This Is The Same Scene To Me

i need to ride his face sorry

"Prom Gone Wrong" p. hockstetter Oneshot

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“I’m not showing too much cleavage, am I?” I ask my friend Cassy, pulling up on the silky  red dress I was wearing to cover my breasts. It was prom day, the same day I was dreading since Ollie asked me to go with him.

Don’t get me wrong, going out in a beautiful dress was my dream since I was a little girl. It was just the fact that I didn’t want to go with Ollie. 

He wasn’t my type, and he was known for not actually dancing with girls at prom and taking them in a janitor’s closet to fuck them instead. He’s never piqued my interest, but since nobody else asked me to go, I accepted.

“Honey, you look gorgeous! Let those girls free, the world needs to see how hot you are.” Cassy said before throwing her head back and taking a shot, her favorite thing to do before a party. I nervously smiled at her and fixed my hair before leaving the bathroom.

“Yeah, I just don’t want that creepy English teacher to dress-code me.” I walked to my vanity and sat down on the stool, pulling out a tube of lipgloss from my purse and applying it to my lips.

Cassy shrugged and sat down on my bed, bending over to put her black heels on. “If he looks at you weirdly, I’ll beat his 62 year old ass.”

“Thanks, Cassy.” I roll my eyes and laugh, reaching forward on the vanity to open my jewelry box. When I did, a polaroid of me and an old friend fell out of it, and I picked it up and stared at it.

Me and him used to live in the same neighborhood before I had to move away, and we were the greatest of friends. Sure, he was a bit of an oddball, but it never deterred me from him. We grew apart, though, and went our separate ways throughout highschool. Now that we were both seniors and could attend the senior-only school dance, I had a small amount of hope that he’d ask me. I wasn’t sure why, but I just did. 

“All right. I think we’re ready.” Cassy stood up and smoothed out her dark green dress in my full length mirror, and shortly after putting the photo away I did as well. “Let’s go dance.”

–

The DJ was playing Again by Noah Cyrus when we arrived, and the lights in the cafeteria room were red. That seemed to be the theme as Cassy and I walked around trying to find our dates. It took a couple of minutes for her to find West, and she bid me goodbye while interlocking her arm with his.

It was well into the night and I couldn’t find Ollie, and I had accepted the fact that he probably stood me up for another girl. I was leaning against one of the tables that held fruit punch, and I downed the last drops of the drink in my cup before deciding to step away from the ear-damaging crowd.

Making my way out of the cafeteria, I sighed when I walked out of the doors and entered the empty hallway. The sound of all the others were muffled, and the only thing that you could hear were the soft tapping of my heels. 

Wandering aimlessly through the quiet highschool, I walked past one of the closets in a darker part of the building. A loud thump against the door and a couple of moans told me all I needed to know, and I scoffed at their lack of decency. 

“That’s it, take this big dick!” I stopped in my tracks when I recognized his voice. 

Ollie.

Now, I know I had tried to convince myself earlier in the night that he did in fact stand me up, but a part of myself also didn’t quite believe it. I had thought of multiple excuses he could’ve had, and even though this one had the biggest chance, it still hurt. 

Was I not good enough? Not pretty enough? I still would’ve turned him down if he asked for sex, but why didn’t he even try?

Spirals of thoughts turned and twisted in my head as I continued walking around the school, except this time I had a place I wanted to go. Me and my old friend used to hang around the place after hours when we were younger, and there was a girls bathroom that was supposed to get renovated decades ago. Of course, the school board never got around to it, so it was a good place to skip and hide away in. It was on the second floor of the school, directly above the cafeteria. 

A remix of 180 by Bastián and Glory Box by Portishead seeped into my ears as I opened the door, and it continued to echo around when it closed. It was a larger bathroom than the others, and I walked up to the mirror that took up half of the wall. There were scarce lights, so it was rather dim around the other areas of the room.

I looked at my face and touched up on any makeup that faded, and then took my hair out of the low bun it was in. I played around with my hair, and scratched at my head, softly moaning at the self-massage I was doing. 

I froze when I heard the door creak and close, and then I locked eyes with the intruder in the mirror.

“Patrick?” I muttered, spinning around to face him. He wore a black suit with a red undershirt and a black tie, and I made a small note that the same color matched my dress. His hair was slightly tousled, and a stranded curl rested on his forehead. 

We both took in the sight of each other before I cleared my throat.

“What are you doing here?” I tilted my head, staring into his green eyes. 

“‘Could ask you the same thing.” He stated simply and started a low stride towards me, his eyes roaming over my body once again. It made me feel bare, to be on such a display for him. I remembered how low chested my dress was and pulled it up nervously, and even in the dim lights I could see his smile.

Patrick had always towered over me in height, and he took advantage of it now while circling me. I folded my hands in front of me and played with fingers as he did, waiting for him to be done with his inspection. 

“Well, don’t you look pretty.” He stopped in front of me and grinned. It was obvious that I was nervous, even a blind person could see it. I hadn’t talked to him since middle school, and seeing him now intimidated me in a way. 

“‘Could say the same thing to you.” Shrugging, I turn around to look at myself in the mirror again.

Patrick huffed out a laugh and stepped behind me, placing his hands on my waist. Being so close to him made my breath hitch, but I couldn’t let him know. I pretended it didn’t affect me and pulled out my lip gloss, reapplying it to my lips. It was red and shimmery, which was one of the reasons I had chosen it out of the many others in my purse. The other reason was that I knew it was his favorite.

When we were in middle school, my mom had bought it for me for my birthday. Patrick and I were hanging out one day, and I had decided to put it on because I thought it was pretty. He of course noticed, and asked me a simple question that led him to be my first kiss.

“Can I try some on?” Patrick whispered in my ear, his thumb rubbing circles on my hip. I froze again, and put the applicator back in the tube. I locked eyes with him again in the mirror, and he kissed at the spot on my neck below my right ear. His soft but chapped lips caused goosebumps to run all over my body, and a warm feeling to form in my stomach. 

“Well?” His rough voice sent shivers down my spine, and I turned around and backed away from him. He stepped forward towards me, and the cycle repeated until my back hit the edge of one of the sinks. I swallowed down the lump in my throat that caused me to be silent, but before I could speak, he did instead.

“Jump.” It barely registered in my brain what he wanted me to do, but it clicked when his hands grabbed my waist and lifted me onto the sink. My legs wrapped around his hips, and my arms went around his neck. 

I didn’t think before I did, but before I knew it my lips were on his. It was sloppy, hungry, but it fit with how we felt. I grabbed at the hair on the base of his neck and he grabbed at the red fabric of my dress.

We didn’t pull away from each other, but probably for different reasons. I had a thing for Patrick since I’ve known him, and I didn’t want to pull away and have him disappear again.

I didn’t know why he was so frantic like me, though. Maybe he felt the same, or maybe it’s all a heat of the moment kind of thing. Whatever it was, I didn’t want it to end. 

Patrick’s hand moved slyly up and down my body, and mine stayed in his hair. I always liked how long it was, it matched his face shape well. And since he hated going to the barber, it worked out for the both of us. 

I whimpered when his fingers pinched my thighs, and finally pulled away to breathe while he smiled at my reaction. We both panted and looked at each other, eyes filled to the brim with lust. Patrick licked his swollen lips, tasting the flavor of the gloss.

“Cherry?” He asked with a toothy grin.

I nodded breathlessly, my mouth dryer than a desert. “Your favorite.” 

He hummed and pulled me in for another kiss, even more eager than the last. My hands left his hair and roamed down to undo his tie, and I cursed into the kiss when I couldn’t get the knot undone. Patrick snickered and reached his hands up to do it himself, my own hands cupping his face. 

When he took the tie off, he pulled my hands away and placed it in them. Confused as to why he was pulling away, I opened my mouth to ask, but stopped immediately.

He kneeled in front of me, mischief flooding his green eyes. Patrick grabbed my legs and spread them, and he kissed at my ankle. He continued his charade of leaving marks all over and up my left leg before switching to the right one.

His hands roamed behind me to pull me closer to the edge of the porcelain sink, and then they moved back down to the insides of my thighs.

They reached up for my underwear, and he didn’t even need to tell me to lift my hips. It was like an automatic response to his touch, one that I couldn’t help. He noticed as well, and swiftly pulled down the damp red fabric and threw it aside. 

“You’ve got quite the theme goin’, huh toots?” He laughed and placed a kiss on each of my knees. I ticked my tongue and lightly tapped his side with my red heel, urging him to hurry up.

“I like to match.” I lean back onto the sink and run my fingers through my hair, biting my lip as he shuffles closer to me. 

His eyes were trained on mine, and he lifted up my dress, disappearing under the silk. I gasped when he blew air on my groin, and threw my head back when I felt his tongue on me.

Patrick ate like a starved man eating his last meal, not even coming up to take a breath. His hands held my thighs apart so that they didn’t clamp around his head, and all that could be heard throughout the bathroom were my moans and the soft sound of music.

Panting and gasping when he sucked on just the right spot, my fingers went under my dress and tightened themselves around his hair. He groaned into my cunt, and that was what threw me over the edge.

“Patrick, I’m gonna-” He didn’t let me finish my sentence and his thumb on my clit, rubbing it in just the right way to make me scream his name.

He let me ride my high, slowing down a bit, but not stopping. I whined and tried to tug his head away, but he didn’t let up. Finally, after a couple of complaints, he pulled back, leaving a few last licks and standing up. 

His face was stained and shiny, and he wiped it away on his sleeve. Embarrassed, I looked away while he did. He took off his blazer, and grabbed my chin. He kissed me once again, and the warm feeling came back shortly. He grasped my hands in his and guided them towards his shirt, and I caught on. I unbuttoned it and he tossed it away from us, ignoring my grumbles of how dirty the floor probably is.

Patrick unbuckled his belt and let it drop, and then unbuttoned his pants. He pulled them down just enough to where he could let his cock out, and once again pulled me closer to him. Wrapping my legs around him and putting my face into his shoulder, he started to align himself with my entrance before I yelped,

“Condom! Use a condom.” I pulled away from his shoulder and looked at him, my concerned expression opposite of his unamused one. He rolled his eyes and started rocking himself against me, sliding in and out of my folds. 

I moaned loudly and grabbed his shoulder, covering my mouth with my other hand. Patrick smirked and went faster, a knowing look on his face.

“Still want a condom?” He asked, and I shook my head with doubt. 

Patrick was smug as he lined himself up again, and his lips caught my whine as he thrusted inside slowly. He kept going until he bottomed out all the way, and he cursed the whole time.

“Fuck. Ease up on me, dollface. You’re real fucking tight.” He groaned, and pulled out almost all the way. I whined and scratched at his back, and he rammed himself back in. The process repeated, and the bathroom was filled with moans and swears once again.

I could feel him twitch inside me, indicating that he was close. I had already come twice around him, and was crying at the overstimulation.

“Patrick, it’s too much.” I cried against his neck. 

“I know, fucking hell, I know. Just a little longer, you can do it. Just give me one more, baby.” He reached his hand down and thumbed at my clit, making me fall off the edge once again. The constriction around him made him moan loudly and pull out of me, leaving a mess all over my thighs. 

We sat there for a couple minutes, breathing in each other's air. I leaned my head back against the sink’s mirror and stared at him as he stepped away to pick up his tie, wiping away the white liquid on me with it. He tucked himself back into his pants, put his belt on, and the rest of his clothes. He threw the tie into the small, empty trashcan to the left of us and kissed me. 

Patrick didn’t pull away until we both couldn’t breathe, and then he stepped away from me, and walked to the door.

“Eleven PM tomorrow, here.” He opened the door and walked out.

Patrick left me alone with my thoughts, and I stayed sitting on the sink for a while longer. Thinking over my night and what he and I were now, I realized that we were still at the school dance, and that I had to find Cassy and drive her home.

"Inseparable" Part Seven

What the actual fuck. Y/N was in the sewers again, except instead of sewer water she stood in it was blood. Mixed with torn and chewed limbs. Human limbs. 

She put her left hand over her mouth and gagged, tears pricking her eyes. The limbs were a complete variety. Rotted, fresh, small, large, bitten and untouched. It reeked sweetly, the dead and decomposed did not smell nice. It was like a slaughterhouse. Scratch that, it was a slaughterhouse.

Bloodied hand prints littered top and bottom of the sewer walls, child and adult, along with arrows pointing one way in between them. The only way was forward. 

Y/N felt something move in her right hand, and she looked down to see a flashlight appear in it. She looked back up when she heard a faint “Penny! What the fuck!” and the sewer was empty and back to normal. All that remained was the arrows pointing forward, and forward she went. 

The water sloshed grossly as she moved on, the squeaking of rats made her flinch whenever she’d accidentally point her flashlight at them. Sighing, she didn’t feel like she was going anywhere. Every arrow was the same, and she only went forward. It was all the same.

She cursed when she pointed the light ahead and came face to bars blocking her way. She grabbed them and shook them, but they didn’t budge at all. She was going to turn back until she felt something grab her foot and pull her down into the trashy water. She screamed and dropped the flashlight as she went, and thrashed her leg to get whatever was grabbing her off.

Y/N couldn’t see anything, so all she could do was kick and hope she would get let go of. After hearing a grunt of whatever grabbed her, her foot was released. She sighed with relief and moved her hand up to move her wet hair out of her face, but then stopped when she remembered that she’d lost the flashlight. 

She let out an angry shriek and thumped her hands down into the water, not knowing where to go from there. She stood up carefully and fixed her hair before she saw it. The red balloon.

It had a bright glowing light in the middle of it, and it moved swiftly past her as she watched it. She let out a confused ‘what?’ when she saw that the bars were gone, and she quickly started to follow the balloon. She didn’t have all that much trust in it, but she didn’t want to go back and get grabbed by whatever the hell was behind her.

She stopped when the balloon did and she watched it grow bigger. All she could do was stare, even though her instincts were telling her to cover her ears. It popped, loudly, and she winced, and then gasped. 

The sewer tunnel had stopped with a ladder leading down, and in front of her was a bright, beautiful circus. She heard giggles and music, and smelled popcorn and sweets. Y/N quickly went down the ladder to explore, and that’s when it all went to shit. When she turned around, the music turned demonic.

The giggles stopped, and it reeked of rot once again; it looked abandoned. She stepped forward and stopped immediately when she heard what resembled a ‘squelch’, and looked down to see a half eaten rat.

She gagged like she did earlier and stepped in front of it, paying more attention to where she was placing her feet. When she reached the circus tent, a huge plank of old wood fell right in front of her, and a single flier was stapled to it. 

“Pennywise the Dancing Clown?” Y/N muttered, taking the flier and folding it to put it in her back pocket, which was weird because her shorts didn’t have pockets.

A soft jingle of bells made her look over to a half closed gate, a blood hand print on the handle. She watched her step as she went to explore it, and yelped out in surprise when she saw someone come out.

“Nicole!” She shrilled, running over to the red head and hugging her tightly. 

“Ow! Ow!” Nicole cried and pulled Y/N off of her, holding her shoulders with a confused look on her face, “What the hell are you doing down here?”

“I-” Y/N paused and looked down, “You know, I don’t actually know.”

“Right.” Nicole said, taking her hands off of her friend. Nicole was very..rugged looking. Her shoulder-length hair was an absolute mess and filled with grime, blood, and knots. Her mascara was running down her face, her lipstick smudged all over.

Her clothes were ripped from what looked like claws, and she had a huge bite mark on her left shoulder. It wasn’t too deep, but it definitely drew blood.

“Oh my God, are you okay? You look like shit.” Y/N told her, concern washed all over her face. Nicole let out a ‘huh’ and looked down at herself and started to nervously laugh a bit.

“Who me? I’m perfect, I’m great. Feeling fresh as a daisy.” She tried to reassure the other girl, a forced smile on her face. Y/N only gave her a deadpanned look before she started shouting at her about how she’s hurt and needs to be looked at by a doctor.

“I’m fine, Y/N!! Jeez, I’m not gonna die or anything. Let’s just focus on figuring out why you’re here.” Nicole raised her arms like she was getting interrogated by the police and looked around the empty circus. Y/N only nodded her head, everything that happened here had been such a shock.

She was very worried about Nicole, though. She looked like she’d been through the shredder. She had a pink flush on her cheeks since Y/N found her, and also a slight limp. Whatever had grabbed Y/N earlier must have gotten to her as well, and it must have ruffed her up quite a lot. 

They were walking around the sorrowed circus when another jingle of bells caught both of their attentions. It came from the wizened, nauseating circus tent in the middle of the huge sewer room.

Nicole and Y/N looked at each other, and Nicole smiled nervously at her before running towards that direction.

“Nicole! Wait up!” Y/N shouted after her, trying to make her way around all the trash that covered the ground floors. She watched Nicole dance through it all like she’d done it before, and it made Y/N think about if she had been down here before.

She struggled a bit and then gave up, sighing heavily as she looked around from where she was stuck. She tried to pull her feet out from the sticky spots they were in, and then she flinched when she heard Nicole’s roaring voice echo throughout the sewers. 

Hii could you do a funny one between negan and Simon where they get drunk and they kiss by accident and both of them are just awkward about it but negan tells one of his jokes and they laugh it off

"Accidents Happen" n. smith Oneshot

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Summary (Fluff and Tension?): Simon and Negan get drunk after a long week of managing their communities, a tiny argument occurs, and ends with an accidental lip locking.

Warnings: Vulgar language, plenty uses of 'fuck', alcohol consumption, use of 'babe', teeny tiny spoiler but not really?

A/N: I'm so sorry I didn't get to this sooner 😭 I've had some stuff go down recently, so I've been busy with family matters and a bit of writers block for a couple of my works. But here we are, and I hope you like it! Flora doesn't exist, by the way, she's just a random name.

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It was four twenty-six in the morning, far too early for Negan and Simon to be awake. They both had a rough week trying to get Alexandria and the Hill-Top to comply with their demands, but of course, Rick likes to be rebellious.

He convinced the Hill-Top to stop giving them booze, for whatever reason that Negan didn’t care about, so the Saviors took all the alcohol from both communities as a ‘compromise.’ 

“Did he really?” Simon hiccuped from his chair in the make-shift conference room, pouring another glass of whiskey. Negan snorted and nodded his head.

“Yeah, kids got some fucking guts. I get why he’s Rick’s pride and joy, he’s pretty damn smart.” The two were talking about the countless times Carl outsmarted and talked back to Negan before there was a knock on the door. “The fuck do you want?”

“Uhm, Dr. Carson said he’s out of Aspirin. He needs someone to go on a run with him.” One of Negan’s wives slipped the door open a crack and gulped while staring into Negan’s cold eyes.

“So how about you send someone?” He raised an eyebrow and looked at his empty glass. When the woman left, he reached his hand over and grabbed Simon’s while he was drinking from it.

Simon stared at him while he chugged it down and tapped the glass on the table. Negan smiled at him and gestured towards the almost empty bottle with it.

“‘Nother hit, babe.” Simon only sighed and did what he told him to, just like always.

“I’m not your ‘babe.’” He screwed the cork back into the empty bottle and set it on the ground next to his chair, making sure not to knock it over.

Negan chuckled and lifted the glass to his chapped lips, locking eyes with Simon over the clear rim, “Right, and my name's not Negan.”

Simon scoffed and leaned back in his chair, remembering something he was supposed to tell Negan a while ago.

“Oh, you know Flora, at Hill-Top? Yeah, she uh,” He couldn’t help himself and let a laugh slip out while Negan set down the glass with a hard look in his eyes, “She thought I was gonna  fucking kill her the other day because she spilled paint on my shoes.”

“The blue paint?” Negan hummed and didn’t let his gaze leave Simon’s.

“Yeah.”

“The Hill-Top doesn’t have painters there.”

Moments of silence were shared between the men. They didn’t look away from each other, and Simon subconsciously covered the paint on his shoe with his other.

“What?”

“They don’t have painters there, Simon. They have farmers, and that’s all that those dickweeds spend their time doing. Those dumpster people, though? They’ve got painters. A lot of fucking painters. So many, in fact, that if you set foot in their community you’re bound to get some on you.”

Negan leaned forward until he was face to face with Simon, his whiskey breath flooding the man’s nostrils. “The same damn community that I told you to stop fucking seeing.”

Simon took in an angry breath, “I didn’t see them.”

“Are you lying to me, Simon?” 

“No.” His voice was just above a whisper, and another knock on the door ensued.

“Negan, we just wanted to confirm that you’re okay with us taking Dr. Carson to the hospital a couple miles away?” A man asked, looking between the two drunk men. Simon’s face was red, whether it be from anger, the alcohol, or something else, and so was Negan’s. 

“Get your tiny little ass outta here, and take the limp dick doctor with you!” Negan shouted and turned his head to look at the guy.

Spooked, the man nodded his head and quickly closed the door.

With the guy gone, Negan and Simon both turned their heads to look at each other, about to say an assumable insult at the other, when they realized they were a bit too close.

Their lips locked, and they both held still. Negan pulled away first, an unreadable expression on his face that Simon couldn’t pinpoint. He, on the other hand, had wide eyes and a light look of fear in them.

They didn’t say anything to each other, just staring at or though each other.

“This doesn’t make us gay, does it?”

“If it does, I’m totally putting you in a dress and making you one of my wives.” Negan raised his eyebrows playfully and grabbed his glass, downing the last bit of whiskey in it.

Simon snickered and shook his head, glad that his boss didn’t resent him. “How about we keep that between us?”

“Agreed. Accidents happen.” Negan groaned, stood up, and stretched. 

“Hittin’ the hay if you wanna come join me.” He winked and picked Lucille up from the table, slinging her over his shoulder.

“Nah, I’m good. Don’t wanna steal you from the girls.” Simon stood up as well, grabbing the empty glass bottle. 

“Offer's always open.” Negan smirked and made his way towards the door, leaving his right-hand man in the conference room alone.

Simon hummed and listened to his footsteps weaken until he couldn’t hear Negan, set the bottle on the table, and put his hands in his pockets while staring at the door.

Was it an accident, though?

"Inseparable" Part One

Y/N L/N and Patrick Hockstetter had been friends since they were in kindergarten. Their friendship began the day he gave her a pencil bag filled with dead flies in Mrs. Smith’s class.

He had always enjoyed teasing Y/N, since the minute they met. Yet for some odd reason, she had always tried to befriend him. Nobody understood why, granted he always pulled on her pigtails, but she never minded it. 

They were Derry’s dynamic duo, terrifying twins, even. They were always in the same location. If Patrick was there, Y/N was dragging him along and arguing with him about something stupid. If Y/N was there, Patrick was right next to her, giggling at others' misfortune around them.

They were inseparable. They had a bond no one could ever achieve with them. Nobody understood it, they always fought, bickered, even fist-fought. But they always remained together, no matter how many sucker punches they threw at each other.

A while after Patrick started screwing with her and giving her dead bugs, and sometimes rodents, she started giving him trinkets too. Except, socially accepted things, like jewelry.

The first ever piece of jewelry she gave him was a ring when they were in the second grade; it was purple and silver. She got it for a dime at one of those cheap candy and toy machines while leaving a grocery store with her mother.

She assumed he liked it because she never saw him take it off, and when he outgrew it he put it on a necklace. He always denied liking it though, giving excuses that she was just so annoying that he didn’t want to hear her complain about him not wearing it.

Y/N knew better, and always smiled when she saw it around his neck.

That was until now. Y/N paced around her room in a state of panic, gnawing at her fingernails and being lost in her thoughts. It’d been a week and three days since anybody had seen Patrick, and she was a nervous wreck.

Usually, this wouldn’t have made her so scared, Patrick could take care of himself, hell he’d gone four days without telling anyone where he went. But more kidnappings and murders of children and teens around town made her worry.

Y/N had asked his mom if he had gotten home on Tuesday night after hanging out with her at the barrens, but Patrick’s mom said she hadn’t seen him since he left with her.

 “Oh my fucking God,” She whispered to herself, stopping her feet from the circle she was walking in, “Jesus Christ, he’s one of the missing kids.” 

The rest of the Bowers gang had stopped looking for him after the second day; they knew he’d come back with only a few scratches. But Y/N had a gut feeling she couldn’t ignore. She fiddled with one of the rings he had given her, biting her lip as she looked at her door.

Y/N cursed, grabbed a flashlight, and put on her shoes. As she was running down her stairs, she almost tripped when she saw what seemed to be Patrick going into her kitchen.

“Patrick?” Her voice was shaky and hopeful, but when she entered the room it was empty. Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair and making her way out of her front door. She jogged on the path she and Patrick would usually walk on when they were bored. 

They’d talk about stupid shit, never sticking to one topic for a conversation. Then they’d make it to the park and laugh at the kids falling, especially when one of the two was upset over something. She always enjoyed seeing his eyes light up when one of them would cry, no matter how odd it seemed.

His eyes would crinkle, sometimes small tears would form, he’d show off his teeth, his lips would tighten. His lips looked soft, yet they’d be chapped and dried over all the time. Y/N would ask Patrick if he wanted some when she’d apply her chapstick, but he’d always tell her no. Sometimes Y/N would catch him staring at her lips a little too long when she’d apply it, and she’d wonder if he actually really wanted some-

A screech from two of the swings on the swingset pulled her away from her thoughts, and she stopped to stare at the playground. Her and Patrick used to sit on the swings all day long after school when they were kids, and they’d compete to see who could get the highest.

Y/N  pointed her flashlight at them and watched the two swings slowly go back and forth, a red balloon tied to the one Patrick would always sit on. 

She tilted her head at it, a confused look on her face. She could’ve sworn she’d seen that balloon before. Y/N then shook her head, realizing she was getting off track. 

“No, he wouldn’t be here. I’d have found him already.” She whispered to herself and looked sideways to the path she was following, then grimaced. “Or a cop would’ve…”

Y/N continued on the path, putting her hands in the pockets of the jacket she was wearing. She almost tripped over a rock and bit her lip in frustration, cursing and kicking it against a tree.

When she did, she smiled when she saw which tree it was. Patrick and her had marked it up with profanity when they were younger, and they used it as a guide to get to the barrens.

She stood by one of the sewage tunnels, peering into it and sighing. She hated the smell and what she’d find in there, but Patrick always grabbed her wrist and dragged her into it anyway.

They’d smoke and get high in there, every now and then stealing a bottle of whiskey from the store and drinking together. Not caring that her shoes were getting soaked in the gunk water, Y/N walked inside. 

“Patrick!” She called out, stepping in further and further. It took about twelve minutes of yelling before she thought she’d heard him.

It very well could’ve been desperation and her brain playing tricks on her, but she cried out again. She murmured a small 'dammit', and started to turn around until she heard him clearly.

“Nessie?” She heard him call, and she whipped her head around and ran further.

There he was, covered in blood, dirt, and only god knows what else. 

“Jesus fucking Christ Patrick!” She sharply cried, running over to him. “The hell are you doing here?! Don’t ever run away like that again-”

Patrick panicked and shushed her, putting his hand over her mouth and looking behind him in a fear she’d never seen before. 

“We need to get the fuck out of here. Right now,” He hissed quietly, taking his hand off of her.

“Where’s the damn exit?” She looked at him weirdly and was going to ask him what was wrong but decided against it, taking his hand and leading him out.

 The clock said 8:46 pm as Y/N sat on Patrick's bed, playing with a loose string on his black blanket. She chewed on her lip, and let go of the string, standing up to walk out of his room and to the linen closet in his hallway.

After grabbing the safety kit she forced him to keep when he first got hurt with her, she sat it on his bed and opened it, laying out all the supplies she would need to fix Patrick up.

She heard the pipes creak when Patrick turned off the water, and a while later walked out with a towel around his waist. She watched him as he grabbed clothes from his dresser, and he looked at her, and then the kit on the bed.

“Fuck. No.”

--

She eventually got him to sit on the bed, even though he whined and groaned about it. He huffed when she gave him a hair tie, and he roughly took it from her hand as he put his hair up in a bun so she could have access to his neck. 

“You know if you wanted me to eat you out, you could’ve asked.” He snickered, smirking at her as she flashed him a look of disgust.

“If I wanted to fuck you, I’d have done it already.” Tightly smiling, she uncapped a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and put it on a cotton ball. Y/N started to dab it on his cuts, sticking her tongue out in focus.

Patrick stared at her, a blank look on his face. He didn’t even notice that she was done until she ripped open a pack of gauges and placed one on a stitched-up cut he got in the sewer. 

“When the hell did’ja do that?” His eyebrows furrowed, his hand pushing away the cotton pad and inspecting the stitched cut.

“When you were fantasizing about your porn stash,” She scoffed and rolled her eyes, continuing to put the gauge back on his cut. She taped it up, and jokingly slapped it. “Doctor Miller is finished with her work. How satisfied are you with my service?” 

“I’d be much happier with a blow job, if it isn’t too unprofessional?” Patrick leaned his head to the side, a hopeful smile on his face. 

“I’d rather kill myself-”  Y/N stood up, placing all of the supplies back into the kit and starting her walk to the closet.

“You should get dressed, and then I wanna talk.” He sighed, grabbed the pile of clothes he had set out earlier, and went back into his bathroom to change.

When Patrick walked out in a pair of skinny jeans and no shirt, he walked over to the pile of his original clothes and pulled out the chain with his ring on it from a pocket of pants. He clasped it on and sat down on the edge of his bed, dramatically flopping on his back to look at Y/N. She was sitting at the bed’s headboard, picking at her nails. 

“So,” She refused to look at his eyes, already knowing that they were filled with either frustration or anger. “What the hell happened to you back there?”

Hii! i’d love to read some TWD carol x reader! what about after loss r starts distancing herself. doing what needs to be done but quietly and away from everyone. carol tries to step in and talk to her but r snaps “you’re not my mother. just leave me alone” maybe daryl goes to talk to r and then r confides in carol. angsty and fluff pls and thank yooou

Hello, I'd be happy to write this out! Just please know that it might take a hot minute bc I have some school to attend to, but other than that it will be on its way <33

Hi. I was wondering if you were still writing for George Foyet? If so could you possibly write about him targeting the reader but when he goes to kill her he has this odd attraction to her and takes her and they fall in love. Could be a little angsty with some reaper torture but ends in fluff

Hey babes, I'll be happy too! I'm thinking about making this one into a bit of a story, and since I write in bulk it might take a hot minute. Just know that this one is on it's way! (I'll always write for Foyet, he's so fine 🤭)

-WIP'S-

-Series-

"27" p. hockstetter

"Stabs and Stitches" g. foyet

"Radio Whispers" c. grimes

-Oneshots-

"Losses" c. peletier

"The Wrong Fruit" j. sully

"Desperate" g. house

"The Mattress" r. chase

"Can You Stay Silent?" n. smith

"Inseparable" Part Five

“‘Maximum hydration and acne preventer’?” Patrick stared at the box in his hand, then at the gooey face mask Y/N was placing on her own face. She snorted and put it on, fixing her wet hair into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. 

“Oh, yes. You’ll have the prettiest face of them all, ‘Trick.” She smiled devillisly, snatching the box from Patrick’s hands and opening it. He grunted and looked at her dresser, and then to the dirty pile of clothes she left in her bin.

The purple lace hidden inside of the shorts she wore a while ago caught his attention, and he questioned who she bought those for.

Hopefully not that dumbfuck Aiden from her physics class. Y/N went out with him once, and Patrick had scared him away after their ‘date’.

Patrick didn’t like to sharing. Especially not what he considered to be his property.

Y/N blew away a stray, wet hair that got into her eye as she looked over the directions for the face mask. She had taken a shower right before Patrick had arrived and didn’t have the time to blow dry her hair.

She hated having wet hair, and the way it felt on the back of her neck. It made her cringe, and Patrick used to pour water on her head all the time in the fifth grade when he found out. But she broke his nose after a while, and he hasn’t done it since. 

“We should totally watch a movie.” Y/N suggested while sitting in Patrick’s lap, putting the front of his hair into a ponytail to get ready for the mask.

His hands were resting on her hips to hold her steady and he watched her tongue poke out of her lips as she got more frustrated with his hair falling out. She clicked her tongue and moved forward more, tightening her legs around him so she didn’t fall.

The whole time, Patrick only stared down her shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra and had on a baggy white shirt, and he took his opportunity.

He thought of giving her a hickey for fun, but remembered when he did that in eighth grade and ended up with a busted lip, so he decided against it. 

“If it ends with a blowie then you can choose.” He grumbled when she started applying the grey mask on his forehead, his grip on her hips tightening. 

“No, and loosen your fucking hands. I’m going on a date with a guy Nicole thought I’d like, and I don’t want him to think I’m a whore.” She smiled and booped his nose with the brush and resituated herself on him, pausing when she felt something she wished she hadn’t underneath her.

“‘Trick.” She stared at him, scared to move.

“Nessie.” They stayed still for a long time, not sure what to do in the situation. 

“How is this gonna end?” Y/N asked, absolutely terrified of what she thought his answer might be.

“I have a few ideas.” Patrick grinned and moved his hips to egg her on, and he licked his lips at her. 

“Yeah. Well you get one, so pick wisely.” She furrowed her eyebrows and held her hand to his chest to stop him, and he pouted like a kicked puppy.

“Oh?” He dragged out the syllable, “So I can get my way?”

“Patrick.” She warned again, her fingers gripping his shirt and her other hand tightening into a fist, very ready to swing on him.

It wasn’t the first time Y/N sat in his lap and he got a hard-on, and especially not the first time Patrick tried to convince her to “fix his problem”.

It never worked, though. And it always ended with him getting hit somehow. 

He snickered, looked down at her breasts, then back to her eyes. “Nightmare on Elm Street.” 

“What?” Confused, she tilted her head. 

“‘What?’” He mocked, “It’s what we’re watching tonight.” 

Patrick leaned back on the bed, and crossed his arms behind his head. She looked surprised at the switch up for a second, then tried to move off of him. His hands swiftly moved back to her waist, and he pushed her onto him harder. He looked amused, the exact opposite reaction to hers. 

“Not even a lick?”

“No.”

“Not even a suckle?”

“No.”

“Not even-”

“Patrick, I swear to fucking God. I will blow your top head off instead of your bottom one with a gun.”

He grimaced and let her go, and she quickly stood up and took the boxes for the masks to her trash can, but not before reading how long they’d stay on. 

“Can you last twenty minutes without jerking off?” Y/N asked him, her goo-covered eyebrow raising playfully at him. He sighed dramatically and lifted his arm up to fake cover his eyes, peeking at her from under them. 

“I guess.” He rolled his eyes and sat up, and she smiled and turned around to grab the remote. Realizing it fell onto the floor, she bent down to pick it up, and her shorts rode up.

Patrick stared at her and groaned loudly, hands reaching up to take out the ponytail that was still in his hair. 

“You’re killing me, babe.” He grinned, and she looked back at him and scoffed.

His smile only grew more and he got up off the bed, and looked her dead in the eyes as he started to undo his belt. She glanced down at his crotch and back up, the same way he did her breasts. 

“What the hell are you doing?” She reluctantly asked, her hand gripping around the TV remote. 

“Changing.” He simply said, dropping his jeans. He only wore black boxers and a shirt now, and he looked away to go into her bottom drawer to pull out his pair of grey sweatpants that he gave Y/N whenever he wanted to change at her house.

Her eyes stayed trained on him, and she pointed the remote at the TV and turned it on. He put the sweatpants on and grabbed his crotch to “readjust” it, winked at her, and flopped down onto the small sofa in front of her TV.  

"Inseparable" Part Eleven

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Short Little Summary: They try to make pancakes, she gets fed up with him, a little something something occurs during shower time, and Patrick is a very possessive guy. (He gets a little freaky at the end)

Warnings: Vulgar language, groping, suggestive, no actual smut.

Words: 1,997

A/N: Chat, I'm so embarrassed right now, how could I forget this part. Anyway, I think cock-blocking Patrick is my favorite thing to do, it's so much fun. And sorry if you're favorite flower is carnations, I just thought of some random one, and sorry if you like cheese. Have fun reading, feedback is always welcome!!

---------------->

“What the fuck am I doing wrong?” Patrick yelled while holding onto the baking mix box, reading over the directions. Y/N sat on the counter, chewing on the leftover chocolate chips they didn’t use.

Patrick somehow ended up burning the pancakes, twice, so she gave up on breakfast. 

“Maybe stop staring at my tits and actually watch them cook.” She said and swung her legs back and forth, shoving a handful of chocolate chips in her mouth.

He glared at her and threw out the burnt pancakes, putting his hands on his hips and staring at the pan on the stove.

“I’m done with that shit.” Patrick murmured and opened the fridge, a slice of cheese appearing in his hand.

Y/N looked at him distastefully, her hatred of cheese showing all over her face. She hated the texture, the way it smelled, the way it tasted. She hated cheese more than she hated anything in the world, and she would forever stand by the fact that it was a food made by the devil himself.

Patrick slapped the cheese onto the counter next to Y/N, to which she flinched from the sudden loud noise.

“I want pancakes.” She whined, setting down the jar of chocolate chips and leaning back on her hands. Patrick took his eyes away from the cheddar on the counter to look at her, and he sneered.

“So make them your fucking self, lazy bitch.” He counteracted her complaint and picked the cheese slice back up, opening it and pulling off a small piece. His mischievous eyes didn’t stray from her tired ones as he chewed on the cheese like a damn cow.

“Fine, you fucking asshole.” Y/N hopped off the counter and wiped off any chocolate chips that may have been on her clothes before getting the stove and pan ready for pancakes, once again.

She had fixed up all the ingredients, after berating Patrick for somehow forgetting to add eggs into the pancake mix, and stood by the stove, watching her food cook.

Patrick was sitting down in one of the chairs that he stole from the dining room and was chewing on a plastic straw when Y/N had placed a plate of pancakes in front of him.

“Bon appétit.” She smiled exhaustingly, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes. She needed something to wake herself up for, but she didn’t know what.

Well, she didn’t know until she bit into one of her pancakes. “I think I’m gonna take a shower and do my makeup when we’re done eating.” 

“I don’t give a flying fuck.” Patrick was scuffing down the sweet breakfast before pausing and looking at her. “Wait, no. I wanna join.”

“Absolutely not.”

–

Y/N ran her fingers through her hair, closing her eyes and lathering the shampoo on her head. Showers were relaxing to her, especially feeling clean. They were her favorite thing in the world.

“Damn, did you know that John Lennon’s dead?”

They were her favorite when Patrick wasn’t with her.

“Yes, Patrick. He’s been dead since, like, forever.” Y/N rolled her eyes and put her head under the water, rinsing her hair out. “What the hell are you reading, anyway?”

“I don’t fucking know, some weird ass magazine.” Patrick threw the paper book away from him on the floor and leaned back on the sink he was sitting on, crossing his arms.”You almost done?”

“No.” Y/N gritted her teeth and started putting conditioner in her hair, using a comb to make sure it was even all around her head. He was so impatient that it drove her insane.

She knew he only sat in the bathroom while she showered because he got to see her breasts when she reached out to grab a towel, and it was one of the things about their friendship that pissed her off.

He always wanted to shower with her, whether he’s the one who needed to shower first or her, he always wanted to be there with her.

Y/N grabbed a washcloth and put her body wash on it while she waited for her conditioner to work in her hair, and she started lathering herself with it.

Patrick smelled the berry scented soap and knew she was getting close to done because that was the second to last step in her routine. 

Vanessa rinsed herself off after, along with her hair, and turned off the water. She stared at the shower curtain that blocked Patrick from viewing her naked body, and thought for a second. 

He’d seen her naked before, even though they were all accidental. Or at least that’s what she told herself they were. She had bought a new body butter from the convenience store and wanted to try it out, and usually she’d ask Patrick for a towel and kick him out, but it always took forever to get him to leave.

She also needed her skin to still be wet when she put the lotion on, so she needed to put it on before drying off.

“‘You good in there?”

“Yup.” Y/N responded and opened the curtain, stepping out of the shower.

To say she felt like a piece of meat being dangled in front of a starving lion was an understatement. She knew he was going to stare at her breasts, like always, but his eyes went straight down her body, and he didn’t look up.

“Are you good?” She watched him lick his lips and smile before he finally looked into her eyes.

“Never better, babe.” He leaned his head against the mirror and sighed, his eyes going straight back to her breasts.

Y/N hummed and rang the leftover water out of her hair, grabbing the tub of body butter. She opened it and he watched her like a hawk watching its prey.

She put some on her fingers and ran it up and down her leg, massaging it before moving onto the other. She then moisturized her arms and looked back at Patrick, their eyes meeting each other's.

“‘Should let me do the rest of you.” He suggested with a serious face. Y/N smiled and tilted her head.

“Be my guest.”

Patrick leapt off the counter and put the same amount of lotion that she did on his own fingers, and she flicked her wet hair off her shoulders. She hated the way her hair felt when it was wet, but she’d put up with it for a bit.

He looked her dead in the eyes and rubbed the lotion all over the palms of his cold hands right before attaching them to her breasts.

She gasped at the cold, a soft ‘fuck’ leaving her lips when his cold fingers pinched at her nipples. “I really hope you know I meant my back and all that shit. Not this.”

“I know.” He grinned, continuing to grope her. His hands roamed the rest of her body as well, resting on her ass. 

She deadpanned and he smirked.

“Seriously?”

“You know me well enough to know that this was going to happen no matter what.” 

Y/N was about to say something when he started to move closer to her, using his grip on her ass as leverage to move her towards him as well, until the doorbell rang. His smile fell from his face and fear quickly flashed over hers, and she pushed him against the counter.

“Ow.” He rubbed at the part of his hips where it connected with the edge of the sink and watched her quickly rush to put clothes on. The doorbell rang again, and again, over and over.

“I’m fucking coming!” She yelled back, pulling her pants on and running to the door, Patrick following behind her.

“You definitely will later.” Patrick snickered and she whipped her head back to him to give him a pointed look. He raised his hands up in mock surrender and Y/N opened the door.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” Patrick interrogated the guy at the door before Y/N could even open her mouth. 

“I’m just, uh. I’m here for Y/N.” The guy gestured to Y/N, and that was when the two friends noticed the bouquet of flowers in his hands.

Patrick looked unimpressed and Y/N didn’t know what to do, especially because she didn’t remember him at all. Luckily, she didn’t have to ask him who he was because Patrick was already on that case.

“And you fucking are?” He leaned his body against the side of the door frame and put an arm around Y/N's shoulder. 

The guy grimaced at Patrick and told him his name, “Duke Adams, and you are?”

“Patrick Hockstetter.” The two men held a stare down for a while before Y/N remembered who the guy was.

“Oh, you’re the guy I danced with during freshman year,” She pursed her lips, “You ditched me for Sandra Kellies.”

Duke cleared his throat and looked down at his shoes in embarrassment, and mostly to avoid Patrick’s burning gaze.

Patrick didn’t have a good feeling about the boy, although he never had a good feeling about anyone who would potentially date Y/N. 

“That uh, isn’t exactly a proud moment of my life.” Duke nervously chuckled and looked at Y/N with the sweetest eyes she’d ever seen. She remembered him as the worst guy of her life when she started dating, but for some reason, his eyes made it seem like he’d changed. They held a softer, kinder gaze than when they first met. “These are for you.”

He handed her the bouquet and stepped back a bit, glancing at Patrick. He never let his hardened gaze fall from Duke, and he reminded Duke of a guard dog.

Or more like one with early stages of rabies because he was sure if he didn’t leave soon, Patrick would start growling at him.

“Anyway, my house phone is in the tag, if you ever wanna talk again. I’ve missed you.” Duke smiled and stepped off Y/N's porch, getting into his car and driving away. 

She watched him go and waved him goodbye, her own smile clear on her face. She looked up at Patrick and noticed a look of hatred in his eyes, one she’d seen whenever she’d introduce a guy to him.

He was a possessive and jealous man, she knew that. Even though they weren’t dating or anything, she sure as hell was going to have her fun with him.

“Maybe I should call him.” She taunted and moved his arm off of her and walked back into the house, Patrick following her trail like a dog.

“The fuck are you talking about? He broke your heart, he sure as hell is gonna do it again.” He tried to reason, running up the stairs with her. She placed the bouquet of flowers on one of the small tables in the hallway, to which he noticed what flowers they were.

“They aren’t even your favorite, he got you fucking carnations.” He scoffed and stopped following her when she reached the bathroom and turned around, blocking his way of entering with her.

“Maybe I secretly like them.” She winked, and he huffed out a laugh.

“Don’t try that shit with me.” He put his arm up to hold onto the top of the door frame.

“Hm, oh well. It’s my call anyway, not yours.” She shrugged and smiled, closing the door on his face.

“What the fuck?” He yelled, wanting to continue what they were doing before they were interrupted. 

“Go jerk off or something, I don’t want you to distract me!” She yelled back and he heard the blow dryer turn on.

He groaned and pushed off the wall, making his way to Y/N's bedroom. He sat down on the soft sheets of the bed and looked around, trying to find something to do. His eyes laid on the familiar purple piece of fabric in her laundry bin, and he grinned.

Maybe he’d take up on her suggestion.