapping areas to keep stolen supplies, to finding weak spots on the high walls surrounding the facility, to locations after the operation of “Where to go if separated.” You had everything set into motion. Expect one thing, getting Mallory out of here, and agreeing to everything—or some of it. Whether you had to drag her out of here, you’ll be getting her out of here.

She was the only thing that was holding you back.

“Look, I know, this is gonna be hard to understand sigh but—please just hear me out, okay?—Fuck ughh” you groan, running a hand through your hair. You’ve been standing in front of a mirror for minutes—which felt like hours, just rehearsing what you’ll say to Mallory. And every single approach you try to go through with, you couldn’t see the outcome. It felt useless, you went through every sentence starter in your book!

“Still working on what'll you say to Mal?” a voice interrupts your daily rehearsal.

You huff and look back to see Ada who’s walking through the door, “Yeah…”

A laugh flows through the girl's windpipe, “Why don’t you just tell her?—without all this rehearsal bullshit.”

You roll your eyes and face the mirror once again, “Because you don’t know her like I do—She's gonna freak out if I just say; Oh hey, Ima gonna be doing the one thing that you warned me not to do!” you say sarcastically.

“Yeouch…” She breathes out, sitting down and contorting her body forward, looking down at the carefully configured plans.

You sigh in defeat, deciding to try again later, and walk over to Ada to view the plans as well, “Anything new?”

Ada shakes her head, “Nope, but the lady boss is losing her shit over the dropping percentage in food..”

A smile blooms on your lips, “Alright, well, I think we should be set then. I just have to tell Mallory and we’re good!”

Ada just nods in response—weird, “What? You’re not excited to be leaving this shit hole?” You inquired.

“Of course I’m ready to leave this place—just..when?”

You try laughing it off, “What do you mean, ‘when’?”

“I mean when are you gonna tell Mallory?” she restates bluntly, her gaze turned to set on you firmly, “Because it seems like we’ll never leave with the way things are going.”

You’re stunned as you look at the girl below you as she continues, “You tell her today or tomorrow or—“

“or what?” You interrupt, becoming defensive, “you’re gonna leave me?” you accuse.

Your accusation leaves Ada speechless for just a moment before arguing back, “No, I wouldn’t leave you. I’m talking about leaving Mallory behind if it comes to that. We can’t save everyone—“

“Oh fuck you, I’m not leaving Mallory behind! She deserves a shot at a better life!” You remark.

“And the others don’t?” She emphasizes, standing up from her chair, “—‘cause it seems like you've only cared about yourself more than the people around, depending on you.”

You felt every word hit your gut one by one because she was right, you were being selfish. Only thinking about Mallory and not the hundred lives at stake. You’ve been careless as of lately, wasting time and for what?—because you were scared? You’d be the reason if this whole operation doesn't go according to plan.

But you never could think rationally when angry, if it wasn’t you that got yourself in trouble, it was always your big mouth that did.

Just never know when to shut up, do you?

“Right because it’s totally not your fault why I’m here.” you chide sarcastically while pointing your finger in her face condescendingly. The look Ada relays when those words leave your mouth sends waves of guilt throughout your body. Staring at the woman’s expression in front morphe from anger to disbelief in the matter of seconds.

“Fuck you.” She spits out before walking past you and out the door.

You sigh upon hearing the door slam, soaking into your overwhelming guilt. What went through your head to think that was right to say? Oh right—none. You throw yourself onto the now vacant chair. Your head goes slack and is only caught by the palm of your hand.

You stay in this position trying to justify why you say that. You could blame it on sleep, but who the fuck says that? On what?—Two hours?—Three? Shit..when was the last time your head hit a pillow?

With a sigh, you get up from the chair and begin to look over the written plans. Instead of worrying about your recent actions. With every minute passing, you start feeling the fatigue finally catching up with you. Take a break, you deserve it—right? Despite the opposing side of your conscious saying otherwise, you stand up and pace around the room to stretch your aching muscles.

Waddling around the room like a chicken with its head cut off, you stop in front of the mirror once more and just stare at yourself. What’s wrong with you? You feel that guilt creeping up and looming over your shoulder as you stare at yourself. Scrutinizing what’s more prominent to you; the scar on your cheek, the rough and dry spots on your skin, the recent bruise you got as a warning, scaling up and off your imperfections and landing on your hair.

You never really took it into consideration, but your hair was a hazard. Pulling open the drawer, you see the solution to said concern. Scissors. Without any hesitation, you pick them and cut a large portion of your hair. You watch in the mirror as the hair cascades down and on the floor. You don’t stare for long and cut until there’s nothing left to cut.

Hair grows back anyway—it’s no biggie, you continue to repeat over and over in your head as you stare at your reflection. Setting the scissors down, you brush any stray hairs off of you when you hear it. That bone chilling sound—or “The death horn” as you call it, blares throughout the building and through the walls into your eardrums. You wince upon hearing that deafening sound that pumps fear through your veins.

Who is it this time?

In a blink, you’re gone and flying down the winding hallway to the courtyard.

Ada?

Tears blind your sight as you rush towards the end of the hallway and make a sharp right turn.

Mallory?

You make it to your heart-wrenching destination and are met with a crowd surrounding the podium where there’s five people standing on it, whom you immediately recognize—well at least the first three. The leader's voice, Liana, is more prominent as she speaks to the vibrant crowd. And the two behind her on each side are guards, but the last two aren’t identifiable, only seeing the top layout of their heads as the crowds block the rest of their body. You have—No, need to know who the last two are.

They have to be okay—it can’t be them!

Your body is tense with anticipation of finding out as you rush towards the crowd, pushing your way through. The crowds’ voices only intensify the momentum in you. Just as you see an opening to the front and try to make a move for it, you’re hindered from doing so when a hand wraps around your forearm.

The grip is strong and pauses any planned sudden movement which elicits you to glance back at the person. It’s Ashley, her facial expressions covered in worry as she stares at you with tears rolling down her cheeks, “Don't go—Y/n stay here please!” she begs.

Her pleads only feed into your curiosity, Stay?—No, you can’t stay!—oh but you can—“Ashley, let me go!” you began to try to loosen your arm from her grip, but to no avail. Your struggles only are met with Ashley tightening her grip, “No! I won't let you see—Please!” she begs once more.

All her desperate attempts to make you stay are futile, because with one harsh pull, you're released from her grip and stumble back. A bystander catches you before you can truly fall on the ground and once on your feet, you run. Run as fast as you can from Ashley—your protruding thoughts to stay with her. To not look at what lies before you.

Until you do, and god did you wish, this was just a bad figment that your brain made up. That you’d wake up in the comforts of your dirty mattress beside—Mallory. She’s one of the final pieces to the stressful puzzle, a damaged puzzle piece. She’s on her knees, Hands bound behind her back, and blind folded. And beside her is the final puzzle piece—the final nail in your coffin.

Ada, she’s in the same position as Mallory, but not badly beaten as her. Her lip tremors in fear as the woman behind both of them continues to speak, “These two have been selfish and are a danger to our thriving community here.” What?—No…,”Therefore, they need to be dealt with accordingly.” This statement only riles up the crowd and you, “N-no! Mallory! Ada! No, no, please!” You try to proceed forward, but stopped once again when arms wrap over your body.

It’s Ashley's voice that can be heard behind you telling you to stop and how you’re gonna get yourself hurt or worse going up there. But you don’t care��No…not when the two people you let back into your heart are gonna perish in front of you—No, you need to do something—Anything!

“Get the fuck off of me!” you scream, thrashing around her arms.

You try and try but to no avail—you’re not successful. You watch the gun in Liana's hand aim towards the back of Mallory’s head. And with every amount of breath in you—you scream out “no” just maybe…it’ll do something.

“Please, no!” You cry out, but at that moment everything is in slow motion for you. You watch as with no hesitation from the carrier, the gun fires and the bullet goes flying. Your body feels weak—unable to look or stand anymore so you fall on your knees letting out guttural sobs as you hear the sound of her body dropping to the ground and losing all its vitality.

As quick as life came, so did it go.

You couldn’t feel or hear anything—nothing. Not the voice of Ashley or her actions of trying to get you up again—nothing. Well actually…you did feel one thing; Anger. The feeling of it coursing through your veins, but wait…Ada! No, not again! You can’t lose her too—

The sound of a gunshot pierces your eardrums and plays havoc into your trance instantly. The familiar thud of another body falling on the ground causes the crowd behind you to lose all control and sets fear into you.

Who is it this time?

Please look at these links for palestine!! — How you can help Palestine, Why you shouldn’t support tlou/ buy the remastered, Educate yourself, #FREEPALESTINE. Please look at them, if you could read this entire fic, you can take a few moments to learn and support palestine!

a/n; Woah what a journey it was from January 8th to now, and I wouldn’t change any of it. I genuinely wanna thank and send love to everyone who send nothing but love and support, you are the highlight. I am so sorry it took me so long so long to post another chapter, but holy shit we are! As always, thank you sydney and ami for being here to listen to me yap because holy fuck, there were many scenarios that were cut and left it and blah blah. I don’t wanna yap for so long because it is currently four in the fucking morning where I live and I need to go to sleep 😭 BUT I’d like to thank you as always for reading and showing me unconditional love and support. Thank you and I truly appreciate it. So with that out the way, MAKE SURE TO LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE SO YOU NEVER EVER MISS A BANGER FROM MEEE 💯💯💯💯‼️‼️‼️🔥🔥🔥

SIDE NOTE: I couldn’t add a few people SORRYYYY!!!

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freak-accident419 · 30 days

Text

You Can’t Spell ‘FWB’ without ‘Friend’

Derek Danforth x GN!Reader

Summary: Ever since the night before, you and Derek had become best friends with benefits. Bored at a fancy rich person party, you two decide to hook up again. However, when you’re inexplicably taken out of the mood, you two decide to do something else for the night: hang out like the best friends you were.

Word Count: 2.9k

Content: 18+ content, MDNI, (graphic descriptions of) sex (awkward), cursing, mentions of drugs, (best) friends with benefits, platonic (but you can interpret it as potentially romantic), short read, reader and Derek are just best pals that fuck, slightly ooc Derek, reader is rich/famous like Derek, attempt to hook up in the bathroom at a party (end up hanging out instead), smoking, drinking, Star Wars references, very chaotic

(A/n: Dedicating this to my wifey @xcherryerim 🫶 your post awaiting this fic meant a lot to me :3)

Holy fuck, you wanted to gouge your eyes out.

You had a glass of wine in your hand, staring at the crowd of old, wealthy hags, sipping the drink briefly out of boredom.

You were at yet another fancy party in some rich person’s mansion, accompanied by your best friend Derek, the son of President Jessica Danforth and CEO of Danforth Enterprises. You had been good friends with him for a very long time, the two of you always stirring up trouble whenever together.

You stare down at the deep scarlet of your drink, intensely zoning out as you thought about the night before. A pair of hands caressing the skin on your thighs, legs tightening around hips, wrists held above your head, and loud, sultry moans and sounds filling the room.

And then you snapped out of it as you felt a tap on your shoulder. You looked up to see exactly him—Derek.

“This party is ass,” you grumble to him, taking a sip from your drink.

“I know,” he replies, sipping his. “Any luck with finding investors?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I have people doing that for me,” you scoff.

“Right,” he nods.

“Any luck with convincing some poor girl to invest in crypto?” You ask, looking at him as you raise an eyebrow.

“Nope,” he answers with a sigh, but a smile was plastered on his face.

You chuckled at his reply. “Hah. I’m not surprised. Crypto is fucking ridiculous.”

“Hey, fuck you.”

“Hm, you already did. What, once isn’t enough for you?” you retort quickly, sneering.

Derek’s eyes widened in response, frantically looking around to see if anyone heard you, then whispered, “Would—Would you be quiet?” He stressed under his breath. “Don’t say that fucking shit out loud, what if somebody heard?”

Last night didn’t really mean to happen. Like the close friends you were, you hung out with Derek at his mansion as you regularly do. However, one thing led to another because of a bottle of pinot noir and the unfortunate appearance of a sex scene in a movie you two watched together. Accordingly, you woke up sore the next morning. You two had established that it was just hooking up, no strings attached—but nobody could know about your arrangement. Not your friends, not your co-workers, and especially not Derek’s mother. While he was known for being promiscuous, the press couldn’t find out that Derek had hooked up with you, not only a good friend of Derek, but someone who was well known in the media due to their wealth.

You roll your eyes carelessly as flashes from last night began to cloud your mind. His fast breaths, his body, his skilled hands. Yet you shook it off easily. “Oh, come on, Derek, these old, ancient fucks can’t hear shit.” An old woman looked at you in disapproval after hearing you swear, walking away from you. “Okay, well, she heard that, but nobody’s gonna know! Don’t get your fuckin’ Louis Vuitton boxers in a twist.”

“They’re not—” he huffs in annoyance. You weren’t taking this seriously, which ultimately frustrated him; your carelessness reminded him too much of himself. “Y/n, who knows what’ll happen if anyone finds out? Like, you know I have to keep my fucking reputation up, and you do too. I don’t think there’s anything Wallace could do if the press found out we hooked up.”

You pause briefly until a smirk creeps up onto your lips in realization. “You regret it, don’t you?”

“No, of course I don’t regret it,” he answers immediately. Not regretting it was clearly an understatement. He really enjoyed last night, every second, every feeling. So he was slightly confused as to why you even doubted him. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just—” you stutter out, “I woke up and you were gone, you know.” You mutter as you took out a cigarette, placing it into your mouth and lighting it.

His mouth went dry and he pursed his lips promptly. “I had to be at Danforth Enterprises,” he says, watching you exhale the smoke from your cigarette.

“Yeah, well, you could’ve sent me a text or written a note,” you shrug. “Like, it’s your house, dude. I was supposed to be the one leaving the morning after, not you.”

“Right, sorry,” he says simply. “Force of habit.” —It was true; he had an infamous history of one-night stands.

“Plus, I’m your best friend,” you reason. “I don’t want this to, like, ruin everything we had. Like, you’re still my buddy to me.”

He looked at you with a slightly amused grin. “Hey, nothing’s gonna change between us, alright? As you said, you’re my best friend, and it’s always gonna stay that way.” You chuckled, offering him a smile as you heard his response. He could be sentimental whenever he wanted. “Look, the day our friendship will ever change is the day I’ll shut down UDG and Nine Star. Which is basically, like, fucking never. Don’t worry about it.” Even as he said the last sentence, this could be interpreted in two different ways. The first one is that he’d never be in some sort of greater relationship with you, likewise his reluctance to stop scamming. The second one, however, implies that if he ever got into something serious with you, a moral obligation will arise, forcing him to shut down his unethical phishing companies just for you. Right. That sounded ridiculous. It was definitely not the latter.

The two of you both took a sip of your drink in unison.

“But, like,” he began, swirling his glass of wine in his hand engagingly, “Is this gonna be, like, a regular thing?”

You raise an eyebrow curiously after taking a sip of your own. “Like, hooking up?” He nods. “I mean… Whatever happens, happens.”

“Uhh, how do you mean?”

“Like, if it was a one-time thing, so be it. But if it’s gonna become regular, then also so be it,” you took a drag of your cigarette. “Doesn’t really matter. We can just, like, do whatever we want. Nothing has to be all predetermined. If we feel like fucking, then we’ll fuck. If not, then great, another day of walking normally.”

“Right,” he says.

You were bored.

So fucking bored.

You dressed all fancy for nothing, you feel. You were obligated to go the same reason Derek had: your wealthy, famous status. But it was so underwhelming and useless, even. As long as you made an appearance, then that should’ve been enough for everybody.

You put out your cigarette and finish your wine, nearly chugging it.

“Hey,” you tap on Derek’s shoulder, making him turn around to look at you after he had been gazing at a potential crypto girl. “Wanna do a quickie in this rich loser’s bathroom?”

He raises an eyebrow in interest.

***

You were held up against the wall of the bathroom, legs wrapped around Derek’s hips as his hands held you by your thighs, pounding his cock in and out of you at a fairly quick pace. Your hands held onto his arms and your chin rested on his shoulder tiredly as the occasional skin slapping against skin sound echoed in the room, hearing Derek grunt with almost every thrust.

You felt slightly uncomfortable and awkward. Like, you weren’t really aroused. It felt… dry? You didn’t know what you meant by that, but the friction was just… unsatisfying. He was grazing your walls in a way that just made it feel like burning, increasing your discomfort. But at least he looked like he was enjoying this. Good for him, you guessed.

This never happened before, so it was sort of… really weird to you, to say the least.

To be honest, you were kind of bored. Like, really bored. How the hell were you still bored? You temporarily escaped an old rich people party to have rigorous sex in their bathroom with your best friend, but you were still bored.

“Shit…” you mutter, disgruntled, as he moved consistently inside you, the burning sensation catching up with you. “What the fuck? Why does—ow—Why the fuck is this hurting?”

Derek pulls his head away from your shoulder and looks at you in concern, his dick still inside of you. “Are you okay? Should I go slower?” He offers, raising an eyebrow as he searched for hesitance in your eyes, then looking you up and down.

“Yeah, sure, okay,” you nodded. “It’s whatever, just—just keep going,” you dismiss in a low murmur. As he starts again at a slower pace, you still had an uncomfortable expression on your face. He was moving his hips but all you felt was mere irritation.

“Okay, what—what the hell?” You groan as you still felt shitty, resulting in Derek stopping his thrusts.

“What’s the issue? Am I still going fast? Should I slow down more?”

“Yeah, uh, probably, yeah,” you say as your head goes back on his shoulder. He proceeds with his movements, his cock sliding in at an even slower pace, stretching your walls more intricately.

“Is this—is this better?” He asks as he moves patiently, steadily moving in and out of your body.

And it wasn’t even a minute in before you would interrupt again.

“Umm… Actually I,” you begin, sighing, “I’m just—I don’t know, I’m not feeling it.”

Derek slides out, still holding you up against the wall by your thighs and raises an eyebrow, looking into your eyes. “Seriously?”

You nod simply.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” He asks, unsure if it was something on his part.

“I don’t know, I’m just not really feeling it,” you reply awkwardly.

“Weren’t you the one who brought it up—”

“I’m not feeling it anymore, dude, I’m sorry!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up in surrender.

He puts you down as you put your clothing back on. As you slip your underwear back on, you look at him standing by the same spot by the wall. “Are you still hard?” You ask, raising an eyebrow insightfully.

“Yup,” he shrugs shamelessly.

You sort of felt bad, since you were the one who had the idea of fucking in the bathroom in the first place, making him all riled up.

You sigh softly and you two look at each other in silence. You let out a quiet huff.

“Want me to jerk you off?”

Soon after his release, he put his boxers and pants on leisurely. You were in front of the mirror, trying to fix your hair and clothing, ensuring that you didn’t just come back from a sexual experience in the bathroom.

“Dude, look at how much expensive perfume these jagoffs own,” you chuckle amusedly, looking down at the bathroom sink counter. On the surface were several perfumes of Armani, Burberry, Dolce & Gabbana, as well as a few lotions.

“Hey, don’t—don’t touch those, Y/n.” Too late. You sprayed him with one.

You two grimaced at the scent.

“Well shit, I didn’t even know what I expected,” you cough severely, waving your hand around your nose as you despised the shitty perfume’s smell.

“I told you not to touch them, idiot,” he huffs, buckling his belt as he scowled at the odor.

“Don’t be a dickwad, you totally would’ve been curious enough to try them too,” you scoff, looking through the cabinets of the bathroom mirror and sinks. “Hey, look,” you smirk, throwing a small object at him that you had found.

He caught it involuntarily with his hands and inspected the item: it was a bottle of Viagra. He raised an eyebrow, looking at you and laughed softly. “I am not surprised that these old fucks can’t get it on,” he threw it back at you and you shelved it back in its original place.

You watch him take a hit from his vape and you sigh from boredom. You didn’t want to be in this bathroom any longer, but you definitely didn’t want to be out in the party either.

“Dude, I’m bored,” you whine as he handed you his vape pen.

“‘Sup Bored, I am Derek,” he muttered sarcastically, under his breath. You rolled your eyes and handed him back his vape once you were done with it.

“Can you—can you not?” you mumble exasperatedly in response as he just raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Okay, let’s go,” he says, making his way towards the door, “We’re getting out of here, you can ride with me.”

“Hold on,” you interject quickly. “We should—I mean—I should probably wait a few minutes after you leave the bathroom to get out. You know, so no one will suspect us if we were to, like, walk out of the bathroom together.”

“Right. Yeah. Yeah, you have a point,” he nods.

You had to be careful from now on, realizing that just through the mere plan of leaving the bathroom alternately. This meant you had to be more delicate and thoughtful with every action and word that came from you—and Derek’s—to keep this messy secret.

***

You were laid on the bed beside Derek, one hand tangled in his hair and the other holding an ice cream cone as the bright colors of the TV in front of you nearly blinded your eyes. Your arm was propped up behind Derek’s head in order to play with his hair, feeling the soft curls brushing your palm and fingertips. The two of you looked intensely at the screen as you ate your ice cream in one hand, which was graciously prepared by Derek’s personal chef.

“Dude, Jar Jar Binks was definitely a Sith Lord,” you blurt in a low mutter. Derek turns his head and looks at you in befuddlement.

“What? No. Y/n, no, no, no, do not get started on this again—”

“I’m just saying, dude, that whole ‘goofy idiot’ appearance was hiding the fact that he was a powerful Sith Lord!” You exclaim passionately. “Have you seen his fighting style?”

“Yes, I’ve seen his fighting style, and it looks as if he’s chugged twenty fuckin’ martinis, then atrociously became crossfaded through several, reckless bong rips,” he replied straightforwardly.

You pause briefly as you realized. “Derek, I swear, if that was a reference to that one hangover I had back in December, I swear fucking to god—”

He met you with silence.

You nearly whisper, “Was it?”

The smirk that rose onto his lips told you everything, and you playfully smacked the top of his head since your hand was already there before, tangled in his hair. “Ow,” he muttered, yet his smirk never ceasing. “Look, all I’m saying is that I respect you for that. You are, like, the craziest person I know in the best fucking way possible.”

“Uh, thanks, I guess,” you mumble, fighting the inevitable curl of your lips that formed a flattered, soft grin. “Okay, anyways, all I’m saying, is that not only was it a tactic to trick his opponents, but he could’ve also been using the force! And how many times has he avoided death?”

“Okay, Y/n, that’s enough, lay off the grass,” he jokes, letting out a low snicker. “How is Jar Jar even relevant? We—we aren’t even watching the prequels, isn’t this The Empire Strikes Back?”

“No, I’m pretty sure we’re watching Return of the Jedi,” you say confidently.

“No, this is—this is definitely Empire Strikes Back,” he refutes, then pauses. “Did we seriously forget?”

“Well, there’s a billion of movies in this franchise, so we’re bound to mix up its titles. Hm, well, it can’t be The Empire Strikes Back, because Return of the Jedi is the one with that sexy Leia outfit,” you reason, shrugging. Derek raises an eyebrow. “Okay, okay, you know what, this isn’t even the point, the point is, that Jar Jar is relevant because it’s fuckin’ Star Wars!”

“Whatever,” Derek rolls his eyes with an amused grin that swiftly transitioned into a mischievous smirk. “You look like Jar Jar,” he mumbles.

You let out a playful, offended gasp. “Oh yeah? You look like Jabba the Hut.”

His head turned directly towards you and let out a exaggerated gasp as well. “Fuck you, you look like Yoda!”

“And you look like that fucking gremlin-looking piece of shit that’s Jabba’s pet!”

“Yeah, well, you look like—”

This continued a little longer until the both of you got too tired, unable to think of any more ugly Star Wars characters to compare each other to—which then resulted in a peaceful truce.

Your fingers proceeded to play with Derek’s curls as you took a bite of your ice cream, then letting your head rest on his shoulder. With this action, however, you suddenly thought about the night before and how things had led up to that event.

“Hey, are there any sex scenes in this?” You ask quietly, feeling his short strands of hair tangle loosely around your fingers.

He scoffs with a slight grin. “It’s a fucking Star Wars movie.”

You two burst out laughing. “Right, right, that’s—you have a point,” you giggle, catching your breath. “Oh, thank god, then.”

“Why? Are you that against having a repeat of last night?” He accuses, attempting to sound more playful, rather than the genuine concern that he felt.

“No, it’s just—” You struggled to think about how you wanted to word it. “I really like this. You know? I’m too tired, I’m very comfy, I…” You nuzzled further into his neck as your head rested on his shoulder. “This is nice. I like this.”

He smiles warmly to himself. “I like this too.”

The rest of the night was quite tame. You finished your ice cream before you finished the movie. Except, you didn’t really finish the movie entirely, because you two fell asleep in each other’s arms in the middle of it. Yet seen through your easy laughter and smiles, you were reassured indubitably: nothing was ever going to change between the two of you.

#derek danforth #derek danforth x reader #derek danforth x you #derek danforth x gn!reader #derek danforth smut #the beekeeper #the beekeeper movie #the beekeeper fanfic #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt x reader #josh futturman x reader #clapton davis x reader #gender neutral #gender neutral reader

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piratefishmama · 8 months

Text

Fake it till you make it | Part 11

“Be careful, Eddie” were Wayne’s words as he hugged his nephew goodbye, knowing he wouldn’t see him for a whole week and honestly still being a little worried about it “if you think even for one minute that something’s off, just… just get out of there, alright?”

“I know, I know, I’ll bolt through the woods and hitchhike my way home, I know the way, Wayne, I got this.” He could read a compass, he’d be able to get a map from any gas station and head home, he was resourceful, an adult, he could handle himself.

“Damn right you got this, son. But… be careful in other ways too, alright? Steve’s a charmin boy, but… remember this ain’t real.” Eddie had bitten his bottom lip at that one, brows furrowed in thought, those big brown eyes of his swirling in emotion, he never did hide his feelings well, it’d always be a little real for him. “Protect this” Wayne poked his chest with a gentle prod, right over Eddie’s heart “okay?”

“Mhm, I will…” he’d try to anyway. Steve really was… charming. An his kisses? God his kisses… but also... it really was the closest he’d ever been to what romance ought to be, what a relationship ought to be, he never thought he’d have that.

The world didn’t appear to be moving fast enough for him to truly experience romance as most people did.

He had to remember that he didn’t have that.

“Eddie! C’mon you’re in the back with me!” Steve called from the garage door, behind which the car was rumbling, their bags packed into the back, Steve’s parents already inside, ready to go. The longest Eddie had ever been away from Wayne since arriving in Hawkins, was three days during a weekend trip to Indy with the band to play at a slightly bigger venue than the Hideout as a one off.

A favour for his favourite gay bar when a live act they’d scheduled pulled out last minute. It hadn’t gotten them a lot of exposure, but it’d been a fun and enlightening night for the band.

“Best get on, son, I’ll see you in a week. Call when you can alright? Don’t care if you wake me up or about no damn time zones, just call, I’ll answer, an if I don’t, you know the plant’s number.” Tight lipped, strained smile, Eddie nodded quickly then turned on his heel and graced Steve with a brilliant smile, game on.

“I don’t wish to alarm anyone, but... did we miss a turning?” Eddie may have been unusually quiet for the first leg of their journey, nerves having hit him like a truck the second they pulled out of Loch Nora, but he was paying attention to his surroundings.

And those surroundings, were all too quickly, Fort Wayne International Airport.

“You don’t honestly expect rich people to drive the whole way to Canada do you?” Steve’s voice was amused and came from so very close to his ear that he actually jumped, quickly turning in his seat, back plastered against his side of the back seat, eyes wide as he took in and processed what Steve said. “Plus, what would you rather do, spend nearly two days in a car with my parents—”

“We’d make wonderful road trip companions, don’t be rude Steven” came his mother’s interruption

Steve ignored it in favour of continuing his point “—orr… around ten hours in one of those with a brief stop off in Chicago.” Steve leaned inward, uncaring of personal space as he pointed to a plane, ascending into the heavens from the runway.

“I don’t—” he didn’t know. He’d never been on a plane before. Trips like that, across country, they were the stuff of road trip legend, but Steve had a point…

Two whole days of a trip stuck in a car. Or just ten hours. Eddie’s eyes skipped to the window again, to the plane now disappearing beyond the overcast cloud cover.

“It’ll be okay, Eds, I’ll sit right next to you the whole time, you’ll be okay.”

“What if we crash? What if it falls out of the sky? What’ll you do?”

“My best to keep you safe.” It was so earnest, coupled with Steve gently taking his hands and giving them a squeeze, eyes so full of raw honesty, of understanding, it hit Eddie directly in all his soft gooey bits. “I’ll hold your hand through the whole ten hours if you want.”

“Even during the stop in Chicago?”

“Hah, yeah baby, even during the stop in Chicago.”

“They’re a lot more openminded in Chicago too!” Lynda spoke up without turning her head, allowing Eddie to not get stuck on baby for too long “might get a few looks from people passing through the airport but nobody will say anything, and if they do, they deal with us.��

“If we had enough time during the stop we’d have taken a trip around the city, let you boys see some of the sights we’ve seen, but alas, our connection gives us an hour at most depending on everything being on time, and that’s just enough time to get us from one gate to the next.” John added as he pulled into the long stay parking lot. “Maybe some other time, some other family trip, eh Eddie?”

Eddie’s wide eyes turned to the front of the car, then back to Steve again, lips parted ever so slightly in surprise. Not surprise over the words used, but the feeling those words caused. Family trip. They were including him on future family trips.

Steve’s eyes quickly snapped from him to the front of the car and back again, then a warm smile blossomed on his lips. He lifted his hand and ever so carefully brushed a stray curl back behind Eddie’s ear, and asked so softly as his thumb lowered to brush along his jawline. “Right, Eddie?”

“Y-yeah… yeah I’d… I’d love that.” He turned his head fully toward the drivers seat, he’d never been too good at hiding his emotions, so maybe he was just a little choked up when he accepted the offer “I’d really love that.”

“Great!” The car came to a stop in one of the many parking bays, ignition off, driver side door opened “It’s settled then.” Settled. Eddie would privately mourn the knowledge that it’d never come to fruition, but… on the surface he could pretend he was excited for a future trip for the sake of the ruse. “Now boys if you could get the bigger bags out the trunk that’d be a big help! This back of mine isn’t as sturdy as it used to be.”

“You’re forty-six and go jogging almost every morning, don’t be stupid John.” Lynda whapped her husband with her handbag in gentle, semi-amused admonishment before getting out of the car.

Followed by her husband who, in a hushed tone replied with “don’t tell them that, Lynda, save us the work.” Leaving the two boys to breathe soft laughs between themselves before they too joined the older couple out in the parking lot.

“Steve...” Eddie hissed as they neared check-in.

“What?”

“I have weed” said through his teeth.

“What?” Steve paused.

“I have weed… I have weed in my suitcase.”

“You have what?!” Steve rounded on him, sentence ended with a pointed hiss

“I didn’t know we’d be flying to Canada, Steve, maybe you should tell people when you’re planning on launching them into the troposphere in a death tube!”

“Why would you bring weed on a holiday with my parents, Eddie?!”

“SHHHH, be quiet. I thought I might need it to chill out if I was freaking out at some point during the week like right now, I could really do with it right now.”

“Oh my god.”

“Steven? Is something wrong?” Lynda’s voice had them both snapping to attention, eyes wide, caught in the act. Luckily she had no idea what that ‘act’ was.

“Nope! No, uh, Eddie’s just gotta… use the bathroom real quick.”

“Well, there’s bathrooms in the business class lounge he can—"

“No! It’s uhm, it’s urgent, can’t wait, he’s uh…”

“Nerves, it’s uh, it’s nerves, I think imma hurl” she looked between them with a small frown on her face, assessing them both, it seemed like whatever she found wasn’t worth arguing about though, because she waved them off with a quick flick of her wrist.

“Alright fine, hurry up. Steven you know where the closest ones are go on now quickly before we’re late for check in, we’ll double check everything here.” John was already pausing to check through all their documents like a regular airport dad, it was the third time he’d done it since entering the airport.

“Alright let’s go, Eds, lets deal with your little problem.” At least he was soft-handed when he manhandled Eddie to the nearest bathroom, patchy suitcase with a squeaky wheel wobbling away behind them. Once inside, he checked each stall individually, before quickly turning on a wide eyed Eddie. “Where is it?” Eddie pointed down at the suitcase, and Steve snapped to action, lifting, and placing Eddie’s suitcase down on the slightly damp row of sinks. “Did you pack any liquid soaps?”

“Uhhh…” Eddie was too busy staring at the flex of Steve’s arms as he just. Lifted that whole very packed suitcase in one hoist. Fuck.

“Any shampoo? Conditioner?”

“I—I feel like my answer is going to make you mad so I’m just not going to answer.” Which on its own, was a pretty damning answer, and Steve’s expression told him as such “I don’t have a twelve step hair care routine like you do, Steve! I just… I have drug store shampoo and conditioner and that’s really only when it’s on a two for one sale! Usually I just—"

“If you say you water it down to make it last longer I’m going to throw the first thing I find in this suitcase at you.”

“Shutting up. I just thought I’d buy it there if I needed it, or just borrow yours, I know you brought some, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, I figured that… if I borrowed yours it’d make it seem like I just… wanted… to smell like you?”

“You just made that up.” Eddie just smiled, all teeth and dimples, scrunching his shoulders inwards in an unfairly cute display of mischief. “You’re a menace, Munson. Get your stuff out of there for me. Don’t ever put weed in checked luggage.”

“But—”

“TSA does random checks on checked luggage all the time, an while they’re not usually looking for weed, it’ll get launched and you might get fined. Whereas you can hide weed in just about anything in a carry on, just shows up as vague blurred shit on the x-ray scanners. Just be cool when you shove it through.” Steve was rummaging in the front of his own bag now, “be cool, and act natural.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“Mn once or twice, Tommy was a dick, but his cousin worked for the TSA for a few years, gave us all kinds’a neat tricks to get things through the airport.” Tommy’s cousin had gotten fired and a year inside for attempting to smuggle narcotics out of the confiscated items lock up, but that was neither here nor there. “Gimmie what you have.” Hand outstretched, Steve waited until Eddie placed the single baggie containing three roll ups and a few loose buds “Christ Eddie.”

“I knew I’d be nervous! Stop being mean to me!” Steve rolled his eyes before taking the three roll ups out of the baggie

“Your smokes, give em.” Plenty of room in the pack to slot the three roll ups, and as for the buds, Steve emptied out his travel sized bottle of hand lotion into the sink and stuffed the whole plastic bag into the little bottle, then screwed the lid on tight. Nobody would look twice at a rich kids hand lotion. “Now wet the ends of your hair.”

“What?”

“Your hair butthead! Wet it, we told my mother you’d be in here hurling your guts up, so… you got some in your hair, it’s a good extra to add to the ruse, now do it.”

“So my own boyfriend wouldn’t even hold my hair back if I threw up? Where’s the romance, where’s the commitment, where’s the care and—”

“Dude you have a lot of hair, I doubt I could get it all in my hand at once.” Although now that thought was in his head… could he? Could he get a good fistful and hold it there? Not important. “I’d drop bits.” A flimsy argument, he wouldn’t drop anything.

“Uh-huh, sure you would, big boy.” Eddie quickly dampened the tips of his hair, and ran a wet hand through his bangs quickly in a bid to fake flop sweat, theatrics over and done with. “Zipper-up, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

Part 13

#PirateWrites #FakeItTillYouMakeItFiclet #Steddie #No Upside Down AU #Fake Dating AU #lmao this was getting long so i'm splitting it up

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izzyhandswhore · 7 months

Note

hear me out : reader giving izzy a massage (non-sexual) because reader sees how tense he is :’)

((I know I said fluff.... But Season 2 has given me brainrot so here we go)) Giving Izzy a (non-sexual) massage

Season 1

Izzy spots the way you've been looking at him all day before the word 'massage' can even leave your mouth. You're looking at him like you're sizing him up and he's looking right back at you with suspicion and confusion until he finally breaks and confronts you with a gruff, "what??"

You point out that he looks tense and he just scoffs at you and shrugs and tells you he's fine, but he can't quite meet your eye and doesn't sound all that convincing. If you press him further he'll say something along the lines of "is it any fucking wonder with this lot? Fucks sake.."

He'll just shrug off your first few attempts to get to his shoulders, bat you away and tell you to fuck off. Even if you do get him to stay still long enough to hold him and massage his shoulders a little, he'll try to keep his grumpy face and just tell you it's pointless, he doesn't feel a difference.. But the way his muscles ease can't lie... Neither can that tiny, embarrassing groan that escapes him before he turns bright red, shrugs you off and stalks away to go bark orders at some poor soul.

For the rest of the day you see him rolling his shoulders and tilting his head like he's trying to crack his neck, all while giving you little sideways glances. Try not to look too smug, you've got him. When you two are back safe and alone in your cabin, he “casually” asks about that thing you did earlier and could you.. do it again maybe?

You’ve got your work cut out for you. The man is basically all knots and stiffness. You start with him perched on the edge of the bed while you kneel behind him and work at his neck and shoulders, all while he’s groaning with relief and leaning gently into your touch. It ends with him lying face down practically naked as you work his whole back.

He is not quiet. He’s constantly giving breathy instructions and moaning and praising you.. It’s no wonder you get funny looks and teasing whispers from the rest of the crew the next day. You don’t care, you’re just happy Izzy is happy and finally got a really good nights sleep. You make him feel so safe and relaxed he’s snoring before you can even finish the massage,.

Season Two

Blackbeard soon puts a stop to you and Izzy sleeping in the same cabin. He claims you’re “a distraction” to Izzy and reminds you constantly how lucky you are to be alive since you’re nothing but Izzy’s little pet. To keep you safe, Izzy starts distancing himself too. You’re forced to watch from the sidelines as Izzy’s health declines.

When Blackbeard cuts the second toe off, you no longer care what’ll happen to you. In the dead of night you creep into Izzy’s cabin. He near jumps out of his skin, scrambling back and drawing weapons from under his pillow as you approach. He doesn’t relax even after he realises it’s just you.

In hushed, desperate whispers he tries to get you to leave. He acts like he’s angry with you for invading his space, for disobeying orders, for assuming he even wants you here. Eventually, with tears in his eyes he hisses, “it’s not safe!”

Silence falls over the room. You know he’s just trying to protect you with the whole “evil first mate” act. He knows you see right through him. Just like before he sits on the edge of the bed, defeated. You quietly crawl behind him and press a kiss to his bare shoulder before starting on the knots there.

He doesn’t lean into your touch this time, he flinches. He doesn’t say a word or make any noise of pleasure. The only sounds in the room are muffled grunts as he presses his lips tight together or tiny gasps when you come across a particularly sore spot. Any other noises outside the cabin also snap him to attention and make him tense all over again.

It’s a long and difficult process but eventually you feel him start to relax and nod off a little. You carefully coax him into bed and hold his hand for a bit as he drifts off. When you think he’s asleep you get up to leave and he squeezes your hand tight and looks up at you with tired, teary eyes. There’s so much he wants to say but he doesn’t have the strength to say it so he settles for,

“Thank you, love.. I..”

You smile, shake your head, squeeze his hand and assure him,

“I know.”

#I’m so sorry #ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #izzy hands x reader

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tongue-like-a-razor · 1 year

Text

Less Talk | Part IV

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: Jake can't stand Bradley's best friend. What's more, he's probably in love with her, which really pisses him off.

CW: mild angst, brief violence, unresolved sexual tension, swearing, drinking, SO MUCH PINING

Part I | Part II | Part III | Masterlist

“So?” Bradley asks, smirking up at Jake as he gulps down some orange juice with a slight cringe. “How was last night?”

Jake gives him an annoyed look, turning off the burner on the stove with a little more aggression than necessary. He lifts the lid off the egg poacher and grabs a plate in silence.

“That good, huh?” Bradley says.

Jake shakes his head crossly and lets out a disgruntled sigh, sliding a couple of eggs onto his plate. He holds up the poacher and looks at his roommate. “Want some?”

Bradley nods, rising from the table and walking into the kitchen. “Thanks.”

“You can thank me by being less irritating,” Jake says tersely.

Bradley snorts. “My, my,” he says, taking his breakfast back into the dining room. “Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Jake sets his plate down and looks at Bradley sourly. “What did I just say?”

“Alright, alright.” Bradley holds up his hands to indicate that he’s done riling him. “We won’t talk about it. We can pretend it never happened.”

Jake takes a bite out of his toast. “Nothing did happen.”

Bradley is watching Jake with a sympathetic grin. “Does that disappoint you?”

Jake rolls his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Bradshaw. What’ll it take to get some peace and quiet around here? Between you and Y/N, I haven’t had a moment’s rest.”

Bradley eyes him patiently. “I’m sorry, man,” he says. “I’ll stop. But I’m here if you need to get something off your chest.”

Jake gives him a flat look. It bugs him when his friends demonstrate love and compassion, and Bradley Bradshaw is notorious for that shit. His genuine desire to help makes Jake uncomfortable as fuck. He prefers the ribbing any day of the week; at least he could respond in kind. “There’s nothing on my chest, Rooster,” he says harshly. “There’s nothing on my mind,” he continues. “Nothing going on anywhere.”

Bradley nods at him skeptically. “Okay.”

Jake sighs loudly, ensuring that Bradley is aware of just how irritated he is. “Except,” he says, pausing to take another bite of toast. “Your damn bestie is a fucking nuisance.”

“How so?” Bradley asks, trying to contain a grin.

Jake scoffs. “Well, for one thing,” he says. “She unplugged our fucking fan.”

Bradley’s eyebrows converge. “She what?”

“Yeah.” Jake nods. “And she called me a moron.”

Bradley makes a face. “She did not.”

Jake shrugs. “More or less. Whatever. She told me I ‘helped her’ yesterday, whatever the fuck that means.”

Bradley squints his eyes, smiling. “I think it means you helped her.”

Jake stares at him bitterly. “I’m not planning on being her friend,” he says.

Bradley shrugs. “You don’t have to be her friend.”

“I don’t like her.”

Bradley raises his eyebrows. “Okay.”

“Why are we even talking about her?” Jake lets out another frustrated sigh.

Bradley grimaces. “I don’t think I started it this time.”

Jake looks up at him, distressed at his escalating resentment toward you and Bradley and the damn grackles outside the kitchen window that just won’t shut the fuck up. He steadies his breathing. “Have you heard from her this morning?” he asks quietly. “Is she okay?”

Bradley nods at him calmly. “Yeah,” he says. “She’s okay.”

…

“Whose idea was this?” Jake asks, walking into the Hard Deck with a sullen expression. For an entire week, he’s been expending an unthinkable amount of energy just to keep you off his mind. He hasn’t, for a second, let himself think about your unbearable tendency to debate every single word that comes out of his mouth. Nor has he been ruminating on the way your eyes flash with excitement whenever you’ve constructed an irrefutable argument. He hasn’t thought about your smile, or the way you had wrapped your arms around his neck. He certainly doesn’t remember what you’d said to him, or your warm breath bathing his skin, or how the curve of your waist felt in his hands.

And now, apparently, he has to spend an entire evening with you because your boyfriend wants to get to know your friends. Jake isn’t your friend. What the fuck is he even doing here? Except trying desperately to not think about you.

“This is a big step for him,” Bradley says under his breath. “He’s never even wanted to meet her friends.”

Jake inhales deeply, trying to relieve some of the aggravation he feels. He sees that the rest of the squad is already settled near the back of the bar, and that you are standing by one of the pool tables, watching Mustang line up his shot. Jake holds back a grin because you look bored stiff and, just like that, he forgets all about his endeavor to keep you strictly off his mind.

Payback shoves a shot into each of their hands the moment they arrive but Jake glances over his shoulder to look at you. You’re already watching him so he gives you a polite nod, unsure how the two of you should interact now that you no longer blatantly hate each other’s guts. You approach Bradley to give him a hug and then hesitate when deciding how best to greet Jake. He gives you a sympathetic smile, which you return with noticeable relief.

“How are you?” Jake asks, pointedly eyeing Mustang, who hasn’t even looked up from his game.

“Great,” you respond, a little too cheerily. But Jake knows you better than to buy that shit. He gives you a skeptical sort of grimace and you end up shrugging with a soured expression. “I’m fine,” you amend your statement.

Jake nods. “That’s more like it.”

You snort. But just when Jake begins to relax into the comfortable routine of back-and-forth quips, Mustang straightens his back and saunters over to where the two of you are standing.

Jake lifts his gaze, looking at him lazily. “Mustang,” he says commandingly.

Your boyfriend furrows his brows as though he’s confused by the nickname, which Jake finds hilarious, because what an idiot. “Actually, it’s –”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jake responds curtly. He turns to you with a tight smile. “Enjoy your evening,” he says, and then he walks away. He doesn’t check to see your reaction to his, admittedly, ill-mannered exit, but he’s not about to waste his time chatting up a man he absolutely loathes. Even if it’s what you might want.

But he doesn’t get far before he feels your fingers curl around his arm. He glances down as you try to yank him backward with your tiny hand, accomplishing nothing but drawing an amused smile from his lips.

“Yes?” he says, eyeing your hand before meeting your gaze.

“What the fuck was that?” you ask. “He just wanted to talk.”

Jake shrugs. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

Your grip on his arm tightens defiantly and you say, “You didn’t want to talk to me either, remember?”

Jake watches you with a smirk. “What makes you think that’s changed?”

You stare at him impassively, not in the least impressed with his jibe. You let go of his arm with a hard look. “My mistake,” you say coldly.

Jake raises his eyebrows in response to your irritation. “Why does it even matter to you that I talk to him?” he asks, glancing at Mustang who’s gone back to his game without a second thought. The only person Jake’s resistance seems to be bothering is you.

“Forget it,” you say moodily.

Jake watches you walk back to your boyfriend with a mixture of disappointment and jealousy. He grimaces when you lean your head onto Mustang’s shoulder and he shrugs you off to walk around the pool table and observe his opponent’s shot. Jake closes his eyes for a moment, imagining what he’d do if you were to rest your head on him. He’d probably be paralyzed with shock, for one.

“Cheers,” Bradley says, bringing his shot glass to the one Jake is still holding in his hand.

Jake nods. “Bottoms up.” He hisses as the vodka burns its way through his system.

…

Several drinks in, Jake is failing miserably at his self-imposed task of disregarding your existence. Every so often, he glances in your direction, incapable of ignoring you entirely. You’re wearing ripped shorts which fit loosely around your hips, and he makes every attempt to suppress the desire to strut right up to you and sink his hands – or his teeth – into the flesh that’s exposed whenever you lean into the table to aim.

And don’t even get him started on the utter mayhem that descends upon his body every time you bend over. Your perfect ass is not only a distraction but a downright detriment to his sanity, which he’s feeling slip away little by little with every successive turn you take. You have no clue how to hold a cue stick and you’ve yet to sink a ball, but watching you try is unquestionably riveting.

Mustang is no longer playing; he quit the minute you decided to participate. Jake notes that he hasn’t made a significant effort to socialize with your friends and is rather spending the bulk of his time conversing with a couple of women at a neighboring table.

Jake considers joining you for a game, maybe showing you how to position your bridge hand. Maybe standing right behind you as you bend forward to take your shot. Maybe bending down with you to help you aim.

He sucks in his cheeks uncomfortably; if the mere thought of teaching you to play pool is arousing him, he should probably stay as far away from that table as possible. He gulps down the rest of his drink and stands up anyway, watching you giggle as you pocket the cue ball. He cringes, bothered that he finds you all kinds of adorable when you’re laughing at yourself. You seem much happier when Mustang isn’t by your side, and yet, when Jake finally resolves to approach you, you set your pool cue down and glance around in search of your boyfriend. Jake lets out a heavy sigh and heads instead toward the dartboard where Payback and Fanboy are starting a fresh game.

Jake’s barely concentrating on the board, however, because he keeps glancing over his shoulder to watch your conversation with Mustang. The two of you seem agitated with one another which isn’t altogether surprising considering your less than agreeable nature. He smirks to himself, pleased at the apparent instability of your relationship.

Jake returns his attention to the dartboard, trying to focus on the matter at hand despite the ridiculous hold you seem to have on him. Except that, a few minutes into the game, he hears a commotion at the far end of the pub. He turns to see you aggressively skirting tables as you try to outrun Mustang, who is chasing after you. Instantly, Jake drops his darts on the nearest surface and starts in your direction through the crowd. When he closes in, he can see that you’re visibly shaken as Mustang seizes your wrist and pulls you toward him forcefully. You try to twist away in protest, but he only clings harder.

Jake grits his teeth as he pushes past the last patron standing in his way, and then he grabs Mustang’s forearm while simultaneously driving an elbow right into his jaw. Not a second later, Jake delivers another blow with the back of his elbow. Mustang pivots from the strike and Jake uses this momentum to hike Mustang's arm behind his back and bring his palm down on his spine, sending him, face first, into the ground.

Mustang scrambles to his feet the moment Jake releases his arm, staggering slightly. But Jake doesn’t wait for him to recuperate before shoving him backward into an empty table. In his weakened state, Mustang easily loses his balance and crashes into the table with a thunderous clatter.

A chorus of cries erupts in response to the brawl and Jake can hear you screaming for him to stop in the background. But he’s too far in it to stop now. He lifts Mustang off the table by his shirt and sends him flying backwards once again, this time with his fist.

That’s when Bradley appears, dragging Jake away. Jake runs a hand over his mouth, breathing heavily. His mind is somewhat foggy despite the overwhelming rage in his gut.

“He’s down, man,” Bradley says under his breath. “He’s down.”

Jake nods, steadying his breath. He turns to look at you and the moment he sees the tears streaming down your face, he’s struck with an awful sense of regret. You’re watching him lividly, shaking your head.

“Y/N,” Bradley starts, but you hold up a hand.

Without a word, you spin around and head for the exit. Jake goes after you, despite Bradley’s compelling arguments against it. He crashes through the door and sprints after you across the lot.

“Hey!” he yells. “Slow down!”

You whip your head around aggressively, coming to a halt. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you cry.

Jake comes to a stop before you, slightly out of breath. Only, now that he’s here, he’s got nothing to say.

“What? No elaborate comeback? No stupid joke?” you ask in revulsion.

He watches you soberly. He can tell that you’re pissed at him, but it’s different from all the other times he’s upset you. This time, you aren’t looking for a sparring partner, you’re looking for a fight. “Are you okay?” he asks.

Your eyebrows twist in outrage. “What do you think?”

Jake exhales sharply. “I meant your hand.”

You blink in confusion. “I wasn’t the one who punched him, Jake.”

Jake gives you a flat look. “He grabbed you, Y/N,” he says, his panting amplified by the anger coursing through him at the mere memory of the event. He reaches for your hand and lifts it to eye level as you watch on with a slight cringe. He weaves his fingers through yours until your palms connect as he examines your wrist.

“Are you insane? He barely touched me!” you exclaim.

Jake meets your gaze sharply. He watches you gravely, his eyebrows creasing in slow motion. “Has he done worse?” His fingers tighten around your hand. If you respond with anything other than an emphatic ‘no’, he’ll be leaving the Hard Deck in a cop car, and Mustang in an ambulance – if he’s lucky.

You viciously rip your hand out of his grasp and start walking. “Mind your own business, Seresin,” you mutter.

Jake watches your back as you march away. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and curls them into fists, contending with the riot of emotions assailing his person while trying to keep his cool. “Stop walking,” he says firmly, wincing at the authoritative tone in his voice.

You freeze at his words, which takes him completely by surprise. He’s watching you cautiously as you turn back to face him, bracing himself for your wrath. But you simply glance up at him, silent and utterly unreadable.

Jake steps forward hesitantly. “Progressive contamination of aquatic ecosystems, I can’t get you to shut up about,” he says levelly. “But when it comes to something as important as –”

“Water pollution is important!” you protest.

Jake gives you a critical look. “Is he hurting you?”

You avert your gaze. “No,” you answer quietly.

Jake shakes his head and starts walking back toward the bar.

“Jake!” you call after him. “Stop.”

Jake slows his pace but only stops once you’ve caught up with him and put a hand on his arm to keep him from going any farther. He glances at you, ignoring the surge of heat generated by your touch that’s unequivocally clouding his judgement.

“I’m the only one doing the hurting,” you say guiltily. “And you, apparently.”

“What are you talking about?”

You sigh. “I just broke up with him.”

Jake stares at you, speechless.

“Which is why it was really shitty of you to beat him up,” you say, looking back at him pointedly.

He glances over your face in a mild stupor, still reeling from the news. He furrows his eyebrows, trying to snap himself out of the reverie, and retorts, “I barely touched him.”

Read Part 5

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pers-books · 11 months

Text

‘This is stupid. There’s barely a dozen of you. What can you do? All that stuff about “keeping the peace” – it’s rubbish, lads. Coppers do what they’re told by the men in charge. It’s always like that. What’ll you do when the new captain comes in, eh? And who’re you doing this for? The people? They attacked the other Houses, and what’s the Night Watch ever done to hurt them?’

‘Nothing,’ said Vimes.

‘There you are, then.’

‘I mean the Watch did nothing, and that’s what hurt them.’

-- Night Watch by Terry Pratchett

It’s the Glorious 25th of May. Remember that if we do nothing for those who are being hurt by those in power, we are hurting them by our inaction. Rise up and stand for what you believe in.

#Glorious 25th of May #Book: Night Watch #GNU Terry Pratchett #Discworld #Quote

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hallietblr · 10 months

Note

A dating Jeremiah fic?

loving you is so easy | j.fisher x reader

a/n: thank you so much for the request!! i hope my writing meets the expectations for what’ll be like to date jeremiah!

warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption

—

dating jeremiah is like waking up and feeling fully rested after weeks of exhaustion. he’s fun and dating him is a constant adventure. there’s never a dull moment between us two. we’re always up to something whether it be driving in the middle of the night with all windows down or it’ll be us snuggling on the couch and giggling with one another.

i lay on my stomach on the smooth surfboard as i feel the waves beneath me sway the board. the salty water from my hair was dripping down my face and the sun was hot on my back.

“are you sure this is a good idea?” i ask jeremiah nervously as he climbs onto the board with me. we both carefully adjust ourselves so we’re both seated,

he shrugs, “probably not but do you trust me? i think it’ll be fun”

“if you say so!” i laugh, he tells me to start paddling and swim we’re both standing on the surfboard together.

it’s extremely unsteady as we both wobble, attempting to keep our balance. but within seconds, we’re both in the ocean. i swim to the surface and burst into a fit of laughter,

“that had to be one of the dumbest things weve done” i tell him as he swims the surfboard towards me, “i can’t believe we were even able to stand on it.”

“makes for a good story though!” he grins before kissing my lips.

dating jeremiah shows me a new sort of love that i never knew existed. after a failed situationship after another, i remember there being a point in my life where i felt like i was unlovable. until i met the curly headed boy. he is loud and proud about us dating, making sure that the whole world knows that we’re together — he never hides it and it’s refreshing.

big, big house parties were never my thing. i was always more of a chill at home with a few friends kind of person rather than going to a huge party. i’m not really sure why but something about being in a small house packed of sweaty and drunk teenagers doesn’t seem very fun to me.

my boyfriend, jeremiah, on the other hand absolutely loves them. he has always been a social butterfly and he loves any opportunity to hang out with new people.

i never really care whenever he goes to parties without me, i trust him. he never pushes me to go to these events either because he knows that i’m not comfortable in these settings. some how today, he convinced me to go.

“come on, baby,” he pleas, “it’ll be fun!”

i shrug, folding up my throw blanket on my half made bed, “i don’t know, jere. you know i’m not big on parties.”

he flops onto my bed and looks up at me with big puppy eyes, “i know babe, but everyone’s been asking to meet you since i talk about you at parties all the time!” he exclaims,

“plus, if you ever feel uncomfortable we can leave right away, no questions asked” jeremiah smiles.

i sigh before nodding my head, “ok fine, only this once though”

he scrambled up and pulls me into a tight hug, spinning us in circles, “god, i love you so much!”

as i got ready for the party, contemplating between a pink or yellow tank top (eventually picking the pink one), i met jeremiah downstairs who was talking to my family.

“you look absolutely gorgeous” he grins, twirling me to get a 360 view, “a goddess.”

my parents awe at the sight before bidding the two of us goodbye as we leave for the party. when we pull up, there’s loud music and talking amongst the tipsy teenagers. jeremiah protectively wraps an arm around my waist as he guides us through the crowd and towards the drinks.

he says hi to a bunch of people we pass by, “oh hey man, this is my girlfriend, y/n” he would proudly say, kissing the top of my head, “isn’t she just the prettiest?”

he opens a drink for me and hands it over before jumping onto the kitchen counter,

“cheers everyone! this one is for my beautiful girlfriend, thank you for coming out tonight, baby! i love you endlessly — have a great night people!” he shouts before hopping off, my face was flushing a bright red before his hands are on my waist.

jeremiah grins at me and pulls me into a passionate kiss in front of everyone. his boys are cheering for us along with some of the girls.

dating jeremiah revealed to me that not all dream-like boyfriends exist only in fiction, but also in real life. he never forgets to message me goodnight, to kiss me goodbye, makes sure that neither of us go to bed upset with the other. jeremiah brings me small gifts that reminded him of me when they’re unexpected. loving him is one of the easiest things i’ve ever done. jeremiah showed me a new sort of love that i never knew existed. he truly is the perfect boyfriend to me and never makes me feel alone. he’s my biggest supporter and is honestly my comfort person.

—

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sapphire-writes · 1 year

Text

A Night Out ~ Aemond x Reader

request: So now that requests are open 😏…. What do you think about a fic where y/n has lived in kings landing her whole life but has never left the safety of the red keep. She expresses to her best friend Helaena that she wants to travel the world one day but when Aegon over hears her he makes fun of her with Aemond, telling her she wouldn’t last a day. To prove them wrong she sneaks out of the castle but Aemond follows her to make sure she doesn’t get hurt 🥰 ~ @missscarletta7 word count: 1.1k warnings: suggestive language, mentions of reader being in danger, nothing explicit note: love this request, I love me a protective Aemond 😩 thanks for the request friend 💚

“I should like to travel,” you tell Helaena, who rests with her head in your lap, eyes closed as the summer sun washes over her.

“Would you?” Helaena murmurs, keeping her eyes closed. A soft smile decorates her lovely face.

“You wouldn’t last a day in the world,” Aegon says, chuckling from where he also lays in the grass.

The days had grown cold with the promise of autumn, but for some reason today the weather was lovely. The sun bathed the gardens in warmth, which led to everyone spending as much time in the sun as possible.

Aemond doesn’t lay, he is seated on a bench nearby, and a book open across his lap as he listens to the conversation. Your cheeks flush at Aegon’s teasing.

“That is not true-”

“It is true,” he says sitting up to face you, “you’ve been kept in the Keep your whole life. The second you leave this castle wicked men will corrupt you.”

Helaena opens her eyes then, turning her head toward her brother.

“Come now Aeg, you shall frighten her,” she says, defending her lady-in-waiting. Aegon shrugs.

“I speak only the truth, a lovely creature such as yourself is destined to ruin.”

Your mouth drops open, cheeks pink.

“What horrible things you say, Aegon,” you scold, “and anyhow it is not like I would go unarmed.”

Aegon cocks a brow at you.

“And what access to the armory do you have, my lady?” he questions causing you to pout.

“Ser Criston would allow me a weapon of my choosing, I am sure of it,” you tell him. Aegon chuckles.

“That would be rather unwise of him,” Aemond chimes in, “considering you’ve never had a lesson with the blade in your life.”

Your frown deepens.

“How hard can it be?” you challenge, causing Aemond to close his book.

“Hard enough,” Aemond tells you, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Stay where it is safe, my lady,” he tells you, “I hope to not see you on my own adventures into the streets of King’s Landing.”

Your cheeks seem to darken at this, knowing Aegon is referring to his trips to the Streets of Silk.

That night you decide you will go into town. You shall prove them wrong.

Aemond was returning from a rather late night spent in the library. He has gotten into reading a new book and lost track of time, only stopping when his candle fizzled out.

As he walked down the silent corridors he spotted you, a cape draped over your shoulders, as you pulled the hood over your head. Where on earth were you going? What were you doing?

Your movements were slow and calculated as you evaded several goldcloaks, as a small kitten would evade the crashing feet of passersby. Aemond found himself smirking, as he watched you. Grabbing a cloak of his own, he decided he would follow you. He could not let one of his sister’s ladies fall prey to the madness outside of these walls. It wouldn’t be right.

Somehow, someway, he followed as you made your way through the gates unseen.

He follows behind you, remaining unseen as you find your way to a tavern. Aemond enters several moments after you, planning to continue to guard you against afar.

You sit at a table, removing your hood, eyes lit up with wonder. A tavern girl walks over to you.

“What’ll it be?” she says, gruffly, with her hands on her hips.

“Is there something you recommend?” you ask and the lady makes a face at you.

“We have mead, and we have bread,” she tells you.

“Sounds lovely,” you tell her and she walks away, perplexed.

Aemond chuckles to himself, keeping his head low. He is terribly recognizable, let alone with just his Valyrian coloring. The eyepatch does not allow for anonymity.

“Hello beautiful,” a voice says, causing you to turn. A man gazes down at you.

“Good evening,” you say politely, feeling your heartbeat thumping against your chest.

“Fancy a shag?” he asks, and your eyes widen.

“No,” you tell him, but he grabs your arm, pulling you from your seat.

“Come deary, let me show you what I can-”

The man never has the chance to finish his sentence as he is torn away from you. You fall back against the table, the corner biting into your hip. The man had been thrown to the floor and moaned in pain.

You look toward your savior, a tall man hidden behind a cloak.

“The lady said no,” he says, voice caressing you like silk. Wait a minute. You know that voice.

Your savior turns to you, keeping his head low, but you spot the patch across his face.

“Aem-” you begin before he brings a finger to his lips to silence you.

“Come,” he says, taking your hand and leading you from the tavern into the streets. He brings you to a nearby alley, away from the bustling chatter of the nightlife.

“Did you follow me?” you accuse.

“I only planned on watching, if only you needed assistance,” he tells you, “which you did.”

“I could have handled myself,” you argue.

“Oh could you?” he teases, but his eye widens as you reveal a small blade from the pockets of your skirts.

“Yes,” you insist.

Aemond lets out a laugh.

“You planned to stab a man in the middle of a tavern?”

“I will do what needs to be done!” you tell him, “I am not a maiden in need of protection.”

You remind him yet again of a small kitten, claws out. Aemond finds himself grinning at your ferocity.

“What if I enjoy protecting you?” he tells you.

You scoff, cheeks reddening.

“You are making fun of me,” you accuse, bringing a hand up to push his chest.

Aemond grabs your hand, taking a step forward, forcing you backward until your back hits the wall.

“What would you do?” he asks, as your breathing picks up, “if I was a madman, wanting to have his way with you right now, right here?”

You wet your lips at the implication.

“Because that is what that man was thinking,” he tells you, his face serious, “stab me? The goldcloaks would throw you in a black cell. Or worse.”

Your gaze flickers to his mouth before you turn your head away.

“I just wanted to see,” you tell him, “I know, I know it is dangerous. I just do not wish to live life like a prisoner.”

Aemond watches you as your eyes become glassy with frustrated tears.

“I can give you that,” Aemond tells you, placing a hand under your chin. You meet his gaze.

“You need only ask,” Aemond continues, watching as your lips part.

“Please,” you beg, and Aemond connects his lips to yours, kissing you with such ferocity you are sure you shall melt into the wall behind you.

“I shall not be kept locked up in the Keep,” you breathe against his mouth. He hums before kissing you once more.

“You do not need to be,” he murmurs, “Vhagar can take you anywhere you wish to go. As long as you take me with you.”

note: UGH my heart explodes with fluffy protective Aemond why can't I be pushed up against a wall by him 😩 hope you enjoyed it loves 💚

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sister-lucifer · 2 years

Note

Question. Would you do a version of that 'Can I ride you till I feel better' fic but with bottom/sub Obey Me boys? Because that's some tasty writing but I'm not big on me or my MC being on the receiving end.

“Can I ride you until I feel better?” (Part 2)

Read part 1 here

Demon brothers x Reader (Separately)

This time, it’s the brothers’ turn to have a bad day, and they can think of one thing that will make them feel better.

Reader is male

Content/Warnings: Riding, pre established relationships, implied dom/top reader

like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and it really helps me out

*Asmodeus is AFAB and uses he/she pronouns

Notes: Dear god nonny i am so glad you suggested this. muah i love your brain

Lucifer

He was used to being swamped with paperwork, but this past week had been even worse than usual

Today in particular had brought him to his limit

He stomped into your shared bedroom, letting the door slam behind him before sitting on the bed next to you and cradling his head in his hands

“Lucifer, love? What’s wrong, honey?” You asked softly, reaching out to rub his shoulder

“Busy day…Busier than usual, I mean,” Is all the explanation he offers, but his voice carries more than enough of his exasperation for you to see how tired he is

You sighed and opened your arms to him, and he gladly accepted your offer for a hug. He pushed you down onto your back, and you expected him to lay next to you, but instead he hovered over you

“…Luci?”

Suddenly his hands were on you, tugging at your clothes and pulling off anything he could

“I need to ride you until I feel better.”

The request was unusual, but how could you say no when he was so eager?

Besides, he deserved it for working so hard

Be aware though, he’s not going to “feel better” until veeeeery late into the night (maybe even early morning)

Mammon

You could hear Mammon whining your name all the way down the hallway before he reached your room

He threw the door open and groaned loudly, drawing it out until he flopped face first onto the bed

“Mammon?” You called, but got no response

At least not until he sat up, groaning even louder and practically tackling you into the bed. You couldn’t help but giggle a bit at how dramatic he was.

“Oh Mams, what’s wrong, huh?”

“Everything! Everything about today sucks. And I didn’t even get to see you all day…”

He snuggled into you with a childish whine as you pat his head, whispering apologies and soft assurances. Apparently this wasn’t enough, though.

“I’ve missed you so bad…” He muttered into your neck, “…Can I ride you until I feel better?”

Of course you agreed, who would say no to the Great Mammon?!

Especially when he was offering to do all the work, which rarely happened

Be prepared for him to rant to you after (and maybe even during), though

On the bright side, the anger will make him go faster

Leviathan

He was so quiet, you didn’t even notice him until you heard the click of your door and looked up to see a teary Leviathan

“Oh baby, what’s wrong?” You cooed, keeping your voice soft and gentle. Levi often had trouble regulating his emotions, but luckily you knew just how to help him

He sniffled as he crawled into bed, settling between your legs as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed his cheek to your chest

“B…Bad day, i-is all…” He stuttered, “I-It’s really not even that big of a deal, I just…it was too much…”

You stroked his hair gently, assuring him that it was okay to be upset at the little things sometimes

You stayed this way for a long while, until Leviathan gazed up at you with an odd look; the look he gives you when he wants something but doesn’t want to ask

“Levi? Do you need something?”

“I…I know what’ll make me feel better…”

“Oh?”

You could see how flushed he was, how his face contorted in embarrassment as the next words left his mouth

“Would…would you let me ride you ‘til I feel better? P-Please?”

He deserves it, so of course you do! Besides, you wouldn’t even consider denying him when he’s asking so politely

Make sure you praise him a lot, though, and tell him how good he looks with those pretty tears streaming down his face

That’ll really make him feel better

Satan

You could tell Satan was pissy the second he walked in from the way he huffed and puffed all the way over to you

He sat down with his chin in his hand, looking awfully annoyed

“Ugh, today could not have ended soon enough.”

“That bad, huh?” You asked as you wrapped him in a hug from behind.

“Even worse. God, I hate all those idiots…”

“Well being a mean Mr. Grumpy Pants about it isn’t gonna help.”

Satan sighed, turning to you to return the hug.

“I know, I know, sorry…but I know what can.”

“Hm?”

When you looked up he was smirking down at you, and the next thing you knew he had planted himself firmly on your lap

“How about I ride you until I feel better? We can call it…stress relief.”

Well that was more than enough persuasion for you

Satan isn’t very fast or rough, but god is he thorough

You’ll both forget all your worries

Asmodeus

Ever the drama queen, Asmo practically fainted onto your bed

Even if his dramatics were charming, you couldn’t help but scoff a bit under your breath

“Asmo…? Is something wrong?”

“Oh, my love!” She drawled, “You’ve no idea! Today was absolutely abysmal, abysmal I tell you! I could just cry…Or, I could if my makeup wasn’t so perfect.”

Priorities.

Being as affectionate as she is, it was no surprise when she pulled you down into the bed and into a hug

He gave you a brief outline of the days terrible events, though with plenty of sidetracks about how unfair the world is to him and how fragile he is

When she was finally done, she sighed loudly and cupped your face in her hand

“I could really use a pick-me-up…” He began, a sensual undertone clear in his voice

You already knew what he was going to ask; there was always one thing that made Asmo cheer up:

“Yes, Asmo, you can ride me until you feel better.”

He squealed with excitement, mood already improving and he tugged off your pants and threw them to the floor

“Oh thank you, thank you my sweet baby! Oh, I’ll make sure you feel as good as I do, don’t worry…ah, I’ve got butterflies already! Hurry, hurry!”

Beelzebub

Beel creaked open your door, calling your name quietly to see if you were in there

He was never ever sad when he had food in his hand, so the fact that he looked so down while stuffing his face with a burger was worrying

“Why the long face, Beel? Did something happen?”

“Just a crummy day…y’know, they happen sometimes…”

“Aw, I’m sorry, Beel. Wanna come sit down and talk to me?”

He’s quick to oblige, shoving the rest of the burger into his mouth and wiping his hands before sitting with you on the bed

You peck his cheek with a loving smile that he gladly returns

You cant help but notice the way he pauses and looks you up and down, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head

“Beel? Do you need something?”

“Well, uh…I know this is a weird request, but…Aw, forget it—“

“No, no,” You reply, taking his hand in yours. “Whatever you need, Beel.”

You could see the faint blush on his cheeks now

“Okay, well…I-I was gonna ask if maybe I could, um…ride you? Until I feel better?”

He was expecting to be shot down, but he lit up when you agreed

He didn’t stop kissing you for a long while; on your lips, face, neck, but he couldn’t help it! You’re the tastiest treat of all

Belphegor

In an odd role reversal, you were the one asleep when Belphie came into your room

You were roused from your slumber when he called your name, yawning and stretching as you greeted him

He stood there awkwardly for a few moments, gaze casted towards the floor

“I know this is gonna sound kinda dumb, but…I had a bad day, could I maybe hang with you for bit?”

You smile and move the blankets, gesturing for him to come lay down

He happily snuggles up against you, basking in the lovely warmth you bring

He seems a bit restless though, which is especially odd for Belphie

“Whats wrong, Belphie? Can’t get comfy?”

“Well, no…I-I want something…”

You tilted your head to the side in confusion, waiting for him to continue

“I kinda wanna ride you…maybe it’ll make me feel better?”

Belphie never wanted to be the one doing the work, of course you said yes!

You had to make the most of this ultra rare opportunity

Although, his favorite part is getting to cuddle after

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wolfjackle-creates · 7 months

Text

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 14

WIP Wednesday is happening this week! I would've had it up an hour or two ago, but I ended up having to run an emergency errand for my mom to keep her friend's car from being towed. But it's all been taken care of!

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

Note: Anyone who still doesn't know which episode I'm basing this arc on should know by the end of this segment. I did realize I made a mistake, though. The invading ghosts are Walker's guards. In the episode, up to this point the trio never refer to them as such. The audience, however, sees Walker send them in. I took that as Danny and co didn't realize they were Walker's people. But as I was going through minute-by-minute while writing, Danny does call them Walker's goons. So he knew the entire time. I'm adjusting that going forward and I'll retroactively make the edits before posting to AO3.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.7k

-----

Everyone left Sam’s house at the same time. The Amity crowd had to get to school and no one felt comfortable staying at Sam’s house while she wasn’t home. As they ate a quick breakfast, Tim noticed Conner’s fingernails were painted.

“Looks good, Kon,” he commented.

“Thanks,” said Sam. “I did them last night while you and Danny were sleeping. Introduced him to actual music, too.”

Conner grinned. “She’s promised to burn me some CDs before we go.”

“A mixed tape is the only valid way to share music,” Sam agreed. “And if he’s gonna rock the punk look, he should know the punk culture, too.”

Tim laughed. “Well, looks like we know what we’ll be listening to on the way home. Will you need a CD player, Kon?”

“Is my laptop not good enough?”

Tim clicked his tongue. “Come to Gotham with me. I know I have an old one lying around. Nothing like listening to a CD while lying somewhere, wired headphones tangling up as you shift position. If you want the authentic experience, that’s the only way to go.”

Conner shrugged, clearly unsure. “If you say so.”

Danny yawned. “You’re giving him Dumpty Humpty, right?”

Sam snorted. “Am I giving him Dumpty Humpty? Who do you think I am? Of course I am!”

“Good. You can’t introduce someone to good music and leave out Dumpty Humpty.”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, you’ve gotten me into them. They’re fun. You’ll like them, Kon.”

“You played a song or two by them last night, right?” Conner asked.

Cassie nodded. “Yep. That’s who she was playing when Tucker, Bart, and I left to get some sleep in the other room.”

“Ah, yeah. That’s right. I liked them.”

“Of course you did,” said Sam as she flicked her hair. “I have excellent taste.”

Tucker was typing away on his PDA. “So what’ll you be doing while we’re in school?”

Tim grimaced. “I was thinking of hitting up the local library. We want to learn more about the ghosts. But also B has said that a condition of allowing me to extend my trip is that I keep up with my own schoolwork. So I have some catch up to do.”

Danny waved his spoon at him. “And you get on me for not doing my work.”

“Yeah, but you want to graduate and, like, go to college and shit. The stuff I want to do doesn’t require a diploma of any kind. B’s just making me do it because he society has convinced him it’s important.”

Tucker’s PDA alarm went off. “And that alarm means if we’re not out the door in five minutes, we’re gonna be late.”

Everyone groaned as they pushed away from the table and collected their belongings. The walk into town was filled with music discussion. Bart and Conner mostly listened and took note of recommended bands and musicians. Sam tended to know the most obscure stuff, but Tim knew some foreign bands from his time in Europe that no one else had heard of.

The walk was, thankfully, not disturbed by ghosts, but Danny’s ghost sense did go off several times.

“Didn’t your parents make a device that can track ghosts?” asked Tim the third time he complained. “Would that help you locate them?”

Danny hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe, I’ll have to see if I can find it. My parents stopped using it when it kept zeroing in on me. It was too loud for stealth use, though, and loudly went off anytime I was in range. And it didn’t work great for a 3D environment. So Tucker and I would have to develop a new display that can tell me if one is above or below me.”

“I should be able to help, too. You know how good I am with computers.”

“If I can find the device or blueprints, I’ll take you up on that.”

Not long after, they had to say goodbye at the entrance to Caspar High. Dash and his friends also arrived at about the same time. The group stared at Danny, but didn’t move to interact.

“Think they’re still overshadowed?” asked Conner, mirroring Tim’s thoughts.

“God, I hope not,” said Danny.

“But knowing our luck…” Sam trailed off.

Tim sighed. “Keep your distance as much as possible.”

“I know, mom.” Danny rolled his eyes. The school bell rang and he adjusted his backpack strap. “Gotta go. Have fun at the library.” His sarcasm was very evident and he hugged Tim.

The gesture surprised him and his return hug was slightly delayed. “I think I’ll find more than enough to amuse me there.”

With a quick goodbye, the trio rushed off before they could be late.

“So,” said Cassie, “Sam and Tucker seem to have a ton of ideas about you and Danny.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Danny and I only met in person less than forty-eight hours ago.”

Bart nudged him. “And yet you’re already sleeping in the same bed and giving each other goodbye hugs.”

“I do the same with you guys.” He pulled out his phone to check the location of the library. “Come on, let’s just get to the library. I want to see if they have a digital subscription to the local paper we can use.”

Tim didn’t get much schoolwork done that morning, but he did find out Danny was originally named Inviso-Bill by the press and immediately began planning ways to prank him with that knowledge.

For the rest, he compared what was reported vs what had actually happened with past ghost attacks. One thing was clear, Danny needed much better PR. Hopefully being seen working with the Young Justice would help. And maybe Sam would actually listen if he tried to give pointers on how to manage public perception.

Shortly after noon and before Tim could even pretend he was about to switch over to school work, his phone rang.

“Hey, Danny. What’s up?”

“Tim! Do any of you speak Esperanto?”

“Uh… I don’t. Let me ask Bart.” He lowered the phone to ask.

“Esperanto? What’s that?” asked Bart.

“I’ll explain later,” said Tim. Back into the phone, he added, “Doesn’t look like it. Why? What’s going on?”

“So… You remember that wolf ghost with the collar? Walker’s goons are after him, too. I’m not sure why since he only speaks Esperanto. I got him away from both them and my parents. Think you can keep him safe until school is out? If I miss any more class I’ll be grounded until graduation. Senior graduation.”

Tim gestured to his friends to pack everything up. “Yeah, sure. Where are you right now? I’ll have Bart meet you first and the rest of us will follow.”

Danny gave him directions to a forested area behind the school which Tim relayed to Bart. As soon as the group was out of the library, Bart rushed ahead to Danny.

Over the phone, Danny let him know Bart had arrived. “Oh, and Tucker just got here, too. Excellent. He can speak Esperanto as well. Looks like he’s explaining things to big and hairy over here.”

“Great. We’ll be there soon as we can.”

“Can we fly there?” asked Conner.

Cassie nodded. “People would just think we’re more ghosts.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Superboy and Wonder Girl were seen in town just last night. No.”

Conner stuck his tongue out at him. “Spoilsport.”

“Relax. It’s not far. GPS has us in the general location in, like, ten minutes.”

“Fine, fine,” sighed Cassie. “We’ll be good.”

Tim elbowed her with a grin. “Now, I never said you had to do that.”

Conner laughed. “So, what is this Esperanto language, anyway? I haven’t heard of it.”

“It’s a conlang based on European languages that’s supposed to be easy to learn. The idea was to make a sort of common language for Earth without promoting a single language like English. It hasn’t gained a lot of traction, though. And if Bart doesn’t know it, then it likely won’t.”

“Huh, weird. Why do you think a werewolf ghost know an Earth-based conlang?”

“Oooh! I bet it’s because he’s the manifestation of some teenage girl’s OC,” offered Cassie.

Tim laughed. “Or maybe the OC of one of the people to create Esperanto.”

Conner shook his head. “You’ve got this all wrong. He’s from an alternate future where Esperanto did take off and a werewolf virus spread among humans.”

The ten minute walk was filled with more and more outlandish theories ending with the wolf being the reincarnation of Jesus who was trying to bring humanity together through the reinstitution of a common language like in the pre-Tower-of-Babel days.

At the edge of the woods, Tim nudged Conner. “Can you hear where they are?”

“Yep. Follow me.”

And then it was less than two minutes before Tim could see them. “Oi! Danny!” he called out with a wave.

Danny flew over to them and hugged him. “Thank you so much! You’re gonna save me so many detentions.” He grabbed Tim’s hand and pulled him towards Tucker and the ghost. “Tim, this is Wulf. Wulf,” Danny said while making eye contact, “Friends.” Then he slowly pointed to each person and said their name.

Tucker rolled his eyes and repeated the information in Esperanto. Tim recognized his and his teammates names and many of the words felt familiar. Likely since he knew or was learning a few European languages.

“So, will we just hang out here for the next few hours until you get out of school?” asked Tim.

“Yeah. It’ll only be about two and a half hours. That okay? Then we’ll go back to Sam’s place. We can hide in her basement.”

“We’ve hung out in worse places for longer,” said Bart. “This is practically cozy. And me or one of the others can run into town for food and supplies. Anything you want from your parent’s place? Food? Snacks?”

Tucker grinned. “If you could get some jerky, that’d be great. No meat at Sam’s.”

Danny laughed. “If we think of anything else, one of us will text it to the group chat.”

An alarm buzzed on Tucker’s PDA. “We’ve got to get back now.”

“Shit. Okay. I’ll fly us back. Bye Tim, everyone!” Danny picked up Tucker and flew away, turning invisible before he was more than a few yards away.

-----

So, more banter and more plot! We're almost starting to get somewhere! This marks roughly the halfway point of the episode. And the arc is almost 25k words. This is why I take forever to publish anything. It always spirals out of my control. Even this section, I originally opened with them in the library. But then I remembered I wanted to have Sam paint Conner's nails and that led to me adding over 900 words to the beginning.

I no longer do tag lists for this fic, but if you make your way to the subscription post, you can set it up so you get notified when this updates.

#dpxdc #danny fenton #tim drake #and the rest #eventual dead tired #i should probably stop adding the ship tag #since that wont happen til arc 3 #(assuming I don't fit another arc in first)#the gang meets wulf!#their first friendly ghost #that's how early in the series this is set #how many of you recognized the episode before this installment?

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