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fanficshiddles · 3 months

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Chain Reaction, One Shot

Eleni finds herself in trouble when she snoops in something she shouldn't. Jonathan Pine has to decide what to do with her, as she now knows too much. But he can't bring himself to kill her, so he decides to have some fun.

WARNINGS: Gun/fear play, rape/non-con, kidnapping, slapping.

Eleni never would have thought that one of her regular visits to her favourite café one afternoon would end up causing her to get into such trouble…

Though as she found herself waking up in the back of a van, hands tied behind her back and a rag in her mouth, she realised how such a small action, such as merely sitting somewhere different, could cause such a big chain reaction of events.

During her lunch break, she went along to her usual café to get her usual. The woman who ran the café knew her and always started making her coffee up as soon as she saw her crossing the street. Today was no different, apart from when Eleni took her seat, she didn’t take her usual place by the window.

There was a rather handsome looking man at the other side of the café today, he had a beautiful, charming smile that caught her off guard. She decided to take a seat at the small table next to his, instead. If only she had just gone to her usual spot…

The handsome man glanced over at her and gave her a wink, making her blush. She averted her eyes and tried to focus on her laptop as she placed it on the table next to her coffee. It wasn’t long before the man was joined by another man. She figured they were businessmen, since they were both wearing suits and looked to be discussing something important in hushed tones.

She thought she briefly heard something about farm machinery and a deal going on. Though she tried not to eavesdrop.

Eventually she got lost in her work, forgetting about the handsome man at the next table. Until he left just before her, that was. She was packing up her things, to head back into the office, when she noticed a folder sitting on one of the chairs where the man had been sitting.

She went over and picked it up, glancing out the window, she thought perhaps she could go after him to hand it back. So she rushed out the door and looked up and down the street, but there was no sign of him.

‘I guess I’ll hand it into the café, surely he’ll come back for it.’ She muttered to herself.

Before going back inside though, curiosity got the better of her. She ended up opening the folder to take a peek. Though what she saw had her eyes widening. It was important documents all right, but not of farm machinery like she’d overheard… It was a price list for some terrifying weapons. War weapons.

‘Shit.’ She gasped, realising she should be handing the folder into the police station instead.

She didn’t even get a chance to close the folder over when she felt a firm hand on her shoulder, then she heard a smooth voice from behind her.

‘I really wish you hadn’t looked in there.’ He sighed.

She turned around, eyes wide as she looked up at the handsome man who owned the folder.

‘I… I didn’t see anything.’ She blurted out quickly in a panic.

He folded his arms over his chest. ‘Oh really? Try telling that to your face.’ He growled low.

That’s how she found herself being kidnapped. She couldn’t remember much what happened after that, as he had knocked her out and bundled her into a van.

As she tried to get her senses to come to her, and tried to remain as calm as possible, she overheard him on the phone from the front.

‘Hey, it’s Jonathan. I might be a bit delayed, I’ve got some business to sort out before taking the jet back… No, don’t worry, nothing I can’t handle myself.’

Eleni panicked more and tried to squirm free, but her hands were well and truly stuck behind her back. Her heart was racing in fear, but there was nothing she could do but wait.

During the drive, she passed out again from the adrenaline fear. When she came to once again, she was slung over Jonathan’s shoulder and being carried inside somewhere. She blinked hard a few times and could vaguely make out that she was being taken into a hotel, but through the back entrance.

Eleni began struggling, but Jonathan tightened his grip on her and carried her through the hallway and into a room. It was a lavish hotel room, how he had access through the back though really concerned her. There was no chance anyone would know she was here.

Jonathan tossed her onto the bed with a sigh. She tried to scramble away, but she knew there was no point trying to get to the door because Jonathan had locked it and was stood between the bed and said door.

He slowly started pacing back and fore with large strides, while eyeing her up carefully. She was frozen in fear, just staring back at him with wide doe eyes. This was going to be the end for her, she just knew it. She couldn’t even plead with him, beg him to let her go and she would say nothing to anyone, all she could get out from the rag in her mouth was mumbles.

‘It’s such a shame. You know far too much now for me to simply let you go…’ He walked over towards her shaking body, he reached out and gripped her chin firmly. ‘But it would be a shame to harm such a pretty face.’

Her eyes widened at his words, she didn’t know whether to be glad of that or not. She certainly didn’t want to die, but now she wondered what he was going to do to her after all. Though she thought that perhaps if she played her cards right, there might be a way for her to get out of this alive.

Jonathan brushed his thumb up over her cheek, wiping away a tear. ‘Hmmm.’ He hummed low.

‘I have been in need of some release lately, I’ve been working so hard, not had any time for fun.’ He said as his hand moved down and he cupped her breast through her blouse, she let out a whine and tried to move away from him, but he swiftly slapped her across the cheek.

‘Enough. You are in no position right now to try and call the shots. You will be still and behave, like a good girl.’ He barked at her.

She cowered down on the bed and nodded at him, too scared to do anything else in response.

Jonathan slipped off his suit jacket and draped it over the back of the chair in the corner, then he unbuckled his belt and folded it over, sliding his long fingers along the leather before placing it down on the desk. Within easy reach.

He began rolling the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms, eyeing her up closely.

‘What’s your name?’ He asked.

She frowned as she couldn’t speak. She wasn’t sure if she would have been able to, even if she could.

Jonathan smirked. ‘Oh, yes. Forgive me, your mouth is a bit tied up right now.’ He chuckled to himself.

He knelt on the bed and reached out towards her, she flinched and closed her eyes, but to her relief he just removed the rag from her mouth. She gulped down air, glad to be able to breathe through her mouth properly again, as her nose was getting a little blocked up from her crying.

‘Tell me. What is your name?’ He asked again and gripped her face harshly, his thumb and fingers dug into her cheeks.

‘E… Eleni.’ She whispered.

‘Eleni? Pretty name for a pretty face.’ He purred.

His hold on her face softened, he slid his hand down to her neck and brushed her hair back out of the way. His hand travelled down further, he took hold of the top of her blouse and in one swift, strong motion, he pulled hard and tore her blouse down the middle. The buttons flew off in different directions, making her cry out, though she didn’t dare try and get away again.

Jonathan was glad to see her bra was a front fastening one, so that made life easier for him as he didn’t need to remove her restraints on her hands to get it partially off. Off enough, anyway, to reveal her breasts to him.

More tears rolled down her cheeks, but this just seemed to excite Jonathan even more. She could see a big bulge in his trousers already.

He made short work removing her shoes, then tugged her trousers down and off, tossing them to the floor. Her knickers were next to go, just as quickly. Now he had her naked on the bed beneath him.

‘Mmm, yes. I think I know just what to do with you.’ He growled.

Before he could do anything else, his phone rang. He let out an annoyed grunt and walked over to grab it from his jacket pocket.

Eleni took that opportunity, she threw herself off the bed and, whilst she stumbled against the wall, she managed to make a dart for the door. She threw herself against it and started screaming for help while kicking it.

Jonathan was on her quick. He pinned her flush to the door and held a gun to her head, making her blood run cold.

‘I thought I told you to behave?’ He snarled at her, his breath right against her neck.

‘Please… let me go.’ She sobbed.

‘I was thinking about letting you go if you pleased me, but if you think you’re getting away after this stunt, think again.’ He grabbed her hair tightly and dragged her over to the bed and threw her back on it.

She landed on her side, and she tried to curl herself up away from him. He reached down and wrapped his large hand around her throat.

‘Up on your knees.’ He demanded roughly as he lifted her up, she struggled to get up quick enough without use of her hands, with only his hand on her throat for support. Though she did it, as he still had the gun in his other hand in warning.

He moved her so she was kneeling on the side of the bed, he stood on front of her and pressed the gun to her temple, making her whimper.

Jonathan said nothing, just stared at her intently and then narrowed his eyes at her. He trailed the end of the gun down the side of her face, then along to her lips as an idea struck.

‘Open.’ He snarled at her.

Eleni tried to keep as calm as she could and just did as she was told. Her mouth was quivering as she parted her lips, letting the gun slide into her mouth and rest on her tongue.

‘There we go, see, it’s not so bad doing as you’re told, is it? Much easier.’ Jonathan stroked her hair with his free hand.

‘Now, unless you want me to pull the trigger, let me see what you can do with that mouth. See what my cock is going to get.’ He growled.

Eleni felt not only terrified but she was downright humiliated now as she began to suck off a gun. Knowing that he could just pull the trigger at any moment, she was surprised she didn’t pass out from the fear again.

She did her best to put on a show, to treat it like a lollipop, literally to save her life. Jonathan pressed it further back against her tongue a few times, smirking when he saw her struggle a little with it.

‘Alright, that was the appetiser. Now it’s time for the main course.’ He removed the gun, much to her relief, and he tucked it in the back of his trousers.

Her mouth wasn’t free for long, the gun was soon replaced with his cock. His cock was warm and soft compared to the steel, she found it easier to give him a blow job. Knowing it wouldn’t go off, well, not in the same way that a gun would go off, and it wouldn’t blow her brains out.

Jonathan slid a hand into her hair and controlled her movements, forcing her to take him down as far as possible. He moved his hips and began face-fucking her roughly, not caring when she started choking and gagging on his cock, panicking a bit, it only excited him further.

‘Ohhh fuck, yes!’ He groaned and spilled his load right down her throat, she quickly swallowed as much as she could so she wouldn’t choke more.

She was so relieved when he pulled his cock out of her mouth. She really hoped that was it, that it would be over now.

He smeared the tip of his cock over her face, spreading his cum on her, then he slapped it against her cheek a few times for good measure. He couldn’t stop grinning at the look of disgust and horror on her face.

‘Now, lie down. You did good sucking my thick cock, maybe even redeemed yourself a bit. Keep it up, and I might be able to forget the little incident earlier.’ Jonathan cooed.

Eleni lay down on her back, but when Jonathan moved over the top of her and attempted to move her legs apart, she kept them closed tight. He gave her a harsh, unapproving look, then whipped the gun back out and trailed it up her leg.

‘Spread. Your. Legs. Now.’

She quickly parted them for him, fear taking hold again now the gun was back out.

‘You just don’t seem to be learning your lesson, do you? Do I need to teach you all over again?’ Jonathan snarled angrily as he trailed the gun up her inner thigh, close to her centre.

Eleni whimpered when she felt the cold barrel of the gun press against her slit. He dragged it up and down her, then let out a gasp.

‘Well, look at this. What do we have here?’ He held the gun up, with a big smirk on his face.

For a moment, Eleni actually wished for death. Because the humiliation was becoming too much. The gun was just glistening with her juices.

Jonathan took the gun closer to his face and licked it, moaning at her taste.

‘Seems I’ve found myself a little whore, getting off on fear. What a delight you are. I’m ever so glad I decided not to kill you… Yet, anyway.’ Jonathan teased and put the gun back down to her cunt, he teased her for a while with it, rubbing it over her clit and between her folds, seeing how her body betrayed her.

Then he pressed it into her, making her yelp. She began pleading and begging him not to, that it hurt.

‘You’re lying to me. Your body is telling me it wants this.’ Jonathan groaned as he watched the barrel of the gun slowly disappear into her a few inches. ‘Fuck.’ He growled.

Eleni turned her head to the side and closed her eyes as she squirmed, her hands were getting sore being squashed under her and the coldness of the gun inside of her was making her body go nuts. She didn’t know what to do or how to feel, except for feeling humiliation.

Jonathan pulled the gun back, then fucked her with it slowly for a few minutes. Until his own urges got too strong. He removed the gun and put it back in his trousers as he positioned himself between her legs.

When she felt the warmth of his cock press into her without resistance, she let a moan slip past her lips. Her eyes opened wide when she realised what she’d just done, to see Jonathan’s grinning face above her as he started fucking her roughly, grunting with every sharp thrust.

‘Ohhh so tight and warm… so wet.’ He growled and clenched his jaw hard as he drove himself deeper into her.

‘Please… stop… too big.’ She whined, trying one last time. While she felt pleasure, there was slight pain too as he was a large man. She was far from used to this sort of intrusion.

‘You will take me.’ Jonathan snarled and started nipping her neck as he continued to fuck her, his hips moved faster and faster as he grew more desperate and lost control.

‘You will take me now, and you will take me tomorrow… and every day after that.’ He grunted between thrusts, he gripped her chin to force her to look at him. ‘Because I’m going to take you back with me, Eleni. I can’t kill you, but I can’t let you go either...

So you’re mine now.’

#tom hiddleston #Jonathan Pine #Jonathan Pine x ofc #one shot #chain reaction #dark Jonathan Pine

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cleo-fox · 1 year

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Close Quarters

Part 2 of 2

(Part 1)

Summary: The thrilling conclusion to Part 1.

Pairing: Loki x Fem Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (Minors DNI), dirty talk, praise kink, fingering, elevator sex, a hint of dom/sub, Dom Loki, Reader gets a little bratty, little bit of a sir kink, cunnilingus, blow jobs, filth.

A/N: I know I usually choose a Loki GIF but Thomas Sharpe seemed…more appropriate. I’ve got a couple more one shots with these idiots, so if you want to see more, lemme know.

Mercifully, the hallway is empty.

You imagine that your exit from the elevator looks as scandalous as what happened inside it. You are draped in Loki’s arms, still out of breath and a little glassy eyed from the two earth shattering orgasms that he’d given you only minutes prior. In contrast, Loki looks relatively put together and intently focused, like there’s nothing more important on this earth than getting you both back to your suite as quickly as possible. That thought gives you a bit of a thrill—the idea of you wanting him is not necessarily new or unusual, but the idea that he might want you just as much is utterly thrilling.

It occurs to you that you’re in rather close proximity to his neck and it seems like a shame to let that opportunity go to waste. You press your lips against the pulse point in his throat and lazily make your way along his jaw. His breath hitches when you catch his earlobe between your teeth.

“Are you trying to ensure that I take you in the hallway, Mrs. Pine?” he says, his voice dropping deep.

“I won’t be able to scream for you in the hallway,” you breathe into his ear, “and I kinda think you want that.”

“Minx,” he growls, picking up his pace just slightly as you resume kissing his neck.

“I take it that means I’m right,” you say. “Or that I’m in for it when we get back to the room.”

He chuckles. “Oh, it’s both, darling.”

You shiver and nip at his earlobe once more.

Loki drops the glamor as soon as the door to your room shuts behind you and while you like the cropped blond hair of Jonathan Pine, there is something about his natural long, dark locks that drives you wild.

“Let’s me make two things clear, Agent,” he says as he carries you into the bedroom. “First: there are no covers in here; I want you screaming my name when you come. Second—” he sets you down at the foot of the bed. “—I want to taste your pretty cunt.”

Heat and tension coil in your hips. “I can agree to both of those things.”

“Good. Undress.”

He watches as you slowly strip off your swimsuit, his eyes greedy and hungry. Once you’re completely naked, he gives himself a moment to look you over in full, unconsciously licking his lips when his gaze falls on your breasts and hips, his eyes devouring every inch of you. Finally, he nods at the foot of the bed. “Sit.”

You sit down on the bed and he begins unbuttoning his shirt. He takes his time and you watch, enraptured by the slow reveal of his well-muscled chest and taut, flat stomach. The shirt is discarded on the floor with your swimsuit. He undoes his belt, then the button and zip on his shorts.

He’s wearing black boxer briefs, which surprises you—you had assumed that his preference was likely to go commando. But honestly, the boxer briefs are so fitted that the effect is essentially the same: they cling to every dip and swell and leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. The material is taut across his thighs and his cock strains hard at the fabric. If pressed, you could probably create a reasonably accurate sketch based on this view alone.

You don’t have terribly long to contemplate this, though—he kneels in front of you, pulling you in for a slow kiss, his large hands cupping your breasts. His kiss is thorough and sensual, but the addition of his hands kneading your breasts and gently teasing and pinching the sensitive skin of your nipples may actually send you into the stratosphere.

And then he lowers his mouth to your breast and you lose the ability to form coherent thoughts. He strokes his tongue lazily on your nipple in slow circles, lightly teasing the hardened bud with his teeth and bringing another flood of slick arousal to your cunt. Your hips rock fruitlessly against nothing, seeking friction to ease the throbbing pulse of your clit.

You sigh, letting your eyes close and your head tip back, your fingers tangling in his hair. After a moment, you reach for his free hand and guide it between your legs. His fingers dip between your legs, collecting your slickness and gently rolling against your clit.

You moan and he draws back, eyes dark. “Lie back,” he says softly.

You recline on the bed and his focus shifts to you spread out before him. “Lovely,” he says. He is being sincere—and there’s a power in that that thrills you, that sends even more heat and slick to your aching cunt.

When he’s looked his fill, he brings both of your legs over his broad shoulders. He lowers his head to your cunt slowly, first dipping down to inhale your scent and then with one wicked grin, slipping the warm blade of his tongue between your folds.

Your exhale is shaky and turns into a soft whine in the back of your throat as he licks a long, broad stripe from your entrance up to your clit.

“Fuck, Loki.” His name falls from your lips unbidden. You prop yourself up on your elbows and drink in the sight of him between your legs, head bowed like he is worshiping at the most sacred and solemn altar.

In the elevator, he was determined to make you come as quickly as possible; now, though, in the privacy of your room, he seems intent on taking his time and building you up achingly slowly. His tongue laves over your clit at a leisurely pace, teasing and tasting and sucking until he finds the rhythm and movement that makes you try to press your quaking thighs together because it feels so incredible. He gently presses your legs back open, keeping you spread and fully at the mercy of the rolling waves of pleasure that his mouth is creating. One of his long and elegant fingers slides inside of you and curls, pressing against that sweet, soft spot that makes your hips buck and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

When a second finger joins the first a few minutes later, you know that it won’t be much longer. Loki looks up at you, lust-glazed eyes glittering like he knows that too.

You approach the edge slowly, your breath coming in rolling gasps, your hands gripping his hair. He watches you, his gaze both hungry and mischievous. You bite your lip, breath stuttering as you furrow your brow against that final ascent.

And then the tension finally snaps and your head tips back as you tumble off the edge and into your climax, your free fall as decadent and shiver-inducing as the beautifully slow buildup.

You don’t manage to gasp his name because the concept of words has fled you entirely and the only sound that escapes your lips is a sharp cry. From the glint in his eye and the low groan of approval offered against your clit, Loki doesn’t seem to mind at all.

The aftershocks roll through you in rippling waves that make your toes curl and it takes you a moment to catch your breath.

“I confess, I’m quite tempted to stay here all night,” says Loki, placing a gentle kiss on your clit. “You have the sweetest cunt.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” you say, your words slurred with pleasure.

“Hardly.” He licks you very slowly from your entrance to your clit and you sigh, running your fingers through his hair. He repeats the same circuit twice more.

“In fact,” he murmurs, placing another kiss on your clit, “I think I may need another taste.” Another lingering kiss, his tongue teasing your entrance. You suck in a shuddering breath.

“One more.” Another long stroke of his tongue and you shiver again.

“Darling, I’m so sorry—” a quick kiss to your clit, “—but I think I’m going to have to make you come again. I'm simply famished.”

Your back arches and you moan as his mouth once again envelopes your clit and his fingers slide back inside you, curling into that soft, sweet spot. You’re a little sensitive, but he’s moving with such achingly perfect precision that you can already feel another orgasm starting to build in your hips.

The ascent is much quicker this time, and you soon find yourself whimpering and panting, your hands tangling again in his hair. He groans against you and you swear you feel the vibrations shimmer all along your aching core.

“Please,” you moan. “Please. I’m so close. Please.”

He lets you ride the edge for a little bit longer, despite your pleas and your iron grip on his hair. But after a minute or so, he seems to take pity on you and he increases his pace just slightly. Your orgasm blossoms in your hips, your cunt clamping down on his fingers as you moan his name to the ceiling.

“That’s my good girl,” he purrs a moment later, as his fingers coax you through the aftershocks. He looks you over, licking his lips. “You’re gorgeous like this, you know,” he says, eyes dragging greedily over your body. “Naked and utterly fucked out. Perfection.”

You shiver and slowly convince your loose muscles to allow you to sit up. “I don’t think you can say I’m fucked out if you haven’t actually fucked me.”

His eyebrow arches, “Is that so?”

You scoot to the edge of the bed so that you can run your hands over his firm chest. You press a kiss just above his belly button, tongue flicking out briefly against his skin. “Seems reasonable to me.”

“Do you want me to fuck you, Agent?” he says, his voice dropping low.

“I mean, that’s what I was hinting at, yes,” you say.

His eyes are hooded as he gives you a sly, calculating smile. “But do you deserve to be fucked, Agent?”

Feeling a little bold, you place your palm flat against the substantial bulge in his boxer briefs, running your hand along the hard, thick length of him. Fuck, he’s big. “Yes,” you say.

“I’m not so sure about that,” he says, his expression and voice deliciously stern despite your hand on his cock. “You’ve been quite pert. Disobedient. Mouthy.”

You think you have an idea where this is going. “So am I getting punished or begging for you to forgive me?” you ask with a coy smile.

The hunger and delight in his gaze makes you ache. “Let’s see what your smart mouth can do to my cock and maybe then I’ll consider fucking you.”

You lick your lips and trace your fingertips along the sharp lines of his Adonis belt, pausing at the waistband of his boxer briefs. You hook your fingertips under the elastic and pull them down.

His cock springs free as the fabric falls to the floor. Between sitting on his lap and the unsubtle nature of the boxer briefs, you knew he was long and thick, but you’re still not fully prepared to experience the full effect of seeing his cock be hard and ready for you.

“Fuck,” you breathe. You take a moment to admire him, despite the fact that you know it’s likely only inflating his ego.

“Do you want me, Agent?” he drawls with a lazy smile. “Do you want my cock?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” you say. “In fact, I’m certain you do.”

“Perhaps I like hearing you say it,” he says, bringing one hand up to stroke your cheek. “Would that be such a terrible thing?”

Impulsively, you get to your feet and pull him into a kiss. You can still taste yourself on him—salty and a little sweet.

“You like hearing me talk about how I want you?” you say, pressing your hips against his.

“Very much.” His voice is a low purr and you shiver in his arms.

“I’m aching for you to fill me,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss him. “I’m dripping just thinking about it.” You nip at his lower lip and he groans against your mouth. “But first, I want to get on my knees and worship your perfect cock with my mouth.”

There's a low, pleased rumble deep in his chest and you shiver as you draw away. “Sit down.”

He sits down on the foot of the bed and you position yourself in front of him, standing between his spread thighs and lowering yourself to your knees. You run your hands up his thighs, lightly dragging your fingernails along his skin, enjoying the slight hitch in his breath. You kiss the inside of his left knee and slowly make your way up the inside of his left thigh, dragging your tongue along his skin every so often. You continue this all the way up to the crease where his thigh meets his hip, close enough that he can feel the heat of your breath on his beautiful cock.

And then you lean back and begin the same process again on his right leg.

“What,” he says, his voice going deep and dark, “did I say about playing games, Agent?”

You tilt your head to look up at him. He’s staring down at you with a stern look that makes your cunt clench.

“You know, I came so hard earlier, I can’t quite recall,” you say, making your eyes as wide and innocent as you can.

“And if you want to come again tonight, you’ll find a way to remember,” he says. He’s stern and authoritative, and it’s ridiculously hot. “Now put that smart mouth to work on my cock,” he growls.

“Yes, sir.” The phrase just sort of slips out, but the way it makes your cunt ache and his eyes glitter is absolutely delicious.

“Oh, I like those manners, pet,” he purrs. “I want to hear more of that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, pausing to lick your lips, “sir.”

“Good girl.”

His cock is flushed and so hard it presses up against his stomach. You wrap one hand around his shaft and you suck in a breath when your fingers don’t quite meet. He’s huge and the thought of having him inside of you makes you shiver and ache in anticipation.

You stroke him once and lower your mouth to the tip of his cock, placing gentle, closed mouth kisses on it.

He tolerates this for about thirty seconds.

“Agent.” His voice is laced with warning. “I won’t warn you again.”

Your lips curl into a slight smile and you flick your tongue against the tip of his cock, savoring the sharp tang of his pre-come. His eyes glitter down at you, still watching, waiting for you to disobey him.

“Am I not allowed to savor this experience?” you ask, intentionally licking your lips.

“I would urge you to consider that only good girls get to come on my cock, darling,” he says, his voice going dark and deliciously stern. “Choose your next moves wisely.”

The reality is that you desperately want to come on his cock and you wouldn’t put it past him to deny you. So, you offer him a sly smirk before you slowly begin to lick the tip of his cock, gradually opening your lips and bringing him into your mouth.

He groans softly. “You just need a firm hand, don’t you?” he says as you begin to move your head, stroking his shaft in a slow rhythm. His fingers card through your hair as he leans back on one hand, allowing himself to relax a little. “Or perhaps it’s that you want my cock more than you want to be a brat.”

You look up at him and raise an eyebrow. He’s not wrong.

He laughs low in his throat. “Oh, I think I’m going to have you taking my orders by the time the week is up.” He reaches out to stroke your cheek with his thumb. “You have such a needy little cunt and I rather think that will prove to be an advantage for me.”

Your instinct is to let out a low whine, but you also don’t want to give him the satisfaction. You can’t fully stop yourself from reacting, though, and a soft whimper makes its way out of your lips.

He catches this and smirks. “You like being mouthy and talking back, but I think you also crave a little discipline. Being told what to do gets you off, doesn’t it?”

This time, you do whine and he smiles down at you, eyes hooded. “That works out rather nicely,” he says, his voice dropping deep, “because I quite enjoy giving orders.”

You shiver and he notices, running his fingers through your hair.

“Filthy girl,” he purrs. “We’re going to have so much fun together.” He watches you for a minute, eyes hooded, lips slightly parted. “You’re gorgeous like this, too, you know,” he says. “On your knees with my cock in your mouth like a good girl. I could watch this for hours.” You glance up at him and catch his lazy smile. “Though,” he continues, “I suspect you’ll also look gorgeous riding my cock. Or perhaps spread out and tied to the bed.”

This image is too much for you: a high pitched whine makes its way out of your throat before you can think better of it.

“Oh, you like that idea?” he says, not sounding very surprised at all. “You like the thought of being bound and completely at my mercy?”

Another embarrassing whine escapes you before you can stop it.

“We’ll have to explore that some time this week,” he says. “Though I am starting to develop a rather lengthy list of things I want to do to you.”

Fuck. You are caught between wanting him to keep talking and wanting him to shut up so you stop making such embarrassing noises.

Admittedly, the idea of making him feel so good that you render him speechless is also incredibly appealing.

You suck just a little harder, cheeks hollowing as you start running your tongue along the underside of his shaft, swirling it on the tip as you come up.

His eyebrows draw together, his lips parting slightly. “Fuck. That’s it.”

You pick up your pace just a little and he groans, his hand going to grip your hair.

“Yes—just like that.” His grip tightens on your hair. “If your cunt is even half as good as your mouth—fuck, yes, right there—I’m going to have a hard time leaving this room this week.”

You hum against his cock and he groans, his hips starting to rock toward your mouth. “Do you like this?” he asks, his voice husky. “Do you like being on your knees for me?”

You moan against his cock, sucking harder.

“You do, don’t you?” he says, his voice a little unsteady. “Barely an hour and you’re already such a slut for my cock.”

You moan again, bobbing your head up and down his length.

“Such a good girl,” he purrs. “A bit of a brat to start, but I think I’m going to have to reward you for this. Your mouth is too fucking good.”

Another moan slips past your lips. He groans and is quiet for a minute or two, his hips rocking toward you.

His breath is coming in shaky gasps now. “I’m close, love,” he says, his fingers flexing in your hair. “I’m going to spill myself in your pretty mouth and then I’m going to fuck you into the mattress.”

You can’t help but moan, which seems to spur him on. His lips part and you can almost feel how close he is.

He makes the most beautiful noise as he comes, a low groan that seems to reverberate in your cunt as he empties himself into your mouth. You swallow his release greedily as you continue stroking him, your head moving up and down his length.

You pull off of him slowly, licking your lips and you look up at him, your mouth curling into a smirk. “So, was that a proper enough apology for you?” you ask.

He growls low in his chest, eyes opening to look down at you. “You are still far too pert for your own good,” he says. “I suspect I’m going to have to put you over my knee at some point this week. You need discipline.”

You suck in a deep breath as your cunt clenches at the possibility.

“But right now, I need to fuck you.” He gestures to the bed. “Get up here. Now.”

You don’t need any encouragement to follow this command, but the way that he delivers the order and the way his green eyes get all steely is enough for more slickness to collect between your legs. You clamber to your feet, but before you can even try getting on the bed, he’s pulling you to him and flipping you onto your back. He rolls on top of you, caging you in with his body, his impossibly hard cock throbbing against your stomach.

He kisses you, tongue pressing into your mouth, hungry and claiming. “Do you want me inside you?” he purrs against your lips. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“I need you to fuck me,” you say, spreading your legs and tilting your pelvis up toward him. “I want you to claim me.”

His smile is sharp and he drags the tip of his cock along your cunt, coating himself in your slickness. “Still so fucking wet,” he growls.

“I told you I need you,” you murmur.

He lines himself up at your entrance and ever so slowly begins easing into you. He presses forward, inch by glorious inch, until his hips are flush against yours.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe. “You feel so good.”

He smiles and withdraws just an inch or two before pressing back in. You arch underneath him and let out a soft moan.

“How about that? Is that good?” he asks.

You moan and nod.

He repeats the action. “And this?”

You offer up another moan and he grins. He repeats the action again, clearly teasing you. “What about this one?”

“Loki, please—”

“What is it darling?”

You’re not quite sure if you want to kiss or slap that smirk right off his face.

“Please don’t stop, please—”

“Oh, you want me to keep doing this?” he says, his brow furrowing in mock confusion. “You should have said something.”

“Loki, please—”

He chuckles quietly and begins rocking his hips against yours in slow, shallow thrusts. You sigh and wrap your legs around his waist, meeting his mouth as he kisses you. You can tell he’s holding back, though.

“I’m not going to break,” you finally say, tilting your hips to rock with his. “I want more. I want you to fuck me.”

He kisses you hard and his thrusts lengthen and deepen, his pace increasing just a hair, and you cry out because he’s now hitting that soft, sweet spot and he feels even better.

“You’re taking me so well, darling,” he says. “This snug little cunt was made for my cock, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” you breathe, arching your back. “Fuck, that’s so good.”

He wraps those long fingers around your ankles and brings your legs up so that they are draped over his shoulders, your body folded in half. He thrusts again and his cock presses even deeper, rubbing against that tender spot inside you. His thumb finds your clit and you whimper. Pressure is starting to build in your hips again.

“You’re getting close already, aren’t you?” he rasps, grinning at you like a devil. “I can feel you starting to tremble.”

You keen, your cunt clenching around his steadily thrusting cock.

“Are you going to be a good girl and come on my cock?” he growls.

You nod, words somewhere beyond you.

“I want you to soak my cock,” he purrs. “Let it all out. Scream for me.”

You feel yourself poised on the edge. So close.

“Come for me, darling, that’s it, let go, come for me, let me feel that sweet cunt milk me dry…”

You arch your back as your orgasm blossoms and unfurls. The sound that falls from your lips is a high pitched keening that would be Loki’s name, except there’s no space for anything besides this incredible feeling, his cock inside you, and the weight of him on top of you.

“Oh there you go, that’s it,” he murmurs. “You have the tightest, most exquisite cunt. I could fuck you for days.”

You moan, shuddering in the final throes, your cunt spasming around his thick cock. He withdraws for a moment and you moan at the loss, but he quickly flips you onto your stomach and slides right back inside you.

From this angle, his cock thrusts even deeper, pressing more directly against your G-spot. A few strokes in and it becomes glaringly apparent to you that you’re going to come again.

“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?” he pants, thrusting hard into you. “I can feel you starting to tremble already.”

You moan into the comforter, arching your back so he hits that spot again.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he scolds, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you up so your back is flush against his chest. “I want to hear every filthy little sound that you make. Every. Last. One.” He thrusts in time with those last three words and you moan.

“You love this, don’t you?” he growls, his hips thrusting hard. “You love me taking you from behind like a fucking animal.”

Your legs are shaking and you can feel your orgasm building. “Loki, I’m gonna come again,” you whimper.

“I know you are, sweet girl,” he growls. “I can feel your tight cunt trembling.” His free hand slides between your legs, fingers rolling over your clit in the same rhythm as his thrusting cock.

Your breath stutters and a low whine escapes your lips. You are deliciously close.

“Please.” Your voice is barely a gasp. You’re riding the very edge of that wave and it feels so good that you’re almost certain the oncoming climax couldn’t possibly feel better. Almost.

“Oh, you’re almost there, love, you can do it,” says Loki, his hand still moving with his hips. “You just need to let go.”

You whimper. You are almost there.

“Be my good girl and let go for me,” he rasps. “Come for me.”

It breaks quite suddenly, your whole body shuddering and your cunt clamping down hard on his cock as you come. The noise you make is animalistic, torn from somewhere deep in your chest.

“Fuck!” Loki is fucking you hard, hips pistoning against your ass. “So fucking tight, you’re like a vise when you come, fuck—” His speech gives way into either Asgardian or Old Norse—you’re not quite sure which, but the idea that you’ve made him feel good enough to abandon English is incredibly appealing.

You’re dreamily floating back down from your high when you hear him make that beautiful noise again, that low, deep groan that falls from his lips only when he comes. You feel his release flood your cunt, hot and thick, as his hips finally start to slow.

It’s another minute or two before he rolls off you, flopping down next to you on the bed. Before you even have a moment to miss him or the comforting weight of his body on yours, he’s wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close.

You both lie there for a long moment, catching your breath.

You think back to your initial meeting with Fury, when you complained about being sent in with Loki. You’ve never been more pleased to be wrong in your entire life.

“So,” you say once you feel capable of speech, “you said you had some ideas for the rest of the week?”

If you thought his grin was devilish before, it’s nothing compared to what he looks like now as he pulls you on top of him.

“Darling,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “I thought you’d never ask.”

#loki smut #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki x yn smut #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki x female reader smut #loki x y/n #loki odison x reader

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mypoisonedvine · 1 year

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𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 (part two) | neil lewis x reader

read part 1 first!!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you've been best friends with neil basically your entire life, and secretly in love with him almost as long. now, you have to wonder if it's time to move on... or if that's even possible.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 10k

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut, angst, pining/unrequited love - 18+ only

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | hangovers, jealousy/mega angst, smut (finally; unprotected sex, bondage mention, crying during sex/slight dacryphilia) and fluff/emotions

You were draped over the couch limply, groaning as you held a frozen bag of peas to your head— and used it to cover your eyes, because everything was just too fucking bright.

“You look like one of those weed commercials,” Jonathan informed you with a frown. “Like, the one with the deflated girl.”

“Those aren’t commercials for weed, dumbass,” Lucien snarked. “They’re PSAs.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Jonathan shrugged, “I only watch TV when I’m stoned.”

“How are you even alive right now?” you asked Jonathan with a whine. “Like, how are you doing anything more than this? ‘Cause I’m just doing this and I think I’m dying.”

“The secret is not being a lightweight,” Jonathan explained.

“Don’t listen to him,” Neil warned, “his liver’s like a rotten egg. You should be proud to be a lightweight— actually, I’m still not sure why you got so wrecked last night.”

“You’re just jealous you weren’t invited,” Jonathan quipped, and you were too busy keeping your eyes shut to see if Neil actually reacted to that.

“Are you actually planning to do any work today?” Lucien wondered. “Or are you getting paid to lay around complaining?”

“Are you getting paid to be so bitchy?” you shot back. “Just make it my paid sick leave.”

“Sick, yes; paid, yes,” Jonathan noticed, “but you didn’t actually leave.”

“If she wants to spend her sick day here, she can,” Neil decided, “it’s not like she’s contagious.”

“She might be, if she talks you all into coming out again tonight,” Jonathan laughed, but you barely let him finish.

“No fucking way,” you interjected instantly, “I’m never drinking again.”

“But the best cure for a hangover is liquor!” Jonathan insisted.

“That’s the most alcoholic advice I’ve ever heard you give,” Lucien scolded. “Next you’ll say you should drink in the mornings to perk up.”

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Neil decided.

“See!” Jonathan yelped triumphantly.

“No, not booze— kid, you want me to get you a coffee or something?” Neil offered instead. You could tell he’d stepped a little closer from the sound of his voice— and he was speaking a little softer, too. You hesitantly peeled the bag off your head— just partially, that is— and squinted one eye open; thankfully, his head was blocking most of the overhead light as he looked down at you. “There’s that place on the corner, I could just run and get it real quick—”

“I’m okay,” you smiled back, “but thanks.”

“Not even a hot chocolate?”

You already felt warm inside from him saying that, no hot beverage required. You shook your head and he shrugged as he walked away. “Just let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” you hummed. You liked this, actually— him taking care of you. It wasn’t the first time of course, you’d gotten sick your fair share of times while knowing him and he’d usually come over and help how he could (which was mostly in the form of takeout soup and entertainment). But now you imagined it a little… cozier: him wrapping you up in a blanket and then in his arms, checking your temperature by putting his hand to your forehead, letting you drift to sleep on him while he read to you or something.

You probably could’ve dozed off as you imagined that little fantasy world, if it weren’t for Neil breaking the silence a minute later. “You know, I was thinking about changing things up a bit,” he said suddenly.

“Please, please, do not try to grow a goatee again,” Lucien begged. As you and Jonathan erupted in a chorus of disgusted agreement, Neil spoke over you all.

“I meant the store!” he promised. “The shelves— and maybe some of the posters, I don’t know.”

“Or you can finally take my idea and start renting porn,” Jonathan offered.

“First of all,” Neil explained, “technically, some of our inventory is considered erotic—”

“No no, not your weirdo French experimental softcore— the good stuff: college babes, horny stepmoms…” Jonathan began to list.

“And second of all,” Neil continued, but Jonathan was still going.

“Norwegian twins coming to America for a foreign exchange program—”

“Norwegian twins?” you repeated with a confused grimace.

“And second of all,” Neil began again, louder and with a scowl on his face, “we don’t have any good way to disinfect the tapes after people return them.”

“That’s a very good point,” Lucien noticed.

Much later in the day— after a few customers had come and gone, and Jonathan had left for the day, and the UPS guy had come by with a delivery of some new (old) movies to add to the store’s inventory— it ended up with you and Neil in his office.

You hadn’t tried to be in the same office at the same time, really… if anything, you were kind of avoiding him at the moment. Not that you could actually avoid your boss while at work in such a small place— even if he wasn’t your best friend— but you’d been dodging the elephant in the room this whole time.

He sat at his desk and leaned back in the chair, putting one foot up against the desk to tilt back even further as he looked through the stack of mail. For a minute, there was just silence, aside from you both just working. Of course, it couldn’t last forever.

“You, uh, told me you were going back to yours last night,” Neil noticed as he sorted through the envelopes— you figured it was a matter of time before he mentioned it, unless he had a serious lapse of memory, but you still winced.

“Yeah, um, sorry, I just—”

“No, it’s fine,” he shrugged, not looking up from the mail, “you didn’t have to take me out with you— I was pretty beat anyways, I just… I’m just not sure why you didn’t tell me?”

“I— I was going home, really,” you explained, “I got there and I couldn’t sleep, and wine always makes me tired but I didn’t have any so—”

“So you did whiskey shots with Jonathan?”

God, you almost thought about saying it, even if it wasn’t true, just to piss him off. Yeah— and we went back to his place and did the horizontal tango. Would you like me to bring you the register?

Instead, you cleared your throat and set down the tapes. “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you told him; he looked up at you with a sort of deer-in-the-headlights look.

“I-I know,” he stammered out, “sorry, I was just… I’m curious, that’s all.”

“Well, maybe what Jonathan and I do is none of your business,” you replied, looking back down at the tapes as you fought down a smirk; you could feel his stare piercing through you, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of meeting your gaze. Is that cryptic enough for you? Maybe I should say something about how I don’t kiss and tell.

You almost hoped he’d go in for the kill— make some shitty comment about how you were a slut or how Jonathan was probably thinking about Norwegian twins the whole time— cause if he did, you could yell at him and you’d both get all worked up and maybe at least one of you would finally get out of control enough to say what you were really thinking. Instead, he got sweet again; and that was even worse, because you couldn’t resist it. “Wanna make cookies tonight?” he asked, randomly, softly.

“Yeah,” you smiled, “can we put potato chips in them?”

“You know, kid, I think you’re sort of an evil mastermind,” he grinned.

“Just a creative glutton,” you shrugged.

With the Jonathan thing behind you— if that was even really a thing— things felt back to normal with Neil. Honestly, they might have been even better than they’d been in a while, since he wasn’t with Denise anymore. Denise had never been jealous of you— she was just as confident as you were that you weren’t any kind of threat whatsoever— but she did whine about Neil spending more time with you than her… that is, when she actually wanted to be around Neil, which wasn’t always. Sometimes, she seemed to appreciate you taking him off her hands, giving him an outlet for all the interests she found irritating.

But, anyways, she was gone, and you were giving up on dating (again), and Neil wasn’t being weird and you guys made cookies and it was great. It was easy to remember how you'd survived in this cycle for so long. Because as much as you were probably not the world's best person, you absolutely were not pretending to be Neil's friend because you had a crush— no, he really was the most important person to you, you just also wanted to touch him in all those ways that friends weren't supposed to.

You were almost giddy, high on how good it was to be back to your usual; the night before had been just perfect, like the old times, like high school— in all the best ways.

You'd probably seen him every day for the past two weeks— either at work, at his place or yours— and you had no plans to stop. That was pretty normal for you two anyways. You had the day off from work so you hadn't seen him yet; yes, you had considered stopping by the store anyways since Jonathan came in when he wasn't working, but you'd been too busy with your own errands and catching up on tasks at home.

Figuring it was a matter of time before Neil called you and asked to come over— or just showed up— you gave him a call around nine (knowing the store had just closed) and felt yourself get even just a little more energized when he answered.

"Hey, kid," his voice came from the other end, low and dreamy. He was speaking softly, like it was a secret conversation, and that just made your heart beat a little faster.

“I think I’ve found the perfect movie to go with the last of the leftover cookies,” you grinned. “I was going through my old tapes and— do you remember that weird Italian movie we watched in high school? I think it must’ve been senior year because I remember we watched it while everyone was doing skip day— and we thought it was the funniest thing we’d ever seen— and I found it again! Maybe it’s not as good as I remember, but I’ll bring it over and we can cover up the subtitles and see if we can guess what the hell they’re talking about.”

“Yeah, actually—”

“Oh! Also, is it cool if I crash at yours after? I’ll bring my own pajamas this time— and toothbrush, sorry about having to borrow yours, but—”

“Listen, um,” he coughed, lowering his voice even more, “that sounds great— but I, uh… I sort of have company for the night."

“Oh?” you blurted out, like you’d been punched in the gut— it sure felt like it. “Oh, that’s… anybody I know?”

“No, um, we met today,” he explained. “She, uh, came by the video store and we got to talking.”

Whore. “Let me guess, showing her something from the private collection?” you asked— and you really did mean to refer to his literal DVD shelf, but he let out a sort of salacious chuckle.

“If all goes well,” he replied with a purr.

“R-right, well, sorry for calling—”

“No no, it’s fine,” he promised, “we’ll talk tomorrow?”

Tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow, because I always come back, no matter how bad it hurts. “Yeah,” you breathed. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” he returned, and you kept holding the phone to your ear long after the click and dial tone.

You knew you had absolutely no right to be jealous. Honestly, you weren’t— well, you definitely were, but that wasn’t why you ran to your bed and sobbed into it. You did that because of the hate you felt— some for Neil, some for little miss I go back to video store owner’s apartments, but plenty leftover for yourself. You had only been through as much as you put yourself through; as much as you allowed to happen. You stayed by his side all these years and let your heart get battered around… it wasn’t always this hard, and you used to be sure that it would be harder to stop being his sidekick. But you couldn’t do this anymore— it was just humiliating, and useless.

You thought about calling Jonathan, but you felt guilty dumping any more weepy girl problems on him. And, you know, that wouldn’t actually fix anything. There was only one way to fix this, but you didn’t think you were strong enough— you knew you weren’t, actually.

It was hard to say why this one hurt so much— it’s not like you thought Neil was a virgin or something, or genuinely expected him to stay chaste after breaking up with Denise— but you suspected it was because you yourself were recognizing how long you’d been stuck in this cycle with him. You remembered crying in your bed just like this when he got his first girlfriend junior year; you realized how little you’d changed since then. How little you’d grown up.

So, no, you weren’t just crying because you were that jealous he was going to have sex with some random woman. But you had to admit that was definitely part of it.

"Hey boss," Jonathan greeted as Neil walked in; you looked down at the tapes on the shelf in front of you, suddenly making yourself look very busy. "How's the walk of shame?"

"I prefer 'stride of pride'," Neil replied.

“So that girl really came over after close?” Lucien realized.

“Yeah, she, uh, wanted to see The Seventh Seal,” Neil explained.

“I’m suuuuure she did,” Jonathan purred, raising his eyebrows repeatedly.

“Girls never wanna watch that,” Lucien assured.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Neil scoffed, turning to you. “You like it, right, kid?”

“I, um… yeah,” you mumbled— whatever you had to say to end this conversation.

“Well, did she like it?” Lucien wondered.

“Uh, we… we didn’t actually finish it,” Neil admitted, and Lucien laughed as he shoved him on the shoulder.

You glanced at Jonathan, but he was already looking at you— and you hated the pity in his eyes, so you looked away again.

They kept talking, but you couldn’t hear it over the sound of… whatever sound it makes inside your head when you’re trying not to cry at work.

You didn’t do it that same day: it would be too suspicious, and you didn’t want to make a rash decision while you were still so upset. Part of you was still hoping to get through this phase and go back to the ignorant bliss you’d had so recently. But you didn’t, and you could tell that Neil sensed something was wrong— you had been sort of avoiding him for a few days while you tried to decide what to do.

But now, you’d decided. You reached up to knock on his office door— Neil Lewis, P.I. embossed on the frosted glass— but you sighed and dropped your fist, just opening the door instead.

He was so focused on what he was working on that he didn’t look up— and he didn’t even seem to fully process that you had come in, or that you were standing there right in front of him. Obviously he knew you were standing there, but he let you stand there for an awkwardly long time without asking what you wanted.

You appreciated it, though, ‘cause it gave you a while to watch him uninterrupted, wondering if you might never see him so relaxed again.

“Hey, Neil…” you mumbled, and he didn’t look up from his desk. “Um…”

Not sure what else to say, you just handed him the paper. He finally gave you a sliver of his attention to take it, smiling in slight confusion as he looked up at you. “What is this?”

“It’s my two weeks.”

His smile fell. “What?”

Oh, you hated doing this— it broke your heart, seeing that look on his face. “I, uh, I just think it’s better if I—”

“No, wait,” he breathed, standing up, “you— come on, you can’t. It’s— what’s going on?!”

“Nothing,” you insisted as you shook your head, “I just need, uh— nothing’s going on.”

I just need some space, you were gonna say, but you knew that would just open up more questions. “Well, are you gonna work somewhere else?” he asked. “Are you still gonna come by, or will I just see you on movie nights?”

“I— well, I wasn’t sure about movie nights either, actually,” you admitted, and he laughed— but it wasn’t a happy laugh, it was a confused, breathless, almost angry sort of laugh.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” he snapped. “I— you’re my best friend! Did I do something? ‘Cause listen, I wasn’t serious about you offering to date guys who come into the store— I swear I was joking— god, I’m an asshole—”

“No, Neil, it’s not that, that was weeks ago,” you sighed, crossing your arms. “I just… think maybe we’ve been friends so long, you know, and it’s like— why?”

“Why?” he repeated.

“Like, maybe we just think we have to be friends because we’ve always been friends,” you continued, “but maybe we should be like normal people and— and grow apart over time. We were really close in high school because we were the losers that everyone ignored and now… now I think we should just… grow up.”

He looked bewildered— he looked devastated, actually. He shook his head, breathing out a quick sigh, and you weren’t sure if he was even really listening to you but you kept going.

“Sometimes I think I can’t get a boyfriend because guys are weirded out by you— I mean, not like that,” you backtracked slightly. “Well, kind of… but I meant, like, they don’t get that we’re just friends, and they think that you’re just trying to sleep with me—”

“Well, fuck them!” he shouted, a little louder than you would’ve preferred since everyone else was on the other side of that door. “I mean, if they don’t get us, then who fucking cares? They’re idiots, then!”

“Yeah, but—”

“I mean, you think I’d date a girl who didn’t want me to be around you?” he returned. “You shouldn’t be with somebody who thinks like that.”

“Well, that’s easy for you to say, but—”

“But what?”

“But I’m lonely, Neil!” you shouted, immediately reaching to cover your mouth after you said it— mostly to hide your quivering lip. “God,” you choked, lowering your head down to cover your watering eyes instead, “I’m just fucking… tired of being alone, okay?”

“So, what, you’re gonna leave all your friends?” he said, softer. “Because you want a boyfriend? That’s kinda… shallow.”

“What do you expect me to do? Wait around forever?"

"Wait?” he repeated, giving you a confused look. “Wait on what?"

You bit your lip. You couldn't answer that— you couldn't admit that you'd been waiting for him all this time. It's not like he'd asked you to, or expected you to, so you really couldn't be mad at him. You wanted to be, of course, but you couldn't. "I just need to leave, Neil," you whispered, knowing you'd sob harder if you spoke any louder. "I'm sorry. I just need to leave."

You turned, reaching for the door, and his hand suddenly came to your shoulder. His voice was needy and quiet: "You can't go, kid—"

"Don't fucking call me kid!" you spat, shoving him away as you cried harder. "I hate when you call me that!"

I love when you call me that. I hate that I love when you call me that.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't know, okay? Whatever I did wrong, I'm sorry. I guess I should let you go, right? Or I'm just making it worse…”

You weren’t sure what you wanted, really. You wanted just as much for him to finally give you the dignity you’d been craving and let you leave, as you did for him to grab you and hold you tight and tell you that you had to stay, that he needed you to stay.

“If you wanna quit, you can quit— no two weeks needed, we’ll be fine,” he promised. “But… are you still gonna come back tomorrow?”

He wasn’t asking about tomorrow— he was asking about every day. Tomorrow, the next day, the next, the next after that: he was asking you to rot your life away on that couch watching weird old movies with him. And in a way, that was all you wanted. That part you really could do forever. But watching him get new girlfriends, get dumped, get over it— that cycle was just going to get worse and, god forbid, you’d have to see him really truly happy with someone else. It just wasn’t fair to anyone anymore.

You didn’t answer his question, you just looked at him again. He looked back at you in disbelief— you hadn’t meant to blindside him like this, but it was the only way to get a semi-clean break. You hadn’t meant to cry either, though, but that was pretty much unavoidable. “You’re really leaving?” he said quietly in sober realization, and you bit your shaking lip as you nodded. He looked around for a moment, as if he’d find answers somewhere in this office, and raised his hands before dropping them defeatedly. “Why?”

You thought about how to answer that for a while— longer than was natural in a conversation. There were a thousand things to say, but only one came out, as quiet as a whisper. “I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

"I never wanted to hurt you," he promised.

"I know," you breathed, finally turning the knob and stepping out.

You tried to act natural, but that was impossible with tears streaming down your face. "What's up?" Jonathan asked, more neutrally than you expected, and you broke: you hid your face and ran towards the door, bolting out of the store and down the street. Just before you stepped out you heard Jonathan ask Neil, "Dude, what did you say to her?!"

"I didn't say anything!" Neil insisted, but you didn't care to stay to hear the rest, you just wanted to be as far away from Gumshoe Video as possible.

When you heard a knock at the door, you paused Casablanca and brushed the used tissues off your coffee table. “Who is it?” you called out, sitting up slightly on the couch.

“Um,” you heard Neil’s voice from the other side, and you groaned as you curled up in a ball, “I was just checking in—”

“Go. Away.” you warned sternly.

“Can’t you just let me in?” he whined, but that’s when he tried the knob, and realized the door was unlocked. You heard the door open and shrunk up tighter into your fetal position as he entered.

“Hey, I, uh,” he began nervously, raising his hands in a wave but then slapping them down on his legs when he didn’t get a response, “I just… wanted to talk to you…”

You didn’t respond, and in the tense silence, he must have glanced at the TV.

“Good choice,” he noticed.

“Did Jonathan tell you?” you asked right away— because that was the worst thing that could happen. Him coming here just because he felt bad, because he found out you loved him, not because he really loved you. The last thing you needed was Neil talking himself into liking you just to keep you from leaving him.

“Tell me what?” Neil said earnestly. You peeked your head out and looked at him, assessing with narrow eyes. “Seriously, what does Jonathan know that I don’t?”

“Nothing, sorry,” you shook your head. “You can, uh… you can say whatever it is you came here to say.”

“Oh, well, I… I kinda didn’t plan that part,” he admitted with an awkward chuckle, scratching the back of his neck.

“You said you wanted to talk to me,” you remembered.

“Yeah, but I didn’t really have any steps after that,” he sighed, and you groaned as you hid your face again.

“God, Neil, that is just like you!” you whined.

“Well, sorry! You haven’t been talking to me, I wasn’t sure you’d let me in!” he defended. “What am I supposed to think!”

“You’re supposed to have some kind of… speech, or something!” you explained.

“I can’t believe I’m finally the one saying this,” he said, smirking a bit, “but life isn’t like the movies, kid.”

You showed your face again, and you looked at his, and you couldn’t think of a better word for his expression than just sad. Not a beautiful word, not a very interesting one, but the best way to describe him right then. He looked just as miserable as you felt— and that, weirdly, comforted you a little. You’d wondered if he was just fine without you (not that you really thought he was, with how dramatic he could be). “Why can’t it be?” you asked quietly.

He sighed and sat down on the couch beside you; you moved your feet closer to make room for him. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “I kinda thought our life was a movie— best friends, running a small business, getting into shenanigans…”

“Shenanigans?” you repeated incredulously.

“Well, you know, something like that,” he replied.

“It was like a movie, kind of, for a while,” you agreed. A sad movie about a stupid lonely girl.

“I just always thought—” he began, but you tightened your jaw and interrupted him.

“What was the plan, huh? What did you really expect to happen?” you snapped. “That we could just… do this, forever?”

“Yeah, basically!” he shouted back. “Why not?”

“Why not?!” you repeated. “Neil, didn’t you think I’d ever find somebody? Did you think I could fall asleep on your fucking couch with a husband and baby at home?”

“I— I don’t know,” he admitted, losing some of his nerve as he seemed to watch his own logic fall apart. “I just figured you wouldn’t be with anybody who didn’t, you know, understand us!”

“I don’t understand us anymore!” you whined, setting your legs back down on the floor so you could face him better. “It’s like— it’s just like it was in high school! You know, I could’ve been popular if it wasn’t for you!”

“Yeah, if it wasn’t for me, and that pesky ‘who you really are’ thing!” he scoffed. “Is that what you wanted, to be fake like everyone else?”

“No,” you admitted, “but I’m saying it’s the same thing— I could have a real life, you know, if you weren’t always around!”

“Well, Jesus, I’m sorry for ruining your boring, normal life with my weirdness,” he offered sarcastically. “See, this whole time, I thought you were cool, but I guess you’re just a poser!”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands, “that’s your dig? Poser? Are you fucking fourteen?!”

“I’d rather be a little immature than be fake,” he decided, crossing his arms proudly.

“Okay, well I’d rather be fake than be alone,” you replied, anger melting away into sadness once again; you bit your shaking lip and looked away.

“You shouldn’t have to choose,” he sighed, leaning in a bit closer to you. “Of course I figured you’d find somebody, someday— somebody who really appreciates you, you know? Somebody cool. And he and I could be friends, too— I always figured he’d have a really cool name like… I don’t know, like Augustus or Rutherford or something.”

“Rutherford?” you repeated with a small grimace.

“That’s not the point— I just mean that he’d be kinda pretentious but, like, fun. And rich. And you could invite me over to swim in your pool and play croquet and stuff.”

You laughed a little, then sniffled. Of course that’s what he thought rich people did.

“And you’d have kids, and they’d call me Uncle Neil,” he continued, “and I’d get them on the really cool stuff, you know— none of that Disney Channel crap, they’d be watching indie flicks and German expressionism before they even hit high school; gotta start ‘em early.”

“But what about you?” you asked. “Where do you end up?”

“I… I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I guess I just figured I’d always be here.”

You found yourself moving in a little closer— close enough that you had to look up at him slightly even while just sitting on the couch. “So you really never thought about it?” you pressed, biting your lip, and you clarified even though it kind of seemed like he knew what you meant. “Us, together?”

“God, are you kidding?” he snorted. “Of course I thought about it, I mean… yeah, I thought about it…”

His voice changed a little the second time he said it, and your heartbeat sped up just a bit.

“But every time I thought about it, I just got so— I don’t know— scared, I guess,” he said quietly.

“Scared?” you repeated.

“‘Cause, you know… it’s me and you,” he explained, smiling a little. “It’s us. And I figured that if you and I got together… that would be, you know… that would be it.”

As you looked at him, you wondered if he could see everything in your eyes right then.

“And what if I wasn’t good enough for you, right? What if I fucked this up, like I fuck up everything, and then we’re not even friends?” he sighed, shaking his head. “And then— and then what am I supposed to do? Just, like, not have you in my life?”

You opened your mouth to promise him that he’d always be in your life, that you could never really go on without him— even if you’d just threatened that and stormed out of the video store— but instead, only a wistful sigh came out.

“C’mon— I don’t even know who I am without you, kid,” he laughed, and your heart jumped.

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, “but what if you don’t fuck it up? What if we’re perfect together, and happy, and it just makes sense?”

“Then that’s even worse!” he announced with a grin, and you laughed.

“What?” you giggled, letting him pull you a little closer.

“Then we get together, and you move in, and we get married and have a bunch of babies— and then that’s it! Me and you, heading towards oblivion,” he described, pointing forward with his hand like it was a straight path to the end, “being, you know… grown-ups.”

You dropped your forehead onto his shoulder, laughing in exasperation.

“I know it’s stupid,” he admitted, “but that’s… that’s what scared me, I think. And I guess I just liked how things were so much— well, that’s not totally true. There were days where I thought I really couldn’t take it anymore, that I just had to be with you, but…”

“But you’re kind of a pussy?” you finished for him, and he laughed as his arm wrapped around you.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “very much so, actually.”

You looked up at him, and the way he looked back at you was painfully perfect. And now that you saw it, you realized it wasn’t new— he’d looked at you like this before, when he woke you up on the store couch in the morning or when you made fun of him in front of everybody or when you helped him pick what to wear for a party. How come you hadn’t seen it before?

It seemed like you’d been scared, too. You could’ve just told him then, you could’ve just kissed him— but maybe you were both a little too afraid to rock the boat. “I mean, your little future plan sounds nice, but…” you hummed, “I don’t want Rutherford.”

“Don’t rule out Augustus,” he warned, tilting his head and pointing his finger at you, and you laughed softly.

“I want you, Neil,” you breathed, feeling so many emotions at once as you finally said what you’d been terrified to admit for the better part of a decade.

He took a deep breath, too— like he’d been waiting a long time to hear that. “I want you too, kid,” he admitted. You could’ve asked him to stop calling you that now, but since it made your knees a little weak (thank god you were sitting down already), you let it slide for now.

“Okay, well,” you decided, scooting closer to him on the couch again, “let’s agree on something.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Let’s get together,” you said, trying to keep your nerve, “and I’ll move in, and we’ll get married and have a bunch of babies— but we’ll never grow up.”

He laughed a little, finally seeming a bit nervous, and reached up to touch your face: his knuckles rested on your cheek while his thumb pet your temple gently. “Okay,” he said again.

Your heart raced as he moved in a little closer, turning himself towards you on the couch, and your eyes moved back and forth from his eyes to his lips to his eyes to his lips— he’s gonna kiss me.

Just when you were about to shut your eyes and let it happen, he pulled back slightly. “Sorry,” he laughed nervously, “I— sorry. Been thinking about this since I was seven, it’s a lot of pressure.”

Your heart warmed to hear him admit that. “All these years and you never thought to just man up and kiss me?”

“I did kiss you!” he defended.

“New Year’s doesn’t count,” you scoffed.

“Good,” he sighed, “because then there’s still a chance for our first kiss to be perfect.”

“Like the movies?” you asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly, holding your chin and tilting it back gently. “Like the movies.”

It did feel like a movie; you could’ve sworn you heard dramatic background music alongside the pounding in your ears. You took a deep breath in through your nose as you kissed him back, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him closer. There was no point in acting coy now, he knew the truth— and you were totally helpless, this was all you’d been imagining for years and it was real: in that way, it was so much better than a movie.

His hands found your back and pulled you into him, until you hopped up and straddled his lap— holding his face, running your fingers through his hair, kissing him as desperately as you could get away with.

He certainly didn’t seem to mind, in fact he just held you tighter and kissed you harder and even pulled your hips down into his lap where you gasped at the feeling of a firm bulge in his jeans. “You’re already hard?” you noticed, pulling back just enough to speak, and he laughed breathlessly.

“Jesus, you’re already making fun of me,” he coughed.

“I’m not! Sorry,” you laughed, “I just— we only started kissing a minute ago—”

“Yeah, but— come on, kid, you’re gorgeous,” he sighed, “and you can’t pull me towards you with my shirt like that without expecting a reaction…”

“I really wasn’t trying to get you worked up,” you cooed, “I just need you that bad.”

“Fuck,” he laughed, running his hands up your back, “you can’t say stuff like that either…”

“I can’t?” you pressed with a smirk as you ran your hands over his chest through the t-shirt. “Or what?”

“Orrr I’m not gonna have very much patience,” he explained with a grin, “and I’ll just have to make love to you on this couch right now.”

“Oh, make love,” you repeated, shimmying your shoulders a bit, “you don’t have to be so formal, Neil. You can just fuck me.”

He growled and grabbed you tight, throwing you down on the couch as you beamed and he descended upon you.

You tugged at each other’s clothes hungrily: you had on some baggy old shirt that he tossed aside quickly, he was wearing band merch that he barely stopped kissing you long enough to let you get over his head. You’d seen him shirtless all the time when you went to the beach together or he just changed shirts in front of you (‘cause guys can just do that, your sanity be damned), you’d even felt him shirtless before due to playful wrestling in the pool, but wow it felt different to have his bare torso pressed against you, and you loved it already.

You know what else felt different? Neil staring down, mouth slightly open as he panted, at your tits. You almost felt self-conscious until he grabbed your waist and latching his mouth onto one needily.

“Fuck,” you groaned, gasping as the tip of his tongue flicked over the bud of your nipple. His hand squeezed the other one with just the right amount of roughness— his hands were big, and hot, and you’d put quite a lot of consideration into how they’d feel running over your skin. They were lovely, as were his fingers pinching lightly at your nipple until you squirmed. “Neil, c’mon—” you started to beg.

“Hold on,” he groaned against your skin, hot breaths tickling where his spit wet your breast, “been waiting a while to do this. Wanna savor it.”

Well, he could savor all he wanted, but you had been waiting too long to have any patience left; you reached down and got his belt open with a little finagling, pushing his jeans down his legs with your feet. His boxers, annoyingly, stayed up, but he smiled at you and started to pull your shorts down, too.

So there you were, laying together on your sofa— him on top of you, you staring up at him in amazement— both in just your underwear. And socks, technically, but you weren’t really worrying about those at the moment.

“Are we gonna do this like they do in the movies, too?” you asked with a breathless laugh.

“They don’t show this part in the movies,” he replied quickly.

“Not those movies…”

He got your drift and grinned a little, but shook his head. “No, not like that. I want this to be, you know, special…”

“Neil, I’ve been in love with you since I was twelve. It’s gonna be special no matter what,” you promised, holding his face for emphasis. “Doesn’t mean it can’t be, you know, kinky.”

He raised an eyebrow in intrigue. “Kinky?” he repeated. “Would you mind clarifying that for me?”

You bit your lip and looked away shyly. “Well, you know, I’ve thought about, like… like maybe how it would be if you tied me to the bed…”

He grinned. “Alright,” he replied expectantly, waiting for the list to go on.

“Or if you bent me over your desk at the store,” you added, heart racing with nervousness to admit that fantasy, “and had to cover my mouth to keep me quiet…”

“Fuck,” he groaned in agreement. “What else?”

“O-or, you know, that thing where you just keep someone inside you for hours,” you breathed, “and don’t even move, just keep it, you know, warm— we could watch a movie like that—”

“Jesus, kid,” he sighed, “you, um, you really thought this through…”

“Yeah…” you admitted, moaning softly and holding tighter onto his back as he leaned down and kissed your neck.

“I had no idea you were so dirty,” he laughed against your skin. “Whatever movie we watch like that, it better be shit ‘cause I have no chance of paying any attention.”

“W-well, you said you thought about it too,” you remembered. “What did you think this would be like?”

“I didn’t think about that, I’m too romantic,” he denied proudly as he hovered above you again, “I just thought about, you know, taking you on dates and buying you flowers and stuff.”

“O-oh,” you choked, embarrassed.

“Just kidding,” he winked, “I’m not a saint. I thought about how you’d look riding me.”

You giggled slightly, glancing away as you were forced to imagine that, too.

“And how these lips would look,” he continued, softening his voice and running his thumb over your slack bottom lip, “wrapped around my cock—”

“Fuck,” you whispered, nearly overwhelmed by the look in his eyes. “I thought about that too…”

He growled and kissed you hard, reaching down to roughly tug your panties lower. “God, I wish I had the patience for that now,” he mumbled, “but I just need to be inside you—”

“Okay,” you agreed happily, pressing yourself against him as you hugged him closer.

Sliding your hands down his back, you pushed his boxers down his hips and gasped when his cock sprung out and brushed over your inner thigh.

You reached down and grabbed a hold of him— mostly so you’d have a chance to get some idea of what he was about to put in you— and you both gasped for different reasons. You couldn’t speak for him, really, but for you it was a sound of disbelief at how big he was. Not, you know, concerningly massive or anything— you were thankful for that, in fact— but thick and long and curved and oh look you were already guiding that fat tip to your opening because you couldn’t wait anymore.

Clearly he was struggling with a similar impatience because as soon as he felt your entrance he shoved his hips forward and pushed inside— finding some resistance, just from his size, but then you went limp under him and just let it happen.

You were both breathing heavy like you’d run a mile, when you’d barely moved at all; he was only halfway in, and you already felt so full…

“Fuck,” he moaned at the feeling, “you’re so wet, fuck—”

But then he pushed in the rest of the way and you winced just from the intensity of it— it didn’t hurt, really, but it was… a lot. In every sense of the word. "Oh my god," you gasped, holding on tightly to his arms.

He moaned louder, dropping his head into the crook of your neck; he put a hand on the top of your head to keep you steady (and close) as he pumped into you a bit faster already. “You’re so fucking wet,” he said again— it would’ve made you self-conscious that he focused on that so much if it wasn’t obvious that it was driving him wild. But you couldn’t really justify pointing out his sudden boner before when you were soaked like this, could you?

Fortunately, it seemed like he had long since forgotten about that…

It seemed like he never looked away from you, hardly ever even shut his eyes— he just watched your face, with a few detours to look at the way your breasts bounced with each thrust.

The pace was steady and simple, there were no fancy moves or dirty fantasies: he just kissed you sometimes, and watched you the rest of the time. You didn’t say much until you started to feel the pressure building in your gut— up until that point, nothing needed to be said— but the way he was making you feel suddenly compelled you to start running your mouth.

“So good,” you blurted out, and he groaned a little in agreement. “You feel so good, Neil…”

“Yeah?” he confirmed. “Feels like we were made for each other.”

That was not only the most perfect thing you’d ever heard, but undeniably true: the curve of his cock seemed to fit right inside you; he was just big enough to push to the end of you without making your stomach hurt; every movement stretched your walls exactly how you’d craved for longer than you wanted to remember; and you were soaking him, and probably yourself, it was like you just couldn’t stop. Every movement made you feel more insatiable and yet more perfectly satisfied— it was impossible, but it was happening. That’s how it felt: impossibly good.

“Doesn’t it?” he asked, like he was worried you didn’t agree, but you only hadn’t said anything because you knew how loud you would be if you opened your mouth.

“Yes!” you cried out, dropping your head back— see, that’s exactly what you were worried would happen, but he just growled and fucked you deeper. “Yes, fuck yes, Neil—”

“Uh huh?” he encouraged you gruffly, holding you a little tighter, watching you with darker eyes.

“Yes, oh my god,” you choked out, whining and digging your nails into his back sort of unintentionally. “S-so deep…”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “and you take it so good— you feel so fuckin’ perfect, kid…”

Wow, yeah, you really should’ve hated being called that in a moment like this, but you enjoyed it a little too much. "Fuck, m'gonna—" you began your warning.

"Come," he finished for you— no, it was a demand. "I want you to. I wanna see it."

"O-okay," you breathed, "just don't… don't stop…"

He shook his head, fucking you a little faster as he panted. "Not gonna stop," he promised, "not until you're so fucking full—"

"God, Neil," you whined, the pressure in your gut building more and more, making your legs tighten around his hips.

"Until I've given you every drop of come," he continued with a grunt, "and it's fucking dripping out of you—"

"Fuck."

"For days—"

"Fuck—"

"Tomorrow at work—" he mentioned specifically, and your back arched as it hit you; jolts of energy crawled up and down your back, your walls clenching rhythmically around him.

You definitely said something but you were too fucked out to keep track of it. How was it your job to know what you said?! It was something with oh my god and Neil somewhere in there for sure, but that was all you knew. He didn’t even slow down, by the way, just keeping his pace and mumbling praises to you with a rough voice.

As the raw pleasure faded, you found a new feeling swelling within you— a sudden mix of all sorts of emotion, growing faster than you could fight it off. You’d never felt like this, at least in this specific way, but you knew all too well what was coming: you were about to cry.

You weren’t sad, you were anything but sad, but apparently there were just too many pent up feelings and recently-released hormones coursing through you for you to do anything but cry. It happened so suddenly that you couldn’t even think about how you should handle it— if you should warn him or suddenly get up and run away so he wouldn’t see you like that. You were terrified he would be confused and overwhelmed by it, but you were out of options; you bit your lip as it started to shake, tightening your hold on one of his shoulders, and sniffled involuntarily as tears welled in your eyes.

“Oh god, baby, are you okay?” he breathed, his movements coming to a halt, and you nodded your head feverishly.

“I’m okay,” you whimpered, “I’m fine�� I’m really good, I’m just—”

He sat up and pulled you up with him, sort of perching you in his lap, and you looked away as you tried to will yourself to stop crying but failed miserably. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked softly.

You shook your head, hugging him so he wouldn’t see your wet face. “N-no, don’t—”

“What’s going on?” he asked, smiling a little even as his voice was heavy with concern; he kissed the side of your head as he pet your hair gently.

“I’m just— m’just really happy,” you breathed shakily. “I just can’t believe this is happening— in a good way.”

He beamed and pulled back to look at your face, holding your cheeks and wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “Yeah,” he agreed, “I know— that’s how it feels for me, too.”

You choked on another sob, and he soothed you softly, holding you a little closer. “Don’t stop, please,” you whispered, “you said you wouldn’t—”

“Yeah, but I gotta make sure you’re okay,” he laughed.

“I am, really,” you insisted, with a sniffle, “it’s happy tears, I promise. Y-you can keep going, unless all the crying is turning you off…”

“No, it’s okay, kid,” he promised with a little laugh, leaning down to look into your eyes when you tried to glance down, “hey— it’s sweet, okay? And I always thought you were kinda cute when you cried— um, not in a creepy way, but, y’know, like… when we watched sad movies and stuff, and you would hide your face in my shirt—”

You whimpered and shoved your face into the crook of his neck.

“Kinda like that…” he mumbled, rubbing your back as he laid you back down on the couch. “Hey, shh, it’s okay… m’gonna move again, alright?”

You only nodded a little, holding onto him tightly, still crying but managing to get a moan out when he carefully thrusted into you again. He found his pace again, though slower and gentler than before, and lifted himself partially to hover above you. Pushing away some hair that had clung to your face, sticky with sweat and tears, he smiled down at you.

“Hey,” he whispered, “look up at me…”

Afraid to face him like this, you hesitated but blinked quickly as you looked back at him.

“You look beautiful,” he promised quietly. “This is how it was supposed to be, okay? This is how it always should’ve been.”

You nodded in agreement, starting to cry a little harder— though it was pure joy, there was no other way to describe it.

“And this is how it’s gonna be now,” he assured, “you and me.”

“Yeah,” you whispered under your breath, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. He kissed you again softly, and the rest of it was like that: more gentle and patient, shockingly tender, until you two were just melting into each other and you shamelessly gave into every emotion and sensation he guided you through.

Today, the store was running a special on cop movies— so you and Neil were, obviously, dressed appropriately in fake uniforms he got on clearance at the costume shop. Was yours technically a reconstituted ‘sexy cop’ with fishnets and a tight latex skirt? Yes, but you at least ditched the fuzzy handcuffs…

You were sitting on the front counter, swinging your legs and watching Neil as he roamed the store, your eyes lingering on the way those navy blue pants did his ass more than a few favors… the whole outfit was working for you, shockingly. The badge, the aviator shades— you were even beginning to see the appeal of the fake mustache.

He seemed to notice you looking, and he smirked at you proudly as he set down the tape he’d been holding.

“Hey,” Neil purred, taking off his sunglasses somewhat dramatically— he sauntered up to you, putting his hands on the counter on either side of your legs. He had that sparkle in his eye as he looked you up and down, and you bit your lip.

“Hey,” you returned, reaching up to drape your arms over his shoulders.

“You look cute,” he hummed at you proudly. “Who picked out this outfit for you?”

“Oh, that would be my super weird boss,” you smirked, your fingers tracing the neckline of Neil’s semi-unbuttoned uniform shirt and the slightest hint of chest hair peeking out from it. “He makes me dress up to promote our specials.”

“He’s probably got a crush on you,” Neil suggested with a grin.

“You think so?” you cooed as you leaned down, kissing him with a smile still on your lips— but you made a little face and pulled back. “The mustache feels weird…”

“Mm, but you’re still gonna kiss me, right?” he assumed proudly— he knew damn well you found him totally irresistible.

“Yeah,” you admitted with a giggle as you kissed him again: deeper, and longer, but still slow and sweet.

The front door jingled as Jonathan walked in. “Woah, hey, workplace!” he groaned, covering his eyes for a minute, and you laughed as you broke away from the kiss, shoving Neil aside and hopping off the counter. “How are our resident lovebirds doing?”

“Horny,” Lucien answered in a thoroughly unamused tone.

“Well, why don’t you let us take over for a couple hours?” Jonathan suggested with a shrug. “Me and Luc can manage and you two can, you know, take a long lunch and shake each other down.”

“What? No,” you grimaced, shuddering at the idea of Jonathan and Lucien waiting for you two here and knowing exactly what you were doing a few blocks down at Neil’s apartment.

“Alright,” Neil agreed at the same time, but quickly changed his answer to a rushed “n-no, yeah, definitely not.”

Lucien smirked and Jonathan shook his head. "Suit yourselves," he replied as he walked away.

You planned to walk away, too, and finally get back to work, but Neil wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into him. You smiled and hugged him back, leaning your head against his chest with a satisfied sigh.

When he let you go, you lingered for just a moment longer before finding the strength to pull away and get back to work— yet again, he stopped you, this time by touching your face to turn it back to him and softly mumbling ‘hey’.

“What is it?” you asked quietly as you looked up at him expectantly.

“I love you, kid,” he said gently, petting your cheek for a second.

“Wh-what way do you mean that?” you wondered, and he furrowed his brows with a smile. “Like— we used to say that sometimes,” you went on, awkwardly stammering as you looked down again, “but, you know… we never meant it like that—”

He interrupted you with a soft whisper of your name, getting your attention once more, tilting your head until your gaze met his. “I only ever meant it one way,” he admitted. “That way.”

one year later…

You wandered through the crowded video store, doing lots of waving and greeting and patting of shoulders— thanking everyone for coming out to celebrate with you.

A gaggle of women suddenly descended on you with giddy delight, and you took turns hugging them and repeating your practiced line about how you were so glad they could make it.

“You look great,” Helen informed you, and you dismissed it with a wave of your hand. “No, really, it’s so cute! You look good in white.”

“You think so? I was worried it would be weird,” you admitted as you looked down at the silk cocktail dress.

“No, it makes perfect sense,” Priyanka said, “and it’s so cool! Is it real vintage?”

“Yeah, you know how we are,” you shrugged and laughed.

“Well, let’s see the ring!” Helen insisted with a squeal, and all three women yelped happily when you brandished your left hand for them to get a good look at it.

“Oh my god, it’s gorgeous!” Georgia gasped.

“Thank you,” you beamed, “I can’t imagine where Neil got the money for it— god knows it wasn’t here, I’ve seen our margins!”

The ladies all seemed to grab your hand at once and yank it closer, tilting your finger to watch the stones sparkle in the light. As they fawned over it, you looked over and found Neil watching you, beer in hand, looking totally smitten. You waved with your free hand and got a small wave back, making you smile even wider.

You split away from the girls after a while, soon stopped by one of Neil’s only friends who actually had this whole adult thing mostly figured out: Marcia, though her husband and baby were across the store meeting the many, many guests who wanted a chance to hold the precious thing.

“I always knew he loved you,” Marcia insisted as she winked at you. “I’m so glad he finally figured it out.”

“Yeah, me too,” you agreed with a laugh. “It’s been great— like, really great. All the fun we had before, but—”

“But you get to have him all to yourself?” she assumed with a grin.

“Well, sure,” you admitted, “but not just that. He’s changed a lot, you know. He’s still the same Neil I always loved but…”

You trailed off, but she nodded like she understood. “But he’s grown up,” she finished for you.

“We got together on the condition that we wouldn’t grow up,” you explained, “that we wouldn’t change and get, you know, boring.”

Marcia rolled her eyes, making you feel much younger than her than you were. “That’s what you figure out eventually,” she replied, “that growing up is a lot more fun when you’re growing together.”

Her unexpectedly sage advice was still in your head almost an hour later, when you and Neil reunited at the back of the room.

“You ready?” he asked you softly, and you nodded with a smile.

“Been ready for this for a long time,” you replied.

Neil got the crowd’s attention, motioning for the guests to gather in a vague semi-circle facing you and him; you squeezed his hand, feeling your heartbeat pick up just a bit.

“We just wanted to thank you all for coming,” Neil explained, “I mean, it’s so special to have everyone we love gathered in our favorite place…”

You looked out at the crowd filling the store and noticed that, all together, it was a lot more loved ones than you realized you had.

“And with that in mind, we do have a little announcement,” he continued with a beaming smile.

“Pregnant!” Lucien blurted out, and you glared at him as a fellow guest slapped him on the arm.

“Not that,” Neil laughed, “maybe I shouldn’t have said it that way but, uh, anyways…”

“This isn’t just our engagement party,” you admitted with a grin, “it’s our wedding!”

You pulled the mini-veil out from where you’d hidden it in a fake VHS clamshell and quickly clipped it on, the crowd clapping and gasping, and you motioned for Jonathan to come forward to do the honors.

“The bride and groom have prepared special, joint vows,” Jonathan explained as he stepped up beside you both, pulling notecards out of his pocket. You and Neil faced each other, holding your hands together between you; he even swung your hands a little as he smiled at you, and you laughed softly. “Do you take each other in marriage, for life, no takebacksies?”

“We do,” you both replied.

“Do you swear to tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” he asked, and you gave him a confused look. “Sorry— wrong line. Watching too much Law & Order…”

Your spectating friends and family chuckled, though some seemed nervous with Jonathan making a joke like that during your literal wedding ceremony— but you thought it was perfect. You wouldn’t have asked Jonathan to officiate if you didn’t want some ill-timed, goofy joke.

“Do you promise to keep each other close in body and spirit, to share your joy and pain, and to face every day together as best friends and life partners?”

“We do.”

“And do you swear,” Jonathan went on, suddenly getting very serious and lowering his voice, “to always, without fail… be kind and rewind?”

The crowd chuckled, and you and Neil agreed enthusiastically: “We do.”

“Then, by the power vested in me by a very shady website that I think might have been some kind of minister license scam out of Estonia… I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Jonathan beamed, throwing his notecards in the air triumphantly. “Now kiss each other, ya idiots!”

It was one of those wedding kisses that went on a little too long, a few whistles and whoops from the crowd alerting you that it might be too steamy for such a public moment— but damn, was it perfect. As much as you just wanted to grab onto your husband and never let go, both of you were instantly swarmed by loved ones wanting hugs and to offer their congratulations. You obviously obliged, thanking everyone you could for being a part of this impromptu ceremony… and basking in the joy when most of them said something about how they always expected this or couldn’t believe it took so long.

“Congrats, man,” Jonathan mumbled to Neil as he grabbed him by the shoulder. “I think this is the part where she fucks me and kills Lucien.”

“Shut up,” Neil scoffed as he shoved Jonathan away, but he couldn’t stop smiling— and he couldn’t stop staring at you. Here's looking at you, kid.

#neil lewis x reader #neil lewis smut #watching the detectives #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut

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saintmuses · 8 months

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❝𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙨 𝙪𝙥 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙡❞

Pairing:

Neil Lewis x Jonathan’s Sister!Reader

Summary:

Having a crush on her brother’s best friend who displayed awkward loser vibes did not match the trope of being with a college cheerleader like her, and he did not feel the same way about her or so she thought.

Warning(s): SMUT. Oral (f-receiving). Mutual pining. Minors, dni! Note: the lyric is from Cruel Summer, and I kid you not if you do not realize what the lyric means; to put it in a simple explanation, this fic will say it all.

Word Count: 1.1k

Y/N did not have time for this. She groaned internally as she walked on the sidewalk with a brown backpack slung on her back.

She got called by her annoying brother, Jonathan, who needed her to bring his backpack which he had forgotten when he came over for the weekend.

Her schedule had been filled with cheerleading practice, competitions, and Friday football nights that had been gruesome. On top of that, she took honor classes at college with endless homework. She was surprised she was able to find time to bring Jonathan’s backpack.

Being twenty-one and in her last year of college had opened a lot of opportunities and experiences that she could gather for years to look back on.

She wanted to be a writer. Ever since she was a little girl, she used to write in her little journals until the pen would run out of ink or when there weren't any fresh blank pages for her to fill out. She would write childhood fantasies of how princesses would save themselves. To be their own heroes every now and then.

"Y/N," she heard her brother calling out from the side of the building as she entered Gumshoe Video store. She sighed before sauntering over when she saw Jonathan waving with a grin plastered on his face with someone sitting on the couch next to the one where her brother was sitting on.

She blushed when her eyes landed on the man who was sitting with a plastic disposable cup with dark liquid in it.

She had an enormous crush on Neil Lewis. The owner of the store who happened to be her brother’s best friend but being insecure didn't really allow her to pursue him.

He was a definition of awkward loser type, but he really was a film buff. Classic movies was his turf, and if her friends found out about her crush on an ‘awkward loser’, they would make fun of her for it because liking guys like Neil was an illegal unspoken law in friend groups. Women that he dated never really appreciated him as who he was, but her…oh she would treat him so well. However, she doubted he was into her.

Yes, that would give her a reason to avoid Neil despite Jonathan’s attempt to hang out with her while he was around.

However, this is one time she was not able to avoid him since she did not know he was going to be with Jonathan.

"Hey," she smiled shyly once she was standing in front of them, flushing slightly when she caught his smirk in her peripheral vision. She silently cursed her inner schoolgirl crush.

Her lips curled around his name in an inaudible gasp as she fingered her clit lightly, arching her back in pleasure, the sound emitting from her throat.

It was later that night after she got back from the campus, her parents left her a note saying they were out of the town for the weekend, so she couldn't handle the tension that was thrumming through her body at the sight of Neil earlier.

A foreign finger slid from the bottom of her slit to the bundle of nerves, circling around it in a way that had her arching off the bed.

She then stiffened, consciously knowing that a hand that wasn't hers had sent her into a spin, and her eyes shot open to see blue eyes reflecting hers with the curl of a smirk painted on his lips. He raked his fingers up her dripping slit before he withdrew his hand, reaching for his mouth with his glistened fingers, with eye contact between them causing her to moan.

After sliding his fingers out of his mouth, his lips curled. "Thinking about me, weren't you." He asked rhetorically as he hovered her form.

Her eyes flickered, "Neil." She let out an audible gasp while flushing deeply. Arms raising with intentions of covering herself from him which was halted by his hands.

"Don't" he said softly, letting her wrists go. He then raked his eyes from her face to her breasts, "you're beautiful." He said hungrily.

"How did you get in here?" She frowned, flushing deeply at the lust that was shone in his blue eyes.

He gave her a lazy grin, "Jonathan told me there's a key under the flowerpot." He slowly reached between her thighs, “he wanted me to drop the bike off since he’s going out tonight.” His eyes flickered downward, inhaling the heady scent that was all her. Flames began to lick her spine at his brief action. “I decided to come in here and hang out with you…” he trailed off, licking his lips. “Shockingly, I came into this predicament.”

He then started to move his finger upward until it grazed her clit. Her hips jerked as she bit down her bottom lip to keep the keen noise from escaping her throat.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," he whispered, leaning over her before he captured her lips with his.

She moaned into the kiss, closing her eyes. It was filled with ferocious intensity as if he'd been wanting to kiss her. She then felt him parting his lips ever so slightly before his tongue reached to trace her bottom lip.

She gasped into his mouth, allowing his tongue to battle dominance with her tongue. She felt his fingers curling around her kneecaps before sliding downward towards her thighs to pry them apart, then he withdrew from her lips.

She inhaled slowly before exhaling to gain control over her breathing that was disrupted by his passionate kiss. Before she could open her eyes, a gasp tore from her lungs when she felt the heat of his tongue sliding through her slit.

Her eyes immediately trained onto the man whose head is in between the juncture of her thighs, her stomach quivered at the sight. She never had anyone going down on her before, but it felt so good coming from him.

She felt his tongue swirling around her clit before a heavy sensation of pleasure rolled through her body when his lips parted and started sucking lightly between his lips.

A whine tore from her lungs, throwing her head back into the pillow. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and her hips arched off the bed, mostly towards his mouth.

"Fuck," she groaned. He slowed down his ministrations before withdrawing from her thighs. "Neil..." she trailed off, opening her eyes.

A grin curled his lips, his eyes were heavily lidded with lust as he stared down at her, "don't worry, baby. We're not done yet."

#neil lewis x reader #cillian murphy x reader #neil lewis x you #neil lewis x y/n #watching the detectives #neil lewis

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thisapplepielife · 9 months

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Written for the @steddiemicrofic December challenge.

Cooking for Eddie

December Prompt: Pine | Word Count: 508 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Fluff, Cooking, Eddie POV

Eddie is sitting at the counter when Steve slides open the patio door, coming inside with his bowl full of fresh basil and cherry tomatoes he's just harvested from his garden.

"Look at this!" he shouts, and Eddie looks up to see what Steve's so excited about.

Steve's holding up a fistful of basil leaves.

"Holy shit, that's a lot of basil," Eddie answers, smiling at him.

"You want pasta for lunch? I could make pesto if we've got some pine nuts," Steve asks.

That sounds great, so Eddie nods, reaching out to grab one of the small, ripe tomatoes, shining it on his shirt, and popping it directly into his mouth.

"Damn, those are good," Eddie says. There's nothing like homegrown tomatoes, and Steve's gotten damn good at it over the past few years.

Steve decided to try his hand at food blogging a few years ago, just as a way to share his new cooking hobby with their friends, and that somehow spiraled into a mid-life career change. Cooking for Eddie started as a joke, but Eddie supports it fully, because that means he gets to eat really fucking good food, several times a week.

Jonathan taught Steve how to use a fancy camera, and how to set up a little tabletop light box studio to get good pictures. Dustin and Robin helped set up social media accounts and Steve's own website.

It's gone really well.

Steve digs around in the pantry and finally comes up with a sack of pine nuts, shaking them.

Eddie gives him a thumbs up, and gets to work washing the produce, doing what little he can to help.

When it's finished, Eddie watches as Steve puts on his reading glasses, and carefully puts together the plate for pictures. The homemade ravioli, sauced to perfection with the homemade pesto. Steve carefully wipes the edges of the white pasta bowl, making sure there's no imperfections to be seen. Adding a handful of the homegrown tomatoes, a sprinkle of pine nuts, and a garnish of fresh basil. He puts it on a fancy wooden cutting board and sets it in his light box, decorates around the plate with some loose tomatoes and basil, and checks his lighting.

That's the only drawback to this hobby, they have to wait to eat until Steve is sure he's gotten his perfect photographs.

Eddie watches as he takes several shots, camera shutter clicking with each movement.

"Got it," Steve says, and then he goes back to the stove and fixes them both a plate that's still warm, and hands it over.

"Thanks, sweetheart," Eddie says, pulling out the chair next to him for Steve to sit down beside him.

Steve does, and they dig in.

"It's so good," Eddie tells him, and Steve waves him off. But Eddie knows that Steve knows he's telling the truth. It's amazing, and fresh, and the perfect lunch made with a crazy amount of love.

Cooking for Eddie is pure love, and Eddie's still in awe that it's all for him.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and follow along with the fun! ❤️

#steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficdecember #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #food blogger steve harrington #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddiemicrofic

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smirkingkitten · 10 months

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Reading list November 2023

It's December and that doesn't just mean the Christmas season starts and it's the time for cozy evenings with candles, blankets and a hot chocolate, but also: it's time for another reading list.

It feels like it's been so long since Loki graced us with a new episode every week. I'm still not quite over the ending, although this interview did heal my poor heart a little, if only just a bit. I hope you're coping well with the ending. And now, happy reading.

✨And don't forget to reblog the storys you read to support all these lovely writers.✨

My other Reading lists can be found in my Fanfiction Bookshelf.

Series | Collections | Multi Parts

The Redbridge Hunts @fanficshiddles

8 Chapters (on going) | Vampire!Loki | fluff

prev. | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8

Summary: Claire moves to Demsdale to take up a new job as an assistant teacher for one Loki Laufeyson. She's also very intrigued with all of the rumours within the borough of Redbridge. However, as she starts to fall for Loki's charm and good looks, she also learns that all of the rumours might not just be rumours after all.

Double Cross @gigglingtiggerv2

12 chapters (on going) | Jaguar Villain!Tom | dark, smut

Summary: In Dante’s inferno, the Eighth Circle of Hell was reserved for liars, panderers, thieves and murderers. For the criminal underworld it is an opulent London club, representing neutral territory where deals can be made, grievances aired and scores settled.

For the owner, Thomas Cross, it is his own private kingdom, one where he makes the rules and wields absolute authority. Recently, however, that authority has come under threat. In order to maintain his standing and the Club’s ruthless reputation, it is imperative he find the perpetrator.

In this violent place, where lies are currency and everyone has their own agenda, who can he trust? Certainly not Verity Williams, the talented thief who has her own reasons for infiltrating his organisation.

Neither can deny the sparks that fly whenever they’re together, but if he’s not careful, will those sparks burn down everything he’s created?

Déchiré @ijuststareatstuffhereok89

7 chapters (on going) | Loki, Bucky, Captain America | smut

You are a HYDRA agent sent to infiltrate the notorious Avengers, to tear them apart in the worst way possible in order to make them vulnerable to attack. In the midst of the wild heat you generate, three suitors take your bait.

One Shots

Firestarter @delaber

4,2k | AvengersMovie!Loki | smut, hatefucking

Rule Number One @just-the-hiddles

medium | Jonathan Pine | smut, dom/sub, daddy, spanking

Gorgeous @ghostofskywalker

1,2k | Avenger!Loki | fluff

Heavy Petting @wheredafandomat

800 | Loki | smut

I gave your girlfriend cunnilingus on my couch @wheredafandomat

short | Loki | smut, oral (f reserving)

Aftercare @sarahscribbles

680 | Loki | fluff, spicy

If I was your best friend @wheredafandomat

medium | Loki | smut

Worshiped by a God @sarahscribbles

1,1k | Loki | fluff, smut

Best of Friends @just-the-hiddles

long | Actor!Tom Hiddleston | fluff, friends to lovers

Duty of Care @muddyorbsblr

1,9k | Jonathan Pine | smut, fluff

Winter Warmers: A Winters Night on Asgard @lokischambermaid

930 | Asgard!Loki | fluff

The Sandwich Incident @holdmytesseract

1,2k | Tom Hiddleston | fluff, humour

My Girl @lokisgoodgirl

1,8k | Avenger!Loki | smut, man-bun

Lactation @viviluvssmut

1k | Loki | smut, oral (f reserving)

Drabbles

Don't Move, Darling @sarahscribbles

1,1k | Loki | smut, teasing, edging

Time slipping @wheredafandomat

600 | TVA Loki | smut, hurt/comfort

praise kink, gagging, hickies @ragnarachael

short | Jonathan Pine | smut, daddy kink

Headcanons

Loki and the Watcher @benevolentgodloki

✨Happy reading 😊✨

Back to my Fanfiction Bookshelf

Many of the fanfictions are 18+, so if you're under 18, don't read them.

#tom hiddleston #hiddleston #fanfiction #multi chapter #one shot #drabble #headconon #loki #loki laufeyson #fluff #loki fluff #loki smut #smut #fic recs

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plussizeappreciationfics · 3 days

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One shot: Going over the lines

Requested?: yes by @queenofstarsign85

Request: Hello! Could I please request a one shot tom hiddleston x light-skinned black reader? The reader is an actress who has a major crush on tom, they know each other for a year and he also likes her too. They prepare to work together in the series the night manager where he plays Jonathan pine. And she Costars with him in the series, she plays his love interest. While going over their lines and pretend sex scene real feelings are revealed, with spicy smutt and fluff :) thanks!

Warnings: INSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving)

Images found on Google/Pinterest

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Tom asked, his breathing heavy as the two of you stood in front of each other, only bathrobes covering your bodies. The two of you were standing in his bedroom, nervous yet excited as the two of you had decided to try and act out the intimate sex scene for the second season of The Night Manager.

Of course the two of you wouldn't be having real sex in front of the camera, but the two of you would be complete naked. Tom first had thought that his suggestion would be inappropriate, fearing that you would think that he's a creep. But to his surprise, you agreed as the two of you knew that acting out the scenes would be very awkward.

"I am sure, we both signed the contract. It's our job" you added at the end and smiled nervously, hating that you didn't have the nerve to voice your real feelings.

It had been known that Tom and his fiancé had broken up a while ago and were raising their kid in harmony, everyone knew that Tom was also one that put his blood sweat and tears into his work and didn't like mixing his private life into the matter. He had done it a few years ago, and wouldn't dare to make the same mistake twice.

That was until he met you, of course. But the British actor didn't even think about pursuing you. He kept his feelings hidden as he feared the next heartbreak would be the complete end of him. At the same time, Tom hated how his feelings for you only grew by the second you spent with each other. Your beauty, your grace and your personality had the poor acting dreaming about you, yearning for your love and body.

"How do you want to start? We know the lines and the first intimate scene starts with you straddling me..." Tom's cheeks gained a light crimson color as he watched you let out a shaky breath before gently pushing him onto his bed and straddling his lap.

The two of you were already breathing heavily, staring deeply into each other's eyes while you felt the tension shift. You were lying if you didn't pretend to feel your sex slowly getting wetter as you gently grinded your hips against Tom's.

"Is this okay?", you gently asked while staring down at his lips, the urge to kiss him overwhelming you.

"Yes", the actor quickly breathed out, his strong arms wrapped around your thick waist while you continued grinding yours in a slow motion that made both of you get hotter and greedy by the second.

"I-I've been wanting to actually do this for a while", you had surprised yourself by voicing your inner thoughts. Tom's eyes widened in surprise before surprising you by cupping your big butt cheeks, squeezing the softness and letting out a soft moan.

You couldn't help but moan with him, "Me too" is all the actor responded before pressing his soft lips against yours, devouring them while moaning into your mouth. His hard cock was now twitching beneath your clothed sex.

"Take me", Tom begged in between the passionate and longing kisses, his head spinning while he drank in every single delicate sensation coursing through his body. Your ego didn't allow him to repeat himself as you quickly wiggled out of your bathrobe and pushed his upper body against the soft mattress.

"Look at you", Tom gushed while breathing heavily, opening his own bathrobe while you helped with the lower part of it, letting out a soft moan at the sight of his hard cock, throbbing and waiting to fill you up. "God, I can't wait any longer", you voiced to which the two of you let out quick chuckles as you also had said your lines from the sex scene out loud.

"I am all yours, (Y/N). Body, mind and soul" the British actor promised to which you couldn't help but smile widely while you quickly straddled his lap again and positioned yourself right above his cock. You took it in your hand and gave it a few steady strokes, biting down your lip when Tom moaned and thrusted his hips upwards as a sign for you to finally make him yours.

You guided him to your already wet entrance and made sure that he looked at you while you slowly sank down onto him. "So big" you breathlessly moaned while enjoying the sensation of your inner walls being stretched out overwhelmed you.

A shiver ran down your spine once you had completely sat down onto Tom. His thickness pressing against your sweat spot while goosebumps covered both of your skin. Your hips began to move on their own, the motions making the two of you let out soft whispers of each other's names while making sweet love to one another.

Tom's hips thrusted themselves in sync of yours, groaning and gently caressing your body, from your tender breasts all the way to your big stomach. Your head was spinning as part of you still couldn't believe that you were finally acting out your deepest inner feelings. It was indescribable, the sensual sensations were overwhelming.

Your inner walls started to clench when Tom surprised you by flipping you over, you now lying on your back and the actor immediately placing your legs on his shoulders before sliding back into you, his hips snapping fiercely against yours.

"Yes!" you cried out in pleasure while arching your back, the overwhelming pleasure rushing through your body like tidal waves while the delicious knot formed in the pit of your stomach.

Every push pushed you deeper into the mattress, your breasts were jiggling all over the place while the sound of your sweaty skin slapping against one another filled the entire bedroom.

It didn't take Tom long before he had you on the edge of the ecstatic cliff, your orgasm surprising you entirely. Your legs shook violently while your weak screams of pleasure echoed through the room. The actor couldn't help but stare down at the beauty that you are while his orgasm was just around the corner.

He grunted loudly and gave you a few more sloppy thrusts, his spurts of release filling you all the way up while your inner walls were still clenching onto his cock, milking him until the final drop had been spilled inside you.

You couldn't open your eyes as your high had left you completely powerless. Tom gently slipped out of you and tried catching his breath while he laid down next to you, scooping you into his strong arms and placing gentle kisses on top of your head.

"Sleep, my love. I am here" he whispered, making your heart flutter in your chest while you cuddled closer to him, not being able to speak a word as the emotions were overwhelming you.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x plus size reader #tom hiddelston imagine #plus size reader

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stranger-fanfiction-n-things · 5 months

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CHAPTER 5: THE FLEA AND THE ACROBAT

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: This is a long one and based off certain scenes in Lucas on the Line. As a black person, I never realized I was other until it was pointed out to me and once I internalized it, I had questions I couldn't ask my parent(s) because it's not something discussed at length in the black community because trying to survive is hard enough. I honestly urge y'all to read Lucas on the Line because it's such a well written story about the Black Experience and how nuanced and difficult it is to navigate especially black kids who grew up in white neighbourhoods.

I hope y'all enjoy. Let me know what you guys think and if you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know too! 🤎

Warnings: Swearing.

Word Count: 4587

Masterlist

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV

THE WOODS

I squeal dropping the mallet on the ground at the sound of a gunshot. Nancy giggles waiting for me as I pick up my weapon in the shrubbery. I never thought I would be on my way to meet up with Jonathan Byers on the opposite side of town to learn how to shoot a gun. But then again, a lot more bizarre things have happened this week so I shouldn’t be surprised. Nancy and I trek up the small hill as Jonathan shoots repeatedly at the target of empty tin cans or at least attempts to.

“You’re supposed to hit the cans, right?”

Jonathan looks over his shoulder smiling sheepishly. “No, actually you see the spaces in between the cans? I’m aiming for those.”

“Sure.” Nancy answers, titling her head in amusement. She drops her backpack and baseball bat on the ground ready for practice.

I don’t take off my backpack right away, taking in my surroundings. The wide-open space of dry leaves, weeds and shrubs. The tall pine trees encircling the space. The winter chill started to come in and I wish I wore a hat today to cover my ears, maybe even a heavier coat instead of a denim jacket. Jonathan opens the revolver to check how many bullets are in the cylinder before reaching in his pockets for more.

“You ever shot a gun before?”

“Absolutely not.” I answer.

“Didn’t your dad fight in the Vietnam War?” I nod my head, shifting from side to side on my feet. My Dad would never let any of us touch a gun. There was no reason for us to. Jonathan shrugs. “I’m surprised he hasn’t taught you how to shoot a gun,” he commented, directing his gaze to Nancy. “You?”

Nancy scoffs. “Have you met my parents?”

“Yeah, I haven’t shot one since I was nine. My dad took me hunting on my birthday.” I see the spark in his eyes dwindle to a low flame. “He made me kill a rabbit.”

“A rabbit?” Nancy and I say at the same time.

“Yeah. I guess he thought it would make me into more of a man or something.”

“Yes, because the world needs more men shooting guns.” I deadpan.

Jonathan smirks, adding bullets to the cylinder. “I cried for a week.”

“Jesus.” Nancy whispers.

“I’m sorry.” I say to him.

Jonathan didn’t say anything as he tried to drag emotion back under where he didn’t need to feel it. He snaps the revolver in place, the corners of his lips rise to a smirk again. “What? I’m a fan of Thumper.”

“I meant your dad.” Nancy says.

The detachment in his tone makes me uncomfortable. In seeing Jonathan’s dad for the first time today, the way he dressed and carried himself. There was something arrogant and insincere about him. When Will first went missing, I never heard Jonathan mention his dad, when Nancy and I found Jonathan at the funeral home, he was by himself picking caskets. Ms. Byers was at home grieving, but the whole town knew how adamant she was on finding Will, but where was his dad? The audacity to show up to the funeral of his youngest son, he did nothing to plan, to shake hands with the people who did care to find Will. Now with this story, it completed the picture. He was never in Jonathan and Will’s life and didn’t care to be. Only wanted to insert his toxic male dominance and masculinity onto the boys.

“I guess he and my mother loved each other at some point...but I wasn’t around for that part.”

Nancy gestures for the gun and Jonathan hands it to her. “Just point and shoot.”

I walk behind Nancy to stand beside Jonathan, refusing to be anywhere near that sound. Nancy takes a deep breath aiming the gun at the can a few yards in front of her.

“I don’t think my parents ever loved each other.”

My eyebrows raise at the bold statement. “Nancy, you shouldn’t say that.”

“I mean it.” she answers.

“They must’ve married for some reason.” Jonathan states.

“My mom was young. My dad was older but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So, they bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family.”

“Screw that.” Jonathan says.

“Yeah. Screw that.”

Nancy closes one eye aiming for the beer can. I put my fingers in in ears just as Nancy pulls the trigger hitting the beer can. I chuckle in disbelief. From shot gunning to shooting them, anything involving beer cans, Nancy is a natural. I shrug off my backpack, placing the mallet on top. Despite the awe, I am uncomfortable with what Nancy said about her parents. Sure, Mr. Wheeler was a bit…impartial. I was around the family many times to know that, but to say her parents never loved each other? I don’t know.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try, Diana?” Jonathan asks, offering me the gun. I don’t move contemplating. “It’s not gonna bite.” He jokes. I make a face at Jonathan and he laughs as I cautiously take it from him with my gloved hand.

“Just point and shoot?”

“Just point and shoot.”

I standing in front of a can, widening my stance so I don’t fall over. “There’s nothing wrong with starting a nuclear family.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Nancy voices. “Your family is perfect.”

I narrow my eyes at her, shaking my head. The contempt in her tone is shocking. “That’s not true.”

“Diana,” Nancy chides, shoving her hands in her pockets. “You never argue with your parents and your parents never argue with each other. You are perfect. Your siblings are perfect. Everyone in your family is perfect.”

I don’t miss Jonathan’s eyes darting back and forth between us. Having never seen us go back and forth with each other, I can tell he is surprised by this. What he doesn’t know is this topic of conversation isn’t new. Throughout our years of friendship, Nancy and Barb always made fun of me for being “perfect”; how I never make mistakes; I am always put together. I need at least eight-hours of “beauty” sleep. From the nickname “Lady Diana”, to my mom making me lunches because I refuse to each cafeteria food. At first it used to bother me, but I moved passed it until Tommy H and Carol picked up on it and started calling me “Anal Princess”.

This may not be a new conversation, but the undertone certainly is and it’s why I am thrown off by it. It doesn’t sound like a joke anymore and there’s something deeper going on. I never thought Nancy envied me. I know I certainly envied Nancy for being strong enough to stand up for herself and say no. For being able to be defiant without feeling like its wrong. I lift my head high lifting the gun eye level.

“I’m not perfect and my parents do argue, just not in front of us and there’s nothing wrong with that.” I begin. “You want to know why my dad never taught me how to fire a gun?” I refer to Jonathan’s comment earlier. “Because he never talks about the War unless it’s to teach us a lesson. I don’t know any stories of his time there. My family is seemingly perfect because we don’t talk about things, we don’t have difficult conversations. We just keep our heads down and try to live without feeling more of an outsider than we already are.” I pull the trigger and the bullet hits the can knocking it off the tree stub.

None of us react. The heaviness of what I said laying on thick. My family isn’t perfect. We are far from it. We are compliant and conforming because it’s the only way to not be seen as more of an outsider than we already are. I understand it to a certain extent, but sometimes I wish my parents would talk more about it. About being black in an all-white religious town. About their past and how they came to Hawkins. I know nothing and it’s something I push down to be the “perfect” daughter when deep down it bothers me. This is not something I can discuss with Lucas and Erica because they are happy in their bubble and I want to keep it that way for them.

“What do you mean?” Nancy asks with a frown. “You’re not an outsider, Di.”

“Never mind.” I say, handing Jonathan the gun, feeling more uncomfortable than before.

Nancy didn’t question me again and after shooting practice we decided to head through the forest looking for the mysterious animal. Dried leaves crunch under my boots as we all walked in silence. Jonathan and Nancy walked together giving me space to be alone for a while which I am grateful for because I didn’t feel like talking. My mind feels like it’s been jostled back and forth, buzzing with many thoughts. I can’t believe I said that out loud. I’ve never talked about it because who do I talk about this with? Uncle Jack only comes to Hawkins once a year and when he does the environment is uncomfortable and stuffy because Dad doesn’t like Uncle Jack and doesn’t hide it. Long distance calls are expensive and I have no money to pay for it and if Dad finds out I’ve been talking to Uncle Jack he’d be furious. Maybe I should start journaling or writing letters I’ll never send.

“You never said what I was saying?” Nancy speaks after a long period of silence.

“What?” Jonathan says.

The conversation about the photos began in the darkroom yesterday, but I interrupted when I saw the final development of the photo of the thing that took Will and Barb. It’s definitely been the great elephant in the room between the three of us and though the conversation in the darkroom was light in nature, it is a serious situation.

“Yesterday, you said, I was saying something and that’s why you took my picture.” I glance around not focusing on anything, while keeping my ears perked.

“Oh, I don’t know. My guess…I saw this girl; you know trying to be someone else. But for that moment…it was like you were alone or you thought you were,” I cautiously peer at Nancy. She looks like she’s about to explode. “And, you know you could just be yourself.”

I ground my teeth. Jonathan just opened up a huge can of worms. A few days ago, I would’ve agreed but after talking to Nancy, I don’t think she is trying to be someone else. She’s a young woman exploring and there’s nothing wrong with that. Also, Jonathan isn’t close to Nancy to know who she is and who she isn’t. Nancy doesn’t respond right away, processing the soft insult. She stops clenching her hands into fists.

“That is such bullshit.” Nancy fumes, glaring at Jonathan. “I am not trying to be someone else. Just because I’m dating Steve and you don’t like him—”

“You know what? Forget it. I just thought it was a good picture.”

My head retracts back. “So, you were intentional in taking those photos.”

Jonathan’s head whips back. His brows shoot up in disbelief. “What?”

“You said you thought it was a good picture which means you were intentional about taking it.” My voice hardens. “Taking all of it.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Diana.” Jonathan mutters furiously under his breath, walking away. I march behind him trying to keep up with his long legs and quick strides.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth! Nancy asked you a question and your answer quite frankly, was bullshit. Because really? That’s what you were thinking when she was taking off her shirt?” It’s a cop out. A poor excuse to deflect from what he did. Jonathan scoffs. “Unbelievable.” I hiss, catching myself before I trip over a branch. “What about how Steve feels?”

“Oh my god!” Jonathan throws his hands up in exasperation and I am filled with so much adrenaline I’m starting to shake.

“I told you his privacy was violated too!” I snap. “As was mine, Tommy, Carol, and Barb!”

Jonathan spins around, eyes bulging out of his sockets. “And I said I was sorry for taking the photos!” He shouts. I blink repeatedly taken aback by this attitude. No one has ever yelled at me like that and Jonathan was the last person I thought would. Nancy steps in scowling at him.

“Don’t yell at her!” she shouts, pointing at him. Jonathan glares at her and keeps his mouth shut. I look down at my boots, done with the conversation. “Steve is actually a good guy. The whole camera situation. He’s not like that at all. He was just being protective.”

“Yeah.” Jonathan scoffs, walking away. “That’s one word for it.”

“And what you did was okay?” Nancy barks, following after him. I stalk behind her keeping my distance.

“I never said that.”

“He had every right to be pissed—”

“Okay, all right.” Jonathan says, rolling his eyes, coming to a halt. “Does that mean I have to like him?”

“No.”

“Listen, don’t take it so personally, okay? I don’t like most people. He’s in the vast majority.”

This is why he’s being like this. Because he doesn’t like Steve and has some sort of animosity towards him. I never thought I would stick up for Steve, but after my encounter with him in my garage, I think he’s a good person and deserves a chance to be seen and heard outside his bubble.

“You know, I was actually starting to think that you were okay.” Nancy rages.

“Yeah?” Jonathan challenges, eyes glowing with savage fire.

“Yeah, I was thinking, ‘Jonathan Byers, maybe he’s not the pretentious creep everyone says he is.’”

“Well, I was just starting to think you were okay. I was thinking, ‘Nancy Wheeler, she’s not just another suburban girl who thinks she’s rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does, until that phase passes and they marry some boring one-time jock who now works sales, and they live out a perfectly boring little life at the end of a cul-de-sac.’” His voice was stern with no vestige of sympathy in its hardness. “’Exactly like their parents, who they thought were so depressing, but now, hey, they get it.’”

Nancy and I watch Jonathan march away. We look at each other absolutely gobsmacked at what just happened. Nancy’s face is so red, the veins in her neck pulsates with pent-up fury as she clenches her fists. I wrap my arm around her shoulders guiding her along the path.

I admire the colours of the sky as we trek through the forest. Shades of pink, orange, and yellow blending and oozing together. The sun was setting and we would soon need to use our flashlights to navigate through the forest. My back aches from carrying my backpack for so long and I want to tell Jonathan to stop so we can take a break but he was far ahead keeping his distance. All of us have been quiet since the argument though Nancy walked beside me, we haven’t spoken focusing on our surroundings, deep in thought.

A lot of truth has been said today and it felt like it was shoved down all our throats. I’m not mad at Jonathan for yelling at me and I hope he’s not mad at me for calling him out. What he did was stupid and I know he knows that, but picking a fight with Nancy was something completely different. It felt more personal and I can’t quite put my finger on why it would be since Jonathan and Nancy aren’t close. If anything, they may be farther apart now after what he said to her. I doubt Jonathan wants that especially because of how far we’ve come.

“Are you okay?” Nancy asks quietly enough so Jonathan doesn’t hear.

“Yes.” I respond automatically. Nancy looks at me and I drop the act. “No.”

“Me neither.” she agrees, glaring at the back of Jonathan’s head. “I’m so sick of him and his holier than thou attitude.”

“I can’t believe he yelled at me.”

“I can’t believe that either!” she whispers hastily. “I didn’t like that.”

“I know. Thank you for sticking up for me.”

“Thank you for sticking up for me and Steve.”

“You’re welcome.”

I debate on whether I should tell her he came to my house today, but decide it doesn’t matter and she probably already knew about it since he was in his way to see her anyways.

“I can’t believe Princess Diana swore.” she teases, touching her chest in shock.

“Oh, shut up.” I giggle, pushing her away.

“Ou, again!” I roll my eyes.

“I was just trying to understand why he took the photos.”

“I honestly don’t even think he knows.” she says, looking at Jonathan again. There was no anger in her eyes, just curiosity.

“After that conversation, I think so too.”

Nancy hums in response, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ears. “I was going to bring it up later but, what you did earlier today about being an outsider. What did you mean?”

A ripple of anxiety went up my back while my stomach fell to my feet. I shrug my shoulders shaking me head. “I don’t know.” I deflect.

“Diana, we’ve been friends for so long, you can talk to me about anything. You know that right?”

I do know that, but this conversation was not about a boy or anything menial like that. It was much deeper and something I’ve been pushing down for years. I didn’t mean to say it out loud, but when Nancy went on about my perfect day family, I snapped. This past week I feel like I’ve gone through the most significant changes which in turn has brought up subconscious thoughts, emotions and insecurities. I feel like I’m being pulled in every direction, perfect daughter, perfect friend, Juilliard, Blackness, otherness. But who am I? Where do I want to go? Who do I want to be?

“Diana.” Worry etched Nancy’s features. My silence makes her more anxious. I sigh, stepping over a branch.

“Have you ever noticed there is no one who looks like me in our neighbourhood?” I mumble, uncomfortably.

“No? What do you mean?” An expected answer. I close my eyes counting down from five. How do I go about this?

“I mean, black.” I say, pushing down the lump forming in my throat. “My family…” I clear my throat. “My family is the only black family in the neighbourhood.” When Nancy doesn’t say anything, I continue. “I don’t remember when I noticed, but once I did, it’s hard not to. Even at school, I can count how many black people are there and majority are on the basketball team. Did you know that?” Nancy shakes her head. “I am the only black person in our classes, at dance. No matter where I go or what I do, who I am. I will always be the black one. Even in our friendship. That’s what I mean by outsider.”

“My mom and dad don’t talk about our blackness and I’m left to figure it out on my own. I don’t have anyone to talk to about it. That’s what I mean when I said we don’t have difficult conversations. We just keep our heads down and conform, but sometimes I don’t want to conform. Sometimes…” I sigh feeling exhausted. Mentally. “Sometimes, I want to ask those questions but then I’ll feel like I’m not…”

“The perfect daughter.” Nancy finishes.

“Yeah.” I twirl the mallet in my hand. There’s so much to say but this conversation is exhausting enough. Nancy looks at the ground, kicking a rock.

“I-I don’t know what to say…” she says lowly. “I’m sorry for not paying attention.”

“You know now and that’s the first step.”

“Of course, but please don’t be afraid to tell me these things. You’re my best friend and I don’t want you to feel like an outsider when you’re with me. What you said is something I need to know in order to change.”

I nod my head and Nancy visibly relaxes, reaching to squeeze my hand. I rest my head on her shoulder feeling more relaxed than I did before the beginning of the conversation. It’s a conversation that could’ve easily gone south and I wouldn’t be prepared to handle it, especially after what happened hours before. Darkness quickly engulfs the sky and I am instantly aware of all the sounds in the forest. The wind slipping through leaves, the cracking undergrowth with each step Nancy and I make, the bugs crawling on trees. We all take out our flashlights to see and I notice Jonathan slows down to remain close, though still keeping his distance. I jerk at every unfamiliar sound making Nancy laugh again.

“Do you remember Mei Wong?” I mutter, swatting away a fly.

“Yes. She auditioned for Juilliard!”

“Well on Sunday at rehearsals, she told me…” I swallow to soothe the dryness in my throat. “She told me I should think about auditioning for Juilliard.”

“Really? Wow!”

I scrunch my nose. “I know.”

“You definitely should. I meant what I said at Steve’s house. You’re such a beautiful dancer and you’re gonna go pro. I feel it.” I shake my head. Somehow Nancy sees it.

“You are. I need you to be more confident in yourself.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…what if I audition and I don’t get in—”

“We’re only in 10th grade, you have time to worry about the auditions.” Nancy assures me. “Maybe Juilliard has a summer intensive you can take beforehand to give you an extra boost.”

“My dad will never allow that.”

“Have you talked to your mom about it?”

I shake my head. “Not yet.”

“I say after all this is done and we find Barb, we will both help you research and come up with a plan for you to go to Juilliard. Because you’re going to Juilliard.”

We find Barb. That’s the most important thing. It’s why we’re here now. The sound of her laughter echoed through my mind. The last time I saw her; felt her at Steve’s house. I don’t want to believe that was the last time I saw her. I shiver, crossing my arms above my chest. It’s so cold I can barely feel my ears and nose. Jonathan keeps pace with Nancy and I. There is still tension between the three of us, but now is not the time to dwell on it, not when we were outside in the forest on our own looking for God knows what. At random, Nancy slows down looking back and forth, her expression tight with strain. I keep myself composed despite the fact my heart is racing. Did she see something? Hear anything? Was it here? I tighten my grip on the mallet, my eyes darting from tree to tree.

“What are you tired?” Jonathan asks.

“Shut up.” Nancy hisses, looking around. “I heard something.”

I follow closely beside Jonathan as we follow Nancy through the forest. I don’t know what we’re looking for or what she’s heard until I hear something faint…a whining sound. I gasp at the sight of a deer whimpering in front of underbrush. We all rush to the deer dropping to our knees. My stomach is in knots at the blood dampening its fawn-coloured coat. It looked like it’s been punctured multiple times. It’s ragged breathing and slow movements indicated it was in pain and about to die. I’ve never seen a deer this close before and I’m sad it has to be like this. Images of Bambi flash through my mind and I cover my mouth muffling my sobs.

“Oh, God. It’s been hit by a car.” Nancy whimpers, tears brimming her eyes. She looks at the gun in her hand and holds it up. “We can’t just leave it.”

“Wait!” I exclaim, grabbing her arm. “There must be something else we can do!”

“It’s in too much pain. We have to.”

“I’ll do it.” Jonathan says, taking the gun. Nancy and I look at him with wide eyes. “I’m not nine anymore.” Jonathan assures us.

I stagger up on my feet grabbing Nancy’s hand. Jonathan points the gun at the deer. Time slows down and I feel like the forest is closing in on me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up just as Jonathan is about to pull the trigger when suddenly, the deer disappears into the underbrush. I jump back startled, mouth opening in a silent scream.

“What was that? What was that?” Nancy shouts.

I wring my hands jumping up and down. “Oh, my god. Oh my, god. I can’t. I can’t.” Panic shoots up my spine and I hold my chest struggling to catch my breath.

“There’s so much blood.”

“Where did it go?”

“I don’t know.”

I quickly pick up the flashlight and mallet I dropped in my state of panic. My skin tingles and I shake my head trying to focus, aiming the light on the ground. Blood smears all over leaves and twigs. I proceed around with caution, shining my light on anything and everything in the forest, being cautious of not stepping on any gore. From the far distance I notice something dripping from a hollow tree stump. It looked like…sap. No, it’s too thick for it to be sap. I am vigilant taking calculated steps and kneel in front of the tree inspecting the foliage. It looked like the tree was creating mucus. Thick, slimy, runny mucus. There was no smell to it, but it was weird. I paid attention in biology last semester to know that this wasn’t right.

“Nancy.” I whisper. “This tree…there’s weird stuff falling.”

Nancy joins me on my knees shining her light. She touches the tree stump, looking up. “Jonathan?” she shouts, looking around. I search as well thinking he was with us, but he’s nowhere to be seen. It would be unwise to leave Nancy here alone to look for him. We were better sticking together. When I turn back however, Nancy is taking off her backpack placing it beside her bat. My eyes widen. “You’re not seriously going in there!”

“Watch my stuff.”

“Are you crazy?” I snap.

That mucus could be toxic or worse. There was no need to go inside the clearly rotting tree. Nancy ignores me crawling inside. I am lost for words because not only can she fit inside; her body completely disappears as if there was an opening on the other side. I blink, shaking my head, feeling disembodied.

“Nancy?”

Adrenaline bursts through my veins to prepare myself to fight or flee. I feel like I am back in Steve’s backyard keeping watch while Nancy does something completely foolish like walk into the forest on her own or like now, crawling into a slime coated hollow stump. I curse colourful words under my breath that would shock my Dad. I can’t leave her alone. So, I take off my backpack and put the mallet on top; count down from five in my head and crawl through the hole holding my breath hopefully awaiting Nancy on the other side.

CHAPTER 6: THE MONSTER

Taglist 🤍: @tinydramatist

#stranger things rewrite #black fem reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #dianasinclair #sinclair!reader #eddie munson x black!reader #steve harrington x black!reader #eddie munson x female reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader

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ao3feed-jonmartin · 2 months

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An Evening In The Garden

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/YhJQCDa by Jadealaide “Do you mean to say that he’s got his eye on someone?” Sasha asked. “Not once during this conversation have I said anything to insinuate this,” Jon grumbled. “Oh, but it’s all in the face, how the body reacts,” Tim told him. “It says a great deal more than your tongue does, you know.” “On the contrary, I do not.” Martin was late. This was, of course, hardly uncommon. OR Regency era Jon gets teased by Tim and then has a date with Martin. Words: 2048, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James/Tim Stoker, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Past Georgie Barker/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist - Relationship, implied Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner Additional Tags: Pining, Alternate Universe - Regency, First Kiss, The Timeless Horror That Is Social Gatherings, One Shot, Canon-typical whatever the heck Daisy and Basira have going on, Autistic Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, It has no relevance I just need you to know this, Canon Asexual Character, Wingman Tim Stoker, New tag just dropped, Author is neither British nor were they alive in the 19th century, No beta we aim to please like Captain Frederick Wentworth in Jane Austen's 1817 novel "Persuasion" read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/YhJQCDa

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #tma #jonmartin #jmart #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin fanfic

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villainousshakespeare · 2 years

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In Praise of Tom Hiddleston and Female Directors

As a female director (albeit of Theater and not Film) I have been feeling a little frustrated once again as awards season brings no nominations for women. This led me (as many things do, lol) to thinking about my favorite Muse, Tom Hiddleston.

One of the things that I love about TH is willingness and enthusiasm to work with female directors, and on thinking about it I realized that this allyship has also benefited him as well. Case in point:

1. His first movie, Unrelated, was directed by Joanna Hogg. Now, of course all of us see Hiddles as the perfect Beautiful Boy but imagine if this movie had been directed by a man. In that case, Oakley, the handsome younger man who charms and tempts the 40 something woman, would almost certainly be cast with some young beef cake actor, or at very least had them bulk up in order to play the role. This is who male directors seem to think we desire. Instead, Hogg casts TH and boy does she sell him. Oakley is a little shit, but the way he is lit, framed, directed makes him all but irresistible. The female gaze sees all of his ethereal beauty and shares it with us.

2. Next we have my personal favorite, Henry V in The Hollow Crown. In his big leading episode, Tom is once again directed by a woman, Thea Sharrock. Again, look at how his is shot. The female gaze follows him riding in like a hero from our collective imagination in his opening shot. He is strong and dangerous, savage even at times, without ever loosing that thread of empathy that Henry struggles to clamp down. And do I even have to mention the proposal scene? Watch that and tell me it isn’t pure wish fulfillment for the majority of people who fancy men. I liked him when I watched Loki, but Hollow Crown made me fall so deep down the rabbit hole that I may never climb out again (and honestly, I’m okay with this).

3. Lastly, we come to the role that pushed him over the edge into superstardom, The Night Manager. Can there be any doubt that this miniseries was directed by a woman? The entire show was an advertisement for how gorgeous he is. Yes, there are some lovely shots of Elizabeth Debicki in various states of undress, but Pine is the major eye candy here. See him in finely tailored suits, see him astride a motorcycle, see him bathing, both in a waterfall and in a shower covered in mud, see his much lauded English countryside looking all round and pert... it just goes on and on. It is not just the visual that Susana Biers gets either. Unlike other spies of film and television, Jonathan is emotional, chivalrous, and above all intelligent. Tom nails the role and the world loved him for it.

I am not saying that male directors do not make Tom look good (hello Conrad’s arms) or play to his strengths (see the psychological beauty of Adam). I just believe there is something to be said for the qualities that female directors can bring out.

In short (ha, sorry, this ran on looooong, lol) Tom trusts women directors more than many of his fellow actors, and I think the results are that he shows a vulnerability in his work that helps make him more than just another action star. Women have helped make him the actor he is today, and I don’t believe the fact that his last two directors were women is an accident. He said in his interview for Leading Lady Parts that he needed to work with more directors (he had worked with five at that point I believe) and he has been as good as his word. Another reason to love this man.

* I also want to make a special shout out to stage director Josey Rourke, who has the career that I want and gave us this amazing contribution:

#Tom Hiddleston #actors #female directors #the hollow crown #the night manager #unrelated #coriolanus #in praise of twh #support women #allyship #meta #opinoins

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fanficshiddles · 3 months

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#tom hiddleston #loki #one shot #Robert Laing #adam (olla)#Thomas sharpe #Jonathan pine

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cleo-fox · 1 year

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Close Quarters

Part 1 of 2

Summary: “You don’t have to like it,” says Fury, “you just have to do your job.”

Your job, as it turns out, is to go undercover at a luxury resort.

The only problem? Your fake husband is Loki Laufeyson—the infuriatingly handsome Norse god turned Avenger who delights in making you flustered. What could go wrong?

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (Minors DNI), dirty talk, praise kink, fingering, elevator sex, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, a hint of dom/sub, Dom Loki.

A/N: there will be a part 2. Also have a handful of related one shot ideas, so if people like this, I may post those. This is also posted on AO3.

Your self-sufficiency has always been a point of pride for you, both personally and professionally. The highlight of your career was overhearing Nick Fury say that he didn’t need to send in a team of people for a mission so long as he had you on the payroll. You are calm, competent, and ruthlessly efficient; you are used to relying only on yourself.

So it comes as something of a surprise when Fury informs you that Loki Laufeyson will not only be accompanying you on this undercover mission, but will also be taking the lead.

It takes a lot to render you speechless these days, but this does it. You gape at Fury for a moment before you’re able to speak.

“You never send me in with anyone,” you say.

“This mission requires a unique skillset.”

You scoff. “He can’t do anything that I can’t.”

Fury raises an eyebrow and folds his arms across his chest. “Really? How’s your conversational Sokovian?”

There’s, of course, no argument to be made with this. Your lips press into a thin, hard line. “I still don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it,” says Fury, “you just have to do your job.”

Your job, as it turns out, is to play the part of Nina Pine.

Nina Pine is bubbly and vivacious, the sort of person you’d see in the society pages. She wears designer clothes and owns jewelry that is so ostentatious and expensive that it looks like it must be fake. She is not particularly bright or talented; she is the product of good luck and generational wealth.

Three weeks ago, Nina married Jonathan Pine, who she met six months ago at the home of a mutual friend. Jonathan does something in finance that sounds like it’s just a tarted up version of gambling, but with more complicated rules and less oversight. It is Jonathan’s higher tolerance for risk (and healthy trust fund assets) that has him considering an investment in KorolCo, a company owned by Ivan Litvinchuk. Litvinchuk uses KorolCo as a front to launder money from illegal arms deals.

Loki would be going undercover as Jonathan. Your new husband.

You are not particularly happy about this little detail (a detail that Fury mysteriously failed to mention when you met with him), in no small part because Loki has already started leveraging it to annoy the shit out of you.

“How are you already this annoying when we’re still in prep?” you say after a particularly exasperating meeting.

“I’m simply overcome by my love for you,” says Loki with a cloying faux sincerity that makes you yearn for the sweet release of death.

Fury, you note, is suspiciously unavailable during all of this. After ignoring three of your (admittedly lengthy) emails on the subject, he sends you a frustratingly short reply:

Do your job, Agent.

Maybe you’ll take up meditation.

If there’s a bright side to what appears to be a massive clusterfuck in the making, it’s that you’ll at least get a free vacation of sorts

The mission will be taking place at The Indigo, an absurdly expensive and exclusive hotel on a private beach not far from La Jolla Cove. The Indigo is the sort of place that you’d only read about—the kind of hyper exclusive resort that is only ever mentioned in damning Pro Publica reports about the questionable actions of high ranking public officials. Rooms start at fifty thousand a night and you are staying in one of the suites, which likely costs more. Your room information was included in your briefing materials and it all sounds too good to be true: a soaking tub and waterfall shower. Private terrace with an infinity pool. Private bar. In-suite chef and spa services by appointment. Ocean view.

One Norse god who delights in irritating you (non-negotiable).

You suppose you’ll try and make the best of it.

The first problem is your sleeping arrangements: there’s only one bed. Granted, it’s a big bed, but still—it suggests a level of intimacy that you had not thought about and are not at all prepared for.

“Well, Agent, this isn’t how I envisioned taking you to my bed, but I suppose it’ll have to do,” says Loki on your first evening there.

You chuck a pillow at him, which he easily dodges.

“Keep it up and you can magic yourself a pillow and sleeping bag and sleep in the hall,” you say.

“Even if that were an appropriate accommodation for someone of my rank and title, I rather think it would do some damage to our cover.”

He has a point and you don’t like it. You decide to ignore him and start getting ready for bed.

The pajamas that had been packed for you are a little fancier than what you’re used to—satin and lace instead of cotton tees and shorts. Normally, you’d relish the opportunity to feel a little fancy—it’s an unexpected indulgence, a splurge on the company dime.

But with Loki now thrown into the equation, you are suddenly hyper aware of the fact that the fabric will likely cling to your curves, that the hem of the skirt is just a little too high. You choose the most demure one of the lot—a pale rose colored thing hemmed with lace—and head to the bathroom to change.

Even with the matching robe, you still feel a little awkward and oddly nervous. You avoid looking at Loki—if his gaze is lingering on your legs or your hips, you don’t want to know about it right before you hop into bed with him—and go about your normal routine. You manage to have a relatively normal conversation about your plan for tomorrow and you read a couple chapters of your book before you start to drift off.

It’s a king sized bed with plenty of room, but somehow you wake up perched near the edge of the bed with Loki pressed up against your back.

He’s got one arm wrapped around your waist so that you’re pinned against him and the deep, even breaths brushing against the back of your neck tell you he’s still asleep. You’re pretty sure this must have been unintentional on his part: Loki doesn’t seem like the sort to willingly allow himself to be seen seeking out human contact. It’s too vulnerable, too soft for the sharp and sarcastic veneer he presents to the world.

He shifts slightly in his sleep, his grip on you tightening. Something hard pokes against the curve of your ass.

You can’t help the responding ache between your legs. You should feel embarrassed—and you do, just a little—but there’s a competing feeling of warm curiosity that makes you press your thighs together. It’s been a while and you miss being held like this. The silk of your nightgown is cool and slippery against your skin, and you feel oddly restless and alert despite the early hour.

You should put a stop to this—that is the professional and sensible thing to do. So you carefully lift his arm from your waist and gently extricate yourself from his embrace. You pad to the bathroom, leaving the light off to spare your eyes.

In the bathroom, you run the tap as cold as it will go. You cup your hands and drink before splashing some water on your face in an effort to quell the restless heat building between your thighs.

It doesn’t really work. You’re not entirely surprised—if you were by yourself, you would simply take care of it, but that’s obviously not an option now. Out of curiosity, you slip your fingers between your thighs to assess the state of things and you immediately regret it: you’re soaked and just the feeling of your index finger glancing against your clit is enough to undo the admittedly minimal effect of the cold water.

You splash your face again and shut off the tap, taking a few deep breaths and smoothing your hands against your hair.

You exit the bathroom and slide back into bed. Loki reaches for you in his sleep and you are only half surprised when you let him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to him. The throbbing ache between your thighs intensifies and before you can think about it, your back is arching and your breath is hitching.

He pulls you closer and suddenly his breath is warm on your ear. “You know, if you wanted me, all you had to do was ask,” he says, his voice deep and smooth, only a little husky with sleep.

“This is a bad idea,” you say, even as your back arches again and you press yourself against him.

Lips press against where your neck and shoulder meet. “But you want it.” His fingers toy with the hem of your nightgown. “Yes?” he asks, his voice husky against your ear.

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Agent.”

“Yes. Please.”

“Agent.”

Your eyes flutter open. Loki is standing at the foot of the bed, hair wet, and wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“It’s eight o’clock,” he says. “You need to shower and dress if we’re to make it to breakfast on time.”

It takes you a moment to process this information. Partly because he just woke you up from a sex dream about him and partly because wearing only a towel should be fucking illegal when you look like that. You try to keep your eyes trained on his and not let them drift to his flat stomach where you can see a faint smattering of chest hair that gathers in a line that trails directly to his cock. And definitely not to any of the muscles that are on tantalizing display and dotted by drops of water that are begging to be licked away. Nope. Not looking at any of that. Just at his devastatingly handsome face.

Fuck.

“Agent?”

You shake your head. “Sorry. Bit groggy this morning. Finish up what you were doing and I’ll go jump in the shower.”

He gives you a bit of an odd look, but mercifully walks away without further comment.

This gives you an opportunity to stare at his broad back as he walks away. Goddammit, even his ass looks good in that towel.

Fuck.

You have a feeling this is going to be a long week.

It’s only day one and it’s becoming clear to you that you are not really prepared for some of the practicalities of being Loki’s wife.

Specifically: being the primary focus of his flirtations and little gestures of affection. His hand on the small of your back, his fingers lacing with yours, the brush of his lips against the back of your hand or the shell of your ear—it’s all a little overwhelming in a way you don’t expect. It was one thing when he was razzing you in your prep meetings—he was quite clearly doing it to be irritating. But at The Indigo, he has to appear sincere for your cover and that particular detail makes it a different beast entirely.

The fact that both his regular appearance and the blond-haired, blue-eyed glamor he’s adopted for the mission are both devastatingly handsome certainly doesn’t help. Nor does the additional baggage of your sex dream this morning.

Unfortunately for you, Loki quickly ascertains that he now has a great and novel way to fluster you. Equally unfortunate is the fact that he seems to find this as hilarious as he did back in prep meetings, which prompts him to be only more outlandish.

“Are you trying to sabotage this?” It’s later that afternoon and you’ve gone down to the pool with the plan of schmoozing with Litvinchuk and his associates. Loki has clearly decided that this needs to be more difficult than it is and has fully committed to the bit, as they say.

(You’ve also gotten very good at whispering threats under your breath and making it look like you’re flirting; the timing of this is not a coincidence).

“I don’t know why you’re so distraught about sunscreen,” says Loki, rubbing a generous amount between his palms.

“It’s not the sunscreen, it’s that you’re going to find some way to be inappropriate about it.”

“I’d never.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“You wound me.” He places his hands on your shoulders and begins rubbing in the sunscreen, going much slower than you think is strictly necessary. “Perhaps this trip is merely bringing out our natural chemistry.”

“You wish.”

“Is it the hair that does it for you, Mrs. Pine? Do you have a particular fondness for blonds?”

“Do you have a fondness for being murdered in broad daylight? Because that’s the fate you’re headed towards, buster.”

He tuts at you as his hands slide to the small of your back. “Temper, temper. You really need to work on that.”

“Have you considered working on not annoying the ever-loving shit out of me?”

His breath is suddenly warm against your ear. “Now where’s the fun in that? And before you answer, be advised that Tarasevich is looking right at us.”

Fuck. Tarasevich is the most suspicious and paranoid of the lot—years in the Sokovian mafia paired with recreational drug use will do that to a guy. You turn so that you’re facing Loki. He looks at you fondly, looking for all the world like a loved up newlywed just smitten with his new wife.

“One of these days, I’m going to drop kick you into the motherfucking sun,” you say in the sweetest voice that you can muster.

“Now, now, Mrs. Pine, let’s keep the foreplay in the bedroom.” He rests his forehead against yours, reaching up to stroke your cheek. “There’s such a thing as public indecency laws, you know.”

You sigh heavily. “Why are you like this?”

“Oh, because it’s so much fun.”

“Is he still looking?”

“Yes and I’m going to kiss you to put him off, so do try to contain yourself.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage.”

You catch a flicker of a smile before he leans in and brushes his lips against yours. You intend for this to be brief, but his mouth is so warm and inviting and before you know it, he’s gently coaxing your lips open and leading your tongue in a slow and seductive caress that has your mind drifting straight to the gutter.

His hand slides to your thigh and you can’t bring yourself to be mad about it.

“Ah, Pine. Mixing business and pleasure, I see.”

You pull back from Loki to find Ivan Litvinchuk standing in front of you, wearing the smug, congratulatory smirk that you often see men like him trading with one another when they think they’re getting somewhere with a woman.

“Normally I try not to, but I’ve found it rather impossible these last three weeks, haven’t I, darling?” Loki takes the opportunity to loop his arms around your waist and pull you into his lap, nuzzling your neck.

You give a good natured laugh. “You’re insatiable.”

“Oh, I don’t think anyone would fault me when I have such a tempting little wife.”

This, paired with the squeeze of his hand on your thigh, sends an unexpected rush of heat to your cunt. Fortunately, the effects of this are quickly tempered when you notice that Litvinchuk is eyeing you rather appreciatively. The wardrobe team has really outdone themselves with your clothes, but the swimsuits they’ve sent are definitely more revealing than you are used to—today’s choice is a bikini with a split sweetheart neckline that dips a lot lower than you’d like and a fucking underwire in the top. Underwire! The bottom is no better—it’s both low rise and high cut, the perfect way to ensure that half of your ass is exposed at any given time. Even in the matching translucent cover up—which of course you’ve left on the chair that Litvinchuk is standing in front of—you feel a little more bare than you’d like, a fact that Litvinchuk seems to be appreciating, if the path of his gaze is any indication.

“You’re a lucky man, Mr. Pine,” he says, his eyes flicking briefly to your cleavage.

You expertly tamp down your disgust and smile at Litvinchuk before turning around to bat your eyes at Loki.

“You are, aren’t you?” you say, twining your arms around his neck and planting a brief, chaste kiss on his lips.

He gives you a dazzling smile that’s so sincere it makes your stomach flip. “Very much so.”

Another squeeze of your thigh, more heat to your cunt. Fuck.

“Well, Pine, when you are ready to discuss more business—” Here he switches to Sokovian.

This is the part you dislike the most about this particular mission: whenever anything of substance comes up, Litvinchuk and his cronies immediately switch to Sokovian, leaving you in the dark.

To add insult to injury, Litvinchuk still seems infatuated by your cleavage.

Litvinchuk says goodbye a few minutes later and you manage to bite your tongue until he’s out of earshot.

“I really don’t love the fact that he spent half of that conversation sneaking looks at my boobs,” you say quietly.

“Well, to be fair, they do look spectacular,” says Loki. “I’ll have to send a thank you note to the wardrobe team for that.”

Heat stirs hopefully and unhelpfully in your hips at that comment.

“This is what I meant by being inappropriate, you know. Did he have anything interesting to say?”

“He’s invited me to a game of cards this afternoon.”

“Do you need me for that? I could go try and talk to the wives, see what I can find out.”

“Originally, I’d thought no, but since dear Ivan seems so enamored of your assets, it might not be a bad idea to have you come along.”

You sigh. “How am I now at the point in my life where letting an illegal arms dealer stare at my tits is a fucking mission objective?”

Loki laughs quietly. “We’ll keep that out of the final report.”

The card game ends up being a lot worse than you thought it would be. And not because of Litvinchuk’s wandering eyes.

They’ve set up the game on the pool deck tables and chairs. As best as you can tell, it’s a Sokovian twist on a combination of rummy and poker. You’re not the only woman at the table: a few of the other men have their girlfriends or mistresses draped over them like strange human scarves, though their roles seem to be largely decorative.

Loki makes a big show of pulling you into his lap, saying how he just can’t bear to be apart from his new wife for terribly long.

“Ah, young love,” says Mikhnevich. “I remember when my Irina and I were like this.”

“Now she begs for him to leave the house!” says Litvinchuk. There’s a hearty round of laughter—it’s not a particularly funny joke, but you suppose that’s one of the benefits of moving up in the world of crime: people will laugh at your jokes because they’re afraid you’ll kidnap their families or something. It’s all very dysfunctional.

Loki makes an effort to teach you the game, but Nina is not the sort who pays very close attention to that kind of thing, so you find yourself giggling and letting him steal kisses or whisper in your ear as he explains some strategy or another.

There are several problems with this arrangement. The first is that you are positioned on his lap in such a way that you can feel his cock nudging your ass or your thigh, depending on how he’s sitting. And it’s close enough proximity for you to ascertain that he is long, thick, and semi-erect.

The second problem is his thigh; specifically, how it presses against your cunt, how every time Loki leans forward to draw a card, he inadvertently rocks you against the firm muscle. Each time, it feels better than the last; each time, you clench and ache and talk yourself out of riding his thigh until you have a screaming orgasm right on the pool deck. Each time, the idea becomes more and more tempting.

The third problem is his hands. Specifically, where and how they are wandering. He plays it off like it’s unintentional, like he’s just absently fidgeting with the part of your suit that lays against your hip or idly drawing lazy circles on your thigh. You can’t help but think that it must be calculated. He’s spent the last twenty-four hours intentionally trying to drive you crazy–there’s no way that he would pass up an opportunity to play his little games without you scolding him or rolling your eyes.

The fourth problem is that the first three problems are turning you on a lot.

Your clit seems to swell with every pass of his fingertips on your bare skin, no matter how casual. It drags against the slick material of your swimsuit every time you shift on Loki’s muscular thigh. You can feel yourself growing slicker and slicker with every moment. Eventually, it becomes too much and you try to shift in his lap, crossing your legs to give yourself a little relief.

This does exactly nothing useful. Instead, your movement causes his cock to twitch against you, which only escalates your growing arousal. He hooks the elastic of your suit at your hip onto his thumb and pulls, letting it snap back against your skin. His expression is playful when you look up at him, but there’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

You are throbbing, your cunt practically weeping with slickness. And you’re pretty sure he knows.

And you’re pretty sure you don’t mind.

You lick your lips.

He hooks his thumb back into your suit at the hip, and this time he leaves it there, his fingers splayed along the curve of your hip. It’s casually possessive and ridiculously hot and the polar opposite of helpful.

He definitely knows.

Your heart is pounding. Can you go into cardiac arrest from being too turned on? You wish you could use Google. At a minimum, some sort of visual equivalent of a cold shower would be helpful. Pictures of Henry Kissinger or something. Budget reports. Taxes. Anything to get your mind off your aching cunt and the mess that you’re making in your swimsuit.

“I think you could do with a bit of a lie down, Mrs. Pine.” Loki's voice is low in your ear. “You seem…warm.”

You would have thought that Loki knowing about your current state of arousal would be cause for humiliation, if not irritation. Instead, it only seems to add fuel to the fire, especially with the way he’s talking to you. You’re not sure how he’s doing this, but it feels like his fucking voice is vibrating in the cradle of your hips, sending a fresh wave of slick arousal to your dripping cunt.

“Yeah,” you say. “Very warm.”

It’s perhaps a testament to your current state of mind that you can only manage this sentence and not some smart remark.

“Would you like my help with that, darling?” he asks. The phrasing is innocent, but the question is loaded. And sincere. You take in a shaky breath. You know all the reasons why this is a bad idea, but you also can’t bring yourself to say no. He may be wildly irritating, but you suspect he’s likely a good fuck…and you really need to be fucked.

You nod. “Yeah…I’d like that.”

“We’ll go up to the room after this game ends,” he says. “And then I’ll take very good care of you.”

It takes everything in you not to whine. Fuck. You didn’t think it was possible to be this wet, this turned on.

Loki shifts slightly, pulling you close against him, his cock now fully erect and pressing hard and thick against your ass.

“Do you feel me?” he asks, his lips grazing your ear. “Do you feel what you’ve done?”

You nod and wiggle your hips slightly, partly to situate yourself and partly because you want a little bit of payback. His grip on your hip tightens.

“I’d advise you not to play games, little wife,” he rasps in your ear.

More heat builds in your hips. You can’t remember the last time you were this turned on. Maybe never. You throw a look at Loki over your shoulder. “It’s not a game,” you say. “I’m just very warm.”

His eyes are dark. “Burning up, I suspect.”

“You have no idea.” You lean back against him, turning so you can nuzzle your face against his neck. God, he smelled good. “Please,” You say it so quietly that only he can hear, “I’m aching.”

He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and you feel his cock throb. He clears his throat. “Gentlemen, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take my leave a little early—Mrs. Pine is feeling quite unwell.”

Fuck yes.

If Litvinchuk and his men suspect there’s anything untoward about your departure, they don’t say so—and you imagine you must look a little unsteady anyway. Loki slides an arm around your waist as you leave.

“Now Mrs. Pine,” he says once you’re out of earshot, “tell me exactly what ails you.”

You let out a shaky sigh. “Are you seriously going to do this?”

“I only want to ensure that we are on the same page,” he says with a smirk.

“Like hell you do. I already told you, you just want to hear—” You cut yourself off, realizing that you’re playing right into his hands.

He smiles like a cat with a bowl full of cream. “What do I want to hear, darling?”

You press your lips together. This is infuriating.

“I’m waiting…”

You blow out a shaky breath. Fuck it. “You just want to hear me say that I’m fucking soaked because you’ve been rubbing me against your thighs and touching me for the last two hours and if I don’t come soon, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.”

He smirks as you approach the hotel lobby. “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting to hear you say all that.”

“You absolutely were.”

The air conditioned air in the hotel lobby feels extra icy against your sunwarmed skin and your sandals seem to clack particularly loudly against the marble floors.

“You have a smart mouth, do you know that?”

“You like it,” you say as you approach the bank of elevators. “That’s the reason why you pull half of this shit with me.”

“Perhaps.” He gives you a smile that feels a little dangerous and sends even more heat to your aching cunt. “But do you know what my favorite part of your smart mouth is, Mrs. Pine?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

The elevator door opens. It’s empty and your cunt clenches at the possibilities this presents.

“My favorite part about your smart mouth,” says Loki in a low voice as you step into the elevator, “is that it will sound that much sweeter when I make you beg for me.”

The elevator door slides closed and you barely have a chance to react before he’s backing you up against the wall and pressing his thigh between your legs.

“You’re a disobedient, wicked tease, Mrs. Pine,” he growls, sending a thrill through you. “I think you could benefit from a firm hand.”

“You like it,” you breathe, rocking your hips against his thigh, trying to capture some of the same friction that was driving you wild earlier.

“Rutting yourself against my thigh in public like a common slut,” he purrs. “You must be desperate.” He slides a hand between your legs, slipping his fingers under your bathing suit. His expression changes the moment his fingers dip past the fabric—almost like he expected you to be wet, but not this wet.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purrs as you keen. “You’ve made a mess of yourself, haven’t you?”

“I need to come so bad,” you gasp.

“I know you do.” He reaches over and slams the emergency stop button and the elevator shudders to a halt. “And you’re going to. Right now.”

“I can wait until we get to the ro—”

He spins you around and pulls you to him so your back is pressed against his chest.

“No, you can’t.” He curls his big frame over yours, sliding his hand back into your bathing suit and stroking the full length of your sex and making you cry out again. “You need it too badly.” He starts rubbing your clit with his middle and index fingers. “And I don’t think it’s going to take all that long, darling,” he growls, sucking your earlobe into his mouth, “because you’re already so fucking wet.”

There’s a small, distant part of you that resents the fact that he’s right about anything, let alone anything pertaining to your orgasms.

The larger part of you is focused on the fact that he’s right: you’re going to come and you’re going to come hard.

Your legs are shaking and you brace your arms against the elevator wall to hold yourself up. You moan loudly and arch your back as the feeling starts building in your hips.

“You need this so badly, don’t you?” He nips hard at your earlobe. “You’re desperate for it. I felt you tense up every time your sopping cunt rubbed against my thigh, every time I touched you just right.”

You whimper, pressure rising in your hips as you rock with his hands.

“You’re so close,” Loki purrs in your ear. His hips are thrusting mindlessly against your ass, like he can’t wait to be inside you.

“Fuck, I need to come,” you whimper.

“Oh, I’m going to make you come, darling, but I think what you really need is to be fucked.”

You moan as your orgasm starts to crest.

“You need to be fucked properly and hard,” he murmurs. “You need me to take care of your sopping wet, needy little cunt. You need to be filled to the brim with my cock and my come like the good girl that you are. You need to come over and over on my cock until you can’t take it anymore.”

This is what pushes you over the edge. The muscles of your cunt clench and then pleasure is blooming in your belly as the tension of the last two hours comes to a peak and you come hard. You cry out, your hips rocking against Loki’s hand, chasing the shimmery aftershocks.

“There she is, that’s my good girl,” he purrs. He holds you as you shudder and shake, his fingers still moving, still coaxing out those final waves of pleasure. But just when you think he’s about to pull his hand away, he starts massaging your clit again, one long finger slipping inside you.

“You don’t think you’re going to be satisfied with just one, do you?” he growls in your ear. “Not a needy girl like you, not when you’ve been dripping for hours. You need more, don’t you?”

“Oh fuck—” You can feel that pressure growing again and you know it’s going to be different this time.

“You’re going to come for me again, pretty girl,” he purrs. “And this time, I want to hear you scream.”

Everything is coiling up so tight and tense and suddenly two of his fingers are inside of you and they’re curling just right and the edges of your vision go white as everything inside you fizzes and releases and a sharp cry falls from your lips as you come.

“Good girl,” his voice rumbles low over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

His hand finally stills once the final aftershocks roll through you. Your legs are shaking, but his grip on you is still firm. Boneless, you turn to him and he presses his slick fingers past your lips. You suck and lick his fingers clean and then he’s kissing you, sucking your own essence from your lips and tongue.

“Fuck,” you breathe as the elevator shudders to life. “Fuck, that was so good.”

Loki laughs quietly and scoops you up into his arms as the elevator arrives at your floor.

“Oh, we’re nowhere near done, darling.”

Continued in Part 2

#loki smut #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson smut #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki x yn smut #loki x y/n #loki x yn #loki x you smut #close quarters fic

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mypoisonedvine · 1 year

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𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 (part one) | neil lewis x reader

title comes from the song you already know by bombay bicycle club

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you've been best friends with neil basically your entire life, and secretly in love with him almost as long. will you ever find the courage to tell him the truth?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 10k

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut, angst, pining/unrequited love - 18+ only

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | alcohol consumption, 'kid' as a petname, reader being kind of a femcel, jonathan being kind of mvp??

Neil had asked you to make sure the Thriller section was alphabetized; sometimes you thought he was just giving you tasks to look busy, but then again, you could probably use it since the employees of Gumshoe Video never looked very busy. You spent most of the day on the couches, watching whatever old bizarre gem Neil put on— sometimes you thought he only had employees other than himself so that he could pay people to sit here and watch this stuff with him.

But, the point is, you were sorting tapes. Because everyone needs their VHS thriller movies to be in perfect alphabetical order.

There actually was a customer in the store, for once, so it was better not to be on the couch anyhow. You hadn’t really noticed him when he came in, but as he wandered around the shelves, he seemed to drift towards you.

You tried to ignore him when he stopped right beside you— and kneeling to look at the lowest shelf, he towered over you— but when you stood up he got your attention.

"Need any help, sweetheart?" he asked, leaning in a little too close. "I'm kind of a movie buff."

He had a frat guy kind of look about him— polo, boat shoes, quaffed blonde hair. He could be good-looking, you thought, if he didn’t dress like a discount Abercrombie model… and if he didn’t hit on random women at the video store. "I actually work here," you corrected, barely looking up from your task. This is why we need uniforms instead of just dressing up to promote specials…

"Oh, really?" he smirked. "What made you wanna work in a place like this?"

"My best friend owns the place," you explained, "and I'm, you know… kind of a movie buff."

"Right," he said, not seeming convinced. "You like Kubrick?"

You rolled your eyes so hard you almost choked: Wow, what a deep cut. But you kept a straight-ish face when you looked at him. "Yeah, he's pretty good. Don't care for how he treats his actors, but he was certainly a visionary."

"What are your top five favorite Kubrick movies?"

You knew this guy was a tool, but you were still a bit shocked that he actually had the gall to quiz you. "Excuse me?" you scoffed incredulously.

"Can you even name five?" he asked, looking horribly proud of himself, and you straightened up as you glared at him.

"You're heterosexual, right?" you asked him, getting a confused nod. "Can you name five women you've made come?"

Neil watched the guy storm out, Lucien cringed a bit from behind the register— and Jonathan, not seeming as if he had been paying attention at all, kept laying across the couch and tossing a ball up in the air to catch and throw again.

“Okay, that’s gotta be the third this week,” Lucien groaned. “What are you saying to these guys?”

“Nothing worse than what they’re saying to me,” you assured with a frustrated, sarcastic smile.

“Listen, don’t get me wrong,” Neil began, “that guy totally deserved it— but maybe, you know… work on your demeanor with customers?”

“Wow,” you scoffed as you crossed your arms, “do you think I should smile more, too?”

“Wha— no!” Neil denied.

“Yes,” Lucien said at the same time, though he changed his answer with an awkward cough and mumble when you both shot him a look. “No, no— you’re good— you smile too much, even…”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Neil promised. “But I think half the guys that come here are just coming here to see you! Nobody even rents movies anymore.” He groaned a little, dropping his shoulders defeatedly. “Can’t you… tell them you’ll go out with them if they rent something?”

“What?!” you squeaked. “No!”

“Sales would double,” Lucien nodded.

“No,” you said again. “I’m not letting you pimp me out to sell tapes, Neil.”

“I just mean— maybe you don’t really go out with them,” he suggested. “Just… allude to the fact that you’re only interested in guys who…”

He trailed off as he searched around the shelves for a bit, smiling when he snagged a copy of The Maltese Falcon.

“— in guys who like The Maltese Falcon,” he grinned, “you know— for example. Then they rent it to impress you and we make a few bucks.”

“I am only interested in guys who like The Maltese Falcon,” you frowned, snatching the tape away and shoving it back on the shelf. “But that’s not the point.”

“Maybe you have to be more straightforward, you know,” Jonathan butted in as he sat up, “guys are dumb.”

“Yeah!” Neil agreed a little too easily.

“Just say something about how a massive VHS collection turns you on,” Lucien suggested, and you glared at him.

“Jesus!” you protested, but Neil tried to soothe you a bit.

"C'mon, kid, can't you just… flirt a little? Get our sales up?"

He'd started calling you kid since you two watched Casablanca together— which was especially stupid as you were both twelve at the time. At first you complained because he shouldn't be calling you kid with you both being kids; then you complained because neither of you were kids; and then you gave up. You still punched Lucien for trying to call you that once… you only barely let Neil get away with it anyways.

But you let Neil get away with a lot. It was a side effect of being secretly, but massively, in love with him.

It had been an issue since middle school— that was when the two of you became such good friends. Technically, you’d known each other since first grade (where you had shared your crayons, a true test of friendship at the time), and you’d sort of had a crush on him as early as elementary school (mainly because he was the only boy you could stand at the time), but it all kicked into high gear in seventh grade. That was when you became inseparable, when you got in trouble together, when you stayed up all night watching movies, when you went through all of life’s ups and downs together: you even went to prom together, platonically of course.

As for your feelings, you’d managed to hide them this long and still be his best friend, even when it sometimes felt like letting him stomp all over your heart without even trying. Honestly, the only thing harder than being in love with Neil was trying not to be in love with Neil: you adored his sense of humor, his generosity, his sensitivity— and he’d been there for you through the things you couldn’t have imagined surviving alone. That kinda stuff bonds you to somebody… and when that somebody has the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever seen, it’s hard not to fall in love.

“Maybe I would flirt if I knew how,” you offered. “But I’m not exactly, you know, flirty.”

“How hard could it be?” Jonathan interjected. “Just, you know—”

You stared in quiet disbelief as Jonathan attempted to push his chest together with his arms. It wasn’t quite working, of course, and the rest of you watched on as he fumbled around trying to force some cleavage. “You look like an idiot,” you finally informed him after letting him do it for a minute.

“But is he wrong?” Lucien wondered.

“So, what, you guys really think that if I just went up to customers and—” you pushed your breasts together with your arms, accentuating them significantly in your tank top.

“That would work,” all three men asserted in unison before you could even finish.

“I fucking hate you guys,” you grumbled under your breath as you walked to the back, deciding to take your break in Neil’s office until these guys got their act together.

You never stayed gone for long, though— as idiotic as they could be, your friends were certainly charming. They won you back with a promise to let you pick what tape to put on, and the four of you ended up laying on the couches watching Roman Holiday.

When the movie was almost over, you rested your head on Neil’s shoulder; you guys did stuff like that, it was normal for you, but it always made your heart skip anyways.

This time, you were all hanging out at Jonathan’s primary workplace: the club. In fact, it was a much larger crowd than just you and the guys— plenty of your local friends and loyal supporters of Gumshoe Video, all sitting around a big table while someone’s mediocre cover band took the stage.

"So, uh, me and Denise broke up," Neil said suddenly, going back in for another swig of beer right after.

The others offered their mild shock and half-hearted condolences, but you knew it was going to happen— he'd told you before he did it. You tried to tell him that paying off a waiter to spill water on her was a weird way to prove what he already knew, but you couldn't disagree with his conclusion. She was definitely difficult, and shockingly judgemental for someone who managed to date a video store owner for this long.

“No, it’s fine, it’s fine,” he promised, “I don’t think anybody’s too surprised, right?”

There was an awkward hesitation among the group as they wondered if they should lie, or just fess up now that he was obviously accurate. You broke the silence to suggest someone go get another round of drinks for the table, and even though that was pretty much a one-man job, nearly everyone agreed and quickly shuffled off— leaving just you, Neil, and Lucien.

“I guess tonight’s your chance to meet somebody new, don’t you think?” Lucien suggested. “Get over Denise, you know.”

“I think I’m already over Denise,” Neil decided.

“And if I told you that girl back there,” Lucien returned, pointing with the hand still holding his drink, “has been looking over here at you for the past ten minutes?”

You glanced where Lucien was pointing as well, seeing a girl in a denim mini skirt and massive hoop earrings settle her eyes on Neil before looking away quickly with a lip-gloss lacquered smile.

“I think I need some help getting over Denise,” Neil agreed suddenly, patting Lucien on the back before he left the table.

You wanted to pout, but you were used to this— he was good-looking, he got a lot of attention from women in places like this… it usually didn’t work out for him, though. Certainly not never, probably more often than most guys, but… definitely not every time.

You tried not to look over too much, you didn’t want to get caught spying or, even worse, looking a little jealous— but you noticed that every time you looked over at them, Neil was talking. That was his problem, see: he never fucking shuts up. Guys, girls, anybody who will listen— if you admit to not knowing about his favorite fifty-year-old spaghetti western or the most recent pre-Code horror comedy he watched, he’ll gladly blab to you about it for ages. The first time you glanced at them, you saw her giving him doe eyes, laughing at something he said— and the last time, those eyes had glazed over and her laugh seemed more nervous and confused; you smirked to yourself. He’s still Neil…

“So, um,” you struck up a conversation with Lucien, “what about you? Anybody here catching your eye?”

“That’s actually the perfect descriptor of my type,” he replied. “Anybody.”

You snorted. “Then you should go, you know, talk to anybody?”

He shrugged and frowned a bit, and it was a simple movement but you understood completely.

The band started to play a new song, something upbeat and energetic, and you smiled. “Wanna dance with me?”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m drunk enough for that—” Lucien began to protest, but a minute later you were dragging him up by the stage. Neither of you were actually any good at dancing, mainly you were just kind of jumping and flailing around together, but it was fun and that was the point.

Eventually, more of your friends wandered in to join you; when the song ended, everyone clapped and cheered, the band bowing in gratitude. You only stole one more look over at Neil and his conversation partner, watching her interrupt his rant with a hand on his shoulder: your throat felt a little dry. You just hoped what she was saying was more like hey, my friends are leaving, I’ve gotta go and not hey, wanna come over to my place so you can keep explaining German expressionism to me?

Your heart dropped when he reached for her— what if he kissed her now? What if he wrapped her up under his arm and they walked out together? What if you had to spend the whole night thinking about him having sex with her?

“Hey, we should ask them if they know any Strokes songs!” Lucien suggested, tugging on your arm to get your attention, but your mind was elsewhere.

“Uh huh, yeah,” you mumbled blankly, and he frowned at you.

“What’s going on?” he asked, trying to look for what you were seeing; but Neil wasn’t reaching for her, he was lifting his hand to wave goodbye as she left. You beamed, even though you did feel a little bad when you saw Neil’s shoulders sink— it’s not that you wanted him to be alone forever, you were just relieved that you might have a few more moments to breathe before he got with somebody again.

“Nothing, sorry,” you answered Lucien, giving him your attention again. “What’d you say?”

“We should ask the band if they—”

And immediately, Lucien lost your focus as you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at Neil again— he was already looking at you, seeing you all on the dancefloor. You waved for him to join you, and he smiled as he made his way towards the stage. A new song began, even louder than the last, and you could blame that for not hearing Lucien’s question for the second time in a row.

Although he danced with you all for a few moments, Neil draped his arms over your and Lucien’s shoulders, nearly yelling to be heard over the music.

“You guys are coming over tonight for a movie, right?” he presumed. “Jonathan’s working ‘til late so he’s out, but—”

“Sorry, I’ve gotta be up early,” Lucien explained, “my brother and his wife are visiting, remember? We’re getting brunch and—”

“Whatever, party pooper,” Neil frowned, before suddenly smiling at you. “Guess it’s just me and you, huh, kid?”

You tried not to sigh too noticeably through your smile. “Yeah, me and you…” you agreed.

As you groggily blinked your eyes open, you found Neil staring at you, his face uncomfortably close to yours, with a big smile. “Mornin’, kid,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

You yelped and nearly jumped out of your skin while he laughed. “Jesus Christ, Neil!” you shouted, kicking off the blanket on you— and then you began to process where you were and why. “God,” you groaned as you held your head in your hands, while Neil kept laughing at you, “did I fall asleep on the couch again?”

It was sort of a rhetorical question— obviously you had, it would be much stranger if you woke up on the video store couch without having fallen asleep there. “Yeah,” he said, standing up and sighing a bit, “but you didn’t miss that much of the movie.”

“What happened at the end?” you asked, stretching your legs and snatching the blanket off the floor to fold up; Neil must have put it on you after you dozed off.

“No, we can finish it later,” he decided, walking up to the register, and you groaned.

“Seriously? Not even falling asleep gets me out of finishing The Man Who Laughs?”

He smiled a little as he started prepping the store for open. “Nope,” he said proudly, popping his lips on the p sound.

“It’s not that I didn’t like it,” you assured, getting up and trying to ignore the soreness in your back from sleeping on a ratty old sofa all night— you remembered helping Neil carry this thing from where he found it on the side of the road. Considering you knew where it came from, it was a wonder you ever sat on it, let alone slept on it… but this happened relatively often. Sometimes it almost felt like you slept easier here or at Neil’s apartment than your own.

You stood up and stretched your arms, sparing a glance over at him.

“Can I run home and change?” you asked, and he frowned.

“We open in ten minutes,” he noticed, “you won’t be back in time.”

“Yes, and who will serve the clamoring crowds that await our open outside?” you rolled your eyes, gesturing out the storefront to the abandoned sidewalk. “You can handle it on your own.”

“Just go to my place,” he shrugged, “it’s closer. And I think you left some jeans there anyway.”

Right— you’d borrowed a pair of his sweats to get comfy for a movie night, and forgot to take the jeans back when you left. You yourself had one of Neil’s short-sleeve button-ups at your place, when you’d both changed there for a costume party, but you let him believe it was just lost… it was too late to tell him now that you had it, ‘cause then he might ask why you kept it so long and then he might, somehow, deduce that you had been cuddling it at night from time to time…

“Right, okay,” you nodded, “but I still need a shirt.”

“Just borrow one of mine,” he said, like it was no big deal at all and didn’t make your heart skip.

For a second you wondered if you should protest— if he was still dating Denise, you probably would’ve said something. But you decided not to say anything, in case he changed his mind; you nearly bolted out of the store and down the two blocks to his apartment.

Your jeans were on the dresser, draped haphazardly in their same just-peeled-off shape you must have left them in last week. You grumbled to yourself a little about how he could’ve folded them for you so they wouldn’t be wrinkled… but then again, all his jeans were wrinkled, so he clearly didn’t know any better.

And now the fun part: picking a shirt. You smiled to yourself as you opened the drawer, perusing through t-shirts with old movie posters and semi-witty slogans… cute, sure, but those were pretty similar to what you already wore.

But the button-downs? Those were quintessential Neil, and you'd be wasting an opportunity if you didn't put one of those on.

You felt a little giddy as you opened the next drawer down and found them all folded. The first one you saw had light blue and white stripes, so you snatched it up and slipped it on.

The fit was definitely off, but you let yourself indulge in a fantasy for a moment: waking up here, in Neil's bed… in Neil's arms. You'd slip on his shirt while you went to find some breakfast, and he'd hum something about how pretty you look in his clothes, and you'd end up tangled in the sheets again not too much later.

Sighing to yourself, you buttoned the last button, leaving the two at the top undone so you didn't look too formal, and headed back to the store for opening.

Neil stared at you for a second when you walked in— at the shirt, specifically. You waited for him to say something, but he didn't. "What, should I not wear this one?" you asked, looking down at it as well, and he shook his head.

"No, no, it's fine— sorry," he mumbled, "just start sorting out last night's returns, please."

You definitely got a much stronger reaction from Jonathan, as soon as he walked in the door.

(Why was he here when he wasn't even working today? Who knows— he was just always here somehow.)

“Hey! You look even more like a lesbian than usual,” Jonathan greeted with a peppy fake-smile as he approached you, and you smirked a bit.

“Don’t blame me, it’s his shirt,” you nodded towards Neil.

“See, I told you you dress like a— wait,” Jonathan stopped mid-insult, looking back at you, then at Neil again, then at you; he pointed his fingers at each of you, crossing them back and forth. “Did… you two…?”

You narrowed your eyes, waiting for him to explain what he meant.

“Did you guys hook up?!” Jonathan accused, wide-eyed.

You felt your face getting warm, and you stammered out your denial; Neil started waving his hands in disagreement as well, but Jonathan was already on a roll.

“Oh my god!” he yelped. “The one time I miss movie night here and it gets freaky! Should’ve known better than to leave you two lovebirds alone—”

“Jonathan, we didn’t—” you choked.

“It’s not— it wasn’t—” Neil butted in. “She just borrowed my shirt! ‘Cause she— because—”

“I mean, we’ve kinda all been waiting for this to happen— but I never really thought it would,” Jonathan steamrolled along. “Well, yeah, I guess I thought it would, I just—”

“Wait wait wait, what?” Neil shook his head, stepping up closer to the two of you. “What does that mean?”

Finally, he seemed to get Jonathan’s attention, who began to nervously backtrack as both of you stared at him. “W-well, I just mean—” he started.

“And who’s ‘we all’?” Neil noticed. “This isn’t just you, thinking this?”

“I… I mean,” Jonathan scoffed, “you know— just, just some people… we thought that maybe… that since you two are so close, that you might—”

“Wow,” Neil chuckled, crossing his arms in disappointment. “You know, that’s so reductive. For a bunch of progressive, free-thinking hipsters—” he waved his hands as he said it in a mocking way— “you’re really just, like… like… you know, not! ‘Cause apparently men and women can’t really be friends?”

“No, come on, not like that,” Jonathan denied, “of course we can—”

“I mean, you’re her friend, you’re both single,” Neil noticed, gesturing between the two of you, “why don’t you two, just, you know… hook up!”

You cringed a little as Jonathan tugged at his collar nervously. “Well, I—”

“Come on, why not?” Neil went on, smiling at the suggestion even though he was clearly unamused. “I mean, she’s nice, she’s pretty, she’s got a vagina— why don’t you hit on her?”

“Hey, come on, Neil,” Jonathan sighed, “I’m well aware she’s got a vagina—”

“So what’s the problem?” Neil insisted. “Clearly you can’t just be friends with someone with a vagina—”

“I would really prefer if we didn’t talk about my vagina anymore,” you mumbled nervously.

“— how come you never hit on her, Jonny?” Neil pressed, backing him into a corner metaphorically— but also somewhat literally, he was leaning in and Jonathan was pressing his back more and more against the shelves.

“You really want me to answer that?” Jonathan replied, almost threatening. That made you furrow your brow a bit. It seemed like a rhetorical question, Neil trying to prove a point, but you didn’t expect Jonathan to have a literal answer.

“Yeah, sure,” Neil decided, “enlighten us.”

Neil glanced at you, like you were just as gung-ho about this interrogation, but you were feeling a little sick. You understood the spirit of Neil’s argument— and technically, you agreed with him— but it still stung to see him so incensed at the suggestion of you two together. You were trying not to take it personally, it wasn’t like he was disgusted by you or anything… he even said just now that you were pretty, and he’d told you that before, but… it still bothered you a little, for reasons you couldn’t quite describe and that you were sure were illogical.

“I never hit on her,” Jonathan answered, lowering his voice, “because I… I figured it would piss you off.”

That seemed to surprise you both, maybe for different reasons; you bit your lip to suppress a smile. Did Jonathan really think Neil was that protective over you? “Why would it piss me off?” Neil wondered, but he sounded a little defensive— defensive in a caught-red-handed sort of way.

“I… I don’t know,” Jonathan shrugged. “That’s just the vibe I got, okay? That she’s sorta… off-limits.”

Neil hesitated. “Well… she’s not,” he decided. “You’re grown-ups. Whatever you wanna do is none of my business— as long as you’re not being, you know, creepy or an asshole.”

“Of course,” Jonathan agreed, most of the tension settling as Neil backed up a step.

“Okay, well, ask her out then,” Neil instructed firmly.

“I didn’t say I wanted to!” Jonathan sputtered.

“Neil, Jesus!” you complained simultaneously, and he seemed to relent, shrugging as he walked back to the register.

“Sorry, sorry,” he dismissed, “just letting you know it’s… fine with me!”

You rolled your eyes a bit and looked back at Jonathan. “Sorry,” you offered him quietly, “he’s… I don’t know. He gets weird about that.”

“Oh really?” Jonathan scoffed sarcastically. “Didn’t notice.”

“The real reason you shouldn’t be hitting on me is because we’re coworkers, by the way,” you reminded him.

“Hey, I only work here part-time,” Jonathan noticed, “so I think that means it’s cool as long as we only go out part-time.”

You snorted, but he seemed to get nervous.

“You know I’m kidding, right?” he added quickly, and you nodded with a laugh.

"You know, I was thinking— we don't have many events at the store these days,” Neil mumbled around a bite of pretzel, watching you play your turn at Skee Ball. Normally he would put coins in the machine beside yours and try to beat your score, but the other machine was out of order and you decided to take a relay race approach. “What if we did, like, I don’t know… maybe a double feature for a couple bucks?”

“Neil, we show movies every night,” you sighed, “and we invite everybody, and ninety-nine percent of the time it’s just some combination of me, you, Jonathan, and Lucien.”

“Yeah, but this time we could do movies that more people like— a little easier to watch,” he suggested, “something that would get new people in the store.”

“New people don’t wanna sit on a musty old couch with strangers,” you reminded him, and he nodded as he chewed and swallowed his next bite.

“You’re right,” he agreed, holding the pretzel out towards you. “Wanna bite?”

You were trying to get through your skee balls pretty quick, so you just leaned your head over and chomped down on the end of one of the twists while he held it for you. You hummed in appreciation— it was pretty good, fresher than the last one you guys got here.

Visits to the arcade used to be your thing, back in high school (aside from watching movies, but that was a given). Then you slowed down with the trips, feeling a little old and out of place surrounded by kids— but the problem was, this place wasn’t filled with kids anymore. It hadn’t changed much at all since you were both in high school, and that was exactly the issue: it was old, run-down, a bit grimey… kids weren’t coming to arcades anymore anyways, they were all on the Internet apparently. So, while you and Neil sort of appreciated having the place to yourself, it also broke your heart knowing your old haunt couldn’t hold itself together forever… you two visited not just to recapture some old childhood joys, but to try to do your part to keep the business afloat.

You pretended to like being here— because you really did want to support the place, and Neil wanted to keep coming back— but it actually made you pretty fucking sad. Surrounded by all the neon, the noisy pinball machines, the Dig Dug machine that had a fifty-fifty chance of stealing your quarters, the photobooth (you still had some strips from that thing pinned to your wall, some so old that they’d faded from the sunlight that came in your window each day); it all felt sort of eerie now. You would’ve never known all those years ago how little this place would change, even though you never expected it to— you would’ve never known how little anything would change. Neil was still by your side, but still so far away… if you could talk to that fourteen-year-old girl now, you would warn her that no amount of time spent running around this place and playing Street Fighter was going to make Neil love her, or you.

But here you were anyways. “Woo!” you cheered when your final score came through: 50,765. “Beat that!”

Neil set the pretzel down on the bar-height table (on a pile of napkins, don’t worry, neither of you trusted those tables that much) and brushed the salt off his hands with a scoff. “Oh please, I can beat that with my eyes closed,” he assured as you crossed your arms.

As he put his quarters in and stepped up to the game, you smiled wide. “Alright, if you say so.”

You came up behind him and covered his eyes with your hands, making him jump and then laugh. “What are you doing?”

“Just keeping you honest,” you giggled, holding on tight even when he tried to move his head around so that he could see.

He did his best, usually struggling to even find where the balls were coming down more than rolling them decently— but after the first three went in the gutter without even scoring, you knew he didn’t stand a chance. He did score a few times, but when the buzzer went off and he lifted your hands from his eyes, he laughed at the pitiful 1,150 on the board.

“Ohh, that’s too bad,” you winced, “guess you’re just full of it.”

Still holding your hands away from his face, he spun around and twirled under your arms like you were dancing for a moment; it ended with him face-to-face with you, swinging your hands back and forth a bit to force you to twist with him slightly. “Wanna play Street Fighter next?” he suggested quickly. “I know I can beat you at that.”

The giddy joy of the moment dropped and shattered; if you thought about it too much, you probably could’ve cried right then. As pathetic, yet oddly aesthetically pleasing, as it would be to cry in an arcade, you swallowed down the emotion and smiled back at him. “Yeah, okay,” you agreed.

You’d been a little antsy all day— Neil seemed to notice, asking a couple times if you were okay, but you just nodded and shrugged it off. He had a sense for when you were lying; but that’s the thing, you weren’t lying, really. You just weren’t sure what to say. You weren’t sure if you should say anything. And yet, you felt a little guilty not telling him everything that was going on with you— not just guilty, but plain weird. Because you usually did tell him everything— except, you know, the thing— but you didn’t know if you should talk about this. Not that you couldn’t— but should you?

So you were sort of gnawing on your lip most of the day, keeping yourself busy with tallying late fees behind the desk, trying to keep conversation light and meaningless: thankfully, in that regard, Jonathan and Lucien made it pretty easy.

“Okay: fuck, marry, kill,” Jonathan began, “Dracula, the Mummy, and the Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

“Dude, I can’t answer that,” Lucien refused.

“Okay, then Neil, what would you do?” Jonathan changed his target.

“Um, well,” Neil pondered, “I think I’d have to kill Dracula— spare the world from that evil, you know— and I guess I’d marry the Mummy—”

“Freud would like to have a word,” Lucien butted in.

“And I’d fuck the Creature from the Black Lagoon,” he concluded, “out of morbid curiosity.”

You snorted, but didn’t look up from your clipboard. “You come up with one that Lucien will do,” Jonathan challenged Neil.

“Alright, uhh, let’s see…” Neil stalled as he thought, looking up at the ceiling and stroking his chin dramatically. “Fuck, marry, kill: Sarah Connor, Ripley, and Trinity from Matrix.”

“Okay, see, that’s a real challenge,” Lucien affirmed. “If I marry Trinity, do I have to live in the post-apocalyptic wasteland or can she live here?”

“You’d have to live in the Matrix,” Jonathan announced, like it was obvious.

“Hm,” Lucien pondered, “do I know it’s a false reality? Does she know?”

“She knows, you don’t,” Neil decided.

“Is she gonna tell me? What if she has another guy on the side in the real world?”

“Okay, you’re overthinking this,” Jonathan groaned.

“And is this the Sarah Connor that’s already had John? ‘Cause if not, I can’t kill her, or the human revolution stands no chance— but if she has him, I can’t marry her, ‘cause I’m not ready to be a stepfather—”

“You’re useless,” Jonathan informed him flatly.

“Well, it’s easy then,” you offered, still tallying fees on the printed table. “You fuck Connor, marry Ripley and kill Trinity.”

“Yeah, I guess that works,” Lucien shrugged.

“If you’re so good at this game, you should play,” Jonathan decided. You looked up from your work for once, finding Lucien looking excited at the idea and Neil looking a little nervous but intrigued.

“I’ve got one for you,” Lucien decided, looking concerningly smug. “Fuck, marry, kill: the three of us.”

Jonathan let out a giddy ‘ooh’ and Neil raised his eyebrows. “Oh— I don’t know— that’s too weird,” you shook your head, “it’s different, you’re real—”

“Wait, wait,” Neil interrupted, “now I wanna know.”

You froze for a second, wondering if you should double down on not participating, or if you should tell him the first thing that popped in your head: am I allowed to do all three to you?

Instead, you set the clipboard down and crossed your legs, and the men seemed to straighten up as they prepared for your answer. “Alright,” you said, looking at them for a lingering moment before sighing. “I think I’d fuck Jonathan, and then kill myself.”

“Yes,” Jonathan hissed, shaking his fist triumphantly.

“Dude, really?” Lucien snapped at him. “That didn’t sound like a compliment to me.”

“Don’t care, I stopped listening after ‘fuck Jonathan’,” he replied. “Alright, Neil, you’re gonna have to make good on that ‘she’s not off-limits’ promise you made to me—”

But Neil wasn’t listening to Jonathan, he was still looking at you. “Wait— you wouldn’t marry me?” Neil interrupted, putting a hand on the desk and leaning in a bit closer— he looked half-amused and half-offended, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Um…” you started to wonder how to defend yourself from that. What did he expect you to say? Yes, I’d marry you, I’ve actually been planning our wedding since junior year.

“Hold on,” Lucien stopped you, “if she fucks you and marries you, that means I’m getting killed!”

“Yeah, so?” Jonathan smirked.

“What, you don’t think I’m marriage material?” Neil laughed… but he didn’t seem like he was really joking, per se. He didn’t seem serious either, of course, but you decided to take his question seriously since he’d dared to ask it twice.

“Well,” you mumbled, “no. I don’t.”

Then he seemed a bit more serious, adjusting his posture a bit. “Why not?”

“I mean… you’re my best friend,” you reminded him, “but… you’re not reliable.”

He nodded, pursing his lips together.

“You’re not ready for marriage,” you continued. “I mean, I think you’re just as sure of that as I am.”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“And honestly? You’re a great friend and all, but… if you were my husband, I don’t think I could really… you know, trust you…”

The silence seemed a little heavy— all the men were sort of frozen for a second, you wondered if you should wave your arm around to make sure time hadn’t stopped. But they did move, Neil first in fact, as he stopped leaning on the counter and nodded a little.

“I’m just surprised that you didn’t fuck Dracula,” Jonathan said to Neil in an attempt to cut the tension, “considering your massive man-crush on Bela Lugosi.”

“Hey, that reminds me, tonight’s movie is Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla,” Neil announced, apparently shaking off whatever odd energy he’d picked up just before, “you in?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jonathan nodded, “should I bring drinks?”

“Uhh, yeah, why not?” Neil agreed.

“Is a six-pack enough?”

"Uh, maybe…” Neil considered, turning over his shoulder to look at you. “Kid, how many beers are you gonna want?”

You swallowed nervously. “Um, I… well, I’m not coming. I’ve got a date, actually.”

Of course it was just assumed that you would be there; you felt a little guilty admitting you wouldn’t, to the point that you almost considered just skipping said date and staying to avoid the awkwardness.

“Hey, great!” Jonathan said proudly, throwing his arms out wide.

“A date, huh?” Neil noticed, looking happily surprised. “Sorry, I— I didn’t know— you didn’t say anything—”

“No, it’s cool,” you shook your head, “it’s kind of a last minute thing… you know how they’re showing Rope at the Palace tonight? I met this, um, this guy the other day and we got to talking, and I asked him if he’d wanna come with me.”

“Rope, wow, that’s a great first date movie,” Neil nodded approvingly, “that sounds perfect.”

“Yeah— he hasn’t seen it, actually,” you admitted, smiling nervously, “so I guess how much he likes it will kinda be a good judge of if he’s worth going out again, right?”

Jonathan nodded approvingly, but Neil seemed skeptical. "Well, the showing isn't until nine— you can at least hang out until the movie starts, right?"

"I've gotta get home and get changed!" you explained

"You can't wear that to a date?" Lucien wondered.

"No!" you scoffed, looking down at your ripped jeans and Dracula t-shirt. "Besides, I have this whole plan of what I'm gonna wear— remember when we did Bonnie and Clyde for Halloween?"

Neil was Bonnie and you were Clyde, in fact; he looked shockingly good in that blood-red lipstick, you tried to convince him to wear it again but he insisted it was a one-night-only situation.

"I figure if I wear my Clyde suit, I'll look kinda like James Stewart!"

"You're doing drag on a first date?" Lucien pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, lighten up, I'm just dressing up for the movie— I'll still, you know, try to look pretty," you assured. "What, I don't look good in a suit? 'Cause I got a lot of compliments on Halloween—"

"No, hey, go for it," Jonathan decided, "it's festive!"

"I think it's cool," Neil agreed. "Have fun, alright? And if he creeps you out or something, call the store number and I'll come get you."

"I'm not really worried about—"

"You know? Just call the store when you get home," Neil decided, "so I'll know you didn't get murdered."

"Dude, chill," you groaned. "We're going to the movies, not, I don't know… hiking off-trail in the middle of the night."

You never agreed to call, but you did him one better: you ended up coming back to the video store afterwards, a bit over two hours later. Of course, the guys were still on the couch— apparently the movie was over but they were watching anime (undoubtedly something Jonathan had brought as a palate cleanser after the movie).

They all looked over at you when you came in the front door and the little bell rang; they seemed excited to see you, and presumably to interrogate you about the date. You sighed, knowing you couldn't have expected anything else, but you'd come here hoping they'd let you watch something with them so you could stop thinking about the date.

“How’d it go, hot stuff?” Jonathan purred, and you rolled your eyes as Lucien wolf-whistled.

“Oh yeah, it was awesome, best first date ever— I’m at his place having sex with him right now,” you frowned as you tossed your purse down onto the couch, and Lucien chuckled while Neil looked a little defeated.

“Not that great, huh?” Neil noticed.

“Was he a creep?” Jonathan assumed.

“Did he think the movie was bad?” Lucien pressed.

“No, no, he was great,” you sighed, “he loved the movie. We talked about it for a bit afterwards and he seemed to really understand it.”

“Okay! That’s good, right?” Jonathan said optimistically.

“Yeah— so good that I asked him when we could do this again,” you recalled, “and he said that he didn’t wanna lead me on and he wasn’t interested in seeing me.”

“What?!” Jonathan yelped, while Neil winced a little.

“He said I was really cool and funny and easy to talk to,” you explained, “but that he didn’t feel any chemistry.”

“Chemistry?” Lucien repeated, confused.

“He means he’s not attracted to me,” you clarified.

“What?” Jonathan scoffed again. “Why not?”

“I don’t know!” you whined, but you did know. “I think I’m just, like, friend material. I’m just ‘one of the guys’, you know? Not somebody you actually wanna be with.”

“But isn’t that what every guy wants? To date somebody who’s just ‘one of the guys’?” Lucien noticed, and then paused when everyone gave him an inquisitive look. “That sounded way less gay in my head. You get what I mean, right?”

“As much as I would love to never let you live that down,” Jonathan smirked, “you’re not wrong— like, a chick who can hang. That’s the best.”

“Well, here I am! Hanging!” you snapped. “Where’s my harem of suitors just desperate to date one of the guys?!”

“I mean, you are wearing a suit…” Neil noticed, getting a little defensive when you groaned and dropped your head back. “No, no, you look cool! I mean, you look really great. I’m not sure what he wasn’t seeing.”

"Maybe he's got a girlfriend!" Jonathan suggested. "And he was gonna cheat but he chickened out."

"Maybe he's intimidated by strong women," Lucien added, sounding more like he was quoting a Cosmo than actually thinking that.

"Respectfully, guys aren't that complicated," you assured. "If he wanted me, he would. He doesn't. It's not that deep."

Neil looked away when you said that.

"Well, come take a seat on the losers couch," Jonathan offered, but Neil sitting next to him frowned.

"You think I'm a loser?" Neil protested.

"No, I was talking about that couch," Jonathan said as he pointed to the other one which Lucien was on.

"I'm not even offended," Lucien decided, patting the spot next to him. "I'd rather be a loser with you than a winner with anybody else."

You smiled and plopped down next to him, pulling your legs up on the old sofa and finding the best angle to see the TV from. "Okay, catch me up," you requested, bracing for the barrage of borderline nonsensical exposition about whatever obscure anime Jonathan was forcing on the group this time.

Since the store closed at eight on Tuesdays, you and Neil decided to go out for a late dinner after locking up— the nearest place you usually walked to was a little hole-in-the-wall dishing out Thai fusion, and even though there were open tables inside, you took your paper boxes outside to eat together on a bench.

You each sat up on it with your legs crossed, facing each other, while he poked at his fried rice with his fork and you stirred your noodles with the chopsticks.

“The Palace is still doing their Hitchcock screenings on Sundays,” you recalled, “I think the next one is Rear Window. We could make Lucien man the store and go see it together?”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” he smiled. “But we gotta sneak in the candy, that place is getting so overpriced…”

“Well, that’s a given,” you laughed. “When I went on my date there I had Sour Patch Kids in my bag, but I was kinda craving Reese’s by the time the movie started..."

"That guy sounded like an ass, by the way," Neil announced with a frown.

"Oh, no, it's fine," you dismissed. "He was really nice, even when he blew me off, and I… I guess I wasn’t really expecting it to go anywhere, anyways.”

“Really?” Neil scoffed. “Then why’d you ask him out?”

Just in case. “I… I guess I’m trying to put myself out there more?”

“Huh? You’re trying to put out more?” Neil joked.

You rolled your eyes and unfolded your legs to kick him playfully. “You know what I mean,” you groaned.

“Yeah, yeah,” he admitted, “and I support it. It’s sort of insane that you’re still single.”

“Wow, thanks for the pep talk,” you rolled your eyes before shoving a thick swirl of spicy-sweet noodles in your mouth.

“No! I mean, like, I can’t believe you’re single,” he clarified, and you smiled somewhat awkwardly while chewing your mouthful. “You’re smart and fun and cool and pretty—”

Thanks to the food in your mouth, you didn’t have to worry about coming up with a way to respond to that, so you just shrugged.

“Seriously!” he insisted. “I mean, guys hit on you at the store— I wish somebody who actually deserved your attention would walk in that place.”

The guy I want is already there every day. Swallowing, you finally got a chance to talk to him again. “Thanks,” you sighed, “it’s fine, though. I mean, I’ve been single this long— I think I’ll survive.”

“Keep waiting for the right one, okay?” he encouraged, and your heart swelled.

“I will,” you promised, sounding more wistful than you meant to.

After a brief lull in the conversation, he cleared his throat and continued. “Hey, um, while we’re on the topic of Sunday, about the whole fuck-marry-kill thing—”

“I’m sorry,” you offered right away, “I shouldn’t have answered that. I wasn’t being serious, obviously.”

“No, I wanted to apologize,” he returned, “I shouldn’t have pressed you on your answer. It was funny. And it wasn’t like you could say you were gonna kill one of us.”

You snorted. “Yeah, that one was probably the worst of the three.”

“But I shouldn’t have asked you about what you would’ve done to me,” he shook his head, “I was making it weird. So, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assured. “Did you really expect me to say I would marry you?”

“No,” he admitted, “I thought you’d say you’d fuck me, marry Lucien and kill Jonathan.”

“What?” you scoffed, though you were still smiling. “Why?”

“Well, Lucien would definitely make the best husband of the three of us,” he explained, “and Jonathan was the only one who wouldn’t have gotten butthurt about you saying you’d kill him. He probably would’ve just asked you to give him a nice send-off, y’know…”

You nodded in agreement, wondering if he was going to address the obviously missing third piece of all this… he sure was staring down into his empty fried rice container with intense focus…

“And, you know, as for me,” he began sort of thinly, “I, um… I guess I just figured, you know, you’re the most comfortable with me.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “obviously, but maybe that would make it worse? Like, at least with Jonathan, I know that if we ever did hook up or something, it probably wouldn’t mess up our friendship. ‘Cause we’re friendly and all, but it’s not so serious. But with you…”

“Uh huh, well, that’s why it’s good it’s just a game,” Neil finished for you, chucking his trash in the nearest can. “Don’t have to worry about any of that stuff. Least of all you and I being married. Talk about a disaster.”

You choked on your throat. “Yeah. No kidding…”

“Well, anyways,” he sighed, standing up from the bench and stretching for a moment, “wanna come over and see if the game’s still on?”

“Oh, um, I’m just gonna go back to my place,” you decided, throwing away the last couple bites of your food on account of your suddenly-lost appetite. “Kinda thinking I should get my sleep schedule in order.”

“That’s good,” he nodded, “I respect that. Have a good night, then, kid.”

“Yeah, you too,” you breathed, waving as he turned and walked off into the night, tucking his hands into his jean pockets.

You looked down at your lap, taking a deep breath and shutting your eyes for a second. Did he have to be so sweet just to cut you down like that? Could he have even known how it would hurt you to say that?

It’s not even like he was wrong, but you were dying to ask him why he was so sure that you and him together would be so bad. What was wrong with you that he still couldn’t see you that way?

Not interested in this repetitive thought cycle anymore, and being very familiar with where it leads, you got up and started to walk down the street. You didn’t turn to go to your apartment, though; you kept going until you heard live music— scratchy, whiny guitars and throbbing bass drums— seeping out of the club. You just needed to be somewhere familiar that wasn’t the video store or home; and, this place conveniently also had liquor.

You slipped inside— hit by a wave of sound as you entered— and took a seat at the bar, half-listening to the band that was playing, pretending to be focused at all on what was going on in the outside world rather than just spiraling into your own thoughts inside your head.

“Hey,” Jonathan nodded at you from the other side of the bar, and you nodded back. He instantly started looking for Neil— of course he would— and you deflated a bit. “You here alone?” he noticed.

“Yeah,” you shrugged.

“Wow,” he smirked, “it’s like when Peter Pan’s shadow escaped.”

You should’ve probably been offended by that, but it wasn’t worth denying— and you were more interested in getting liquored up than justifying that you did, in fact, have a life outside of Neil.

And, actually, Peter Pan was a pretty good way to describe Neil, too. Fear of commitment, leader of freaks and outcasts, daydreamer… all he needed was some green tights. “What are you drinking tonight?” Jonathan finally asked.

“What pairs well with feeling completely unattractive and unlovable?” you sighed.

“Well, that would be my drink of choice: whiskey,” he smiled, setting a bottle down in front of you. “I’ll do a shot with you.”

He poured you both a shot, and you timed it to shoot it back together; he, obviously, took it better than you, and you cringed from the acidic flavor. "Jesus, people really drink this on purpose?" you grumbled.

"Yeah, give it a few minutes," he assured, "it's gonna numb all those stupid emotions."

"I don't have a few minutes," you sighed, "do you have anything more fast-acting?"

"Yeah— a second shot," he joked, but you nodded in agreement. "Okay, shit, you're not messing around tonight."

"Nope," you agreed, watching him pour just one shot this time. "You're not doing it with me?"

"I need to pace myself, I'm here 'til two," he explained.

He slid it to you and you contemplated it for a moment, before forcing yourself to get it down as quickly as possible to avoid the burn. You still grimaced, but recovered quickly.

"Is it working yet?" he wondered.

"I guess," you answered half-heartedly.

“Well, you could always gush to the bartender about all your problems?” he offered, but you just shrugged it off. “Come on, you wouldn’t be the first tonight. And since I know you, I might actually be able to help.”

“I don’t think you can help with this one,” you assured. “This problem has been going on longer than you’ve been around.”

“Oh?” he pressed. “Let me guess… boy troubles?”

“Isn’t it always?” you scoffed, irritated that he saw through you that quickly— apparently your reputation of being horrible with men preceded you.

“But this is just one boy,” he presumed. “One boy who… conspicuously isn’t here tonight…”

“Is it that obvious?” you wondered with a whine, dropping your head in your hand.

“Well, if you weren’t having any issues with him, you’d be with him,” Jonathan guessed— and it wasn’t bad logic.

“But, like, does everyone know?” you wondered. “Does everyone but him know that I’m in love with him? Oh god, Jonathan, you don’t think he knows, do you?”

“Wait— love?” he repeated, and you swallowed thickly as you realized the whiskey had already gotten you to say too much. “You… you’re…”

“Okay, so I guess not everyone knows,” you mumbled.

“No, yeah, I think you managed to keep that under wraps,” he assured with a nod, eyes getting wider. “Sheesh. No, I had no clue. Now it’s even weirder that you guys aren’t together.”

“Well, he doesn’t love me,” you explained flatly.

“Did he tell you that?”

“No, god no— I mean, he tells me he loves me,” you corrected, “but he doesn’t mean— we just say that, you know, like at the end of phone calls or when one of us is sad. It’s not, like… we never meant it that way.”

“Right, okay,” Jonathan nodded as he wiped a glass— the way bartenders do when they’re listening to people— but he didn’t seem to understand entirely. “So, you’re not his type?”

“I don’t think I know what his type is,” you scoffed. “I haven’t really noticed a pattern, have you?”

“You’d have to have a few more data points to really draw any connection between them,” Jonathan laughed.

“Yeah, fair,” you smiled, “he’s only had… I don’t know, maybe four girlfriends since I’ve known him? One in high school, for a month— then Eva, they weren’t even really serious, just dating for a while. And then, uh—”

“Tanisha,” he remembered.

“Right! I liked her,” you hummed.

“What happened to her again?” he wondered.

“Got back with her ex,” you recalled.

“Wow, that blows,” Jonathan sighed.

“She told me before she told him,” you admitted. “She wanted me to tell him for her, actually, but I… I couldn’t do that to him. But I came over right after, you know, and we ate ice cream from the tub and watched movies ‘til we fell asleep.”

Jonathan made a sort of face, one you couldn’t quite interpret, and you tilted your head as he seemed to mumble to himself.

“What?” you wondered.

“Nothing, it’s just… he’s kind of an idiot,” Jonathan decided. “I don’t think he gets how lucky he is.”

You wrinkled your brows together, laughing a bit. “What do you mean?”

“Look, I’m not saying he’s, like, legally obligated to fall in love with you just because you guys get along so well,” he clarified, “even if that’s what Neil accused me of thinking— I really do think it’s fine for men and women to just be friends.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I’m just saying… like, how do you have someone who cares about you that much, and you end up dating fucking Denise for almost a year?!”

“Well, nobody knows how he ended up with Denise,” you coughed. “That was a fucking disaster.”

“I mean, not to be crass, but, uh,” he stumbled a little over his words, “I’m surprised that you coming over after that breakup didn’t turn into a rebound, at least.”

“After eating that much ice cream?” you laughed. “That would’ve been awful.”

“But really, though,” he insisted. “I have a hard time believing the thought didn’t even cross his mind…”

“I can’t really be sure that it didn’t,” you admitted, “I’m just saying, nothing happened.”

“I guess he’s just known you too long to go for it with you,” Jonathan shrugged.

“It’s not just that— you know Neil, he’s kind of an adrenaline junkie,” you rolled your eyes, “or at least he thinks he is. He wants adventure, I guess— and he always talks about us doing spontaneous stuff but it never happens— and I’m just too familiar. Too comfortable.”

“Yeah, he does kinda have something against stability,” Jonathan agreed, “do you think it’s a divorced parents thing?”

“I don’t know, I stopped analyzing that a long time ago,” you groaned, “and I told myself I would stop trying to be what I thought he wanted, but I think I keep doing it.”

“Well, I know you know him better than anybody,” Jonathan countered, “but I know guys, and that guy… there’s no way he thinks of you as just a friend.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because he was fucking lying when he said it wouldn’t piss him off if we hooked up,” he insisted.

“You really won’t let that go, will you?” you grinned.

“Did you see his face? He couldn’t get the image out of his head!” Jonathan assured confidently. “And then that whole ‘fuck marry kill’ thing— he started getting nervous, I think.”

“Nervous about what?”

“That something could really happen with us!”

“You really think he would care?” you frowned.

“I swear to— to Ash Williams,” he decided, “that if I walked into that fucking video store, and told him that you and I did whiskey shots and you came back to my place and we did the horizontal tango, he would beat me to death with the register.”

“You swear on Ash Williams?” you repeated with a smirk, knowing that meant more than swearing on any deity would mean.

“Him and his chainsaw hand,” Jonathan assured, putting a hand over his heart to add to the bit, and you giggled.

“Well, I don’t think Neil can pick up the register,” you decided.

“In that case, you let me know the next time you wanna get back at him for something,” he offered with a wink, and you smiled at him sympathetically.

“I know you’re trying to be nice,” you sighed, “but you don’t have to do that.”

“Hey, come on,” he frowned, “I know you’ve got this I’m insecure I’m a weirdo nobody notices me thing, but you can’t actually think it would be some kind of charity work for me to sleep with you—”

“No, I don’t mean that,” you sighed, “I know I could get laid if I wanted to—”

“But you don’t wanna get laid,” he finished for you, “you wanna be loved.”

You sighed again, even harder. “Yeah,” you nodded.

“I know,” he agreed. “And you know I love you, but—”

“But not like that,” you took your turn finishing his sentence.

His only reply was raising the bottle of whiskey with a sideways smile, a silent offer to pour another shot— for both of you this time.

“Yes, please,” you hummed, watching him fill the miniature glasses with a sigh.

part 2

#neil lewis x reader #neil lewis smut #watching the detectives #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #you know... eventually #but you have to get to part two for that lol

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muddyorbsblr · 2 years

Text

duty of care

See the full 14 Days Collection here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: After Pine rescues you from a bloodthirsty mafia leader, he confesses his feelings for you while tending to your wounds.

Pairing: Jonathan Pine x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, exit stage left for your own good); fingering; implied unprotected p in v; intangible restraints (you'll see what i mean); 1 cuss word [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: coworkers/mission partners to lovers

A sharp stinging shot through you as you placed an alcohol-soaked cotton pad to the cuts you'd taken during your and Jonathan's escape from the estate of Vincente "The Heartbreaker" Ricci, the head of one of Italy's most dangerous and most notorious mafia families.

Well, he was. Until Jonathan broke down the door to the room you were being held in and shot Ricci clean between the eyes.

Now here you were, safely tucked away in an IEA safe house, cleaning up the mess that the deceased mafia leader left…well, everywhere. He'd gotten a few good strikes in before Jonathan found you. A taste of what was to come, he said, telling you that he was still waiting for his men to bring in your partner so that the real show could start.

That was probably what baffled you the most about why Ricci took you in the first place. He'd gotten his title of 'The Heartbreaker' for a very specific reason. His signature was that if one crossed him, he wouldn't simply exact his revenge on the offender, but also on the one that the offender loved most dearly.

Not the mission partner.

So why the change in protocol when torturing Pine for swiping information from his private office? Why tell you as he sliced a gash into your shoulder that he was going to enjoy watching Pine's face as he broke you joint by joint?

The sound of knocking on your door made you flinch, breaking you out of your thoughts. "Y/N?" A warmth washed over you at the sound of Jonathan's voice on the other side.

"It's open," you called out, hissing when you placed a towel soaked with hot water onto the slice on your shoulder. You looked up and did your best to manage a weak smile at him as he entered, feeling your heart ache at the pity you saw in his eyes when he saw your wounds.

He let out a broken sigh of your name as he made his way to you, taking the towel from your hand as he sank to his knees in front of you. "Let me." Your breath caught in your throat as he gently cleaned your wound, taking great care to not strain the skin as he closed the wound with a line of butterfly bandages. "I should have made him suffer for this," he murmured.

"Hey…what matters is he's gone." You placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure him that he'd done a great service to the world ridding it of the criminal regardless of whether he suffered. "You saved so many lives from being destroyed. You--You literally made the world a bit safer killing him, that's the important thing."

"He hurt you," he bit out, his jaw clenching with every word. "I should have made him suffer for what he did to you."

Your heart caught in your throat as you struggled to process his words. "Jonathan, I'm fine. I'm alive," you choked out. "You saved me. It's okay. Everything's fine now." Your confusion over this whole situation grew as you heard his jagged breathing, his eyes trained on the shallow cuts throughout your bare legs that you'd already cleaned and dressed, fingers lightly tracing the skin around the wounds.

"I should have protected you better," he whispered, leaning his forehead against the side of your knee. "I should have known he would know to come after you--"

"Jonathan," you cut him off, moving your hand to his cheek. "Why did he come after me? I would've thought that he'd capture Jemima. That's why I sent the security detail for her and her son."

He wrapped his hand around your wrist, pressing his lips to your palm before looking up at you. "Isn't it obvious?" The air around you began to thin as he rose from his knees, leaning towards you to press another kiss to your exposed stomach. "You know how Ricci operated. You know his patterns." He moved to splay his hand at your back as he guided you to lay down on the bed. "You sent a security team Jed's way when you should have set it up for yourself."

The air left your lungs as you looked up at the English agent in a new light, the pity in his eyes revealing itself to be anguish. The overprotectiveness he often had for you throughout your missions together suddenly having clarity now that you could see the reason behind it. The panic and desperation in his voice when he yelled your name throughout Ricci's estate as he looked for you.

You could only let out a shaky whisper of his name as he pressed his lips to the base of your throat, your heart racing as part of you still refused to believe the words he was saying. "I know what we swore when we signed on to the agency, but I couldn't keep that promise. Our first mission together and I knew my vow was broken."

Early on in your time with the IEA, Angela Burr had pulled you aside and told you that while there were no clear cut guidelines on it, it was prudent to remain alone if you were to continue this line of work. That way there was nothing and no one to distract you from the mission at hand. Granted, she called herself a right hypocrite the second the words escaped her considering she had a husband and a child, but that was the precise reason she was imparting this advice, because every day she was terrified that someone could just take everything away from her.

And now you were here. Hearing about the same promise being broken on the same mission. Feeling his lips on your skin as he whispered his confession to you, "I love you. When I realized that he took you, I was willing to burn everyone and everything to the ground to get you back, I didn't give a fuck about the rules anymore, I just needed you back."

He pressed a lingering kiss above your heart before lifting his head to look at you, his eyes shining with unshed tears. The sight of him broke you, tore down the last of your defenses and had you uttering the words that you'd taken so much care to silence for years. "I love you, too."

The sight of his brilliant smile stretching across his face made your heart soar, a comforting warmth washing over you as he leaned down and finally pressed his lips to yours in a tender kiss, his fingertips skimming down your side, careful not to press too hard at the bruises that colored your torso where you were hit with a stainless steel bat.

You put your hand over his, placing the slightest bit of pressure and causing a mix of a dull ache along with the warmth of his touch, making you groan against his lips. "Darling, I don't want to hurt you."

"I want to feel something other than the pain." You strained as your lips sought his out when he pulled away from you. "Touch me, Jonathan. Please."

It was as if something in him finally gave way as he moved to press himself just the slightest bit harder against you, eliciting a strangled moan from your lips. "We'll go slow, okay?" You only nodded as his hand traveled down the side of your body, fingers wrapping around the back of your knee and squeezing gently, making you quickly part your legs. "If it gets to be too painful, at any point, just tell me and we'll stop." His fingertips ghosted over underwear, your breathing coming in ragged as you felt his touch above your folds, giving you the most delicious teasing torture as he rubbed against your clit in slow circles. "Promise me, Y/N."

"I promise," you gasped out, trying to arch into his touch and hissing as your entire body tensed and stung at the effort.

He pressed his lips to the skin below your ear as he let out a low chuckle, the sound quickly shooting through your whole body and intensifying your desire for him. "My poor darling girl," he rasped, continuing to press his lips to your skin. "Does it hurt when you move?" You could only whimper out your 'Yes'. "It looks like you'll simply have to take what I give you, my love."

Your hand gripped his shirt tight, bunching the fabric in your hands as he moved aside the fabric of your panties, running his fingers along the length of your slit, your arousal rapidly building as he did so. You hissed as you began to arch into his touch again once he started rubbing against your clit in tight circles, moaning desperately into his mouth as he captured your lips in a heated kiss.

"If you keep moving and hurting yourself I will stop," he murmured against your mouth, letting out a low chuckle when you whimpered in response and did your best to relax your body. "Much better, love." He dipped lower once more and proceeded to insert two fingers inside of you, both of you groaning into each others mouths as he scissored and stretched your walls.

It seemed like he was on a mission to have you a dripping, whimpering mess as he slanted his mouth over yours, his tongue gliding against your own in the same pace that his fingers had taken once they curled upward and began to stroke against that spot inside of you that had you using all the strength you had in you to not arch into his touch for fear of him stopping.

"My beautiful girl," he whispered as he pulled away from you, your mouth forming in an 'O' as all you could do was close your eyes and feel the pleasure washing over you as he kept on relentlessly stroking at that spot inside of you. "You're close, I can feel it. You're already gripping me so tight. Let go, Y/N." He pressed his lips to yours again, giving you a tender kiss that was a stark contrast to the merciless pace his fingers had taken on inside of you. "Come for me."

Your hands held his shirt and the bedsheet in a death grip as you felt your walls clenching and soaking his fingers, your high-pitched moans echoing around the room, giving the agents who were guarding the safe house all the confirmation they would need about what was going on in this room.

"We'll figure it out," he whispered in a reassuring tone as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, as if he knew what was already running through your worried mind. "Tomorrow. We'll figure it out tomorrow. Tonight is just for us." Your eyes widened, feeling your arousal building up again as he moved to position himself over you, already having kicked off his trousers and pants while you were catching your breath.

"Hmmmph?" was the only intelligible sound that could come out of you as he slid your panties down your legs and hooked your knees around him, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You let out an obscene moan, muffled by his kiss, as you felt him lining the tip of his shaft at your entrance.

"Remember, my love. You move and hurt yourself, and I stop."

A/N: Aaaaand that's a wrap for Jonathan Pine for this collection! I have more stories for him coming though, from the requests I'm still scheduled to write and my own little thots swimming around in my head, so it'll most definitely not be the last time we see him.

There's no sequel planned for this, but I might have something in the works for a prequel where Jonathan saves her from Ricci.

'everything' taglist: @sailorholly @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @sarahscribbles @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475

#14 days of valentines collection #jonathan pine x reader #jonathan pine x female reader #jonathan pine smut #the night manager fanfic #the night manager fanfiction #muddyorbs writes

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smolvenger · 1 year

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How To Fake Date A Spy (Jonathan Pine x fem! Reader). Part 1

Summary: When you joined your sister, Jed, for a lovely summer in Spain, you wanted to enjoy yourself. Instead, you have to deal with numerous men of Roper's business having a gross interest in you for more than small talk. Going to Roper for help, he offers an idea- pretending to be the date of his newest friend. A handsome sous-chef known as Thomas Quince. Little do you know yet, the man's real name is Jonathan Pine and he is on a mission to take Roper down...

Word Count:5K

Chapter Warnings: Sexual harassment (not our boy, Pine). Discussions of suicidal intentions- if you or a loved one have thoughts, please please PLEASE reach out, call a hotline, tell someone you need help, and get help right away and this I hope is portrayed well and healthy and hopeful in this chapter. Some Fix-It-Fic-ness (Poor Elena deserved better. Hmmm, interesting of Le Carre to have the not-white female characters killed off to further the male characters' storylines. Guess what? We're fixing that crap. At least for Elena). Mentions of murder and domestic abuse. Reader being thirsty, but no actual smut.

Comments, reblogs, dms, and asks about my work are always appreciated!

A/N: You can decide if you’re a sister by adoption or by birth and I want to leave that open ended in the fic to make this an inclusive x reader fic. Shout out to @evelyn-kingsley for suggesting this idea in the first place! This fic wouldn't exist without you! :)

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over ) @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

You screamed as the robber grabbed the boy and pulled out a gun to the child’s forehead.

“Nobody move! Nobody move!” the robber yelled.

There were more screams behind you and as people shot up, you heard plates clatter on the floor. Your heart was racing a mile a minute. It seemed all was well one minute- enjoying a seaside restaurant with your sister and some friends. Paid by the man she was in an arrangement with- Roper. Drinking wine and dancing and laughing. Little Danny playing games on his dad’s phone. A phone with worldwide secrets that also conveniently housed Candy Crush.

Then like a flip of a coin, a robber grabbed Danny and pulled him over to sit on a chair, moving the gun between pointing at the boy or your party. Danny’s sobs mirrored the screams you heard rabbits made. Sounds when the creatures thought they were going to die.

Roper-with an eerie calm-spoke to the robber. Offering the robber anything he wanted.

“Jewelry! Wallets!” the robber demanded.

With shaking hands, you took off the earrings. Your sister bought them for you on a shopping trip last week. Being mistress to Roper, Jed could afford to spoil you with gifts however she wanted. You then removed your ring and your necklace. It was harder with the shaking, but you dropped them in. You saw Jed doing the same next to you, her jaw quivering. Then you took your wallet and all of you put your items in a bowl. Everyone did- an offering to an angry god demanding a sacrifice.

“That’s shit! Where’s the real money? Where’s the rest?” the robber asked, waving the gun at each of you.

Roper promised him 10 thousand dollars in fifteen minutes. As long as Danny was returned. The robber began to back away, still holding Danny.

“We’ll take the boy! Until we have the money! Everyone on the ground!” he threatened.

Jed offered herself in exchange. Out of gut instinct you pulled at her arm, tears in your eyes. Bringing her back.

The Robber pointed the gun at each of you and your body shot, seeing your imminent death in its Barrell. There was silence from all of you- the about-to-be-dead.

“On the ground or I’ll shoot!” he yelled.

All of you went to the ground. You kept sobbing and so did Jed, your legs still quivering as you laid down. The robber ran off, carrying Danny. The boy’s screams could have cut you in two. You sat on the ground. The party crawled back up.

From out there, you heard yelling and a commotion. Then the screaming stopped. But there was no gunshot.

All of you ran down the steps to the stairway to enter the place. There was no robber- and Danny was safe. Danny scrambled back into his father’s arms, hugging him and crying. Even Jed leaned down to touch his arm. You had to cup your face, crying tears of relief this time. But your eyes wandered to someone else.

On the ground near him was a man in a chef’s suit, groaning in pain. His face so bloodied and hurt he was unrecognizable.

“What happened-what happened?” Jed asked.

“They ran off…he scared them…he saved me…” Danny explained.

The staff said the rescuer was a sous chef from England. Corky began examining the hero of the hour, still groaning from his broken nose and pain. Roper examined him, his blue eyes turning into a hawk gaze. Jed wrapped her long arms around Danny and let the boy cry his tears into her. You comforted him by running a hair through his head.

It was decided. They couldn’t let their hero bleed to death. He was coming with you.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

You hardly saw the sous chef after he moved in. Not that you had time to. You had another party of Roper’s he was hosting. And it meant dealing with your least favorite thing- men. Specifically- Roper’s men.

The party itself would be okay. You were glad you kept a small book in your clutch. Your phone batter was down to 10 percent and Danny was standing by his dad. But many of the men would gather around you. Or introduce themselves. Drunk on money and power, they believed they could do everything. Like having access to you when you didn’t like them.

One fucker-you didn’t remember his name and he didn’t deserve it-approached you as you began to sip your flute of champagne. Already you could smell how he reeked of cologne to where it stank. He leaned in closer than you liked.

“Hey there-Y/N, isn’t it? You’re looking nice today?”

“Thanks.” You said curtly.

He smirked.

“I just like what I see….would you like a drink?”

“I have one, no thanks,” you said.

His eye wandered to the book sticking out of your clutch.

“Ah-What are you reading?” he asked.

“A book,” you answered.

“Hmmm…what kind of book.”

“It’s a…a…a romance book,” you answered honestly. Maybe he would be disappointed in your interest of “fluff for women” and turn around.

“A romance book. You like that stuff?” he asked.

Already there was that hint of putting down. Slight dislike. Condescension. You took it and ran. You gave him a frown.

“Yes, I do,” you said, going around.

Then at dinner, you could feel their eyes on you. One guy- Mr. Jacobson- was enjoying his time sitting next to you a little too much. He was tall and barrel chested with a dark beard and dark hair, manspreading on his seat. You squeezed your knees tight together so they wouldn’t brush his pants. But his leaning in gave you less space to flee.

“Well-everyone has a type for someone! A type they fall for!” Caro Langbourne began, just for casual conversation.

But Mr. Jacobson turned to you with a greedy smile. You could feel the eyes on you.

“Hmmm, means you got a type, Y/N? Like us big, hairy guys?!?”

You turned next to him.

“No.”

It was quiet and the conversation went on, but he kept talking to you. More than you wanted to. There was one guy. He was closer to your age. And he wasn’t bad looking at all, not to you. But as he turned to you during dessert, having innocent talk, just in a corner alone, he suddenly, out of nowhere, asked.

“So-When will you let me stuff it in your mouth?”

You nearly dropped the plate in shock. You blinked, processing that he said what he said.

“What did you say to me?” you asked in a hiss.

He put his hands in his pockets and repeated it.

“When will you let me stuff it in your mouth. You’ve had dessert, you can take it.”

You felt like you could get sick with disgust.

“Forget it. Don’t’ you say that to me- leave me alone!” You pushed off and walked away, heels clicking furiously from the party.

You found yourself, once alone, crying a little. You wiped it off in the bathroom, redoing your makeup with a frown on your face. Why did every gathering have to be like this? The stares. The smiles. The comments- it was too much.

You were so sick of them. All these guys hitting on you like they were entitled to you. You really were sick of it. In their bright smiles and uniforms but with such disgusting words spewing from their smiling mouths.

All this finery- nice dinners. Beautiful places. Numerous Shopping splurges with your sister. Trips to every country. Restaurants and clothes that would cost ordinary people a fortune. But the price- to be harassed daily by these dicks at every event and more. It was exhausting. Hell, the way Caro’s husband sometimes leered at you made you feel sick to your stomach. And the man brought his kids!

Besides, you didn’t even want to be in a relationship. How could you trust them-trust anyone? There were lots of hot guys out there who seemed perfectly nice. But they only seemed that way. Was it worth being abused- be it with a man beating you, or saying something cruel, or worse? Or being cheated on-giving all your heart and love to a guy only for him to find someone hotter, better, and to betray you because you were not good enough? Or the pain, the drama, the hurt of trust, the heartache? No, there was no one out there who was worth it. You didn’t want to fall in love, you didn’t want to get hurt. Even Jed and Roper were just a business arrangement. Despite the smiles and PDA, it was no different than Corky’s agreement. A loveless job.

You had to call it a night.

But as you were walking, you passed by a door. You remembered it-it was where the heroic sous-chef was staying in that room. You hadn’t been in it. You hadn’t even seen him since then-only once as they were tending to him with bandages and towels over his bleeding face when he was helped in here.

You had to go in and visit. That was a better end to the night. This was Danny’s savior, after all. You had to let him know how grateful you were. You knocked on the door.

“Come in,” a bright, baritone voice. English accent. Proper. Refined. Elegant, even.

You opened the door a little, and took a first step in.

“Hello the-“

Your voice stopped as did your steps. You almost did not recognize him. There wasn’t blood all over his face. Only a bruise over his eye and a bandage over his nose.

But even so, he was one of the handsomest men you had ever laid eyes on.

His eyes were blue, and his hair was an in between of dirty blonde and red. He had cheekbones that could cut glass and the shirt covered his broad chest, slim waist, and bulging biceps. You felt the wind knock out of you, the words hanging in the air, until you regained yourself. You took another step in and continued.

“Hello there-just me…”

He turned up.

“You weren’t interrupting anything.”

You began to grab your arm. He was so attractive you wanted to shy away-flee away like Snow White from the Prince. But you forced yourself there.

“I don’t think we’ve introduced each other since…since that night. I’m Y/N. Jed’s sister. I help look after Danny.”

He looked up, eyes meeting yours.

“I just wanted to…to…thank you. For what you did.”

He gave you a smile.

“You’re welcome. What’s your name?”

You gave him your name.

“Lovely. I’m Thomas-Thomas Quince.”

“Do you need anything?”

“No- I’m fine for now.”

“Let us know, okay Thomas?”

“I will, Y/N.”

You could have come at how he said your name, but you held yourself together.

“Okay, have a good night, Thomas.”

“You too, Y/N.”

Then you closed the door. But you realized you were still smiling, feeling very warm and tingly. Without question, this was a better ending to the night.

There was going to be another of Roper’s male colleagues coming over to stay with you. But he didn’t have a history of saying gross things to you. Not even with his wife, Lucia, and kid traveling with him. Juan or “Apo” was joining you with his wife and their teenage daughter, Elena.

Their car arrived the next day. You were squinting from the Spanish sun. Roper smiled as all of you waited just outside the penthouse when the driver opened the door. Out popped Apo, Lucia, and Elena. The group was all smiles and handshakes and hugs with Roper.

That is, except Elena. Her eyes were big, and she wore a shining, diamond necklace over her Chanel dress, but she didn’t smile. She was slumped as she stood. When Roper hugged her in greeting, she froze, only patting his back stiffly out of politeness. She seemed to shrink within herself. Even when Danny went up and said hi, showing off his new book about ocean creatures, she only nodded in response.

Roper put his hands on his hips, keeping a toothy grin at her.

“Ah! Well-I bet you’re sick of annoying little boys already, Elena! But don’t worry-you’re a big girl now! And you can join the big girls-like Y/N, here!” he said, with a grand sweep towards you.

As housekeepers hauled their luggage inside, Elena turned to her dad.

“Papi…can I go walk, please? I’d like to explore the city,” she asked.

Apo turned to her, reeling off praise to her.

“Oh! My little girl! Already so adventurous! Here-don’t go alone. Have this…this…Y/N! Walk with my Elena, will you?” he offered.

“Oh, sure thing!” you replied.

Though you hadn’t really talked to her, it would be a nice change from staying by the house all day. And she looked like she could get out. Something was up and her father was oblivious to it.

Both of you walked about. It was the late afternoon melting into the early evening. You walked through tall buildings with laundry wires across the streets over your heads. They sloped down the hill as people walked about. Though the sun was still bright, there were more shadows across the town.

“How was traveling?” you asked.

“Okay… great even,” Elena answered.

Then there were the sounds of bells chiming the hour. You noticed a palm tree and a few restaurants.

“Are you hungry? There’s a stand for some street food. My treat.” you offered.

“I’m fine,” Elena replied.

She gestured to her necklace.

"Would you like to have this?" she asked. She dangled it in her hand, not caring if some bold pickpocket eyed it.

"Uh, no thanks-but thanks for offering!" you replied.

She turned skittishly around. Her head full of long, black hair moving with her. You paused.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

She turned to you and this time; she didn’t answer the question.

“There’s a cathedral here…I know it’s the next block over-can we go?” she asked.

“Sure thing!”

It then struck you that you were going about without guards. If she noticed a pickpocket or a stalker, you were the only one guarding her. But you walked over to where the bells chimed to enter the large cathedral.

Walking over with her, you turned and walked inside. It was infinitely cooler in the cathedral than outside. You were used to air conditioning, so the summer trips had been brutal here. You let out a sigh of releif. You did admire the elaborate paintings and design of the cathedral- its dome over your head, the numerous statuettes of saints, the golden crucifixes. And all in a building that was older than America! They definitely didn’t make most churches as pretty as this back home! Tourists wandered to snap pictures. Locals were in the pew, praying. Elena walked forward, her feet turning into stumbling. You saw she was shaking all over-as if her strength was sapping out of her. She gripped onto the pew, sitting down. Then she knelt and gripped her hands in prayer.

You went down and joined her.

“What is it, Elena?” you asked. You made sure to keep your voice low. The place made a lot of echoes from the high ceilings.

“Nothing.”

“You don’t have to lie to me. Something is up. You’re upset. Your dad is blind to it. But he isn’t here- you can tell me. Anything.”

She looked around again. Checking each person around her. Then she turned to you.

“Is no one watching us?” she asked.

“No. No one is. Not even Corky and he creeps around everywhere. Just you and me. I don’t care how messed up it is- I won’t judge.”

She began to blink tears, and then leaned her head down, beginning to cry.

“Elena…did something happen?” you asked.

She began to blubber out.

“I’m…so grateful for cathedrals. They’re peaceful. They’re quiet. Anyone can have sanctuary there….”

She turned to you.

“Sanctuary? From what? Are you in danger? Is someone threatening you?” you prodded.

“I want...I want…I want the pain to stop…I’m a burden to everyone…I’m the reason people are dead…” she confessed.

“What do you mean?” you gasped. You immediately grabbed her hand. You had an idea and it chilled you, but you asked it.

“Are you…thinking of ending your own life?”

“Yes.”

A sick, horrible feeling swept through you. Chills, dread, terror. But you prodded further. No matter how uncomfortable, it was the right thing to keep talking to her.

“Do you have a plan how?”

“Hang myself. And I was going to do it on my birthday party. Snuck out the party to my room. They wouldn’t care- it’s like it’d be better without me. Too busy congratulating each other and being fancy. I would do it- Hang myself right there…”

“Elena….oh my god…oh god….” You muttered in shock, your hand never leaving hers.

“Elena…thank you for telling me. I know things always seem bleak- it’s hard to realize that there are options out there when you feel that way…”

“Options? I was born into this family! I didn’t choose it!”

She turned to you; her voice lower. So, no one could overhear.

You know what my dad does? He defends Roper. We’re rich. Because of Roper…Roper and his…his-his-his…acts!”

“Acts?” you repeated.

You knew Roper was head of Ironclast. That the immense money didn’t come from nowhere. But you had to find out further. She turned to you, her eyes brimming, tears falling.

“Dad’s rich protecting him. So, Roper can’t ever be caught. Roper sells bombs. And you know what he does? Drops them on villages- his own personal bombs. He treats people like toys. Cities. Full of innocent people. And anyone who opposes him or his friends or tells them no? They die. That’s why I’m even here-innocent people who are dead!”

She let in a shaky breath.

“Do you know…do you know Freddie Hamid? Did he ever appear here at Roper’s party?” she asked.

“No, I don’t. He never showed up.”

“He’s a friend of Roper’s. He’d appear with Papi and at the parties…. Freddie beats up women. And he’s a murderer.”

“A murderer?!” you hissed quietly.

Elena nodded.

“He had -a mistress. Sophie. I met her every time she came over. She…was nice. She let me pet her dog. She’d talk to me like no one ever did- like I wasn’t a princess. Like I was a person. I wanted to…to…to be like her. And there’d be bruises. On her arms. On her face. She’d say she’d fall. But it was clear-I knew it was Freddie. I knew it! But no one would believe me. And do you know what happened to her? Sophie was Found murdered in her hotel!”

You felt a horrified chill over your body as you spoke “And Freddie or Roper killed her?”

“At least sent their men to do the job. She must have stepped out of line. That’s what happens here-you step out of line. You’re dead. I was dead anyway…and you know what-she’s just one of many.”

You swallowed. Part of your stomach got sick. But you kept listening. You put your other hand on hers.

“I was dead anyway. I thought it’d be better…die rather than get killed. Then…I left the party and ran to a cathedral instead…”

You realized there were tears in your eyes too.

“I’m glad you did, I’m glad you did, Elena…I’m glad you’re here…talking to me…”

She released one hand of hers, touching her necklace.

“You see this shit necklace? I see it and just see more dead Sophie’s-dead people! Papi says it’s the most expensive necklace in the world! And it was paid for with blood money!”

She gripped it like she could rip the necklace to shreds. But she couldn’t-her nails dug into her skin. She looked at you right in the eyes.

“Roper…he is the worst man in the world…and you’ll see that…”

It all hit you-hit all at once. You knew she was telling the truth. There was no matter of denying it. The more you thought about it, the more it made sense.

“You’re right…he is…he’s got my sister in his clutches. She was desperate. She was broke. And she…she has a baby. Mom hates her. Roper gave her an opportunity. Now she’s chained to him. A man old enough to be our dad, too. She doesn’t have a choice to leave him now. I see how unhappy she is on the inside…he is the worst man in the world. “

You smoothed her hair so you could see her face.

“I’m concerned Elena…because I care about you. I’m going to support you- however I can…” you promised.

You took her and hugged her. She let herself cry-relieved. You cried too, for her. For your sister. For yourself. For everything. You held onto her, keeping on shaking. Waiting until she was ready and let go. She turned around, seeing the crowds.

“Could we…could we walk around?” Elena asked.

“Yes…we can stay here as long as you need. I don’t have anywhere else I need to be.”

“But dinner…”

“If you don’t want to eat with Roper, we can get our own dinner,” you said.

She walked about. Elena did go to the confession booth. It wasn’t therapy but it was something. Talking in a private space with someone sworn to secrecy. Elena did talk to plenty of other people. Just talk- nothing more. Not about her emotions. She spoke to an old woman, a priest lighting a candle, and a tourist lady with a pregnant belly. It was probably good to give her space and not overhear when she did. But you never kept her out of your eyesight.

When she finished talking, you got her hands as she sat in the pew again turned to her.

“Elena…when we’re done, I’m buying you a sangria, and tapas, and ice cream. And when we get home, you’re not staying by yourself-you’re with me now. I’m staying by you-“

Elena raised her eyebrows.

“And you don’t have to pretend. You can be with me. I’ll keep you safe. You’re not going to be alone-and you’re going to live.”

You grabbed her shoulders and her eyes became big.

“You’re going to live! And if you even think about doing it-tell me! And we’ll get out of there and do something! We’ll go swimming in the ocean naked! Stuff our faces at some restaurant! Stay at this cathedral! Get fucking plastered and sing karaoke!”

“I don’t…don’t want to live off of blood money…I don’t want to live as some spoiled pet from other’s deaths!”

“But you will live…they keep saying you’re a big girl…and you’re going to have a life without living off of Roper. I could…could…could help you escape.”

“Escape?” she gasped.

“That’s the most expensive necklace in the world. That alone could buy you rent for an apartment of your own. Long enough until you get a job. And you can stop living off money used to kill people! A life all on your own! And…have you thought of getting help? Professional help? I’ll seek it out.”

“No…didn’t consider getting a therapist…but you can’t tell my parents why…”

“I will tell them you need help-that you need a counselor. And you can tell me anything! I’ll sneak you out however I can!”

She blinked. And then, slowly, she smiled. A small, present smile. The first smile you saw on her face.

“It sounds…wonderful.”

You linked her arm in yours.

“Good…we’re friends now. Best friends. And I’m not going to let anyone get you anymore…if you think you’re rebelling, if you think you’re in danger-from Roper or Freddie or yourself…I’m going to help you.”

Indeed, the Sangria, tapas, and ice cream were delicious. You even got her to giggle a litte. Once it was dark, both of you returned back to the house.

“Could you room with me?” she asked.

“Oh, of course!”

“Y/N…Danny got rescued, didn’t he…who did it?”

“Oh- his name’s Thomas!”

“Where is he?” she asked curiously.

“Resting up from his injuries!” you answered.

“Can I meet him?”

“Yeah! Sure!”

You took her to the door to Thomas’s room.

“I got to warn you- he’s really hot, too. Took everything in me not to faint when I saw him!” you whispered.

She made a small smile. You opened the door and there was Thomas, reading a book with a finished tray of dinner on his bed.

“Hello- we have a new guest. This is Elena-Elena, meet Thomas.”

She went over and greeted him. She smiled. Though then she leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Part of you was shocked by this sudden intimacy- even boldness from this teenage girl to a grown man. Hopefully, there was nothing concerning! If the man was a pedo, you would gladly kick his ass. But there was no change in his expression.

She moved into your room. Sleeping in the next bed. As she slept, you poured through her luggage. You got rid of all long things- scarves and whatnot-so no possible nooses. You made sure there were no guns or sharp objects or knives or dangerous medications. Though it made your stomach feel sick and shiver to think of how fragile life was. How so many random little things could end a life. It made you want to vomit and even cry- but you put them all in trash bags and threw them away.

The next two days were a simple pattern. You always stayed by Elena. She would walk out, go to the cathedral, and talk to people. A priest even gave her a blessing. She even ran into the pregnant lady again and they chatted. Then you would walk back. Now that Thomas was walking around, he was hard not to ogle. And you didn’t blame Elena for sometimes going up and talking to him! You made sure there was nothing dangerous- even if she had to go to the bathroom, you joined her. You never left Elena alone. Only if you knew someone would stay by her. You began to research counselors here to immediately get her help and signed her up for one. You told her parents she was troubled, and suicidal-they had the right to know. Just not the reason why. Once a counselor was picked, you both began to research apartments here. Once she was done with school-or even before- she would move out. A poor life made with money on her own was better than one living off of Roper’s corrupt wealth. Elena was always by you- and She didn’t mind having to be the third with Danny.

But you protected both. Yet…how could you protect yourself? There were going to be more events and parties and dinners. And Roper’s men would still leer at you.

You had to tell Roper. He was the Worst Man in the World. You knew that. But no one else could stop the harassment. Knowing Elena was safe with someone, you went up and found Roper. He was on a deck, talking to Andrew. They sat on a little table under a shaded umbrella with cold drinks. For the topic you were about to bring up, it was very pleasant. They turned to you, their low voices stopping.

“Roper- I have to talk to you. Now!” you said.

“Oh, goodie!” he replied dryly.

You stepped up to them, sitting on the extra free chair. You could feel the wind and hear the nearby ocean.

“Roper…I have this problem. Your friends, all the men keep hitting on me. Please….i just need…need some help. I need you to stop them. Really!”

After scratching his grey head, Roper put his hands in his pockets where he sat. He gave a half smile. But you noticed Thomas was still frowning, but something in his face softened.

“Well-the price paid for being a pretty lady here!” Roper laughed.

“I’m serious! It’s uncomfortable!” you prodded.

He put his hands in his pockets, but he kept smiling. He then looked at Thomas and back at you. Then his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Oh-you’re lucky. Have a look at Thomas. You see-he’s getting some business done. He’s about to have a very important job with me- joining my circle. Let’s say, a little thank-you gift. He’ll need to be seen at events-parties. Gatherings. The works. But they will think he’s no one…”

“What does that have to do with me?” you asked.

“He’s got to make an impression if he’s going to succeed. I’m getting him a new suit. A new business card. A new wallet….and a new woman.”

Your back straightened. Roper began grinning even bigger, like an evil Cheshire cat.

“Do you mean…mean…am I…am I…in an arrangement with Thomas? Like you and Jed?” you asked.

The shock was like an ice cube in your stomach. Even if Thomas was an attractive man, were you going to have to sleep with someone you barely knew?! In fact, this was a step above- a new man in Roper’s circle, only this time it wouldn’t be words, but actions.

“No! No arrangements! I’m not asking you to sign any marriage contract, sweetheart! Just be his date for a few events! Let them think you are his!” Roper said.

You looked over at Thomas again. His own eyes were big. His jaw was slack as if he was just as surprised as you were. And he still didn’t say a word. But he did lean forward.

“Y/N…I won’t force you to do anything…don’t be scared…” he assured you.

But Roper went on as if congratulating himself.

“But I see. You…. tolerate each other.”

Thomas folded his arms and leaned back into his chair. You saw his adams apple lowering as he swallowed. You had no words but listened. He did keep glancing at you and you at him.

“Y/N, you’re sick of being some sort of…. forbidden fruit, shall we say? Well, when you want to keep the fruit from flies- you make sure it’s taken care of.”

He turned to the handsome rescuer.

“Thomas, you want to keep your business up and running and frankly, I don’t like to see you sit inside and brood all day. Doctor says you’re good to go about now. So let’s kill two birds with one stone, shall we?” Roper declared.

He then took his hands and placed your on each other. For a second, it did feel like a marriage ceremony.

“Be each other’s dates when we’re in public!

Thomas tightened his jaw and leaned forward in his chair. You nearly jumped up where you sat. Roper went on.

“Tell everyone you’re a couple, now. Go to a few parties and restaurants, hold arms, and smile at each other. Maybe a kiss on the cheek, sometimes! Don’t be scared- Thomas here is a knight in shining armor and he has the libido of a monk, from what I’ve gathered. You both win- Thomas, you will be a social butterfly with a contract and influence and Y/N will keep those nasty little men from drooling at her.”

You hated that he was right. It was a sad truth. Those men wouldn’t respect your word alone. But if you were taken, they’d respect your boyfriend instead. Even a fake one.

“I can tell you- you can make up a reason to break up any time you want!” Roper then finished with a playful, short wiggle of his eyebrows.

You wanted to crawl beneath a rock. Thomas kept calm, the light in his eyes did not deny his surprise.

“Well, what’ll it be? Thomas, I think there’s a bit more freedom for you to say no. But it’s Y/N here who’s a bit more anxious, shall we say. And Y/N could use the protection!”

You looked at each other. Thomas got out another hand and put it over yours in slight protection. They were warm and soft. Already at his touch you felt…safe, for lack of a better word.

“I…I…I don’t see any pros of saying no…” you began.

Roper clapped his hands together and then rubbed them in joy.

“Well, then! We’re going to have a little cocktail reception later today! All for Apo’s family coming in! Your work starts tonight- Only me on your little secret that it’s pretend-deal?”

You glanced at each other. Thomas gave a nod.

“If Y/N’s alright with it, I am.”

“Deal,” you agreed.

“Well then, time to leave the lovebirds alone!” Roper chirruped.

He got up and turned out with a smile, leaving you alone with Thomas. You heard seagulls cawing and the shadows of the house shifted. Thomas leaned towards you but didn’t let your hands go yet.

“I’m sorry…so sorry, I’ll make it up to you. I bet you’re furious, right now,” he said.

“I’m…I’m actually not. At least not anymore. It doesn’t sound that bad,” you replied.

“But those men-they’ve been bothering you. Keeping you unsafe- haven’t they? I can do something. They don’t have to bother you anymore…” he offered. “It’s the least I can do.”

“And now with you, they won’t.”

He gave you a smile and your insides turned again.

“It’s not that bad. Just go to a few events. Hold arms. And smiles. I bet whatever you’ve done, that’s not the hardest thing you ever had to do,” you wondered.

Thomas looked back out to the sea and your gaze followed his. He let his hands go.

“No, it’s not.”

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