#mike schmidt x nonbinary reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deftmeat · 2 years ago

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‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ 彡 ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎childhood friends with mike schmidt

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SLIGHT NSFW‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ( rambling about drunk!reader )

─ being around mike since you were kids has definitely caused you both to share a weird telepathic communication.

─ just one look and you both completely understand each other.

─ so when mike's working his third night shift of his new job, you offered to help keep watch over abby since his current babysitter bailed due to the fact he couldn’t afford to pay her properly.

─ not that you minded, you practically lived over at his place, your own apartment empty and lonely. but the rent was cheap.

─ he graciously thanked you, promising to return the favour but you slipped your hand over his mouth, wishing him good luck.

─ you could feel the warmth of mike's cheeks under your palms and finger tips. he just silently looked at you with those big brown eyes.

─ one moment of eye contact and he softly nodded. ‘okay.’ his large hand move to wrap around your wrist and slowly tugged it down, eyes still locked with yours as if you were having an audible conversation with each other and he was listening intently.

─ you weren’t, but you knew exactly what he was trying to say and you shook your head with a gentle hmm, slipping your hand out of his and nudging him instead.

─ after that night mike felt in your debt, especially since you appeared on his front door the following night, surprising him with your unannounced presence.

─ he couldn’t leave without one last glance back, seeing just how comfortable you were in his house. it felt right seeing you, his best friend, sitting on his couch, remote in hand and blanket draped over your lap. domestic. familiar. why you weren’t living here already, it puzzled him. you fit so well in his gloomy place, making it feel more lively. comfortable.

─ the next night, vanessa covered for him, seeing how lack of sleep caused by his dreams had been effecting mike. dark circles decorated his puppy eyes, deep set lines from exhaustion etched in his features.

─ so when he heard fumbling outside his door, he inhaled deeply, ready to inform you he would be accompanying abby all night, that there was no reason for you to waste your night and ruin your sleep schedule for him.

─ but the following sight that mike was met with once he routinely swung open his door made his eyebrows scrunch up with concern.

─ you had seemingly found your way to his doorstep, completely and utterly intoxicated. so drunk in fact, your body swayed, hand gripping the threshold of his front door with a grip that was loosening it by the second.

─ mike didn’t hesitate to dive in and tuck his arm under your armpit and scoop you in closer to his side, effectively dragging you inside as your inebriated brain decides to immediately lean all your body weight onto him.

─ he grunts with effort, kicking the door closed behind him and hoping it wasn’t loud enough to wake abby up after he had just got her down. she was too enthusiastic about the fact mike was staying home tonight that she didn’t want to sleep.

─ you mumbled incoherently as mike tried to keep you upright, your body slumping over so that your front was pressed together snugly with his.

“mmmikey..” you slur, entire face flushed and bright pink. he could smell the heavy lure of alcohol clinging to you like you had been dunked in it.

“what.. where have you been?” he tried to interrogate you, but it was a futile attempt, your eyes unfocused and face uncomfortably close. “ooouutt..” you hum, lips parted and red from the cold night air. mike's eyes- for some reason, had darted down to catch a peek but were quick to meet back with your hazy ones. what the fuck was that? why did he do that?

your hand had slithered up to grip his forearm, skin exposed from him wearing a t-shirt. mike shifted and you wobbled, now using his other hand to dig into the loose fabric of your sweater.

─ he feels trapped, unable to move because if he did you would fall to the floor. you were relying too much on mike to hold you upright currently.

─ you giggle with increased volume and mike is quick to shush you, a stern look clouding his features. he didn’t want to scold you like a parent to it’s child, you were an adult and therefore able to make your own decisions. but seeing you like this- he was worried what had happened for you to show up like this.

─ mike said your name with strained concern, brown eyes steadily maintaining contact with you. your head lolled to the side, rolling back until you could see him better. as much as you could with your vision swimming.

─ the corners of your mouth twitched up once you saw how pretty he looked. past the common exhaustion was strong concern.

“mm’love when y’say my name..” your voice drawled out, throat bobbing as you swallow back drool. mike almost dropped you, eyes widening almost comically.

“uh.. okay.. so you’re really out of it, huh..” it wasn’t a question, his head trying to wrap around your influenced words. you merely laugh, squirming in his hold so much you almost fall backwards and take mike with you. “an’youhr really cute!” you chime in proudly, eyes blinking rapidly to get rid of the water building up in your tear ducts.

─ mike's brain lags behind, ears hearing your confession but unable to process it. this was starting to get out of hand.

─ not that you could really filter yourself or be aware of the consequences of your word vomit. body made of jelly and veins flooded with liquid courage.

─ he tried to pull you over to his couch but you went limp, cheek falling to rest in the dip of where his neck connected to his shoulder. which was agonizing because he could feel your hot and heavy breath settle on his sensitive skin, goosebumps littering from his neck all the way down to his arms.

─ he tried to utter your name again, as if it would do something this time but you just let out a quiet groan, nudging your nose along the side of his neck.

“yeah.. say m’name jusss li’that.” you breathe out, your unfiltered words combined with the heated air you let out against him, formed a deadly ache in mike's chest.

he squirms, his lungs feel unnaturally tight and then your hand is tickling the back of his head. he doesn’t have a chance to form a proper sentence before your fingers tangle into the hair at the nape of his neck, nails slowly dragging across his scalp.

─ and just like that, mike bites back a sound that almost sounded exactly like a depraved whine, the sudden rush of tingling enough to make him act. he huffed out, his hands on your sweater lifting off you to direct you once again to sit down on his old and thrifted furniture.

─ naturally stubborn, but enhanced with alcohol, you pout like a child and begin to protest, clinging to mike immaturely.

“stop acting childish. you need to sit down. or lay down. whatever, please.” mike soothes you, treating you exactly the way you were behaving. but you weren’t having it, tugging on his shirt sleeves; “iiii don’wanna lay down. not tiredddd.” you whine, jutting out your bottom lip to appeal to his sensitive side.

mike merely rolls his eyes, struggling with some effort to position your body over the cushions, “you’re lucky i’m not forcing you to go to bed.” he offhandedly comments, sweeping your legs out from under you, using your lack of balance to make you plop onto the furniture. but you bite back, arms falling down to the worn cushions with dramatic flare, “as’long as yur’gunna be in it w’me.” and then your inebriated giggles come back while mike just stares blankly down at you.

─ he’s not sure whether to take this as a platonic comment and be flattered you feel that comfortable with him.. or acknowledge the fact you’re blatantly flirting with him.

─ the idea makes his jeans feel unusually confining and he swallows the feeling before he can dwell on it.

─ you peer up at him with a seemingly innocent expression which only distracts mike more. there was no way you meant those words. but his denial falls short once you open those swollen lips of yours.

“want y’sooo badly mikey..” you babble drunkenly, eyes half lidded, still stuck on his face. he couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol wearing you out and making you tired or something else. something he had been dancing around like it was out of the question.

he chews the inside of his cheek and bends down to be level with your slumped body on his couch. not only would it smell like the strong stench of alcohol in the morning but it would still smell distinctly like you.

─ he wants to reach out but you take the initiative, body uncontrollably swaying closer. you almost bump heads with mike but he reaches out and grips your shoulder, causing your head to hang low. he tucks his hand under your chin and lifts your face, his brown doey eyes moving along your face, taking in your appearance.

─ your face is still entirely flushed, your pupils dialled even more since you initially arrived and your lips wet from your spit leaking out of your overly moistened mouth. not that he had looked that low to see that. he shouldn’t even know that.

he can’t help the question bubbling in his throat, inhibition influenced by the pretence you might not even remember this the following morning, “you’ve.. been wanting me?” his voice is quiet but to him it sounds like a scream.

you don’t see his internal wrestle, head bobbing as you nod it, “mmyeah.. think’ve you evury’single nigh’ on top of’me.” you slur, swallowing the rising saliva, the threatening taste of bile tickling the back of your throat.

─ if your words beforehand hadn’t effected mike, he could feel his stomach clench and his cock twitch in his jeans. this wasn’t happening. it wasn’t real.

─ he inhaled sharply, about to softly command you to rest but you keep going, words spewing out while you’re blind with false confidence.

“nneed t’know wha’you taste l’ike..” you almost purr, hips shifting on the couch on their own accord. mike wasn’t the only one feeling tension build inside of them.

mike sputters, once against his dick kicks, the tip throbbing at the slight friction. his hands hurry to move away from you, one clamping over his thigh to dig his nails into his jean clad muscles. the other runs through his hair, heart hammering away like thunder.

during his clouded fight with arousal, he doesn’t notice you’ve promptly passed out until he comes back to the scene in front of him, gaze settling on your relaxed face and even breathing.

fuck him if he wasn’t going to bring it up in the morning.

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ao3feed-aizawashouta · 5 years ago

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by PastelHues

just a batch of homebaked oneshots for all your trans plus size needs!

Words: 164, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Undertale, Undertale (Video Game), ビースターズ | BEASTARS, Creepypasta - Fandom, Invader Zim, My Babysitter's A Vampire, 僕のヒーロー��カデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia, mha, どうぶつの森 | Animal Crossing Series, Marble Hornets, Five Nights at Freddy's, FNAF Guards

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi

Characters: Sans (Undertale), Red (Underfell), Black (Underfell), Haru (BEASTARS), Legosi (BEASTARS), Louis (BEASTARS), Jeffrey Woods | Jeff the Killer, Jane Arkensaw | Jane the Killer, Slenderman, Masky (Marble Hornets), Timothy "Tim" Wright | Masky, Hoodie - Character, Bakugou Katsuki, Tom Hook, Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shouto, Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead

Relationships: Sans/Reader, Underfell Sans/Reader, Haru/Reader, legoshi/reader, Louis/Reader, Jeff the Killer/Reader, Jane the Killer/Reader, Slenderman/Reader, Masky/Reader, Hoodie/Reader, Bakugou Katsuki/Reader, Izuku Midoriya/Reader, Todoroki Shouto/Reader, Yagi Toshinori | All Might/Reader, Tom Hook/reader, Isabelle/Reader, Aizawa Shouta/Reader, Purple Guy (Five Nights at Freddy's)/Reader, Mike Schmidt (Five Nights at Freddy's)/Reader, Jeremy Fitzgerald/Reader, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added

Additional Tags: Heya, FTM Reader, MTF reader, NB reader - Freeform, nonbinary reader, trans reader - Freeform, Trans Male Character, Trans Female Character, Trans!Reader - Freeform, Nonbinary Character, Genderqueer Character, plus size readers, plus size reader, Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale), Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Horrortale (Undertale), Masky And Hoodie - Freeform, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Angst, not tryina hurt anyone too badly, yet - Freeform, requests open, Polyamory, No Underage Sex, NO FONTCEST, Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), fnaf/reader, Guards/reader, purple guy - Freeform, Jeremy Fitzgerald - Freeform, Mike Schmidt - Freeform, More tags added as I go along, read rules page

#aizawa shouta #aizawa shota #eraserhead #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #fanfic

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freak-accident419 · 2 months ago

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playing cards

Derek Danforth x GN!Reader

Summary: As Derek gets drunk, he spots a rather attractive person he feels desperate to spend the night with. Consequently, you were tasked with helping him sober up so he wouldn't be so foolish when approaching her.

Word Count: 4.4k

Content: gender-neutral reader, angst, Mickey angst, fluff, drinking, throwing up (brief mention of the texture), Derek's mommy issues continues, reader and Derek get closer

Ao3 Link

"Huh?" You nearly scoff at Derek's abrupt proposal.

"It's five o'clock somewhere," he reasons, beginning to sit up on the bed with an eager smirk.

"Uh, yeah, actually, it is," you huff, looking down at your wristwatch, "it's literally five here."

"Okay, great, even better," he says, immediately getting up from the mattress, "let's go."

"Wait, hold on," you interject, stopping in front of him. "There's no way you're getting blackout drunk at a time where you're supposed to be keeping up a good reputation! And, what, especially in front of those investors, who, conveniently, are also on this boat! Derek, you're going to blow your own cover!"

Derek gave your words the smallest amount of thought until he shook his head dismissively. "That's why... You can keep an eye on me."

What the hell.

"Seriously? You drinking your ass off is one thing, but leaving me out of it? That is so unfair!" You exclaim angrily. "This was your plan, and the only person being tortured in this deal so far is me! I always get the short end of the stick! Jesus Christ, Derek, have some, what, consideration? I'm bending over backwards for this bullshit, and you don't have any decency to advocate for me!"

Derek was always frustrating. Hell, you never really knew how you were still friends with him because somehow, you two just made it work. He was a shameless product of nepotism; he went from eating baby carrots to caviar off of the same silver platter ever since he was born. He was arrogant, selfish, inconsiderate, and an overall pain in the ass. He would boss everyone around him, regardless of age or role, unless, of course, they were his mother.

But he was barely his mother's son. As respectable and graceful as Jessica Danforth was, he was the complete opposite. Unlike her, he couldn't last a meeting without rudely interrupting somebody, so who's to say he could lead an entire nation? Derek was difficult, and that was that. It was like walking on eggshells trying to deal or negotiate with him, even if it was the most mundane, simple thing. Yet you were still best friends with him, yet you agreed to this overcomplicated deal to help him. Really, it was tricky to pinpoint why exactly you still dealt with his bullshit. Hell, the only thing you could seem to truthfully admit was that he wasn't so much of a bad person.

Sure, he had his whole phishing scam business. That wasn't excusable. But Derek always had his ways of showing his care for others, even if a few are unethical. He wasn't 100% malicious, nor a sociopath. The point is, even after all this, he cares about you and the people he loves. It's not an amazing quality, as it should be an inherent trait in a human being. But for Derek, it's a start.

Still, you were pissed as hell.

"Fine, fine!" He huffs, taking in your words. He should've felt bad for you, he should've felt guilty, but when it came to situations like that, he couldn't exactly read the severity or the implications of his own actions. "You can drink with me."

You sigh as Derek was still not understanding it, mostly because he had always been very dense. "No, I don't w—"

"Then what the fuck do you want?" He interjects, eyebrows furrowing. "You want to drink, you don't want to drink—"

"I want you to be responsible," you say harshly, watching his lips form quickly into a frown. "The whole reason, the whole fucking reason why we're here, why I'm here, in the first place, is because you wanted to prove to your mom that you're 'good now' and that you deserve every penny she gives you. And if you can't even follow your own plan, then this is all pointless. It's bullshit."

Finally, Derek consciously absorbs your reasoning. He was still stubborn about it, but he, for once, wasn't going to be a big asshole while knowing he was in the wrong. He hated how you were always right, and he especially hated whenever it felt impossible to argue with your logic.

"I won't drink too hard," he says in defeat, his volume lowering, "you can drink with me, no babysitting. We're on vacation, we can play it off that way. No hard drinking, no hard drugs in front of anyone, and I won't seem like that guy who took a belly shot off a stripper from weeks ago. Does that sound good?"

You didn't exactly want to scold him either. You weren't his parent, but he could be so childish at times that it's impossible to treat him like an adult. So now, with him making that compromise to accommodate to your wishes, it felt so artificial; unsatisfying when he gave in. Because all you felt like at this moment was, well... his parent.

"I'm just advising you," you exhale, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do, I'm not your mother. I'm just... I'm just saying, it's probably not good to go crazy tonight if you don't want to get caught by Wallace or your mother. But you know what?... Do whatever you want. I'm kind of exhausted, so I'll probably just shower and hit the sack."

Derek pursed his lips, observing your current beaten state before shrugging slightly with a sigh. "Alright. Uhh, I'll be at one of the bars, probably meet up with the rest of the guys." You simply just nodded at his words. "And Y/n... You know you're always welcome to join us. I'll pay for your tab, it's whatever."

You nod again, watching him get ready to leave the room.

Of course, there's been a lot of tension that the two of you never got to release on each other. Just always brushing it off with humor and playing it off as "playful banter." It was frustrating, though; you having to deal with Derek's recklessness, him having to deal with your responsible rationality. You were each other's anchors, which was what made your friendship worked—or at least you thought.

The problem was having to be in this role where you had to pretend to be his romantic partner. You hated the lack of authenticity. Even knowing you had to fake it, even knowing it was fake, you hated how this was a lie. But you didn't know what made you feel worse; having the public think you were dating your best friend or the fact that this kind of relationship would always be impossible that it can only ever exist as a lie.

No, that's ridiculous. You didn't see him that way, of course, you would never date him. It was just insulting to you, that's all. Dating you shouldn't be so painful to lie about. Dating you shouldn't feel so condescending. You would be a great partner, you thought. And that was definitely your problem with this entire plan. Nothing else.

***

As Derek left the cabin, leaving you to take a shower, you decided to explore the ship afterwards, just for the time being. As your footsteps would gently meet the lavish planks of the deck, you spotted a familiar figure looking out at the ocean in a reflective fashion.

"Mickey?" You ask, standing beside him after realizing who it was.

"Oh. Hey, Y/n," he smiled weakly at you, looking back at the faint horizon line where the sky met the sea.

"How are you feeling?" You inquire, considering what happened in the past between him and Derek.

"I'm fine," he shrugs, shaking his head dismissively. "Seriously, it's not a big deal."

"I know," you remark, placing your hands on the railing as you stood on the edge of the ship with him, "but... I don't know, you've been so quiet. It's just... The friend group's never been the same ever since."

Mickey ponders at your words, feeling a wave of guilt, and then exhaustion. "It's not like I, um, like him anymore," he mutters, barely looking at you. "It's just, uh... I guess I'm just... offended? Like... Would it have been that embarrassing to be seen with me, y'know? I mean, I know I'm not perfect and, hell, invest too much in crypto, but... it's not like he's any better than me. But he constantly acts like it, which is fucking frustrating."

You frown as you listen to his perspective, sighing to yourself. You couldn't disagree, he was a hundred percent right. "Derek's a dick," you huff, "honestly, it's surprising how all of us, at one point, are able to stand it. But... You know him. He's afraid of intimacy. Real intimacy. He's too afraid of getting too close to someone, too afraid of disappointing anyone. He thinks it's better to leave first so that he doesn't get hurt."

"So then I should get hurt?" Mickey scoffs, looking at you now.

"No, it's just... I'm not excusing his actions. What he did was completely idiotic. All I'm saying is... he's a moron. Anyone would be lucky to have you. Derek's just... not exactly the standard for dating or the arbiter of who's a good partner, so... you're not as unworthy as he might've made you feel."

He pursed his lips, face contorting in contemplation. "It's just... I feel so used. I know, I knew it was a fling and there was nothing else to it, but... One of the things he told me was that we couldn't... be anything more because he didn't want to be seen dating a friend of his, or someone who doesn't come from a rich family, and..."

That was your exact concern.

"He's only doing this because his money's at risk. That's all," you reply softly, "there is no other motivation bigger than losing his money for him to fake date one of his friends, let alone me. It has nothing to do with you. I promise you that."

Mickey shrugs, disregarding your words. Not maliciously, just... unconsciously. Then you realized it was much more of an internal struggle. He needed direct closure from Derek himself. "I'm gonna go get a drink," he nods at you kindly before walking away, "thanks for this..."

As you watched him leave, you frowned to yourself, feeling the exhaustion of today's events finally catch up with you. Hell, you needed a drink too.

Motivated to search for one, you turned your body around, facing away from the view of the ocean. Suddenly, your eyes trailed to the empty lounge chairs on the deck with their corresponding tables. A box of Capri-Sun was just sitting there, unattended.

Huh. Change of plans.

***

The alcohol burned his throat as Derek took a swift, smooth swig, hearing the laughter and shouts of his friends around him. This was probably his fifth damn shot ever since the group occupied a colorful bar in the cruise ship. Soft music played in the background as they all sat in a cushioned booth.

"I can't believe Y/n isn't here," Rachel huffed in disappointment, looking around the space as if you would pop out of thin air.

"Yeah, well they're a fuckin' lame-o," Derek slurs, swishing his empty shot glass around, "why are they so serious? They've never been so uptight before. It's so annoying."

"Maybe because you put them in a position where they have to be your partner?" Trevor raises an eyebrow, sneering playfully. "No offense, dude, but I feel like anyone would feel humiliated if they had to date you. Again, no offense."

Derek shot him a menacing glare while everyone else laughed at him.

"I stand by that," Connor cackles, elbowing his friend, "being romantically involved with the country's nepo-brat himself? Says a lot about your self-respect."

"Shut the fuck up." The said nepo-brat retorts as he feels his head throbbing. He wasn't actually upset, however, despite his enormous ego. Even as his friends weren't so far from the truth, he could easily handle their targeted jokes. Unlike a large sum of people, they surprisingly didn't befriend him for his money. After all, they had several things in common: being rich, being educated, and being grade-A assholes.

"Hey, Danforth," Trevor pipes, shoving him obnoxiously, "hot chick, three o'clock."

Derek looks in the direction he was told, only to see a tall, gorgeous woman around his age, sitting on a barstool while mingling with her friends. Of course he was never new to her level of beauty, as he's hooked up with all types of people in the past. So no, her looks weren't the reason why he felt so desperate now. Truthfully, it's been a long time since he's gotten some. Ever since this whole fake dating arrangement, Derek had never gotten the time or chance to get into bed with someone enticing, or just anyone at all. He was always a fan of pleasure, a big fan of one-night stands. And right now, he was craving one.

"Fuck," he groans, strongly motivated to push through the drunken migraine he was experiencing. "I gotta... go talk to her..."

"No, dude," Trevor huffs in amusement, trying not to burst out into laughter, "you're way too drunk, you'll scare her away."

Derek frowns, unappreciative of his friend's deliberation. "I swear to fuckin' god, Trev, if I don't bang at least one goddamn person on this boat—"

"Relax," he chuckles, massaging Derek's left shoulder, "I'm just saying, you should sober up first. Not too sober, obviously, but you need to be well aware enough to make smart choices. Like, I know you'd fuck up the whole you and Y/n thing and someone's gonna find out." Derek nods as he listens to half of the things he heard, eyelids growing heavy. "Go back to your room, Y/n can sober you up, and when you're ready, you can come back and screw this girl."

Derek's thoughts were hazy and ran slowly in his brain like traffic. He couldn't focus on any of the steps instructed to him, nor did he feel inclined to comply.

"Hey, you know something?" Rachel chimes in, "there's this one thing you always do whenever you're way too drunk to function. It's almost, like, a signal for when you should stop drinking for the night."

"Oh, yeah!" The rest of the group exclaimed in a discordant manner, all laughing at the inside joke Derek wasn't yet aware of.

"What?" He furrowed his eyebrows curiously. "What do you mean, what do I do?"

"Basically," Connor chuckles, "we always know you're far too gone whenever you propose doing a flip. You say that every fucking time you're too drunk. Not when you're buzzed, not when you're tipsy, but every single time you're absolutely hammered. I swear, every time you're, like, 'watch me do a flip' or some stupid shit like that."

"No way," Derek grumbles in refusal, not recalling any memory of him saying those things, "I don't do that." To be fair, however, he wouldn't even remember anything from the times he was too drunk. Therefore, he couldn't even be a credible source for his own experiences.

"Uh, yeah, you do! Every time!" Rachel cackles with a wide grin. "One time, we didn't stop you because you wanted to do a skateboard trick, and you absolutely ate cement, man. We even got that on video!"

Derek groans in embarrassment, feeling his migraine grow. "Whatever. One more drink," he grumbles before a knowing smirk appears on his lips. Everyone around him scowled, watching him down more liquor, even if he was far too deep in intoxication.

"Hold on, one more," he giggles shamelessly, as he quickly finished the previous drink.

***

"Derek?" You huff in surprise as you hear the door swing open, seeing your friend stumble back into the suite.

"H—" before he could even say one word, he rushed to the bathroom to throw up in the toilet. As he fell on his knees, his hands gripped the poor, porcelain seat of the toilet. You followed him immediately, placing your hand on his back in deep concern.

"What the hell?" You gasp, "dude, how much did you drink?"

Derek coughed out the last bits of vomit, staring straight at the toilet bowl and the floating chunks that left his stomach, furrowing his eyebrows. "Where does flushed shit go on a boat?" He mumbles distractedly, failing to answer you. "Does this go straight into the ocean? That's so messed up..."

You roll your eyes anyway, having been accustomed to his drunken mannerisms. This actually wasn't the first time you dealt with him like this, which probably made you harsher than anyone would've been in this scenario. "Why would you care about what's messed up or not? You literally run one of the most immoral businesses in the world."

"Yeah, well, doesn't look like you're doing anything to stop me," he scoffs bitterly, looking up at you in the eyes, "having said that, you're just as bad as me."

You hated whenever he brought this up to refute you. How you never bothered turning him in, never bothered telling anybody. But was that not your moral obligation as his best friend? Were you supposed to get him caught or keep his criminal life private? Why did you seem to prioritize him over the thousands of vulnerable people in this world?

"I'm fucking with you," he smirks humorously, while you knew damn well he wasn't kidding. "I need to... sober up. There's this... chick at the bar I wanna hook up with and I can't risk anything, so... just need to be more conscious or whatever bullshit Trevor said. Can you help me?"

Immediately, you disapproved of it. "That's a terrible idea," you retort. "If anyone finds out about this, you'd be deemed a cheater. I don't care who you sleep with, but the purpose of this trip—"

"I'll make sure she keeps it a secret. Pay her, even," he says, his squinted eyes pathetically trying to meet yours, "Come on. Help me."

Why did you even bother?

"Fine," you sigh, standing up from your knees to flush the toilet.

The two of you sat quietly on the edge of the bed as you handed Derek some water. He gulped a substantial amount after muttering a thank you.

"You know you can't truly 'sober up' that fast, right?" You scoff. "You'd have better luck sleeping it off."

"But I have her right where I want her. It's a filthy one-night stand, not a perfect meet cute," he grumbles before taking a second glance at you. A foil juice pouch was in your hands as you ripped off the attached straw. "What is that? Holy shit, is that a Capri-Sun?"

You nod, poking the pouch's hole with the thin yellow straw. "Yeah."

"Where did you get it?" He asked with a sudden deep interest.

"I just... found some lying on a table on the decks, it probably belonged to some kid," you shrug casually.

"You stole it?" He huffs in shock, not expecting you, of all people, to do such a thing.

"Derek, think about the kinds of people who can afford this cruise, okay? Upper class families. I'm sure whoever it is, they'd be okay with a few missing Capri-Suns," you scoff. "I can promise you this, dude, it's not as bad as stealing money from old people." Clearly, you couldn't help but constantly bring it up. You had always felt bitter about it the moment he told you of it.

Derek pouts before groaning, sinking down towards you to lay his head on your lap. You were only slightly taken aback, as this was a common habit of a drunk Derek. But it was always surprising to you nonetheless, since you never really knew when he was going to do that. "It's not like... I'm evil, you know?" He mumbles bashfully.

You raise an eyebrow at his quiet words, letting him continue.

"Of course it's fucking unconventional and immoral and whatever. But the thing is... I'll never make the amount of money my dad did when he was still alive. And you're telling me I have to follow in his footsteps? That's ridiculous, for me, at least," he huffs. "Especially for me, actually."

You didn't know what compelled you to do so, but your hand landed on his head, feeling his soft curls between your fingers until you could feel his scalp. You were nearly petting him. And you hated it because ultimately, it confirmed your sympathy for him. You genuinely almost felt sorry for him. So what else were you supposed to do anyways?

Derek felt his heart tighten at your touch. It was all too familiar. Too much like his mother's. But he didn't want to think about it like that, not when it was you. "Everyone used to expect so much of me, even before Dad died. Until they learned that all I could do is disappoint. Now everyone expects the very least of me, which, fair enough.

"Danforth Enterprises has been slow, especially ever since I took the position. And I'm supposed... I owe something to my mother. I owe everything to her. And if all that money could... get her to be president, get her to think I'm a successful CEO, then... that's just... That's why I do it. I just... was far too gone. I'm in too deep now."

Derek felt a sting every time you stroked his head. It was horrible, it was as if he was back in his mother's grasp, when everything was much simpler, when he wasn't seen as such a failure. When a damn drawing of the private helicopter in crayon was the best thing he ever did in her eyes. When did he become such a disappointment now?

"It's shitty," you sigh, your own voice grounding him. It was you. This was your hands, your touch, not his mother's. The same voice that belonged to the smile that greeted him in his freshman year at MIT. You. "That doesn't excuse it, and I'm sure you know that. But... You're being too hard on yourself, Derek. I'm sure your mom would've appreciated it if you genuinely worked hard and show that you earned that position. The extra flashy money obviously never worked."

He hated being scolded. Being told what to do. But somehow, your words were a comfort to him instead. Maybe he was this vulnerable because he was intoxicated, but that was rarely ever the case.

The one thing he knew right now, though, was that it was your hands, your fingers, your touch, your voice that embraced. Not his mother's. And for that reason, he loved it.

"Can I have some of your Capri-Sun?" He asks coyly.

"You shouldn't have any sugary drinks when you just threw up," you advise.

"You're just gatekeeping it," he grumbles, shutting his eyes.

A soft chuckle leaves your lips as you continue to scratch his scalp. Derek felt his heart rush at the sound.

"You have a nice laugh," he mutters.

You paused your hand movements on his head, stunned by his words. "What?"

"I like your laugh," he confesses quietly, opening his eyes and fidgeting with his fingers. "It's nice." Then, he nudged your body with his head as a plea to resume your touches.

You continued playing with his hair curiously. He's never acted like this around you. Ever. What changed?

"Th—"

"And I mean it," he adds, closing his eyes once again in contentment, "you're great. I'm sorry for getting you caught up in all of this. It was never fair to you."

You sigh softly at Derek's admission, feeling the curly strands of hair beneath your fingertips. "Thank you," you mutter appreciatively.

"I know I said I'd make it up to you with Fiji and money, but... that's probably not enough. Maybe I'll be a 'yes-man' for a week. I dunno. Something like that," he reckons.

You felt so warm right now. You weren't sure what it was. Either a metaphorical would-be-disaster of a feeling or the fact that Derek's head was resting on your lap, giving off heat. And while you could admit that you enjoyed the feeling, you realized you might've distracted him from his initial goal.

"Come on, buddy," you sigh, trying to prop him back up, removing his head from your lap, "I think by the time you walk back to the bar, you'd be all ready for her."

"Oh, right. Oh yeah," Derek huffs as he also remembers the whole point of coming back to the room so early, "yeah. She's, uh, she's so not ready for this." He chuckles weakly, gesturing towards himself.

You pat his shoulder in a friendly manner, establishing the extent of your relationship. Friendship, rather. "Give 'em hell," you smile softly, helping him get up before he walked by himself towards the door.

Once the door closed behind him, Derek stood in the hallway, feeling unsure of himself. He felt lost, and it wasn't just because of the alcohol. He began to retrace his steps, vaguely remembering the face of the woman at the bar. Yes, she was pretty, but... for some reason, he just didn't want to go through with it. Which was insanity, because Derek never passed the chance to screw an attractive person. It all just felt so different, all of a sudden. Like there was a consequence and that it mattered. Like it just wasn't right to do.

He wanted to go back into the room with you.

He didn't care about the woman at the bar.

He really didn't want to admit it, really, but all he wanted was to be held by you once more. Just for a little longer.

And there was only one excuse that could help him get away with it.

Your eyes shot up as you hear the door burst open once again, seeing Derek stumble more messily than before.

"Hey, wait. Before I go... watch me do a flip!" He smiles widely, purposefully slurring his words.

In your perspective, Derek definitely wasn't sobered up enough to meet with that girl he was talking about. Surely, the flip nonsense would signify he was way too drunk to function. It was something he's always done that you and your friends noticed. Finally, you concluded that he could barely sober up in time before the night ended, having to stay with him like this, which was exactly what he wanted you to think.

Rolling your eyes with a slight grin, you scoff. "Come here," you groan, watching him come back to you. You handed him a Capri-Sun, finally, as you two sipped the juice in contented silence. And soon enough, his head was back in your lap as your hands were back in his hair.

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freak-accident419 · 1 year ago

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i love you guys 😌😌

#the fact that its literally the morning where i am #gn!reader #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #gn reader #mike schmidt x reader #josh futturman x reader #derek danforth x reader #clapton davis x reader #peeta mellark x reader #writers on tumblr #trans writers #nonbinary writer

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freak-accident419 · 3 months ago

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playing cards

Derek Danforth x GN!Reader

Summary: You and Derek discuss a few things as you pack for the trip. Once you board the boat, you're met with businessmen, your friend group, and a rather glum Mickey Garnett. The piled up lies about your fake relationship get worse as Derek tries to impress the investors.

Word Count: 3.4k

Content: gender-neutral reader, swearing, fake dating, pop culture references, playful (but more aggressive) banter

Ao3 Link

(A/n: I didn't think I'd continue this, but here we are! Thank you for your nonstop love and support! Hope you enjoy)

As you packed your bags for the upcoming three-day trip, Derek was lounging in your penthouse. You'd registered that if it weren't for your job at Danforth Enterprises and the convenient role as a millionaire that your best friend burdened, you probably wouldn't have possessed this extravagant home. The interior was painted a soft cloud white, which framed the large windows occupying one wall of your bedroom. Your fake boyfriend slouched lazily on your bed, watching the way you folded your clothes and organized them inside of your luggage. Obviously, you weren't as wealthy as him, so you didn't have anyone else to do that task for you.

“Hey, so,” you began as you picked out a shirt from your closet, slipping it off the hanger, “you’re inviting, like, all of our friends?”

“Uh, yeah,” he nods while taking an instinctive hit from his vape.

“Like… the whole friend group?” You ask for clarification, raising an eyebrow as you eyed his rather vacant state.

“Psh, yeah, obviously,” he replies with a slight scoff, “That’s what I always do. Why?”

“Yeah, but like… it’s different,” you say with a mere hesitance.

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, looking directly at you. “Wh—How?”

“Uh? This whole event is meant for us to make you look like a good, renewed person by the two of us being a public couple and everything. It’s gonna be awkward for the rest of the group, no?” You ask with uncertainty, folding the shirt and placing it neatly in your luggage.

“Pfftt, we can always just tell them we’re faking it,” he huffed, waving his hand in dismissal, "they'll go along with it, they're all fuckin' chronic liars."

Sighing, you crossed your arms. “Right,” you reply briefly, moving back to your closet to grab another shirt. With your back to him, you add, “But like… Mickey.”

Derek scoffed, almost in a mocking tone. “Yeah, what about him?”

“I mean—come on!” You began in a slight outburst, “You two had this weird… like, situationshi—”

“Shit-show,” he interjected harshly, “it was just occasional hooking up, nothing more.”

“Well… He didn’t think of it as that, did he? Christ, the way you two are with each other now is just so fucking awkward! You boss him around whenever you can, and now he’s gonna see the two of us act like a happy, healthy couple in public? That’ll kill him!”

Derek rolled his eyes, unaffected by your assumption. “Oh, please, Y/n, it wasn’t even a huge thing, he’s not gonna be so broken up about it. Plus, we’d be telling our friends, including him, that this is all an act. We're not, like, leaving him in the dark.”

“That’s not the point,” you argued, throwing a folded shirt in your luggage, “the point is, that you were so adamant on keeping that fling private because of your reputation; you didn’t want people to see you romantically involved with an employee of yours. And now, you’re here, willing to fake a relationship with an employee—me—so then, he’s gonna think that the problem wasn’t the publicity of it all, but himself all along. You don't think that'd crush him?”

Derek seemed to ponder on your words, and for a tiny second, it was like you could read the slightest expression of guilt in his softened eyes. Before he shook his head dismissively, at least. “No,” he scoffs, “he’s not that sensitive. I bet he couldn’t give a flying fuck about this. Also—why do you care so much anyways? You're not, like, his best friend or anything.”

You sighed with exasperation, continuing to pack your luggage. “Yeah, but... both of you guys are, at the very least, my friends. And ever since that weird... fallout, it’s just been tense and awkward between you two. Affecting the entire friend group as well. I hate that.”

As a result of your words, his train of thought pauses, rather reflecting on the past interactions that followed the ending of his and Garnett’s fling. For instance, the two couldn’t stand to be alone together; if there was someone leaving to use the restroom at a club, one of the two would join them so that he wouldn’t be stuck with the other.

As Derek thought of a way to respond to your explanation, his eyes had fell onto the item you threw in your bag instead.

“Is that fucking Uno?”

Your eyes looked up at him, taken aback by his rather unprecedented, sharp reaction. “Yes...”

“Why would—“

“It’s an old people cruise,” you remark bluntly with a heavy sigh, “Boredom is inherent, regardless of all the flashy cruise shit. Look, I’d rather be locked up in a cabin playing Uno with Trevor rather than giving your mom constant updates, trying to convince her how much your ass has ‘changed’.” You paused, eyes flickering on the floor then back to Derek's in realization. “Shit, no offense, but if your mother's dumb enough to believe that, then she probably shouldn’t even be president.”

“Y/n!” He hissed, eyes widening at your brutal statement.

“It’s the truth!” You huff.

Derek scratched his chin, actually considering your argument. “Well, the stupidity of political leaders is pretty much inevitable. At this point, it feels as mandatory as the age requirement.”

"I know, right?" You agree with a low chuckle, "like, might as well add 'must have an IQ score lower than 80' to the Constitution."

He snickered quietly at your joke, and at that point, he couldn't even be mad at what you had said before. "Yeah, but anyways, even if that was right, that my mom would be stupid enough to believe I've changed—which it isn't because it's not unbelievable—she'd still be fit as president. There's definitely been more stupid leaders in the world than her... Also, is it really that hard to believe that I could change?"

You looked at him as if he had just told you that the sky isn't blue. "Yes," you say flat out.

Derek would’ve been offended, but you weren’t wrong at all. In fact, he was sort of proud of himself already. Proud of his party life, his arrogance, his way with people. The only problem was that he needed his mom to be proud of him too.

"Also, about the whole Uno thing," he began, taking a drag from his pen, “Most couples stick with each other all the time, especially on luxury vacations like these. So, you actually have to be seen with me, like, fucking always. While also, yeah, being seen by those businessmen and posting our 'relationship' online. Honestly, I don't think you'd have time for yourself in your cabin at all.”

You groaned in annoyance, hating every setback for any chance of self-indulgence on this godforsaken trip. “Fake dating, break up, then Fiji,” you remind yourself, trying to look forward to the things Derek promised you in return for your cooperation. You found yourself repeating the phrase in a mutter as a form of consolation, "break up then Fiji, break up then Fiji..." Derek thought you were being too overdramatic.

***

You looked at the large private jet in front of you as you stood beside Derek.

"Huh. I forgot you had that," you shrug casually. "Now I get why you're so desperate to not get cut off."

The day of the trip had came, and you were getting ready to go to Miami, which was the location of the cruise port. The flight there wasn't hell, but it wasn't so great either; it wasn't your first time in this private jet, after all. You just went over your fake backstory with Derek again, napped, and played Wordle. Derek had cheated, by the way. It was "raise," dumbass.

When you landed and reached the terminals by the sea, you were finally boarding the cruise ship with Derek, gazing at the astonishing structure of the boat. It wasn't as huge as most cruises, as it was a more exclusive experience, but it was still a lovely sight nonetheless.

"It's nice, really nice, I can't complain about that," you remark, attention moving from the boat to the man beside you, "but goddamn, I still cannot believe you talked me into this."

Derek chuckles pretentiously. "Well, that's why I'm CEO of Danforth Enterprises, I'm great at negoti—"

"You're the CEO because of nepotism."

"...Fuck off," he groaned.

You then saw a group of men boarding the ship, noticing Derek's sudden physical reaction to it: wide eyes, cut off breath. "What? Who are they?" You ask, observing them curiously. Whoever they were, they certainly caught Derek's attention. They all carried themselves with confidence, yet so pompously as well, which gave you the answer as to why he was so interested in them. They reminded him of himself.

"They're who my mom was talking about, the potential investors," he says plainly, "more funding, more money for me, more money for you."

You glanced at them again, this time with a grimace towards the clique of fat cats. "Yeah, well, that guy looks like the Pillsbury Doughboy, the one on his right looks like an actual registered sex offender, and the one on the left looks like a Walmart Steve Buscemi."

Derek's eyes narrowed, carefully examining the looks of each elderly capitalist. "Huh. Wait, holy shit, I actually see it..." he says. "Come on." He attempts to grab your arm to walk you both towards them, in which you pushed his hand away with a disgusted grunt.

"Ew, don't do that—" You hiss at his sudden gesture, aggressively wiping off 'his germs' from your arm. "What are we doing?"

"I'm going to introduce myself to the investors," he says, pointing at them with his eyes. "You'd make me look good, help me out."

You frowned, and knowing the whole deal, you reminded yourself of the fake break up and Fiji once again to soothe your nerves. Then, with an eye roll and a defeated huff, you hooked your arm with his. Derek smirked and added, "Come on, you can ask 'Steve Buscemi' what it was like filming Grown Ups."

A soft chuckle escaped from your lips, admiring how he had went along with your stupid joke about the men's awful appearances.

"Hey, you must be Mr. Danforth, the man of the hour," the shorter Pillsbury dough-man grins with a pompous laugh, shaking his hand. His cold blue eyes trailed towards you, then down to Derek's grip on your arm. "And you are?"

"Oh, uh," you glance from your best friend to the businessman, "My name is Y/n, I'm, uh... I'm Derek's partner."

All three of the men huffed in surprise, definitely not expecting the two of you to be couple. Rightfully so, because you weren't even one in the first place.

"Seriously?" The movie star lookalike spoke up, raising an eyebrow with amusement. "Now that's a story I'd like to hear." The other men agreed with nods and deep, haughty chuckles.

"Well," Derek began with his usual charm, "I knew them ever since college, actually. We work together now at my company and just recently, we put the pieces together, and boom, just sort of found out how compatible we are."

"Good for you two," the last guy, the creep, flashes a smile, "you know, I had that similar story of how I met my girlfriend." Naturally, you assumed that the college part was the one thing he related to, and that his old ass met her when she was a freshman or something. Then he looked at you, as if he could read your uncouth mind and insults. "You don't talk much, do you?

Your eyebrows furrowed, alarmed by the sudden attention on you. "Actually, I—"

"They're very shy," Derek snickered with a fake, mocking pout. "See, I was the only one to really get Y/n out of their shell."

You were not shy.

What kind of bullshit story was this?

However, being obligated to go along with it, you laughed awkwardly. "Yeah, definitely. I was... always the introvert."

"Yeah," he huffs, continuing this horrendous plot line, "kinda boring at the start too. Had trouble making friends."

"Oh, I see," Pillsbury said with an impressed tone. Huh, you never actually learned any of their names, it seems. "That's a mighty excellent thing for you to do, helping them sorta navigate their way into the social world. And it's a brutal world. I bet you were like their savior in those early years, huh?"

"Precisely," Derek smirks proudly.

Oh, you see how it is.

"I saved him too, you know," you butt in abruptly, Derek giving you a look of confusion. "He always had trouble with, uh... hygiene! Never knew how to take care of himself, you know, barely ever showered and smelled like a dumpster fire, but lucky for him, I introduced him to the wonderful world of... soap."

Obviously, that was untrue. Much like Derek's dumb lie about you.

And having to go along with it as well, he let out an uncomfortable chuckle. "Yup. That was me in college. Stinky and... unapproachable most of the time."

"Yeah. It was a surprise how much he's grown throughout all these years, right?" You grin, looking at the invested faces of, well, the investors. They seemed to eat up whatever bullshit you two were burning on the stove.

"Speaking of growing," Derek began more aggressively, "it was actually me who taught this one about money and finances. They were so clueless, they didn't even know how taxes worked, can you believe it? It was so adorable, isn't that right, babe?"

"Yes," you grit your teeth fiercely. "Which actually came a lot in handy when you were spending too much money on Viagra."

The men raised an eyebrow at your statement as Derek's head jerked towards your direction.

"Yeah..." you frown sympathetically, "Derek used to have a constant little problem down there, so... stocked up on Viagra like a madman. And because he taught me about everything there is to know about money, compared to how oblivious I was before I met him, I got him to stop using up all his money for it and... learn how to accept himself." You look at Derek with a snarky grin, seeing him taken aback by his mortified expression.

"Such an important lesson," he sighs sarcastically, "much like their old, questionable diet and tendency to clog the toilet every chance they'd get. And get this, the smell—"

"Chumbawamba," you blurt out the code word that the two of you came up with, in order to put an end to the passive aggressive lying. The three businessmen, who had constantly looked back and forth between you and Derek, finally landed on you in confusion.

"Oh, they're just talking about the concert we saw together, and my story must've reminded them about that terrible time in the porta-potty in which they—"

"Oh, you!" You smacked his ass to mock a playful couple interaction in a cheerful voice, covering up your actual resentment for him.

He flinches, sucking the pain through his teeth with a similar plastic grin. "Oh, you!" He says back, hitting your ass as well, making you hiss and conceal it quickly with a laugh.

Obviously, none of the wannabe robber barons saw that as suspicious. Rather funny, sweet, and natural, actually. "Seems like you guys are in it for the long run," the balding A-lister said. "Well, I hope you two have a good time together on this cruise. Lovely opportunities for romance here."

"Yeah," Poppin' Fresh agrees. Jesus Christ, you had to learn their actual names. "And in the meantime, you know, we can sit down and talk business."

"Yeah. Yeah, sounds good," Derek nods, still trying to brush off the embarrassment and irritation from earlier. "I'm looking forward to it."

Finally, as the three walk away, you let out a sigh of relief before punching Derek's arm. "What the hell was that? Why were you making me look bad in front of them?"

"You wouldn't get it," he insists, rubbing the area on his arm that you socked, "I would never be seen in a relationship. But since I am to these guys, I had to prove to them that I was the one in control between us, that I was the dominant one."

You roll your eyes at his unabashed arrogance. "Oh please, you're 5'5, the only thing you'd be dominant in is fuckin' limbo."

"5'7," Derek coughed quietly. "And I was just trying to make myself look good, I do represent my company, you know. But then you had to ruin it and say my fucking dick doesn't work and I smell bad, which, isn't true because I've always had much more expensive products than you ever did."

"What I did was stand up for myself. No way in hell I'm supposed to be the shy, stupid partner while you mansplain everything, fucking dickwad," you grumble. It was one thing to be his best friend, you thought, but another to have to be his significant other.

"Fine, fine. I won't... make you look bad anymore. Just... help make me look good, okay? That's the point of all this," he huffs.

You groaned in exhaustion, shaking your head. "Yeah. Fine. Truce."

As more people began to board the boat, you finally see you and Derek's friend group. Most of you had met either during college years, Derek's company, or just through parties. You'd invited almost the entirety of the group, which consisted of Mickey, Trevor, Connor, and Rachel. They were already notified about the whole fake arrangement beforehand, so they were all prepared to see the two of you act like a real couple.

The usual greet by hugging and laughing had occurred, bags being taken to cabins by the ship employees as you contributed in the small talk and brief catching up as well. A few of them mocked Derek's plan and joked about how insufferable it'd be to actually date him. While all this cheerfulness went on, you couldn't help but switch your focus to Mickey, as he seemed rather hesitant to speak up to Derek, finding comfort in his other friends. You were probably going to bring it up when you two would be alone.

"Hey, where's Clair?" Derek asks, looking around the dock for your other expected friend.

"Oh, they couldn't make it," Connor says, shaking his head, "business trip."

"Aw, that sucks," you huff, crossing your arms with a frown.

Trevor butt in with a smirk. "So, how're you guys gonna do this? First of all, Derek's not really the relationship type."

"I don't know, but we were already able to convince Jessica, then a couple of investors," you sigh, feeling the debilitation of the day catch up with you. "Just a few more days, and then we get to stage a break up. Then Derek owes me cash and a fully covered trip to Fiji."

"Lucky," Rachel frowns playfully, "ugh, I wanna go to Fiji. Why wasn't I asked to be his fake date?"

"Rachel, you're a lesbian, you wouldn't be able to take their place either way," Connor snickered.

"But it's all pretend, isn't it?" She argues with a chuckle, "I was able to do that for at least, like, eighteen years." As much as she joked about how much she would rather get a free trip to Fiji, you were pretty sure she didn't want to be seen in a relationship with any man, even if it was fake, let alone with Derek.

"I can't believe you guys have to put up this façade for the entire time you're here," Trevor huffs. "Like, are you sure you can handle this?"

"Oh please, it's nothing too complicated. All we have to do is pretend we're dating, and you guys can back up our story as well," Derek replies with a carefree energy to him. "Then we stage a break up on good terms and we can all forget this ever happened."

***

You and Derek made it to your suite, both with a large frown on your faces.

"Why is there just one bed?" You huff.

"Duh, my mom set this whole thing up, if we're a couple then we'd—"

"I'll take the couch," you cut him off, referring to the sofa across the mattress, separated by a small table. The room was quite massive, covered in dirty blonde walls with rich brown carpeting. It was filled to the brink with intricate patterns, curtains, and delightful amenities that felt too exquisite, even for you. You had to admit, you never experienced this much luxury before. Sure, being best friends with a millionaire had its perks, but being the fake partner of one? You said it yourself: a whole different breed.

After Derek's body flopped flat onto the mattress, his head popped up to look at you with a proposal.

"Hey, you know what? We should get drunk."

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freak-accident419 · 2 years ago

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People misusing afab has me shitting bricks.

if ur reader is a cis woman then just say fem!reader please instead of plain afab!reader 😭 in fics, afab was coined by trans people to like idk include us w/out having everything be woman-coded yknow (lmao)! its used to signify that their gender doesnt align with the sex they were assigned at birth! thats what it stands for!! assigned female at birth!! for example, the tag afab!gn! is basically a gender neutral reader but with afab genitalia, same with amab. bc if the reader is a transman or genderqueer, they can include them in smuts without it having to always be a female reader. like it would seem too redundant to put afab!fem! bc that basically just means cis woman and i cant tell if youre trying to be progressive or transphobic 😭

idk when some writers decided to label cis women as afab for smut, but it just feels so wrong 😭 just use female 😭 idk im just tired of being baited 😭 like i see afab!reader and i think oh nice its for my nonbinary ass BUT I GET HIT W “good girl” AND “panties” AND DIE INSIDE…

Please label ur fics and label them properly 🙏🙏

#dying inside #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #female writers #trans writers #mike schmidt x reader #josh hutcherson x reader #josh futturman x reader #clapton davis x reader #coriolanus x reader #peeta mellark x reader #Fnaf x reader #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #afab reader #afab nonbinary

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freak-accident419 · 2 years ago

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istg fem!reader fics jumpscare me so bad. Like, i have nothing against them, but sometimes i get jumpscared whenever i see like “x reader” and theres no specific tags or anything so i assume its a gender ambiguous fic BUT NO…. I GET SLAPPED IN THE FACE WITH LIKE “she” and “girl” :’)

please tag ur thingz guys..

(This isnt targeted towards anyone specific btw, it happens like numerous times with everybody soo i swear im not trying to bully anyone)

#josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt x reader #clapton davis x reader #peeta mellark x reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #nonbinary reader

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yoursacredqueenmother · 2 years ago

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Whispered Betrayal

Word Count: 822 Caution: just straight hurting; nothing but angst I tried a different format, hope you guys like it??

《In the heat of current emotions, here is angst (@happy74827 be proud of me)》

" What if I feel as if I can't do what I promise myself I should do while watching from behind how my friends are moving on with their dreams in life? "

"....why do you have to reach where everyone is? Everyone moves at a different pace, and so are you, love. I know your shoulder weighs heavy with the burden but I know you've done your best."

" That's not it, I just don't know what to do with myself anymore. Why is everything so difficult?! "

"First off, let's begin by not stressing ourselves out and comparing ourselves to friends-"

" WELL AT LEAST THEY'RE MOVING! I AM STUCK, I'VE BEEN STUCK IN THIS STUPID SPOT FOR FOREVER! I HAVEN'T MOVED FROM THIS SPACE! I'VE DONE NOTHING BUT CONTINUOUSLY BE MISERABLE! YOU WOULDN'T GET WHAT THAT FEELS LIKE, NOW WOULD YOU?! WHY IS THAT?! "

It dawned on the male figure how loud they were, hearing their words echo through each room, bouncing off the walls. The room fell silent, no longer was there any retaliation or words thrown. Those last few words spiked the air and suffocated them as they sat in the essence of the venom.

The room itself began to expand, extending to no end and the darkness hovered over his head like a blanket. Eyes unfocused and throat parched, inner mouth felt drier than the Sahara desert. No longer able to portray his eyes one way, he couldn't explain the straight facial expression of the other.

Taken aback by his own actions, the nerves in his system go haywire, and his breathing becomes shallow and deep. His physical body had shaken itself to a halt with his words, realizing what he truly said.

He didn't mean to raise his voice. By any means. Shakingly, he reaches his hands out, expectantly.

" B-baby, my voice- I didn't mean-"

His gesture wasn't received, pushed to the side with a gentle touch. Oh, how his soul began to crumble at the sight. Limbs going numb, they flop to the bedside, fingertips clawing themselves into the sheets. It felt as if the world was spinning around, too fast for his brain to process.

"It seems like- until you could get your shit together, it would be best for us to have some space. I don't want to add to your stress, and I definitely do not want to stay here to say anything I might regret."

With that, they glanced his way once more before shifting themselves off the bedding, sitting up, and slipping the slippers on that laid themselves in front of their feet. His heart felt as if it were trapped in a compressed box that kept getting smaller over time.

Watching as the back of his beloved continuously stretched farther and farther away, he simply rushed to his feet and instinctively followed. Out of the room, through the corridor bumping into walls, towards the living room that spaced itself near the front door.

His hands reacted before he knew it, stopping the coat grab after watching the keys be picked up from his lonely place on the side table. No matter what, he saw nothing but black, his emotions overtaking reality, no longer able to distinguish the facial aspect of human character.

"Don't forget your responsibilities, I hope you don't forget you do not live alone, take care of yourself."

A small touch landed on his forehead, short and simple, and as he watches the body of his beloved pull away, his entire world shattered from the lack of warmth. Droplets of his self-esteem begin to pour as he reaches for the nonexistent warmth implicated in him.

His eyes trailed after the figure as they reached for the door, sucking in a breath and giving him a glance once more. The narrow eyes that digested him whole caused his knees to buckle under him as he fell to the ground with nothing to hold.

But his eyes remained themselves on the figure of true virtue, wanting nothing more but to hold on. And he watches the lips of his sweetheart move, and then straighten into a line before nothing faced his eyes but the peeling paint on the back of the front door.

The mouthed words, 'I love you, Mike,' was what he clocked.

Even in this situation, he felt like a complete fool for the crimes he committed against someone who didn't deserve it. He felt as if he didn't deserve what he was getting, but he continuously received as he never gave. No matter the situation, he was in the wrong.

He felt even more pathetic, having the audacity to even shed tears when his beloved did their best to cheer him till the end. Left with no tears, keeping their cool. Breaking down on the ground, he held onto his chest and cried as much as he could.

For the sake of the person he wounded, who wishes him well.

~Minx

#x reader #angst #fnaf #mike schmidt #mike schmidt fnaf #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf movie #fnaf fandom #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt fanfic #mike schmidt angst #female!reader #nonbinary!reader #male!reader #gender neutral reader #minx writings #minx♡

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yoursacredqueenmother · 2 years ago

Text

Under the Weather

Word Count: 2089 GIF Credits: @charlie-eppes-blog Cautions: Major Fluff, a little angst

《I'm like majorly sick so I may be projecting a little. When life kicks ass, make fics!》

_ ➶ _

This was definitely not the plan for the day. You were supposed to simply go back to work after using a week of vacation time to visit your grandmother in the countryside for her birthday. Being struck with whatever you happened to catch was something not on the agenda.

At first, the yearning to lie down and take a nap washed over your being for a few hours before having genuine chills and your eyelids felt heavier by the second. Wanting to push through the day, you grab a blanket from the closet in the office and try to continue working, losing your appetite along the way. Eventually, the department manager saw how crappy you looked and advised you to take a week off, seeing how dire your condition was.

So off you went, your body in the midst of breaking down as soon as you entered the door to your apartment. There was nothing else you wanted to do with, but of course, life wasn’t on your side. Even when you weren’t well. “Why are you here so early, you should have called!” You sigh hearing the familiar, irritating voice of the century. “Mother, this is my apartment, why would I call? How did you get in here in the first place,” you ask in a low voice, feeling too dizzy to care.

Holding yourself to the wall, you sluggishly remove your shoes, placing them in the linen closet near the front door before grabbing your slippers. While trying to remove your coat, you hesitated for a moment, before ultimately making the decision that you were going to shove yourself under your blanket anyways. “I used the spare key you gave your sister, a little upset that you didn’t give me one but we’ll talk about it later. Anyways, you didn’t get fired, did you?”

“I’m not in the mood to put up with you today, give me the spare key and see yourself out mother.” You drag yourself into the living room, trying to guide yourself to grabbing the spare key and going into your room. Scoffing, she seems appalled by your uninterested tone to what she further had to say. “So you're kicking out your own mother now? Did your grandma say something, I knew that old witch would! Listen hun-”

As soon as your eyes fixated on the coffee table, you spotted the key and snatched it, throwing it in your pocket. “Mother. Please, take your drama elsewhere, I’m not up for it. And I will not stand you insulting grandmother either, please go home.” With a confused look, she stands shocked in the living room. It was then when you saw the mess she had made, on the carpet, on the couch, the table. Before you could say anything, you heard something hit the floor in the kitchen.

You whip your head towards the sound before grabbing your head in pain, forgetting that your head was throbbing in agony for the past hour for you to rest. Out pops a brunette with red headphones on, and even though your eyesight was blurry you knew who it was, there was only one person who would accompany your mother anywhere. Her idiotic boyfriend. Something in you snapped.

“Get out, the both of you. And do not ever come back,” you say with rage dripping from your quiet tone. Although he couldn’t hear you, he could see your darkened expression so he removed his headphones. “Woah, what’s happening here? What’s the issue?” If you weren’t sick, you would have probably created a storm.

“Get. Out. Both of you. Never return.” You repeat, this time with fewer words because the headache was continuously getting worse by the second. You watch as her boyfriend nods and slowly makes his way to grab your mother’s belongings, nudging your mother along to the front door. Still in shock, she says in a loud voice “Why do you ruin every chance there is for us to bond?!” You held yourself in a respectable manner long enough.

“Why would I…try to bond with someone who abandoned her children and only came back into our lives when you heard how well we were doing? You probably…stole this key too, get out before… I call the police.” Your sentences were broken as you kept running out of breath, your chest feeling tight as if you were running out of air. As your mother continues shouting about things you could care less about, you hear her boyfriend whisper “sorry kiddo,” before closing the door behind them.

Taking a deep sigh to regulate your breathing, the entire situation tired you out even more, feeling as if you added more weights on your shoulder. Moving your dull body, you finally make it inside your room, crashing into your bed face first before pulling your head up for air, accidentally having knocked the wind out of yourself. Without anything else, you toss the spare key to the bedside dresser and crawl under the blankets, the chills the ultimate problem at hand.

♡

You jolt awake to the ringing of your cell phone, feeling worse than you did before. You were freezing, nose was stuffy, throat was hurting, barely was able breathe, still had a headache, hungry with no appetite, dizzy, your knee and ankle felt like they were going to snap in half, and your heart felt like it was getting squashed between your lungs. You just felt like shit all around, and taking a two hour nap that felt like 20 minutes and being awoken by your phone was the last thing you needed.

Upset with almost no voice left, you harshly grab the phone and answer. “What,” you answer, your voice was croaked and you almost felt like coughing out your entire organ system. “Oh, did I catch you in a bad time, I thought you were supposed to return today?” The soothing, familiar voice caught you off guard. Mike.

“Mike, oh, I’m sorry.” Barely able to talk, you try to limit your words. Even with four words, you felt the sting in your throat, and unable to swallow due to it hurting, it just kept being a bother. “Yeah, I’m back. I think I caught something so…” Without another word, you hear the click of the call. He hung up. Before you could get upset, you see a request pop up for a videochat. Sliding to accept, you see both Mike and Abby on the screen.

“Princess, how are you!” You try to make yourself sound cheerful as possible, feeling your inside breakdown the more you spoke. “Are you dying,” the little girl asks immediately after your questions in a concerned tone, grabbing the phone from her brother and sticking her face in the screen. If you weren’t in the middle of trying not to go into cardiac arrest, you would have laughed. Instead, you simply tell her, “Not yet, I’ll be okay, it's just a cold.”

Grabbing the phone back, you could hear Mike telling Abby to go get ready while he has a conversation with you. “Sweetheart, I think you came down with more than just a cold. Maybe you should go to the hospital.” You lie down on the bed, weakly holding the phone up so he could at least see your face. “I usually get sick at least once a year. I’ll be fine.”

Not convinced by your words, he shakes his head in disapproval. “Did you go to work like that,” he asks, worry written all over his face. “I did, but wasn’t sick when I got there. Progressively just got sick as the day went on,” You say as your voice cracks, dropping the phone down to cough violently, holding onto your chest.

When you picked the phone back up, his expression dropped and he sat in silence, watching over your facial features. “I’ll be okay, promise.” After a few more minutes of talking, mostly on Mike’s end because your voice was chalked, he had stopped midway into his sentence to tell you that he had to leave and would speak to you later. You gave him a small voice goodbye, hung up, and with the little strength you had left, you snuggled deeper in under your thick covers, missing him much more than ever.

♡

Less than an hour later, you hear your doorbell sound ring through the walls of your apartment. Feeling the familiar pattern of being woken up, you charge the situation and keep yourself wrapped as you struggle towards the door. Unlocking it, you push the door open just to find your lovely, beautiful boyfriend outside your door with bags on bags of things in his hands. Perplexed, you just let him enter and closed the door for him. “Why are you here? Where’s Abby? I’m sure I’m highly contagious-”

Before you could utter another word, he stops you with a silent stare, dumping the bags onto the kitchen counter. He turns his entire body towards you, every step he takes makes you take a step backwards. “Abby is having a sleepover at a friend's house. I’m here because my lover is on their deathbed and I wanted to revive you back to health.” You put your arm out, stopping him from taking another step. “Mike, you’ll get sick. And if you get sick, who will take care of your poor sister?”

“Then I just won’t get sick. Let me take care of you, like you always seem to do for us.” It’s true you took care of both Mike and his sister when they got sick, that’s just because you weren’t prone to getting sick so easily. But seeing his face, there was no way you would be able to tell him no. Not if he drove all the way here and was trying to make an effort. “Fine, but wear a mask when you enter my bedroom.” He smiles widely, like the adorable dork he was, and began digging though the millions of bags he brought. Not bothered to question it, you strive back into bed, feeling the chills throughout your entire body when you had gotten out of bed.

Hearing the sound of his footsteps around the place calmed your heart, just having him near made this entire situation less sucky than it was earlier. Though your body still felt absolutely wrecked. After what felt like forever, you feel one side of the bed dip. With no strength to turn around, you simply hum, reaching your hand out weakly to grab onto him. Feeling the fabric of his shirt, you hold onto it as he tries to touch your hands before hissing out loud.

“You're freezing! Come on, you gotta change.” Without arguing, you simply let him drag your lifeless body out of bed and onto a chair as he reaches into your closet to grab long sleeved things, gloves, and high socks. He removed your clothing and replaced them with what he chose, your goosebumps visible everywhere in your arms, legs and back. After placing your gloves on, Mike picks you up princess style to lay you back on the bed, in a sitting position as you lean on your headboard.

Handing you a tray with food, medicine, and water, he looks up at you with worried eyes. “You haven’t eaten since this morning, so I made soup. Eat at least a couple of tablespoons, please?” He was practically pleading for you to ingest something other than air. Inc compliance, you had eaten about half the plate before the feeling, once again, returned. You take the medication, which leaves a bad taste in your mouth before turning to him. “Mm not hungry anymore.”

Taking away the tray and placing it on the side dresser, he pulls his mask down to give you a proper forehead peck before pulling it back up. “You ate more than I thought you would, you did a great job.” Feeling full and heavy, your eyes slowly start to flutter. Noticing this, Mike climbs into bed, making himself cozy next to you and placing your head into his chest.

Hearing his heartbeat was plenty to get you to fall asleep. “Thanks love,” you manage to mutter, the sleepiness drawing you in. He squeezes your arm in response, pulling you as physically close as possible to cuddle. Under the sheets, holding hands and being as close as could be as you both drift out of consciousness. Yeah, just a day where you were under the weather.

~ Minx

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