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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months

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Crushed 10

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, cheating, sleazy behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings.

Characters: Colin Shea, Jonathan Pine

Note: It’s Monday and you know a bitch is miserable.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like my dog loves belly rubs (that’s a lot). Take care. 💖

“It’s fortunate I was with you,” Jonathan says as the cops get back in the cruiser. “I couldn’t imagine to think of you all alone.”

You face your building and repress a shudder. You don’t know what you would’ve done alone. Colin may be with Ally but you’re not sure that can do much to buffer him. He always seems to find an opportunity to haunt your doorway, and now, you barely have a door.

“I should call a locksmith. And my landlord,” you say, “hopefully it’s not too late to get this fixed.”

“Oh, dear,” he looks at his watch, “it is near eight.”

You cringe as you take out your phone, “well, you don’t need to worry about me. You can go home. I’d hate to keep you any longer.”

“I can’t leave you, not as things stand,” he shakes his head, “you go and call your landlord, I’d like to have a look at your door and see if we can’t figure something out.”

“Really, you don’t–”

“I’d be remiss if I didn’t,” he insists.

You’re tired. You don’t want to argue and he’s not doing anything so wrong. He’s looking out for you and you barely have the energy to deal with this mess.

You dial your landlord first. He doesn’t answer and you leave a voicemail. Typical. He never seems to be around.

You bring up Google and scroll through the directory of locksmiths. They’re all closed or as good as. Fuck. What are you going to do? You suppose you can barricade yourself with the table or drag out your dresser.

Jonathan emerges from the building and you look up as he comes down the steps. He strides along the walkway and you lower your phone.

“Landlord’s not picking up. Can’t find a locksmith either,” you huff. “I think I could probably just lodge the door shut–”

“Oh, I have an idea,” he goes to his car and you follow. He opens the trunk and searches until he finds a bungie cord.

“It won’t be entirely secure but we’ll make sure to close up. Perhaps you might ask your neighbour, Alison, was it? If she might keep an eye out. There should be a hotel you might spend the night at, somewhere safe–”

“A hotel? I can’t afford–”

“Not to worry, the company will cover the cost. I daresay that emergency fund you recently unearthed in your work may just account for it–”

“I couldn’t– I can’t take that money. It’s for medical emergencies–”

“Not entirely.”

“It just doesn’t feel right.”

“Hmm, yes, I suppose, I can understand,” he folds the bungee cord in his hands, “do you have anyone you might stay with? I know your neighbour offered but I wasn’t sure if you were comfortable with that.”

“No, my sisters live out of town and my parents… are still back home,” you pick at your lip. “I can figure it out. You’ve done enough.”

“In good conscience, I must insist,” he squeezes the thick cord, “if I may be so forward, I have a spare room. You might take it for the night. You could grab your things and–”

“Jonathan,” you wave your hands, “that’s a bit much. I can’t–”

“I know it is rather unconventional and I do not mean to make you uncomfortable or anything like that. I would respect your space. We are after all, colleagues,” he says, “I’m afraid however, if that option does not work, I would be required to spend the night outside your door.”

“What?”

“I may be a bit paranoid but I have spent some years in unsavoury places and cannot help but be overly cautious. And we cannot be sure that whoever left your door in such a state won’t return,” he tuts, “by the looks of it, they were rather intent upon their entrance.”

You grip your head, your phone against your hair. It’s too much. You just want this day to end. It seems like every one is longer than the last. You drop your arms and shake your head.

“I don’t know what else to do,” you murmur, “I can’t…”

Your lip trembles. You don’t know why Colin did it. To fuck with you. To scare you some more. Or because he actually means to do something. That morning flashes in your head, the way he loomed over you, the stone in his voice, the hammering in your chest. You look down at the crack along the corner of your screen.

“Darling, take a breath,” Jonathan coaxes, “it’s alright, you’re safe.”

“I don’t know why this is happening to me,” you croak, “I’m a nice person. I try to be. He- they— whoever did this…” you let your voice trail off before you say too much. He wouldn’t believe you if you told him. You’re sure even he noticed that Colin was only ever stringing you along. “I… Thank you. You’re… you don’t have to do all this.”

“Ah, but you don’t know me well enough or you would realise that I must,” he smiles gently, “times like these, it’s best to take it step by step. So, we’ll go up, you can pack a bag, then we will finagle the door, and set off.”

You look at him, almost pouting as you hold back tears. It seems like the best option yet you can’t help but doubt your judgment. You were so wrong about Colin. What other choice do you have? Once again, you are entirely helpless. Pathetic.

You could choke on your own stupidity. Jonathan is your boss, he is being nice, but as usual you want to make everything more than it is. All you know is that things are usually the exact opposite of what you think.

💗

You gaze up at the reflective facade of Jonathan’s building. He lives in one of the nicer neighbourhoods, the sort you only ever saw in pictures. You never had the reason or means to come all the way out there. The realisation makes you feel even worse for his chauffeuring tendencies.

He already has your bag in hand as you get out. You follow him to the door wordlessly. Fatigue weighs you down, slumping your shoulders and filling your feet with lead. He’s content to guide you along without much said, with only twiddled fingers and fleeting glances.

An elevator takes you up to his floor and he shows you into a spacious condo. The place puts your apartment to shame. The front room has a whole wall of windows that look out onto the city, a set of ivory curtains pushed to either side that drape almost to the floor. The decor is pristine and white, with some silver mixed in.

“Allow me to get you settled,” he shuts the door behind you as he enters.

“Kitchen,” he gestures to his right, “you may help yourself to whatever you wish. Coffee, tea, what have you. I must admit, my shelves are still a bit scant.” He herds you further inside, “the front room of course, and to your left,” he points down the hall, “the bedroom at the end is mine, the bathroom is just between that and the guestroom. Let me show you that.”

He directs you ahead of him and you make your way down the hall. He taps a door and you turn back as he opens it. He reaches around the frame to flick on the light.

“I will leave your bag inside but request that you let me change out the sheets. As a courtesy.”

“It’s really not that big a deal.”

“To me it is,” he says, “please, you may take some time on the couch. Relax a little.”

“Right,” you accept. You have no resistance left in you. You're here, it’s a nice place, and you have nothing to complain about.

You retreat to the front room and slide your phone from your pocket. You sit and light it up, nearly dropping it as you see a notification from Colin. You gulp and swipe it away, too afraid to even look at it. You put your phone on the round table by your elbow and lean on the armrest, cradling your head as you close your eyes.

Your body reclines without thought. You sink into the plush ivory cushion and let the tension seep out little by little. Despite the upheaval of the night, you’re ready to hunker down and pass out.

“All done,” Jonathan declares as he emerges and you straighten up with a snort. “Oh, dear, you must be tired. I was going to offer dinner but perhaps you would be better in bed…” he claps his hands and pauses, his eyes averting in thought before a tinge of red colours his cheeks, “I meant, that perhaps you might retire for the night.” He pulls his hands apart and gives a nervous chuckle, “oh my, I have said very much.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” you yawn and stand, ignoring his embarrassment. “I’m ready for the day to end.”

“I cannot blame you, darling,” he coos, “should you wish for anything, you may ask it. I will be off to bed shortly myself but don’t be shy, just a knock on the door.”

“You’re too nice.”

“I must accuse you of the same,” he kids, “please, it almost pains me to see you so worn. You deserve some sleep.”

“Yeah, I earned it,” you try to joke but it comes out dull and flat, “sorry, it’s just… I owe you big time.”

“A favour is not transactional,” he affirms as he stands back and watches you inch towards the hallway, “if you wish to repay me, you will get some sleep, fawn. Darling, er, sleep is a fine cure to a long day.”

“Mmm,” you hum and drag your feet, already longing for the depths of your unconscious, “I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“Good night,” he calls back, his shadow lingering at the mouth of the hall, “til the morning.”

You let yourself into the spare room and ease the door shut. You move around the room daintily. You’re almost afraid to disturb any part of it. You feel like an intruder still.

You find your bag and dig out your nightgown. The straight cut white fabric with the pink bow along the neckline. Plain and a bit outdated, but you find them cozy. You change and turn out the light, feeling through the dark to the bed. You roll beneath the covers and let out a heavy breath.

Your muscles release and your nerves calm. You sink slowly, drifting into the darkness as your eyes close on their own. You hear yourself snoring before you fall completely into your unconscious, buried beneath the shroud of exhaustion.

💗

The world comes back to you in pieces. First the distant noise of traffic far below the condo. Then the dim light that slips between the curtains. Then the cool air nipping at the prickly skin on your arm. The softness of the duvet cocooned around your middle. You groan and bat your lashes, trying to clear away the sleepy haze.

You stare at the ceiling and break free of the blanket. You stretch across the mattress and groan. You roll your shoulders and sit up. It can’t be that late, your alarm hasn’t even gone off. You feel like you’ve slept forever.

You shift stiffly across the bed and look around. It takes a moment to remember where you are. Not at home. Somewhere strange. With Jonathan. The oddity of the situation returns to you and has you on edge at once.

You look at the single night table but don’t find your phone there. You squint and rub your eye sockets. Must be in your bag– wait! You left it out in the front room. You remember now. Frig, you were so tired you didn’t even think.

You cross the room and creep out into the hall. You’re quiet as you come down the hallway. The condo is bright as you enter the front room. You find your phone where you left it and quickly swipe it up before heading back to the guest room.

As you do, you see the time on your screen and stop just at the door. No! 10:30! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Wait, why wouldn’t he wake you up? Why–

A click draws your head up and you stand dumbly staring as Jonathan emerges from the bathroom. Your mouth almost falls open as a cloud of steam follows him. He wears only a towel around his waist and lets out a surprised noise as he quickly grips the top and faces you.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were awake,” he greets sheepishly, “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

You look at him wide-eyed. You won’t look down at his tightly muscled stomach or at his broad shoulders. You won’t think about how even at his barest, he is so tall and big and–

“N-no,” you sputter, “I… it’s after ten.”

“Well, yes, it is late, but I uh, tried to wake you. You were not rousing, so I thought I’d give you the day off.”

“What? I can’t miss a day.”

“You can make up the time, if you like,” he offers, “I didn’t want to leave you alone here. I thought it might be rude so I’ve also booked the day to myself.”

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t– I didn’t mean to–” You shake your head as you furrow your brow through the doorway. You look back to him and catch his eyes just below your face. “I… I’ll figure it out.”

“It would allow you time to call your landlord, I suppose,” he suggests.

“Yeah, maybe,” you say evasively and edge into the doorway, “I… I’m just going to get dressed.”

“Yes, I will do the same,” he gives a soft chuckle and backs away.

You close the door without looking back. It is only then you realise how hot you are. On fire. Your cheeks, your chest, your neck. You feel like you’re being consumed.

You put your phone on the night table and go to your bag on the small round backed chair in the corner. Beside it is a long mirror. You look at your reflection and see how the slat of sunlight shines through the fabric, illuminating your figure through the plain cut. You look ridiculous in that nightgown, like Mary Bo Peep or some caricature of a real person.

You pull out the clothes you packed for work and dress without looking at yourself again. As restful as your night was, the prospect of the day ahead of you is already draining.

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