#derek danforth x mickey garnett | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

freak-accident419 · 15 days ago

Text

playing cards

Derek Danforth x GN!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | More parts coming soon

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."

28 notes · View notes