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mypoisonedvine · 8 months

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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 Carter, 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 Carter 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 Carter, 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?" Julien 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 with 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 ever 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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the-ace-with-spades · 5 months

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A sitcom-like/humour fic AU where Bradley's papers haven't been pulled and he does land in USNA but he's doing everything and anything not to be labeled as the nepo baby even though he definitely is a nepo baby

This would include:

- Bradley knowing things he isn't supposed to know as a first year (plebe?) because he had inside sources (Ice and Slider) and things didn't change much

- Every single person from the personnel knowing who he is and Bradley ditching attempts to use him as a stepping ladder to meet Ice and/or Mav

- Having to listen to his crush (Hangman) making whole odes about his old man (either Mav or Ice, you pick)

- Pretending he doesn't know Slider when he comes to visit as a 'guest speaker', including when Slider tries to speaks to him, making Slider seem crazy

- Lying to everyone that he had a family emergency and that's why he was gone the last two weeks of summer training when in reality Ice pulled him out because he wanted to take him and Mav to the seaside somewhere in Europe

- When they get an opportunity to get a pilot licence along their studies, he fakes ignorance and signs up again (despite already having a pilot licence) and then demolishes everyone and gets banned from flying in the training group (*cough* Mav's influence *cough*)

- Doing the craziest mental summersaults and pretending he didn't know who Ice was when he was driving him back to the Academy and talking to him at the meet point and people saw ("Oh was that Admiral Kazansky? I thought he'd be taller")

- Hangman: So what your parents do for a living? Rooster: My dad works admin (there's a lot of paperwork when you're an admiral) and the other one is switching to research (testing planes kinda is research)

- After Ice's impromptu visit (poor Ice has the empty nest syndrome...) - some of his classmates gossiping: Did you hear that apparently the Iceman is gay? Bradley, with a fake pikachu face, even though he had literally helped Mav choose the engagement ring for Ice: Nah, not possible.

- Also, Bradley knowing that telling Jake would impress him so much but feeling absolutely physically ill whenever he thinks why and ending up not telling Jake for years (like, up until a dinner before graduation when Jake the Boyfriend gets asked to dinner and brings the Iceman a discounted pot plant that's half dying as the meet-the-parents gift and promptly has an anxiety attack on the front porch when Bradley does tell him)

- Bradley making elaborate excuses why Mav and Ice can't meet his academy friends when they're staying close to their home, to the point Mav starts thinking he's embarrassed by them

There was something else that I'm forgetting rn so might add more later

#sorry just finished shift words are incoherent #hangster #icemav #mavdad #icepops #charlie writes #op

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evegwood · 2 months

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Post-covid cons have had an influx of attendees who have never been to a con before, and that's great! But I've also seen a rise in some slightly inconsiderate behaviour so I'd like to do a little post on what is generally considered good manners when attending a convention:

1️⃣ Ask before taking photos, whether it's of cosplays, stalls, traders, or merch. It's very rude to approach a table, take a photo of their stock without asking, and leave.

2️⃣ Don't comment on the prices of merchandise at exhibitors' tables. If you think something is too expensive, keep it to yourself; traders need to make money from their art and have likely already priced items fairly. Related, but in general don't make negative or jokey comments about someone's merchandise in front of them. Or at all, honestly.

3️⃣ Don't try to haggle or ask for bulk discounts. Conventions are not farmers' markets or retail stores.

4️⃣ Please try not to take up too much of the exhibitors' time by chatting. It can be really exciting to meet a creator, and a lot of traders are really friendly and enjoy talking to customers, but please remember that this is also a workplace for traders and they need to sell. If an exhibitor excuses themself because there are other customers waiting, this is usually a good point to thank them for their time and say goodbye so they can continue working.

5️⃣ Try to avoid placing anything on the exhibitors' tables, including bags but especially drinks and food. This can at best mess up a display and at worst ruin merchandise, putting exhibitors out of pocket.

6️⃣ If you are waiting to look at one table in particular, be courteous of neighbouring tables. Do not stand in front of other tables because you are queueing or just standing chatting with friends, as you are likely blocking other potential customers from seeing that table.

7️⃣ An extra point raised by @pppondi - feel free to ask to have a look through books and comics, but don't read the entire thing then put it back. That's why they're on sale, so you can read them!

☀️ I really do hope this helps someone! Some of these guidelines might not be obvious but it makes for a better con experience for both you and the exhibitors; traders are less stressed and you get to interact with happier creators. If you have more suggested guidelines for people who are starting to attend cons please feel free to share, but also remember that a lot of shy, anxious, and neurodivergent folk attend cons. I'm trying to be constructive, not just list "weird" behaviour.

#not art #genuinely the majority of exhibitors will know that you dont mean harm by doing any of these things #and usually it is due to excitement or not being aware of what is considered impolite #so dont feel guilty or worried over any of this #it's just good to keep in mind!

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ukiyowi · 7 months

Text

Channelled Messages 💌

Channelling messages from your: Future Spouse, Closest Friends, Spirit Guides, and Future Self

Note: Please DM me if you want a reading I am going to be putting a discount on all my readings because I am in a rough spot financially and need to pay money for my room which I was not aware of earlier and could be kicked out if I don't at the earliest. Book a reading || Tip me! (Ko-fi)

♡ Future Spouse

♡ Closest Friends

♡ Spirit Guides

♡ Future Self

Future Spouse

💌 Pile 1

My Love,

I imagine us walking hand in hand through the seasons of life, supporting each other through every victory and challenge. Together, we will create a collage of memories, painting the canvas of our shared life with love, laughter, and endless adventures.

I promise to be your biggest cheerleader, your confidant in times of doubt, and your unwavering support through thick and thin. I vow to cherish and respect you for the unique individual that you are, appreciating both your strengths and your vulnerabilities.

You are scarred right now but theres no reason to be. You are so filled with love and light and everything good, just because someone else cannot see it does not mean it doesnt exist. If I could bring you the moon and the stars I would in an instant. I don't think there has ever been or will ever be someone who is as bright as you.

Please take care of your health, you cannot make excuses for bad habits and keep living life like that, no matter how stressful work or life is please make time for yourself. We still have a while to meet so take care of yourself for both you and I.

Song: It's a Shame - The Spinners

💌 Pile 2

Hey Darling,

Our connection, I believe, will be deeper than words can express. It will be built on trust, respect, and a genuine desire to see each other flourish. While I can't predict the future, I am steadfast in my commitment to cherishing every moment we have together.

We have met before, I don't think you remember me, but I do. your beauty had me stunned and so did your mannerisms. I admire the way you carry yourself, with so much dignity and poise, as if the personification of grace itself were standing in front of me, sweeping me off of my feet.

I will shower you with anything you want, praise, adoration, gifts, love, time, energy, and be there whenever you need. Life is probably fun for you right now, unfortunately for me the road is a little rocky. Enjoy this time with your friends and family, your loved ones truly care about you and want what's best for you even if they can't articulate it well.

Stay strong butterflly and look for me in your dreams, I promise to be a frequent visitor. hope you likfe sunflowers, lillies, and magnolias angel.

Song: Mango bananas - Flyana Boss

💌 Pile 3

Hi sweetheart!!

I have a feeling that when we finally meet, there's going to be a bell that rings making us instantly know like it did in Your Name, also hope you like animation because I love it, I also really like drawing and art, do you? Please say yes!

Life seems to be going too fast for you right now so you need to make sure that you don't lose yourself in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Calm down and do things you enjoy, maybe you'll like pottery!

But beyond the laughter and silliness, I want you to know that I'm dead serious about creating a remarkable life together. We'll support each other's dreams, even if they involve opening a cat cafe or becoming professional trampoline testers (hey, it's a thing, right?). We'll navigate the ups and downs of life hand in hand, and I promise to be your rock when you need it most.

Song: Glue Song - beabadoobee

xoxo

Closest Friends

💌 Pile 1

Life has been quite the rollercoaster lately, filled with its usual ups and downs. I've had my fair share of challenges, but there have also been some incredible moments that I wish I could have shared with you in person.

I often find myself reminiscing about the good old days when we used to spend hours talking and laughing about anything and everything . Those memories are some of my most cherished, and I truly miss you.

Please know that no matter where life takes us or how much time passes, you will always hold a special place in my heart. Your friendship has been a source of strength, laughter, and endless support, and I'm incredibly grateful for that.

Let's make a promise to catch up soon, whether it's over a cup of coffee or a long, heartfelt phone call. I genuinely look forward to hearing how you've been and sharing all the stories we've missed out on.

With love,

Initials may include: R, P, W, Q, L

Song: Window - Still Woozy

💌 Pile 2

Leaving behind the place we've called home for so long is both exciting and bittersweet. While new opportunities wait and adventures call, it's hard not to feel a tinge of sadness at the thought of being farther away from you.

Although physical distance may separate us, please know that you will always hold a special place in my life. Our bond is not defined by geography but by the strong connection we share.

And the internet exists so we'll be fine right? You promise to not lose touch with me even when we're both busy? I promise I will remember to call you, if not daily then weekly, please don't forget me.

I wish you could join me and we could embark on this together but life has its ways of separating the best people we've met so that we are forced to widen our horizons and social circles lol, hope it's not too much for either you or me.

Will miss you,

Initials pulled: A, J, M, S, K

Song: Missin something - Zach Templar

💌 Pile 3

I love the days we've shared and I wish to share so many more with you in the future, god I am so so so excited for everything thats to come!

Do you remember that time we decided to go on that impromptu road trip? No plans, no GPS, just a car full of snacks, good music, and an unshakable belief that we'd find our way eventually. We got lost more times than I can count, but it was so much fun and truly unforgettable.

And how about those late-night conversations that somehow turned into early-morning confessions? We've solved the world's problems over a cup of lukewarm coffee more times than I can recall. The neighbors must have wondered if we were running a 24-hour café.

As I sit here reminiscing about these and countless other memories, I can't help but smile. Our friendship has been a rollercoaster of laughter, silliness, and genuine connection. And I wouldn't trade a single moment of it for anything in the world.

Sending you a virtual high-five and a whole lot of fond memories, here's to hundreds more, and don't forget about the promise we made about the weddings okay?

Your platonic soulmate,

Initials may include: G, H, B, L, T

Song: Right Here, For Now - Bakar

xoxo

Spirit Guides

💌 Pile 1

Embrace change with an open heart and a curious mind. Life is a series of shifts and transitions, and it's in these moments of change that growth and self-discovery thrive. Trust in your ability to adapt and evolve, for you possess the resilience needed to navigate uncharted waters.

As you progress in your career, always remember that your passion and purpose are the compass that should guide you. Pursue work that aligns with your values and fulfills your soul. Don't be afraid to explore different paths and take calculated risks. Each experience contributes to your growth and wisdom.

Learning is a lifelong journey, and each lesson learned is a stepping stone to your personal and professional development. Stay committed to your goals, and never underestimate the power of continued learning.

There may be moments of doubt or uncertainty along the way, but listen to your heart's desires and the quiet whispers of your soul, for they will guide you toward your true purpose.

Above all, be patient and compassionate with yourself. Success is not defined by a straight path but by the lessons learned along the way. Embrace each setback as an opportunity to grow stronger and wiser.

Song: Everything Has Changed - Taylor Swift

💌 Pile 2

In matters of the heart, we see the longing in your soul for a deep and meaningful connection. First and foremost, we urge you to be patient with yourself. Love is a delicate dance, and it often takes time to find the right partner who truly understands and appreciates you.

As you seek love, remember the importance of self-love. Nurture your own well-being, both physically and emotionally. Don't be insecure about your quirks and imperfections, for they are the qualities that make you beautifully you. When you love yourself wholeheartedly, you become a magnet for the love you desire.

When it comes to romantic relationships, let go of preconceived notions and allow yourself to be pleasantly surprised. Love can appear in unexpected places and forms. Stay open to meeting new people and exploring connections that may not fit your usual "type." Sometimes, the greatest love stories are the ones that defy expectations.

Communication is the foundation of any healthy relationship. Be brave in expressing your feelings, needs, and desires. Equally important, listen to your partner with an open heart. True intimacy is born from understanding and genuine connection.

Whoever, you're thinking of, is not the one, set the standards high and do not settle for something that does not align with what you can give as well.

Song: Scared - Jeremy Zucker

💌 Pile 3

Know that you are never alone. We are always by your side, watching over you, and guiding you in subtle ways. We see your potential and your inner light, and we are here to help you recognize and nurture these gifts.

Trust in your intuition, for it is the voice of your soul and the channel through which we communicate with you. In times of uncertainty, turn inward and listen to the whispers of your heart, for they will lead you toward your true path.

Embrace the lessons that life presents, for they are opportunities for growth and self-discovery. Challenges are not obstacles but stepping stones on your journey to becoming the best version of yourself.

Surround yourself with positive influences and kindred spirits who uplift and support your journey. Let go of relationships that drain your energy and hinder your growth. Create a circle of love and support that nurtures your soul.

Find joy in the simple pleasures of life. Take time to savor a cup of tea, watch a sunrise, or feel the grass beneath your feet. These moments of presence are where true happiness resides.

Song: July - Noah Cyrus

xoxo

Future Self

💌 Pile 1

Darling, I cannot even start to tell you how good life is right now for me, and eventually for you. I know you are currently going through a rough patch, and as cliche as this sounds, I want you to know that every storm you're weathering now is bringing you closer to the sunshine that awaits you.

In my time, I've seen how the challenges you're facing today have shaped you into the resilient, compassionate, and wise person I've become. The setbacks you're experiencing are not roadblocks; they are stepping stones leading you to the life you've always dreamed of.

You may feel lost, uncertain, and at times overwhelmed, but trust me, these moments are your greatest teachers. They are guiding you towards a deeper understanding of yourself, your purpose, and the incredible strength that lies within you.

One day, you will look back on this period of your life and realize that it was a transformative journey, a cocoon in which you underwent a profound metamorphosis. You'll emerge from it stronger, wiser, and more in tune with your inner self.

The relationships you're nurturing now, the lessons you're learning, and the self-care you're embracing will all become pillars of the beautiful life that awaits you. You'll find yourself surrounded by a supportive and loving community that cherishes you for exactly who you are.

Song: See you Again - Tyler, The Creator

💌 Pile 2

I am sorry, but things are not going the way you would have hoped they would. However, rejection is just redirection, okay? Although things are looking rough for me right now, which, for you, is in the future, I want you to know that this tough phase will lead you to a place of strength and growth.

Life can be incredibly challenging at times, and I wish I could spare you from some of the hardships I'm currently facing. But remember, every setback, every disappointment, is an opportunity for growth and learning. It's through these tough moments that we discover our resilience and develop the wisdom to make better choices in the future.

I want you to hold onto hope, even when it feels like all hope is lost. Believe in yourself and your ability to overcome adversity. Surround yourself with supportive friends and loved ones who will help you weather the storm.

Stay patient and kind to yourself. It's easy to be critical during challenging times, but self-compassion is crucial. Treat yourself with the same love and understanding that you offer to others.

I am working on something thats a dream of ours right now, and I am seeing signs that it may end up succeeding soon or at least kick off, and I still love designing and art as much as you do right now, although I barely have time for myself right now.

Song: Not in that way - Sam Smith

💌 Pile 3

Okay, so maybeee we should reel it in a little with how much you are overworking yourself because it is having a bad effect on me, aka future you. Yep, I'm here to tell you that all those late nights, skipped meals, and stress-induced hair-pulling moments are not doing us any favors down the line.

I get it, you're hustling, chasing dreams, and making things happen in the here and now, and that's commendable. But trust me, I've been there, done that, and I can assure you that I'd appreciate a little less burnout and a lot more balance in our past.

You see, life isn't just about reaching goals; it's about enjoying the journey too. So, let's make a pact to take breaks, breathe deeply, and relish the simple pleasures. Remember, it's not all about the destination; the detours and pit stops are just as important.

And don't worry, I'm not trying to cramp your style here; I just want us to have the best possible adventures together, full of energy, laughter, and great stories. So, let's find that sweet spot where hard work meets self-care, and where the future "us" can look back and be happy about the past "you" for making wise choices.

Also please stop pulling all nighters its not doing any wonders for our skin, and even an extensive 10 step skincare routine does not do as much as a good nights sleep can.

Song: While we're yound - Jhene Aiko

xoxo

#pick a card reading #pac reading #pick a pile #tarot daily #tarot #intuition #pac #readings #intuitive readings #intuitive #tarot readings #tarot cards #tarotblr #tarot reading #divination #daily tarot #tarot spread #🩵 PAC 🩵

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notroosterbradshaw · 5 months

Text

about: just some smut to fend off jetlag. i love sleepy Bradley, I make no excuses that I feel he does his best work in the early hours of the day. This was supposed to be a drabble… it’s not anymore. Sorry.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, pure fluff, smut.

masterlist.

The morning after the night before when Bradley met your family for the first time, you'd flown across the world to surprise your dad for his birthday and really, it luckily coincided with Bradley's time off. When you mentioned heading home for your old man's special day that usually kicked off your family's holiday season, you almost fell out of your seat when he said maybe it was time he met the fam face-to-face, not just making small talk over FaceTime. It almost didn’t seem fair that he was subjected to meeting everyone this way, but alas… here you were the next morning, jet lag kicking in while wrapped protectively in Bradley’s strong, golden arms and washed in the relief your family fucking loved him. You weren't overly surprised.

Bradley's quiet, unassuming charm was just who your mum wanted you to end up with, he was into golf and surfing, so your dad and brothers thought he was the bee's knees. Your sister on the other hand...

You had to fend her off more than you would have liked. You were confident in your relationship with Bradley, knowing he'd never allow anything to happen. "You're coming across a little desperate," you hissed after one or two drinks, which mortified her, and she apologised, admitting she was just happy to finally get to meet the guy who'd swept you off your feet. "Yes, my feet," you reminded her. When she pointed out how possessive you sounded, you didn't deny it. But she got it and gave you space for the rest of the evening.

Ahh, sisters.

Bradley felt your body writhe in the gentlest of movements against his and he sighed. Sleep hadn’t come easy for either of you and compounded with the food and booze you’d indulged in the day before, neither of you slept much. “You okay, sweetheart?” he whispered at God-knows-what-o’clock.

“What time is it?” You asked softly.

“I dunno, baby. Sun is barely rising,” he admitted. “Can’t hear a peep in the house.”

Which was nice because yesterday was intense. Everyone was so excited to meet your new American boyfriend (fairly, it’d been about eight months, give or take with a few deployments), the incredibly handsome navy pilot whom you’d met one evening at a naval bar while travelling. You’d caught his eyes behind his sunglasses while he played the piano, the crowd around him as swept away with him as you were. The first half-smile in your direction, as he sang, had done you over in a way not one single person on the planet had before.

He'd charmed you instantly. He still charmed you constantly.

“Did you get any sleep?” you asked, biting back a yawn.

“Not really,” he peppered tender kisses into your shoulder blade and smiled into your skin as you pressed back into him, the oh-so-quiet moan made for his ears only waking him from his dreaded fog as well. “I’ll try and get a kip somewhere today. That fuckin’ flight murdered me.”

“You were happy to fly economy,” you muttered. “I know you’re used to tight quarters, but fuck Bradley. It was 15 hours."

“I know, I know I fucked up. I was looking at upgrades overnight. I’ll use my discount and stuff; we can do it flying home.”

“You sure?”

“Sue me for wanting to save a buck,” he sighed, with a tired, deep chuckle. “Flight was so full; people may as well have been sitting on the wings.”

“It’s Christmas. People travel.”

“You don't say,” he affectionately gripped your waist, rolling you to him and kissed you. “Good morning, I think," he nuzzled your nose against his and asked if you wanted some water or anything.

You shook your head, rolling back and snuggling into him as he adjusted his arms around you again, his nose buried in your hair. "I think Dad is gonna expect you for at least nine holes today."

"I think so, yeah. Grill me and make sure I'm good enough for his little girl.” He murmured and if he was honest, he was the teeniest bit nervous. He’d never really been in relationships long enough to meet families… and who would he introduce anyone to, except for Mav?

"I think you'll be fine."

"He probably wouldn't be if he knew what a deviant I've turned his smart, beautiful baby girl into.”

You giggled quietly as you could feel the soft ends of his moustache curve into a smirk against the nape of your neck. "He'd send you back on the first flight to LA."

"I would believe that," he said softly.

"I think yesterday went really well, Bradley," you confided quietly to him.

"You think? I was on my very best behaviour," he teased you.

"Yes, you were," you admitted. Not that he ever wasn't. Bradley was instilled with a remarkable set of manners. He was chivalrous and courteous to a fault, incredibly sweet and at times, pensive, even shy. Almost make believe that you were lucky enough to share his time. You wriggled back against him, and you could feel the hard-on straining through his boxer briefs. "Down, boy."

"Can't help it," he sighed. "You know what you do to me with that ass. I know what you want. You're not that transparent."

You bit back your pleased smile as his wandering hands travelled down your side, fingertips toying with the hem of his old Navy tee that was now your bed shirt. At home, you were nude sleepers. At your parents' home during the holidays? You showed decorum and respect and you both hated it, preferring skin-on-skin of the other but alas, anyone could walk in at any time.

“Have a thought about how we might be able to fuck this jetlag off…”

“Oh, yeah?” at this point, you’d do anything and with Bradley’s travel for work, you hoped maybe he might have some insight. You had planned to just power through and try not to be the world’s most exhausted asshole.

"You just move your thigh a little this way..." he murmured, his palm cupping your hamstring and you pressed back into him, grinning softly. “And I just slide up in here – ”

“Confident of you, don’t you think?”

“You’re always wet for me,” he whispered against your skin. “Unless you deny it.”

“Never…” you told him, reaching back to wrap an arm around his strong neck. “I just can't keep it down with you. Why didn’t you convince me to get the AirBnb?”

He loved how vocal you were during sex. Your moans, the hisses, the way you'd bite your lip when you were so close. That groan as you came, or the little squeal when you were too sensitive was burned into his brain as his favourite sounds in the world.

"Just lemme hold you then, it's okay, sweetheart," he grumbled. “I’ll live if you can.”

“Asshole,” you muttered as he chuckled.

“Do you want a blowjob?” You nervously offered, turning back to him and he looped your thigh over his hip and perched you above him with such little effort on his behalf - you loved how strong he was but you knew what was waiting for you, Bradley made no secret he was turned on and you loved that you were able to have him on a knife-edge at all times.

The one per cent, he’s told you once before.

You’re so sweet to him as you slowly dragged your hand into the waistband of his boxer briefs, revealing more and more skin, cock springing free, slapping against his toned, tanned Adonis belt. Long, thick and dripping with precum already and he almost blushed at how eager he was.

“I’ll never say no,” he replied, “And I know you might be uncomfortable here. Your dad is right across the hall, baby."

“But my daddy is right here…” you immediately corrected him, and he smiled darkly to himself. You didn't use that term lightly, you couldn’t nfi fed to him he had the ability to bring out your innermost feral when you least expected it and he would do his utmost to encourage it (if you were comfortable).

“Jesus,” his head was swirling, trying to keep calm and not blow his load the second you bared your tongue to him but there was absolutely nothing sweet about it. He was a preening mess when you went down on him. The night you'd told him you weren't overly experienced in blow jobs was the greatest night of his life, coaching you through what he liked and watching you perfect your generous technique time and time again.

These days, you loved giving Bradley head. He gave you confidence, he made you feel sexy and not like it was only about him on the receiving end. He’s whispered and encouraged, and when it all got too much, he told you he was close. He was neither here nor there on the whole spit or swallow thing… until you and your preference but he was never left empty-handed.

"Shh," you hissed. "Not a sound."

That one thing you did for him that absolutely made him come undone. And he'd bury his face in your pussy all day if you allowed him to show you how fucking grateful, he was for all the pleasure you presented him. Your sweet, tight wetness that he would eagerly drown himself in if you’d let him.

Your honeyed tongue delicately tasted the flawless head of his cock, lapping up the precum as Bradley's eyes rolled back into his head and his big hands reached to knot into your hair as you went to work, swirling your tongue and looking up with your big, scheming eyes, knowing you had him at his most precarious.

He was a weapon in his training, his mind and body were always primed to do what was asked of him, but you were the exception and it scared and excited him.

He could feel himself getting so close to painting the back of that beautiful mouth, and while it pained him to say it, the way your eyes softened told him he’d made the right choice. “Come on, baby, I want you.”

You gently pulled away and asked, “You don’t want me to finish?”

“No, I wanna fuck, baby. Watch you lose control.”

“Okay,” you said, your soft hand trading with your warm mouth to tenderly pump and tease him.

“Gimme a sec. I don't have condoms close,” he whispered. “They're in my luggage.”

"Just pull out, sweetheart," you enticed him, wanting to feel all of him. It was so infrequent you fucked without protection, and of course, you both preferred it that way but after a pregnancy scare (or not, neither of you was really sure) a few months back, you'd both decided to stop tempting fate and ensuring there was a stash of condoms at his place, your place... the goddamn Bronco – Bradley understood that it was your body and you didn’t want to be on the pill. A condom was the least he could do, and he knew it.

Bradley helped you move up his body and rest you above him. "Are you sure?" he kissed you, your gleaming teeth lightly stinging into his bottom lip with an affectionate nip.

“I trust you,” you told him. "Cum where you need...”

Truth be told, he wanted to cum deep, but he licked back a wet smile and he moved to his knees to pull his navy tee over your head, bearing your beautiful breasts to him, full, round, nipples begging for attention. “On your back, baby,” he urged, guiding you under him, anticipating how wet you were for him, legs splaying open unashamed. He rested the head of his cock on your weeping cunt, his fingers spreading your bare lips and sweeping your slick across your clit, fascinated by that little peep of desperation from you. Your head fell back against the pillows, bliss sweeping through you as he sweetly pressed one finger into you. “Drippin’,” he reported, pressing in another finger and his thumb rubbing tenderly against your throbbing clit. “Gonna gush for me?”

You probably would, Bradley’s ability to drag absolutely everything out of you blew your mind each time. “Need your cock. Fill me up, Bradley.”

Pushing in, one delicious inch by delicious inch, licking his full lips as your back curved to take him as deeply as possible. He buried his face in your breasts, holding one in his calloused palm, eyes fluttering closed as he traced, left wet, open-mouthed kissed and tenderly bit the other, and the groan you let you made him clamp his palm over your mouth. “You’re so wet, baby,” he stared deeply into your eyes as he evened his breath with the first few rolls of his slender hips. "But you're gonna wake your parents if you don’t control yourself."

"Let them fuckin' hear," you muttered behind your hand (you’d die if they heard you though) as he chuckled and began his ruthless assault on your senses, one thrust at a time.

"You're too good to me," Bradley reminded you in disbelief.

"All for you," you confided, as you watched the beads of sweat break across his brow as you dug your nails into his well-worked traps, willingly knowing it would leave a mark courtesy of your fresh manicure. You raised your hips to meet his deep, plunging thrusts, fucking into you strong and deep. He felt incredible, you don't think anyone had loved on you as Bradley Bradshaw could. So thorough, and never one to leave you hanging.

Too long, too sore? He'd pause and tenderly withdraw to hold you, reassuring you that it was fine, and your comfort was paramount. Too sensitive after coming too hard, he'd give you time to recover, finding other ways to bring you pleasure.

It was nice to be considered in your relationship, in your sex life especially. In the past, you'd been made to feel like a machine, if you didn't cum, partners still could, and you'd just deal with it. For a long time, that stuck with you and having someone consider you like Bradley would almost seem too good to be true at the start.

But that consideration never lapsed. He was make-believe and you fucking hoped if this man and everything he brought to you was a dream that you’d never, ever wake up.

Desperate to keep himself controlled, Bradley reached for the headboard of your old bed, gripping it for dear life as he tried so damn hard to avoid coming. He loved fucking you raw, and since birth control was completely your choice, you two had to stop playing this dangerous game. Because one day? It would beat you both.

"I need to cum, Bradley," you whined to him as he nodded, chewing his lower lip, and putting your delicate fingers in your mouth, not losing his rhythm. He knew. He knew how close you were.

"Lemme see you touch yourself, baby. Get those fingers - " he gasped as you clenched around him. "Get 'em nice and wet and play with that sweet, tight pussy. Lemme see you fall apart.”

Before, language like that would embarrass you, but with Bradley, it only spurred you on. It was incredible the ways he’d helped you grow and mature as a friend, partner and lover. As instructed, and in the low early morning light, Bradley’s breath hitched, watching you touch yourself and you couldn’t help it, the beat of his cock against your g-spot, your fingers pressing rough circles into your clit and you started to come.

“Yes, baby. Yes,” he urged, moving his mouth to your ear, whispering his sweet encouragement. “You feel so good, just a little mo – ” he forced his mouth against yours, kissing your pleasure to him, to keep the noise down. He wrapped his hand under your hip, lifting your waist to push harder into you as you trembled below him, your pussy clutching his cock, spasming as he shuddered against your lips. “Yes, baby.”

“Jesus, Bradley, fuck me,” you begged as his hips speed up like a piston, thrusting hard into your swollen, sensitive pussy, his hand clutching yours away from your strained clit and pressing intensely in your place, hoping to drag your orgasm out and as you fell, lifeless, back against the squishy pillows, pussy pulsating, Bradley grunted low he was coming and after his final few thrusts, he quickly withdrew and unloaded, stroking himself until he was spent, pearly ribbons of cum decorating your belly and breasts.

He collapsed beside you, taking your cheeks in his face and kissing you wildly. “I love you. I love you, baby,” he kissed you again, and though you were spent, you returned his affections, because truly… you loved Bradley Bradshaw with your entire being. It was going to take a lot to change that. “Are you okay?” he asked, chest still heaving as he breathed, his pointer finger tracing through the mess he made on you.

“I’m good, sweetheart,” you assured him as he gave you one last, final kiss.

“Think that helped with your jetlag?” he teased.

“Makes me want another round,” you admitted as he chuckled and raised an eyebrow.

“Of course you do,” he pressed a kiss into your pulse and lifted his lips back to yours, holding you close and just like horny teenagers, enjoying making out for a few moments in the afterglow. “Where’s that shirt gone?” he asked, peering over the side of the bed, and cleaning you up. “Jackson Pollack painting here.”

“Be less proud,” you told him as he snorted.

“Yes, ma’am,” he pressed another kiss to your lips. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Perfect, but let me go pee,” you whispered as Bradley kissed you long and deep, he nodded into the kiss but was not quite ready to leave you leave him.

“Go, clean up, baby,” he helped you up from the bed, your legs precarious and meandering like Bambi. “Careful,” he sighed, wistfully. But he knew it already, you were thoroughly fucked, just how he liked it.

A few hours later and thankfully, a few more hours of sleep, your alarm woke you, the sun much higher in the sky and the heat of the day starting to rise. You’d showered and told him to come down when he was ready, you’d help your Mum with some brekky.

“You want eggs?”

“Anything,” Bradley admitted. “Famished.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” you cupped his face in your palms and kissed him lightly. “Don’t rush.”

“Okay,” he gave a small grin but didn’t much feel like lingering. After a quick shower, he dressed, annoyed he didn't pack any golf gear, at minimum the shoes that you gave him grief for every time he wore them, but maybe he'd treat himself and buy some at the course today. He rifled through his bag, clutching the velvet box in his palm tightly, convinced more than ever that this was real, this was happening and soon, he'd hope to have you wearing his mother's engagement ring too.

Slapping on his CVN-71 cap, he knew you went a bit feral when he perched it backward. May as well leave you with good thoughts while he was out and about, asking your old man for your hand on the golf course. And if it went badly, it was also something to identify him when the authorities found him if your dad said no.

510 notes · View notes