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nildespirandum · 2 years

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Jonathan and Brede have dinner and drinks.

With thanks to @dianamolloy for the best cocktail name ever.

18+ ONLY

New Orleans -

Brede was nervous and it made her mad as hell.

Not to mention late.

Her Uber let her off across the street from Annabella’s . In addition to the line waiting in the faint hope they might get a seating, the French doors of the barroom had been opened and a crowd of mostly locals eating bar snacks and drinking before going to wherever else they might be eating dinner had spilled onto the sidewalk.

Straightening her yellow sundress - pretty but not too sexy - with a quick fanning of her skirt and taking a look at her velvety brown nude lipstick - sexy, but not too sexy - with a sigh, she held her clutch tight. She could do this. It was dinner. She’d eaten dinner plenty of times. Then she walked with enough purpose towards the door to part the waters of milling punters like they were the Red Sea.

Punters.

Calling customers punters, drinking milk in her tea, and a few other affectations had refused to be left behind in London. And Corky, of course, who looked up from where he was going over something on a tablet with his hostess. Seeing her he frowned at the hostess and shaking his head, gave Brede a big smile, and abandoned whatever the problem was to walk over to her, arms spread despite how crowded his dainty, main dining room was.

“Darling, you look good enough to go straight for. Well, not really, but certainly good enough for a quick shag and an omelet for breakfast.”

“Flatterer.” She let him kiss her cheek but refused to do that European kissing thing. It was foolish-looking when Americans did it. “He here yet?”

“Of course,” he touched her elbow softly and motioned towards the courtyard. In the dying light, the candles on the tables and in multi-colored glass lanterns hanging from the trees turned the already pretty space, scented with oleanders and a sweet olive tree, into something from a fairytale.

Complete with a handsome prince, who stood, nicely straight and very tall, as they approached the table.

Damn. Jonathan was not playing.

Wearing a fawn brown suit without the jacket, his purple tie had a crisp and peerless knot, the bottom button of his vest was undone, the cuff of his ever so slightly tight trousers broke over gleamingly shined shoes, and the white sleeves of his poplin shirt were rolled up showing off his still goddamned perfect arms.

Rather than his usual contacts, he was wearing his glasses. Black rimmed, hipster professor style and he knew, he remembered , that they made her crazy.

That’s ok. She had remembered how much he’d liked the yellow dress she wore on their last date before everything turned to shit, as well as how responsive he’d been to the old fashioned perfume of her grandmere’s she wore sometimes, Mitsouko. Nuzzling everywhere Brede put a little of the scent as if he couldn’t help himself the impeccable Pine had proved himself to have some beast behind all that beauty.

“You look lovely,” he said, stepping around the intimate table, edging Corky out of the way to pull out Brede’s chair. The heat from him standing so close behind her, and the one drop of sweat rolling down his temple before hanging on his sharp, slightly flushed cheekbone was hard for her not to lick right up.

Before she could think she said, “So do you,” then bit back a curse, and as she sat stomped a bit on Corky’s foot when he snorted.

“Clearly I am de trop , cherubs,” he said, nodding to Jonathan who had returned to his own seat and was now glaring openly at him. “Let me know if there is anything my staff can’t accommodate you for. Obscure, semi-imaginary dietary needs. Impossibly to find, perhaps imaginary vintages. Untraceable poisons.” He kept speaking as he drifted away, “Unregistered firearms…”

For a moment or five they were both quiet, Brede messing around with her bag, Jonathan with his serviette. Then, after they both ran out of things to keep their hands busy, he looked as if he were about to speak when the waiter and a busboy came over with the water service and an amuse.

“Mr. Corkorian,” the waiter, a slender, exceptionally attractive black man with a soft, Georgia accent and the scarred but steady hands of a long-time kitchen worker gracefully gestured towards their dishes, “and Chef Esposito have taken the liberty of choosing your menu for tonight. To start there we have a crawfish stuffed arancini in a tiny pool of red snapper court bullion, Cajun-style, with Aqua Panna flat water.”

Brede always thought that the whole ‘water service’ thing was pure, white people nonsense designed to jack up the bill, but if Jonathan was paying she’d drink enough to fill a bathtub. Besides which the waiter had the look of the benevolently judgmental type who had worked in food service all of his life and would be softly disappointed in her if she didn’t appreciate the quality of everything being offered.

“I’ll be back with your cocktails shortly,” he finished, turning away with an elegant motion to the busboy who was being overly careful pouring their water while trying not to gawk too openly at Jonathan.

“I guess we don’t even get to pick our own cocktails, huh?” she said, carefully sipping the expensive water that tasted just like water, making sure not to smudge her lipstick.

“Corky is a control freak, we both know,” Jonathan cut into his arancini with his fork. Even from across the table it was clear how tender and perfect it was, with the pure white rice contrasting with the deep red sauce, the golden crust, and the pink crawfish. Closing his eyes as he tasted, she knew he was half-savoring, half-analyzing, his brain putting together the recipe and figuring out the best technique even as he relished the flavor.

He ate like he made love.

Brede tried not to choke on her Aqua at that thought and took a bite herself.

It was delicious. She knew basically what was in it, had a pretty decent idea how it was put together, and was happy to just enjoy the hell out of every bit of it. No analysis needed, just good taste and a willing mouth.

Which she supposed, said about how she was in bed, too.

Now and then, as they ate the small course, they would catch eyes, and then both try to not be the first to look away. It was awkward enough while the few bites of food lasted, but when it was gone and the plates whisked away it was worse.

There was a plate with a few thin slices of pane di Segale and a little sweet butter. Brede ate a piece, with a little salt, even though she didn’t really like rye bread and Jonathan waited. He had clearly recovered from his hangover, his skin slightly ruddy instead of pasty and green, and lounging back in his chair sipping his own silly ass water, anyone might have thought he looked relaxed, except for the way he kept looking like he was going to talk and then didn’t.

They were both being foolish. He’d asked her out. She’d said yes. They couldn’t just sit here all night saying nothing.

“Jonathan.��

He sat forward, eyes eager behind those damned sexy glasses.

Before she could say whatever she thought she was going to say, the waiter returned with two cocktails in Nick and Nora glasses, placing her drink and then Jonathan’s down with a slight twist so the garnish was at a 47-degree angle from them.

The drink was pale orange, with a vanilla bean used as a skewer to hold a candied bit of satsuma peel that had been lightly singed. From the drink, a faint smell of smoke, violets, and bitter orange jam wafted upwards.

“In honor of Ms. Herbert,” the waiter intoned.

Brede looked from the cocktail, the light mist of condensation forming on the glass in the close New Orleans night air, the excellent balance of sweet and smoke and spice that she knew was within. It was the best cocktail she’d ever created, and she hadn’t made one, tasted one, since London.

Jonathan picked up his glass by the stem and frowned at it. “You know, I never actually had one of these…” he murmured, taking a sip. This time when his eyes closed there was no investigation, no taking it apart so he could try and put it back together. Just pure pleasure.

“That,” he set the glass down carefully, “is one of the best drinks I have ever had. I’m honored.” He sounded surprised to be saying it, but not because it was true. He was right, it was a delicious thing. She’d forgotten how good it was, how good she could be when she was inspired. Even if it was by a little spite.

With her lips twisting in maybe a smile, she couldn’t tell from the inside, Brede raised her glass in a salute, and took a drink.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

London -

The picture was torn from an old issue of some Scandinavian food magazine, from the early 2000s and now hung in pride of place on the wall next to the passthrough in the kitchen of the Close.

God knew where Corky had gotten the damned thing. In it an embarrassingly young and gawky Jonathan Pine, along with the various chefs and other crew of the restaurant where he had been working, all on an icy, windswept Northern beach, strolling through the surf.

Idiotic, and having only the connection of the sea to the seafood restaurant that was being profiled, Pine couldn’t remember how the idea for the photo came up. Probably the idea of Pelle Møller, the executive chef; a vain, former professional skier who loved seeing his face in print, especially under outdoorsy circumstances that could show off his weather-beaten masculinity and fit build.

Being the newest meat in the grinder of Pelle’s kitchen, Pine was at the back of the group, but even amongst the tall, Nordic crew, he stood out for his gangly height and his hair, which had gone wild in the humidity and wind. Back then it had been lighter, bleached all but white by the amount of time he had been spending outside and the setting winter sun glinting off of it had stained it bright orange, which looked especially ridiculous with the shitty, fuschia Gore-Tex jacket he had hurriedly put on, not understanding they were having their picture taken as they were hustled out of the kitchen on that early winter day.

He practically glowed. Pelle had been furious that even though he was front and center he was not the most noticeable thing in the picture, and Pine had spent the next two months cleaning carp and keeping his head down.

At first, the old magazine had simply shown up in the breakroom, with a sticky note holding the page, with “Is this you, old thing, in all of your marmalade perfection?” in Corky’s distinctive scrawl.

They hadn’t bothered to name any of the crew in the photo other than Pelle, and he was twelve years younger and twenty pounds skinnier, but there was no doubt that it was Pine, looking nothing like the buttoned up, flawless sous they all knew.

Corky’s blandly innocent look and satisfied eyes were proof that Jonathan’s efforts to get closer to Roper were drawing blood even if they had yet to get him what he needed. Dickie was too clever with his affairs to let anyone find out where the bodies were buried until he knew that he could trust them, that their greed or their need or their loyalty were more important than their morals.

Pine had been subtle about his imaginary ambitions- to run his own kitchen, maybe even be in management, knowing that Roper would notice everything and was in turn subtle enough himself to catch on. He had in turn minutely tested Pine’s feelings for Daniel, his concerns about burning bridges, his care for strict legality and based on how he had started treating him like a favored nephew what he’d seen, he liked.

Thus, the business with the magazine. Jonathan hated to admit it, but he liked that Corky wasn’t above pettily embarrassing him. Corkoran was a gifted manager, took good care of his employees, and had no problem drawing blood with suppliers and contractors. He had good bones and if Roper went down Pine hoped that Corky would salute and jump ship rather than drowning.

Still, that fucking picture…

Needless to say, the shit Jonathan took around the Close kitchen after that was endless. Suddenly oranges were being featured in a number of desserts and appetizers, apricots were turning up in salads, nectarines were part of amuses and even in a beef dish that was startlingly good if hard to make.

Even Daniel took the piss, making duck l’orange for the family meal one day.

Pine took it all in stride, gritting his teeth in a kind of smile.

Then Brede created the Marmalade Perfection. Some mix of Chase Marmalade Vodka, vanilla bitters, a little something smoky, a little something floral, a little mixologist witchcraft spilling magic from her elegant fingers, and a dash of personal spite.

After sampling it Corky immediately made it the Close’s cocktail of the spring season.

“Honestly, darling, best cocktail I’ve had in ages. Want to try one, Pine?” Corky asked just before service the first day it was offered on the menu. Jonathan had gone into the bar hoping to have a word with Brede, who was setting up her garnishes, looking at him from under the loose curls she wore her hair in that night, trying not to smile.

“It is a delicious mouthful…” he added, looking Jonathan up and down, and Brede muttered something about it being the only thing either of them had a mouthful of in a while, while Corky nodded sagely.

After their interruption by Dickie out at his country house, Pine had been unable to make himself go much further than they had already gone - a few kisses, a few touches, before making a weak excuse about having to be up early. He liked Brede too much to sleep with her when he was planning what he was planning with Roper. It didn’t sit right with him.

But every day seeing her at the Close, her beautiful, wide smile, her perfect, brown gold skin, her too sharp eyes, made him feel like a fool for it. Fortunately, her wounded pride kept them at arm's length, because God knew Jonathan wasn’t going to be able to stay away from her much longer.

“I’ll make you one, Johnny, if you like,” she said, licking a bit of sugar from her coffee off of the corner of her mouth.

“Thanks, but I have to get back to the kitchen.”

As it turned out, later that night a group of footballers' wives and girlfriends came in as part of one of their Hen Nights and Corky sent a round of Marmalade Perfections to their table. They were shot all toasting with them by someone who sold the picture along with a number of more scandalous photos to a few different tabloids. Most of them were quashed before they could see print but the picture of the toast posted online and saw print in a less sordid magazine, and suddenly every pretty girl and aging beauty who came into the Close wanted a Marmalade Perfection.

It appeared in a TV show where a bunch of stylish people with overly dramatic problems wore a lot of expensive clothing and fucked standing up rather more often than seemed feasible.

It was copied, with greater and lesser success by countless restaurants and clubs, dumbed down in High Street lounges across the country.

Brede was featured in Food & Drink, and for a few weeks, reservations at the bar in the Close were amongst the hardest to get in London.

Jonathan gritted his teeth harder, and Corky was delighted. So was Roper, of course, if for different reasons.

After service and cleaning one night, having his cigarette out back, Jonathan was leaning on the wall trying to see the stars above the city lights, his feet aching, his back tight. Roper had asked him to meet him for lunch on his day off. Not at the Close. “Time for a private chat, yes? There is an old pub I love, tourists and film crews haven’t found it yet, out near Aylesford. I’ll send a car, noonish? Excellent.”

Pine had assented in silence.

Afterward, sitting in the kitchen office, he and Daniel had silently clinked glasses of the shitty gin they had both developed a taste for in Egypt, hoping it might finally be over. Daniel was ready to take one of the many offers for backing his own restaurant, and Pine was just ready to move on.

“I don’t like the way those taste, but I do like the smell,” Brede’s voice broke into his revere, low and smooth, coming from the loading dock, the old hoodie she wore on the bus as camouflage protecting her work dress. He had missed her sitting there, legs swaying, looking tired. “Reminds me of home. And Tokyo. And good times.”

Finishing the cigarette, Jonathan crushed it into the number ten oil can that had been filled with sand and left by the employee door. He almost walked back in. Almost.

Instead, he walked over to Brede. Sitting on the raised dock she was taller than he was, her knee brushed his side, and she looked down at him. One of the lights illuminated her hair, making it a corona, a crown. “You tired of avoiding me yet, Johnny boy? Or are you just one of those guys who likes to lead a girl on, make her feel small for wanting him?”

“I don’t think I could make a woman of your quality feel small, but if I have acted like that is what I want, I am sorry for it. Sorrier than I can say. I have…”

He stopped and put a hand on her knee, barely covered by a gauzy skirt. It was warm and ever so slightly knobby, and without realizing it, Pine started to rub it in circles. Staring at his big, scarred hand, he spoke, trying to be as honest as he could.

“I haven’t had the best history with romance, and I’m a wanderer. Even more than you. I haven’t had the same address for much over a year since I was at Uni. And the last woman I was with- things went poorly. Not her fault. Not even mine, I suppose. But I don’t know that I tru-”

Brede leaned down, lacing her fingers through his still sweaty hair, and gently tugged so he had to look at her, “I trust you enough for both of us,” and kissed him, her mouth firm and decided and taking.

Later, he felt a little damned by her words, but at that moment he didn’t fucking care.

Brede loved kissing, hated that most people considered it a lead in, or an aggression, or an afterthought. But Jonathan kissed like he meant it. Open-mouthed, sensual, slow. Breathing into her, breathing her in return, his tongue not teasing or choking but taking her. Showing her how he would fuck, how he would make love, with steady care and attention and starvation.

Hands on her legs, he pushed them wide apart to step in closer, so her pussy was resting against his chest, wet through her panties from that hypnotic, circling touch on her damned knee. She had never wanted a man so bad, and if he put her off again she was going to have to kill him.

It was only fair.

Gripping the inside of her thighs, strong fingers bruising her a little, making some room between them, leaving enough of a mark that later in the shower she would wince and get wet again washing her leg, one of his thumbs traced her opening through cotton, then found the tip of her clit and circled it the same way he had her knee with the edge of his thumbnail. Everything in her melted and went hot.

They were right outside the damned door and there were still a few people finishing up in the Close and she didn’t care. All she cared about was how sweet he was making her feel, how ready she was for the more they had been dancing around for months now.

Stopping kissing her, licking his lips, he looked down, “Watch,” he said.

Brede watched.

Nudging her panties aside, he slid one long finger deep into her and began to ease it in and out of her, teasing her deep, so her thighs tightened and trembled on either side of him, and the muggy London air left them both dripping. Then he added another finger, no longer easy but fucking her with them. He stared at her face, ordering her to keep watching, as if she could look away from the sight of those pale, talented fingers, soaked with her wet, getting faster and faster.

“Don’t look away, Brede. I want you to see what a mess you are making of both of us.”

Turning his palm, so he could curl his fingers up, he found her spot. Bucking against his hand, clit throbbing and thudding against the heel of it, the only way Brede could keep looking was to pull that work dirty hair of his, to bang harder and harder and harder, to feel each thrust as if it was going to send her flying off of the dock, out of the alley, and the stink of car exhaust and old cooking scraps.

And then, and then, and then, he leaned in, pressing and whispering, hoarse, breath seething out of him, dirty and crude and nothing like a gentleman, what he was going to do to her, what he wanted her to do to him, over and over.

The orgasm, the pleasure, opened within her, pulling the feel of his mouth on her neck, the sound of the fabric of her dress squeaking as he twisted and squeezed it, then, knowing, obviously feeling the pulse of her cunt, he put the thumb of his free hand into her mouth and let her bite him as her hips shot up, offering herself more and more, coming hard, rubbing herself on him wanting more.

Later, after Jonathan snuck back in to grab their things unnoticed, and Brede tried to stop trembling, after they got into an Uber and tried to pretend to talk about work, after they made it to the flat he was borrowing, he fucked her standing up just inside the door. It was ungraceful and awkward as hell, with her ass banging dry wall and his elbow knocking a mirror off its nail.

But when he sunk himself deep into her swollen, sensitive pussy, and worked his hips like a dancer, it didn’t matter how foolish and silly it was not to take those few extra steps into the bedroom. Watching his face, teeth gritted, snorting through his nose like a racehorse, determined she would come again before he came at all, Brede felt within her attraction and terrifying tenderness that, as much as how good he was, how good they were together, tipped her again over the edge into a softer, but still mind-emptying, velvety pleasure.

“Thank Christ,” Jonathan breathed against her lips, before his own head fell back and his hips pistoned and he finished, moaning her name, kissing, and holding her for dear life. “I suppose,” he whispered, “I owe the makers of television dramas an apology. Apparently, actual people do fuck standing up an inordinate amount of time.”

“We only done it this once, baby,” she said, in her most New Orleans accent.

“Which is far more than enough for my after service back.”

“Yeah, I’m feeling it too, now that it's over,” she conceded.

“Then as soon as I have the feeling back in my legs I suggest we creep to my bed.”

Which was where they spent most of the next day, apart from snacks, until they had to go to work.

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#the night manager fic #jonathan pine fic #jonathan pine au #the night manger au #tom hiddleston #the sous chef #tags on ao3

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

Text

Crushed 15

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

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

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

Characters: Colin Shea, Jonathan Pine

Note: Please scream at me!

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

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

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

After an early morning phone call, your mother insists on coming to town for lunch. You couldn't bear to tell her everything over the phone and frankly, you don't know how much you should tell her. You remember in high school when you were sent home after Kelly Harris dumped mud in your lap, your mother was more irritated to have you home than empathetic.

You watch through the peephole before you sneak out. You haven't slept but you can't be sure Colin hasn't returned. There's enough noise in the building that it's hard to discern who's coming or going.

When you do emerge, you flit quickly to the first floor and dip out, looking over your shoulder for either Colin or his vengeful girlfriend. You get through the lobby without trouble but you're not in the clear. Surely the day holds nothing but trouble, regardless of where it comes from.

You check the time as you wait for the cab. You refer to the text your mother sent before she set out and give the driver the name of the restaurant. You've never been there before and you're certain it's well out of your price range. Another debt for the tally.

This is the last thing you ever wanted. It makes all this drama seem all the more ridiculous. You’re a grown woman and this is what you’ve come to. Back to square one.

You approach the restaurant doors and enter with a sheepish grin. You don’t know that you own anything that wouldn’t be underdressed for this bougie brunch locale. Once more, you look at your phone. Crap, she’s there first. That means you're late even if you agreed on nine.

The hostess shows you to the table where your mother waits. She has her compact out as she touches up her mauve lipstick. She doesn’t acknowledge you or the hostess as you sit. She snaps shut the mirror and sips from her stemmed glass of orange juice.

“About time,” she drawls, “oh, and nice to hear from you after all these months.”

Her eyes finally deign to land on you. You gulp. You should’ve taken the chance of talking to your father but ultimately you know it’s not up to him.

“You’ve been so busy with Geri’s wedding–”

“Don’t try to guilt me for your neglect,” she warns, “you should be happy for your sister. Her fiance is a charming man. You’ve met Colton, haven’t you?”

“Once or twice,” you grumble. Family get togethers weren’t exactly your favourite memories. “I’ve been waiting on my invite–”

“Invite? You’re a bridesmaid. Geri sent out that email months ago. Is this why you weren’t at the fitting?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t get an email.”

“You’re wrong. Certainly, you must be. You and the rest of the girls are bridesmaids. You have to be. And it might be good for you to be involved in a wedding at least once,” she tuts. You don’t miss the jibe. Yeah, not like you have much hope of walking down the aisle.

“I’ll… I’ll call Geri and clear things up,” you say, “how are the others?”

“Well, Maeve is graduating this year. Always exciting. She’s thinking of joining Audrey at her alma mater. And Livia is somewhere in Spain again.”

“Ah, yeah, she sent me some pictures,” you say.

“And you? What are you up to?” She challenges. She’s not genuinely curious.

“Well,” you take a breath, pausing as a server comes to ask what you’d like to drink. You get the same as your mother and peruse the menu.

“Well…” your mother prompts.

“Yeah, um, I…” you shake your head, you can’t even look at her, “I am on leave from work so… not much.”

“Leave? What does that mean?” She hisses.

You feel your eyes tinge. You look at her. Why is she so different to you? Your other sisters can spill all their worries and whims but you, it’s always judgment. You can never do anything right.

“Uh, I thought maybe it might be a good time to–”

“Ah, pardon,” you’re interrupted before you can sputter out the revelation of another failure. You cringe as you recognise Jonathan’s silky lilt. Why? How? Do you even dare questioning fate anymore? “I just, I had to say hello.”

You force a smile and look at him, trying not to falter in front of your mother’s all-seeing gaze. She sits up, and lets out a hum of surprise as she sees Johnathan. Her lashes give a telling flick.

“Hello?” She utters quizzically.

“This must be one of your sisters,” he says as he runs his hand up the sleek lapel of his blue jacket, “very pleased to finally meet you.”

“Sister? Oh, do not flatter me. I am her mother, Eugenia,” she introduces herself with a smug smirk, “and how do you know each other?”

“Uh, oh,” you stutter and send Jonathan a desperate look. Do you tell her you’re his disgraced former employee? Or maybe just business acquaintance. She’s going to know eventually, that’s why you’re here. “Jonathan is–”

“Jonathan Pine,” he introduces himself, “honoured to finally meet you.” He looks at you, arching a brow before turning his attention back to his mother, “you both must be so excited for your elder daughter’s upcoming nuptials?”

“British?” She intones with intrigue.

“You’ve caught me out,” he grins, “your daughter’s been rather helpful in getting me acquainted with this country. Very lovely…” he peeks at you again, “hardly as lovely as her. You’ve raised a rather endearing daughter.”

“You…” she blinks in confusion, sending you another flabbergasted peek, “you and my daughter…” she lets the suggestion hang. Jonathan does too as he gives you an option; come clean or take the bait.

“I was waiting to introduce you at the wedding,” you blurt out, “I… it’s new.” You say, each word jarring as the lies piece themselves together on your tongue, “and I thought,” you look at Jonathan pointedly, “he was out of town.”

“Business trip was canceled, rescheduled to a business breakfast,” he slithers, “I’m meeting Gerry soon,” he checks his watch, “but I will be sure to tell the hostess to put your bill with mine.”

“Oh–” you squeak.

“Oh my,” your mother trills, “you are too kind. That is…” she gapes at you openly, “you… you’re with my daughter. Her?”

He chuckles lightly, “why wouldn’t I be with such a beautiful woman?”

“I didn’t mean– I don’t– I’m very surprised,” she exclaims shrilly, “she never mentioned, but then again, she’s always been so private. So shy. And you seem like such a lovely man.”

“I like to think so, but please, she is not the lucky one,” he preens and steps towards you. He places his hand on your shoulder and bends, grazing his lips across your cheek, “go with it,” he whispers.

You turn your head just as his lips aim for yours. He kisses you and the air leaves the room. Your chest ties tight and your entire body tingles. Oh, wow. You’re too swept up in the sensation of his unexpected kiss that you can’t remember why you were so off-kilter a moment ago.

“Now let me not interrupt further. A mother-daughter reunion,” he puts his hand to his chest, “how sweet.”

He backs away and dips his chin. He turns on his heel and crosses the restaurant as you stare after him. The server approaches and sets your drink in front of you. You drink it in the silence of your mother’s disbelief.

“Well, you’ve done finely,” she says in a stunted cadence, “I… he’s so handsome. And tall. And blond!”

“Mom,” you plead as you nearly choke on the orange juice.

“Well. Even you must realise he’s very… dashing as they’d say in his home country,” she flutters her lashes dreamily, “oh, yes, you must bring him to the wedding. He’ll look wonderful in the photos.”

You wet your lips with your tongue and nod. You look down at the table, still buzzing as your lips warm up. You can’t stop thinking about that kiss. It nips away at the anger that kept you up all night, but hardly solves your anxiety.

You can’t tell your mother you expect to be evicted in the next month or that you lost your job. So what now? How do you untangle the knot that only grows bigger and bigger?

💗

For once, your time with your mom is less than torturous. She keeps her barbs dull enough to leave you only bruised. Her mood is a touch above neutral, which for you, is an accomplishment. You’re content but not entirely at ease. You have a lot to figure out.

You bid her goodbye just outside the patio seating and wave to her as she unlocks her luxury car. You watch until you see her get in and let out a sigh. Shit. Not only do you have Jonathan to worry about, but you don’t expect Colin to be AWOL much longer.

So what do you do? Go home and face the music or call Jonathan and try not to melt into a puddle of embarrassment. It was a nice favour of him to pretend but you don’t want to assume anything. High hopes and stupid girlish fantasies got you into all this.

As you walk along the curb, a short toot draws you to a stop. You turn as the whir of a car window steals your attention and you face the familiar car. Jonathan leans over the passenger seat to see you.

“You’re not going to run away again, are you?” He asks.

You twist your heel into the pavement and bend down. You furrow your brows as that big question needles between them. You can’t lie anymore, you can’t just wait for the truth to come out, you just have to ask.

“How did you know I was here?”

His brows lift and his eyes roll to the side. He gives a guilty grin, “I hope you don’t… misinterpret it but I… staked out your building.”

“What?” You puff out.

“Yes, I know, it sounds very bad. And I won’t claim it was entirely sane but I wanted to see the police take him away after I filed the report. To be sure you were safe and then… I sat stuck in my own head. Wanting to run up those stairs and knock on your door but also terrified you wouldn’t answer,” he shrugs, “and I followed you because I worried you might run into him, but that’s only half the reason…”

You swallow and step closer, “Jonathan, what are you doing?”

“Being crazy,” he lowers his eyes bashfully, “I know, you don’t need two madmen after you.”

You shake your head and reach for the handle. You open the door and get in. He sits back, watching you as you move your purse into your lap. You stare at the dashboard.

“What is going on?” You turn your head and look into his beautiful blue eyes, “what is this?”

“I don’t…” he begins.

“You’re my boss.”

“I was.”

“I never should’ve dragged you into this–”

“I’m so happy you did,” he murmurs.

“Jonathan, please,” you beg, “it’s not right–”

“You quit,” he insists, “so what isn’t right?”

You pout and sit back, turning straight and looking up at the upholstered ceiling of the car. You don’t know what to say. No, you don’t know how to say it. Except…

“I’m stupid.”

“What?” He scoffs.

“I’m stupid because… I’m scared and lost. And I can’t make you follow me through that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Feelings don’t just go, they just get complicated,” you explain, parsing through the stirring in your gut, “I hate Colin, I’m scared to hell of him, but I still… feel some of those things I felt.”

“Oh, but darling,” he reaches over and rests his hand above your shoulder, “I know feelings don’t just go. Mine certainly won’t.”

“Feelings? For me? Are you sure it’s not pity?”

“I only pity myself for how deeply I’ve fallen,” he breathes as you sense him leaning in, “the first day I saw you, I knew. I’ve never been much of a romantic but I have to confess something.”

“What?” You shy away, sensing how close he is.

“I knew how to use the coffee machine,” he admits, “I just needed an excuse.”

“You… did?” You look at him. He’s so much closer than you thought.

“Oh yes, if you hadn’t helped with the machine, I would’ve failed miserably in front of you at making copies. And if that didn’t work, well, I suppose I’d just have to make a mistake in my numbers,” he purrs, “you would’ve helped me, wouldn’t you?”

You quiver out a breath. You want to collapse into him, you want to let him make you forget everything but him, and yet, you’re so afraid. You’re afraid to believe that this could ever be real for you.

He doesn’t let your fear win. His lips are on yours again and that’s all you need. Nothing is left but that moment, the feeling of his mouth on yours, how his hand comes up to frame your jaw and cradle your cheek, his other creeping behind your head as he clings to you desperately. You can’t help by latching onto his collar, diving into his need.

You don’t stop until you're dizzy and breathless. He pulls back, hovering before you, thumb tracing your cheek bone as his other hand tickles your neck. His eyes search you, admire you, you’ve never been looked at like that.

“May I drive you home?” He asks softly, nuzzling your nose with his.

#colin shea #jonathan pine #dark colin shea #dark!colin shea #colin shea x reader #jonathan pine x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #series #what's your number #crushed #the night manager

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smolvenger · 9 months

Text

How To Fake Date A Spy Part Two

Jonathan Pine x fem! Reader Miniseries

Word Count: 6K

Series Summary: You have to deal with numerous men of Roper's business having a gross interest in you for more than small talk. Going to Roper for help, he offers an idea- pretending to be the date of his newest friend. A handsome sous-chef known as Thomas Quince. Little do you know yet, the man's real name is Jonathan Pine and he is on a mission to take Roper down...

Part One

Chapter Warnings: Reader being thirsty, but no smut (yet). Discussions of depression and suicidal intentions with the character of Elena with a note of hope and good mental health and comforting fluffy fix-it goodness. But if you or a loved one have legit intentions, please get help and tell someone, 988 is the American hotline number in addition to 911. Some angst at the end. Discussions of domestic abuse.

A/N: Shout out to @muddyorbsblr for hyping me up as I was writing this draft!!! It always motivates me !!! Thanks, Bestie!!! I hope you guys like it!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over ) @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Why the hell was this happening? Why the hell did you even agree to do this?

Just a few minutes before the cocktail party hosted by Roper. The first time you and Thomas would be seen as a couple in public. That is, a pretend couple. You have taken at least twelve anxiety trips to the restroom in the last two hours. You still felt like any minute you would shit yourself. You kept redoing bits of your makeup because your hand kept shaking. If there was a wrong step, a wrong move, you wondered if something would explode. If someone would either laugh at you or Roper would frown. Then again, this was The Worst Man In The World we were talking about. A frown would be the least of your worries if he wasn’t happy. And Thomas, what was going through his head? It was too long since you dated-really dated. And your heart was racing out of your chest.

You took another look in the mirror to make sure your cocktail dress was right. What would he even think? You wondered. He was probably repulsed by you- he was forced into this too! Now that Elena was your roommate, she was applying mascara next to you. But you could only stare blankly at your reflection. Overthinking and psyching yourself out as you scanned your appearance again.

“Hey Y/N, what's up?” she asked.

“I’m…I’m just…uh…nervous,” you replied. Nothing fake about that statement.

“Nervous? How come?” She began.

She looked around and then whispered. “Are you…are you in danger….did…”

“No, Roper didn’t threaten anything!“It’s just uh…I hope…I hope tonight just…goes okay,”

“Alright. Whatever you say. It’s just a cocktail party. Another party full of boring guests doing boring fancy things.”

“Well, Elena…today, uh, I gotta tell you something- uh-”

Then there it was. The fateful knock against the door. You jumped and let out a small shout of surprise. Elena looked at you with wide, scared eyes. You saw her hand shake with the mascara tube. But you held her other hand.

Then a soft, British voice was behind. You felt the teenage girl relax. You, however, did not.

“Y/N, I’m here. Ready when you are.”

Taking in a breath, you went to the door and opened up. Though you were delighted to see Thomas. The black eye and nose healed nicely. The bruises didn’t seem too obvious with his tanned skin. The sight of him was dazzling- a crisp blue suit that brought out how his eyes were like the spring sky. He looked down and smiled at you. You couldn’t speak at the sight of him. Excitement mixed with nervousness.

“Are you ready, Y/N?” he asked with a warm smile.

You looked back and saw that Elena tilted her head and squinted at him.

“Are you escorting us?” asked.

“Y/N is my date, but I’ll be glad to walk you over too,” he replied with a shrug.

You might have grown feathers and laid eggs before Elena's eyes. Her jaw fell to the floor. Then she looked at the two of you.

“Your date?!” she cried.

“Yeah….Thomas and I are dating!” you announced matter-of-factly. At least, you hoped it sounded matter-of-fact.

You put on a smile that you hoped wasn't too false looking- small and happy. You leaned in a little closer to him.

"Why....uh....congrats!" Elena replied.

"Yes...I wanted to tell you Elena, but..." you began

You felt your hands twitch and you hoped she wouldn’t notice. Then Thomas stepped forward.

"No, it's alright....come join us, Elena. You’re always welcome with us.”

As Elena walked out beside you two. Both of your clicking heels echoed in the hallway. Her dark hair contrasted with the white of her dress. As she got closer, you could hear the guests chatting. Her mother stepped up and opened an arm. She went up and got her mother’s hand and then walked to the party.

You walked beside Thomas, only giving the odd glance at him. You felt your heart pick up as you got closer. You felt fluttery inside. When Elena and her mother vanished into the party, Thomas leaned in towards you.

“Nervous?” he asked.

“Is water wet?” you replied dryly.

"Take my hand," he instructed.

He splayed out his hand before you- large and smooth. You reached yours, then hesitated before touching him.

“Your hand?" you repeated.

"Take my hand, Y/N. It will make it more believable,” he said.

With a deep breath, you took his hand. It still felt warm, warm from the sun that shone on his skin. His own large hand was soft on you again. With his free hand, he touched your chin, his thumb going to the corners of your mouth. It felt as intimate as a kiss on your thigh. You felt yourself take a breath so deep, you got a little dizzy. Then you went up to him. Suddenly, though there was a whole party of people, it felt like you two were the only ones on earth. Though you had more presentation of calm, his voice was doing nothing for your racing heart.

“Now…we have to smile. Just relax. It’ll be easier than you think,” he advised.

You unclenched your jaw at him. Under the graze of his thumb, you felt the corners of your lips twitch up.

“There…there it is,” he said, with a smile that matched yours.

Then use that…like method acting. Y/N you thought.

So then you both walked on and entered holding hands. It was another large group with cocktails in wide glasses and thin stems. Full of light laughter like wind chimes on a summer day. It was thick with every cologne and perfume you could name. There were bright flowers and green, leafy plants everywhere. Waiters in suits walked around serving drinks and hors devours. You felt Thomas squeeze your hand and you walked with a smile.

Just stay by him and hold his hand and smile. It had been too long- why didn't you notice what it was couples did? Your sister draped her arm around Roper's all the time. Caro would give kisses on Sandy's cheek and then his lips.

Yet when you entered, eyes went forward in greedy curiosity. You were recognized. And so was the new man-Danny’s savior. You saw their acknowledgment. The big eyes. The frozen smiles. Some noticed you and then immediately turned to their circle. Then those people turned heads. You couldn't hear a word but you knew they were talking about you.

But best of all were the men’s reactions. When your gross potential suitors turned to you, they saw your hand firmly in Thomas’s. And there were frowns on all of their faces. Then a nod when their eyes met Thomas's. He would nod back. The man who bested them. The man who beat them. Now, for once, you could be at a party of Roper’s and relax.

Well, not entirely. Elena was still with her family. And you made sure that you at least stayed by her side. You wouldn't leave her alone. The thought of what almost happened at her birthday party... made you want to be sick and disturbed you so much that it chilled your body and made you tense. So you kept an eye on her at the bare minimum. Though it seemed by now, she was sitting by Danny as he showed her his books.

"Wouldn't you like something to drink, darling?" Thomas asked, his voice putting a bit more weight on darling.

"I would love a drink" You nodded.

Both of you walked up to the bar. There was already a guy right by you. The guy from the last party who asked about your book- you could feel his green eyes on you and already smell the hair gel on his platinum blonde comb-over. You could see him get ready with a way to hit on you as he sat. But then his eyes turned up to see the intimidating Six Foot Two barricade to get to your panties. The guy shrunk into himself and then turned away promptly. You had to smirk. You knew he wanted to date you. But now it looked like the only date That Asshole would get tonight would be with his right hand.

"Could the lady have a martini, please?" Thomas asked the bartender. The old man nodded and handed you one. Thomas leaned there to watch the bartender make the drink.

Right as you turned, another familiar man from the other day swung by. Mr. Jacobson. He had been pretty persistent and determined last time. Though your body flinched as if ready for a fight, you made yourself still. Part of you didn’t shoo him away because you knew it was going to be entertaining to watch him try tonight.

You saw Thomas turning to watch you two.

"Hey there, Y/N, you look gorgeous again," Mr. Jacobson said, picking at a toothpick between his teeth with the sensual appeal of a patient at the dentist.

You opened your mouth to speak. To say something. A fruitless refusal. It was in your habit to. Then your fake boyfriend arrived. You felt Thomas’s arm reach across your shoulders. A protective half-hug. You could feel the muscles from how well fitted his suit was and you felt your breath flutter in your lungs. Looking up, Thomas gave the man an icy glare.

"I know she does."

The pure threat of it. If you had to be honest, the low growl in his voice…did something to you. You felt yourself clench your legs. Your breath was shallow and sharp You...liked it. Yes, it wasn't the most progressive thing to be a damsel in distress. But with this fine specimen in blue rescuing you, you were not going to complain.

Mr. Jacobson jumped and his face turned pale. He put his arms up.

"Oh, my bad! My bad! I thought she was...single, you know."

"No, she's not," Thomas said flatly. His glare continued right into the eyes of Mr. Jacobson.

“I am so sorry, man. So sorry, I swear…won’t happen! Won’t happen again!” he begged.

"It won't," Thomas replied firmly.

The guy fluttered away to the other end of the room. You looked up and smiled.

"Thank you, Thomas,"

“Y/N!” you heard Jed from across the room. Already in her light blue summery dress. The flowing skirt made her seem like a mermaid as she walked up. Then she widened her eyes at you.

You turned around and went over to give her a hug.

“You look lovely!” she said.

“Oh Jed, stop! You look gorgeous too!” you shook.

“Oh, don’t say that and…is that…is that Thomas!?” she asked.

You turned over. Thomas went up to her and shook her hand.

“Yes…” You turned to her. Trying to ignore how dry your mouth was with the phrase.

“Jed, Thomas, and I are dating now!” you announced. You followed it by sipping your martini.

Her jaw dropped, but she let a smile on her dazzling face and hugged you.

“Oh my god…that’s wonderful! Y/N! Oh, you should have told me the second it happened!”

"We wanted to be private...until we were certain we were on the same page," you lied through your teeth mid-hug.

Then she dropped to a frown and her eyes hardened. She let go of the hug and crossed her long arms.

“My sister is a sweetheart. And you will treat her well. You got it?”

You were surprised, but you took it.

“Yes, miss," Thomas replied.

“I will fight you if you do anything to hurt you,” she added.

“I understand…and I won’t do anything, Jed. I'll treat her well. Promise," he swore.

“Thank you…”

You sighed. Jed was right- he was decent. As dinner arrived, you both sat next to Elena and her parents. You were glad for her being a third wheel. She spoke to you and smiled. You even made jokes with each other. Both you and Thomas were aware of holding each other's hands whenever possible. But it didn't feel too different from just eating next to him anytime. He did flash you a smile and you found yourself smiling back. On instinct.

But…you couldn’t get this too complicated quickly. No, you read enough Romance novels to know where this kind of shit led up to. It wasn't right. You didn't like this...romance was in stories and fiction. Not in the real world. In the real world, where too many men, men like Roper, were just there to assert power and squash the women beneath them to prove a point. You couldn't risk that. Couldn't risk anything. Just enjoy a fleeting fantasy. A pretense. Like being an actor on the stage.

After dinner, he led you out to the balcony. There were a couple of other people out there smoking cigarettes and admiring the view of the city and the ocean at night. Then they began to walk off. You both were left alone. So you squared your voice.

"Thomas, promise me this thing. Don't get any emotions. Because I won't. Let's not get too attached to each other during this. The last thing I need is to actually believe our little game with Roper.”

He leaned over the balcony. A light breeze from the night drifted onto you both.

“What emotions should be involved?” he asked.

You felt yourself cross your arms. Your jaw hung open, but no words formed immediately.

“Um...Just....friendship I guess, nothing more," you answered.

He nodded with a small smile.

"If that is what makes you safe, then I won't mind," he assured you.

You put your forearms on the balcony. You looked out at the moonlight as its reflection still shimmered over the gentle rustling of the sea.

"You’re quite the gentleman," you acknowledged.

“I tried. I saw how uncomfortable they made you, Y/N. I feel sorry you have to go through that… You don’t deserve to feel unsafe," he said.

"Thank you....Thomas, Maybe I should return the favor…Is there anything I can help you with, Thomas?" you asked, turning to him.

He looked at you. Then he licked his lips and took in a breath, ready to say his boon.

"Not really, just this one thing..." he began.

“What is it?”

"If they're going to believe we're a couple...we have to know things about each other. That’s what couples do. They might test us. Especially when we’re alone. That's what couples do.”

You tilted your head.

"Have you been in relationships before?" you asked curiously.

He nodded.

"Married briefly, then we divorced. We were both young-too young to understand what marriage meant. And...there was a woman once but...it didn't work out," he answered.

You heard the wind whistle in your ear.

"Even with those- you learn things about each other. I could tell you my ex-wife liked to paint. Jed could tell you what Roper's favorite color is if you asked her," he pointed out. "You know...hobbies. Foods. Favorite colors. What are yours, Y/N?"

You blinked. Then opening your mouth, you began your answers. “Well, for one, I like to read. I bring books in my purses in case events get dull. Jed would tease me about it. I have her and our mom…but things are complicated right now...”

It felt like some icebreaker activity on the first day of school. But he smiled warmly, nodding. You described what you liked to do. Your favorite foods you couldn't resist. And the colors that you liked the most. Thomas relaxed to a smile and nodded.

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied.

You drummed your fingers on the balcony.

"Do you have hobbies, Thomas?" you asked.

He nodded.

"Yes. I like to read, too. I collect books," he answered. He stood up and put his hands in his pockets.

"Ooo, and your family?"

"Father died. Then my mum. Never had a real family. Just foster homes."

You looked down to the ground.

"Oh...I'm sorry..."

He then took out his hand. He touched your chin, lifting it gently to look at him. He only shrugged with a calm expression on his face.

"Don't be...I only got to have many families. I was with a family who spoke Arabic. Another spoke German. I learned their languages, too."

"Cool! Do you know a phrase you can teach me?" you asked.

He nodded. He looked around, then his eyes met yours again.

"Easily-here's a German one. Die Sterne sind heute Nacht hell."

"And that means..."

He removed a hand from his pocket and pointed at the sky.

"The stars are bright tonight..."

Both of you looked up-an expanse of stars glowed above you. They were so bright they glistened down. Their own light gave his skin a more silver glow to him. You saw he smiled and his shoulders relaxed. He looked beautiful, looking up, admiring the sky.

“Yes…they’re very pretty,” you said.

There was a knock on the glass door and you turned and saw Jed. She signaled to you that the guests were heading out and you had to say your goodbyes. You both flashed a "couple" smile and a brief, half "couple" hug. Especially with her eyes on the both of you. As you headed back inside, she turned to you.

“Well, first you had Danny, now you have Elena, and now Thomas! It’s like you hardly see me!” she teased.

“Oh, by all means- join us in our room, we could get a sleeping bag for you! And don’t pretend you don’t have your own man too.”

She smirked, then gave you a kiss on the side of her head. But as you looked back, Thomas was still admiring the sky.

The next morning, you woke up in your room to the sounds of birds. You listened to Elena snore in the bed next to you. She went on her stomach, and her dark hair splayed across the pillow. It was like the snore of a puppy and it was pretty cute, you had to admit.

She was resting. She was sleeping. She was alive-her inhales and exhales signaled by his body rising and falling softly.

When you went over to her counter, you took note of something you hadn't noticed- prescription bottles. Looking at them, you saw her counselor prescribed her anti-depressants yesterday. You smiled. It did look like she was going to have to take one in the morning. You'd have to remind her. Normally, you’d get water or coffee, but you made a promise not to leave her alone. You would honor it. Just in case she woke up. But as you sat by in the room, you turned your head to the window to look outside. Dear God, You were glad you looked.

Outside, you saw none other than your fake boyfriend, Thomas, running on the beach in dark shorts. No shoes. And no shirt.

You felt the corners of your lips tug up as if a smile was brewing. You felt your eyes glaze over his muscled abdominals- he was lean but you could count the six packs on his ripped stomach. His pectorals bounced with the force of his jogging. All of a sudden, you understood heterosexual men a lot more. He was delicious. His determined eyes shot forward like nothing on earth was going to stop him from getting to the other side of that beach. And that was alluring, to put it mildly. You could have squealed and pressed your face to the window like a fangirl, but stayed put. Savoring each inch of him. From his short hair to the trail of hair on his lower stomach leading you to the center of sin. His muscled arms with bulging biceps moved with each turn of his shoulder per step. You found yourself creeping to a corner. So he wouldn't see. So you could indulge yourself. Oogle him. Even lust after him. He was getting very sweaty and you could feel his breathing with how hard he ran. Then you would be blessed with imagining him taking a shower.

You were tempted for a second to wake up Elena so she could see him too and drool over him. But honestly, it went in a second because you could not take your eyes off of him.

“Holy shit” was the only phrase in your head as you watched him continue to run on. Even seeing how his sweat was hinted at by the glow of the rising sun. His trail grazed the ocean and the water splashed from his running. And his feet weren't the only thing starting to get damp.

You felt warm and tingly as he ran by. Your pussy was beginning to....feel things you hadn't felt in a long while. Then he was gone. You had a good look at his perfect, peachy behind and the back of his muscular thighs in the shorts and then he went on his way.

You swallowed. Pacing the floor, you shook your hands as if to shake the lust from your body. You were a lot more thrilled you had to be a pretend girlfriend to him. All the man on earth and it was him you got to hold hands and sit next to! Any other girl could have him. It was a miracle he didn't have a hundred lovers at this point- but he was yours! All yours!

No-NO! A more rational part of your brain yelled.

Yes, he's hot. But it's fake. Don't let your feelings get involved. He's a nice man. He’s got an amazing body. But he's still a man. Yes, he's hot, but it's fake, Y/N, you reminded yourself that morning.

It's fake, it's fake, it's fake.

That morning at breakfast, you could smell that Thomas had taken a shower. Elena stood by you when he greeted you. He used a soap scented with citrus. God, the fantasy of him taking a shower was screaming in your impulsive thoughts now. He went up to you and smiled. In Boyfriend ™ mode, he gave you a half-hug.

“How are you, darling?” he asked.

“I’m alright. Starving.”

“Then let’s get you something to eat then,” he said as the chef wheeled in omelets and toast for everybody.

You looked over around the table. Then a sight caught you that hit you like a brick.

Sandy and Caro had hired a nanny- a gorgeous young woman hired to look after Sady and Caro's two little boys. But Sandy sat next to the beautiful woman and smiled at her. Not in a way that felt appropriate.

“Why, don’t you look beautiful this morning!? Did you wake up like this?” he asked the lady.

“Oh…yes! Yes, I did,” she replied flirtatiously.

Wait a minute, you thought. How long has she been here? When you counted the weeks, you realized that there was a correlation between Sandy stopping his flirting with you when she first arrived. No coincidence. Your mind spiraled further.

The woman knew he was a married man. It was not stopping her.

Whipping your eyes to the side you saw Caro blink. Her face went pale. Then red. Then pale again. Their boys complained bout wanting pancakes and she would tell the chef to make some batter for them. But Caro didn't eat the rest of her food.

You felt suddenly sick. You gripped your fork in your hand.

“Is everything alright, Y/N?” Thomas asked, his jaw tight but his voice earnest.

“I…I, uh, we’ll talk later. Not right now,” you said.

Thomas was there, he slipped a hand to hold yours as you ate.

The next day, you took Elena to visit the church before getting some lunch somewhere. It was a blazing day and you were grateful for the coolness of the cathedral. A sanctuary in many ways. The heat. And for Elena. Both of you sat down. You saw her make the sign of the cross and half kneel before sitting at a pew. She was right- this was a safe place. And maybe if Roper was the devil, then he couldn't touch you here. Neither of you.

"How is therapy going?" you asked.

"It's...it's good. Very good. I never listened to someone...as kind as her...I never felt so...so safe. No guards. No Papi. Nothing. She told me all sorts of things. I cry almost the whole time. But she…she listens to me. She believes me. She tells me every feeling and part of life is only temporary and the bad feelings and bad parts eventually go away…"

"That's good. I'm glad. And the apartment search? Have you picked a city?"

"I'd like to live here. It's not too far but far enough. I'm looking at applications...And you- how are you and Thomas?"

"We're...we're good, thank you."

"Just good? How did you two meet?" she asked.

"Well...he rescued Danny. Roper brought him to recover. Got to talk to him a lot. Then he asked me out." So far, so good. You just prayed he would say the same if someone asked him.

"Does he kiss you?"

"Yes," you lied.

"I don't see it. I see your sister kiss Roper all the time."

"Thomas...it's the British in him. Stiff upper lip. He's not the PDA type outside of hands and hugging. That might be pushing it....he kissed me the other night under the stars at the party." you added with a smile. Your memory flashed to Thomas staring up at the sky.

"Huh...nice...but Y/N...I’ve been scared..."

She blinked.

"Will Roper...catch me? Will he...kill me? He's not beneath it. I know he is."

"Why would Roper want to kill the daughter of his lawyer? He'd turn his own ally against him?"

Her jaw tightened.

"He'll see...that I'm not happy...he knows I know the truth about him…"

“Then why hasn’t he done it yet?” you asked.

“I…I don’t know…but I want to get out now!"

"Then..." you turned around.

"Then that means, if you're not happy draining his wealth, then we'll get out of here. Just bear it-be patient, Elena. We have to find you an apartment first...and then we go through the application process."

Her eyes shined.

"Anywhere is better than at Roper''s."

"Okay...we'll take some time here. You can go to the confessional if you want. Whenever you're ready...let's find a place that's leasing. Ask them some questions. See what you might like.”

Elena nodded. After a bit, you saw her go off and have a chat with the other people around the cathedral. Old women kissing their cross necklaces. Tourists taking photos on their phones. Funny...that was the same pregnant tourist she talked to on the first day! Maybe a pregnant Catholic tourist. She went back to you and you gave her a smile as you both stood up and walked down the halls to the door.

You commented "One thing to remember about yourself Elena- you're a good person. You make friends with everyone- no wonder that lady keeps coming back to you! People like you!"

She sighed and her shoulders sagged.

“What is it?”

"Y/N…I feel sometimes I’m…I’m yelling for help to get out, but at my parents, at Roper’s…it’s like no one can hear me. I should be happy. But I’m not…I'm just...just a whining, weak little rich girl..."

Tears were in the ducts of her eyes.

"No, Elena. Don’t discredit yourself. You are going through a hard time. Something happened to you to make you think there was no getting better. And that poor girl may think she has no other escape...but there is...there always is…and you are not alone...”

You turned to her, gripping her shoulders.

“Deaths’ a permanent solution to a temporary problem. You have to remember that. Your problems are real…so are mine! But they are temporary!”

You swallowed, your voice broke with your words yet you spoke on. But you saw Eelena smile despite her sobs.

“You’re already seeking help. And getting therapy and talking. And we’re getting you a new place. Even if it takes a while, you’re going to get out of Roper’s grasp and never look back, and never have to live off of blood money again!! Neither of us will!"

You were crying too.

"I promise you. We will get you to escape. We'll find something- I will do whatever it takes. That little rich girl isn't whiny or weak...she's a brave young woman who looked at death right in its eye and when she was going to cross….she chose life instead. She did the right thing. She's a hero who saved herself and she deserves to be happy."

Crying, she hugged you deeply.

“Oh, Y/N! Thank you! T-thank you-u-u,” she replied, her own voice breaking with tears. But it felt nice. Freeing. Crying released the tension between the two of you. “You’re a strong woman, Elena. I’m proud of you-just for living. Just for surviving.”

After lunch, both of you toured apartments around. Elena lit up and smiled with each bare corner and wall you both saw. As you returned, it was a lazy evening. You were enjoying your reading while lounging at the pool. You saw Thomas walk around and saw Elena chatting with him. Part of you was tempted to be jealous or concerned. But it was alright. There seemed nothing inappropriate between them. Let her make another friend. But Caro only sat by the edge dipping her bare feet in the water. Her face was despondent. Staring at nothing.

There was a dinner the next day. It was no party (Corky was grateful- guests were a lot to keep track of). But it was nice as always. Nice with lobsters for everyone and large glasses of wine for each person. You saw Corky was already on his third one as he dug into his crab cakes and spuds. You had to grin. At least he was off your back when he had a few.

But Jonathan was handsome as ever. In just a dark suit and white shirt, he still appeared like a Greek god in the flesh. Whenever he smiled at you, it was like you had swallowed a bird and it was flying around in your stomach.

"Is there any...dessert you'd like to split?" he'd ask.

"Yes, uhm...how about...uh- a slice of cake- sweetie," you said, adding emphasis on the last two words should anyone hear.

"Cake sounds marvelous, my dear," he said, feeling yourself tingle at the words. Enjoying the fakeness while it lasted.

Elena looked at you and gave a smile over her chicken as she continued to eat.

Yes- eat. Drink water. Sleep. Live, Elena, live, I'll get you out. You’re going to live. You’re going to be happy with your life, I promise...

"Oh, Thomas! One would think you were a nun and a eunuch!" Roper teased.

You shot up. You made a point by leaning closer and holding Thomas’s hand.

“Roper, really…” you said. But you were interrupted.

"Go on, Y/N is as sweet as that dessert, why don't you give her a little kiss on the cheek..."

You looked down, an embarrassed laugh coming out of you. Thomas opened his mouth to speak, but Roper pressed further. He was testing you both and he knew it. Like you were both his playthings.

"C'mon! Just a peck, Loverboy!” Roper pressed.

You glanced at him and he at you.

“Would you be okay if I kissed you, just on the cheek?” Thomas asked.

“Uh, yes. Sure.”

He leaned in close. You could smell the food on his breath and feel warm air from his nostrils, from his breathing. Then he brought his lips to your cheek. They were soft. Gentle. Like a drizzle in April. You felt your whole body get hot. The fact you were kissed in such a spot. It was as chaste as chaste could be. Yet you could have melted from how tender his lips felt against the skin of your cheek. Then he retreated.

Roper smiled and lifted his glass, taking a sip of his chardonnay.

It then struck you. Sandy and the babysitter had been gone. Too long. Suspiciously long. Then, from the hallway, you heard steps. And laughter- both deep masculine and bright feminine voices. The nanny returned first. The nanny was blushing, but smiling as she returned. Then a few minutes later, Sandy walked returned. You saw his shirt looked disshelved and there was a swagger to his steps.

The asshole wasn’t even subtle or secret about it.

Caro looked devastated. Her face was white. She was shaking. Everyone turned their faces away and kept talking as if nothing happened. Even if Caro looked like she was going to break in a hundred bits. You could tell it was everything in her not to cry in front of her boys.

“Well, I hope everyone has room for dessert. Hear the cake’s magnificent! A chef Ludesma signature!” Sandy announced with a flourish of his voice. That stupid asshole. Caro was devoted to him and she loved him. She did everything right- gorgeous socialite mom who gave Sandy two sons to take fishing and to sports games to be more copies of their father. She always got her hair and nails done and her clothes always looked in place. She was friendly and polite to everyone and you never heard of her capable of hurting a fly. Caro never stepped a toe out of line and looked away when men hit on her. And that bastard cheated on her anyway.

She did everything right and she was the one crying. He was having an affair, and he was smiling.

You had had enough. You got right out of your chair. Thomas looked up at you, but his face remained neutral.

You went up to Sandy before your self-control could get you. You took Sandy and looked him in the eye. He went up, wiping his mouth with his napkin- you didn’t see it closely but you knew the nanny wore pink lipstick. Sandy looked up at you with that stupid, shit-eating grin.

"Y/N, how are-"

You slapped him hard before he could finish his sentence. The crowd gasped and chairs squeaked as people got up. Sandy immediately got up, trying to let his tallness and his masculinity scare you away. But you did not back down.

“Y/N, what was the point of-”

Before he could finish that, you gave him a kick in the groin too. He groaned and leaned over in pain, then you grabbed his shirt.

"You stop fucking that babysitter, or I WILL use one of the wine glasses and break it and cut your balls off with it, do you understand?" you raged.

His eyes went wide and he gritted his teeth. You saw his fists curled as if ready to punch you. You took a step back but didn’t stop glaring his eyes.

“Caro loves you and this is how you repay her, you prick?! She doesn’t deserve you. You’re lucky she hasn’t stabbed you!” you continued.

“You little bitch!” Sandy cursed.

But the party already ran up to you. People held both Sandy and you back.

Roper stood up. He went over to Sandy and got him, restraining him from lunging. You felt Jed and Thomas get up and get you, pulling you back. Then you shot your eyes into the nanny to give her a death glare. You would have slapped her too if it wasn't for Jed holding you back.

“! You’re as bad as he is! You KNEW he was married, and it didn’t stop you, you little-”

Jed pulled you away. And you gritted your teeth as the nanny stared horrified, frozen in her seat.

Sandy meanwhile was pointing a meaty, sausage-like finger in your direction.

"Did you see what she did!? She attacked me!” he cried.

"Now, Sandy, don't panic...it's just a scuffle. I don't see a mark on your cheek. Not a large one, anyway." Roper began.

He glared at you. His voice steeled with more venom than you could imagine.

"We know the lowest brothels in Munich and we'll sell you straight to them this minute !" he threatened.

You felt your jaw clench. Terror gripped you and you couldn't move, couldn't think.

“No! Please! Please don’t!” Jed begged, leaning forward.

Then Thomas stepped forward. He replaced Jed's arm around you and then leaned out a hand in peace. Jed ran forward to beg Roper and Sandy not to sell you off as punishment. Could they...could they do that...oh no...what on earth had you done!?!

Thomas however, was still quiet. But he was strong. You found yourself wanting to nuzzle into his shirt. You could smell his cologne subtly applied. He was again...so warm and soft. And safe. He then began speaking with such authority, anyone had to listen.

"Please...everyone...let's not fret ourselves. Sandy has done wrong, and he should acknowledge how much this hurt his wife. Don’t be upset at Y/N, either. She’s fiercely devoted to her friends, especially the women here. She was trying to protect Caro," he reasoned.

He looked down at you. His gaze softened and you felt yourself relax a little near him. His arm enclasped you in an embrace. Youcould feel his pulse in his body. You hugged him back and swallowed hard.

Roper furrowed his brow. He then took a step forward and spoke to your pretend boyfriend giving you a very real defense.

"If she was my woman...she would be off to Germany by now. But she's not. Thomas, you have to learn to control your woman. I do so with Jed. Sandy does it with Caro. Now it’s your turn. Take her to your quarters. Give her a dressing down. Or we will have to do it for you,” threatened Roper.

You felt your heart race inside your ears. This was some real 19th-century bullshit Roper was pulling out of his ass. Would that be…be possible? Now even Jed looked scared. So very scared. And she stopped trying to beg him. Oh god, now it was going to happen to you. Elena and her parents were silent and you saw the teenage girl trembling. She took a step forward out of her seat, but then Roper put an arm up to stop her.

Thomas then put his hand around your arm.

“Here…I will take her to my room and I will dress her down, as we say. Just give us a moment…” he began.

Thomas was a nice man. A docile, polite, quiet, if not slightly mild man when you talked to him. He wouldn’t…beat you. He didn't seem the type. hen again, you remembered a phrase you heard once. It was always the ones you would never suspect. You bit back your bile. Your legs were shaking so badly, you wondered if you were standing.

“Here, Y/N…come with me…” he directed.

You had no choice but to follow as he led you by pulling you with him. His touch felt like a grip this time. You were shaking. Then he led you out. Out of that building. The guards nodded and let him. Out into the cool night air with the crickets and stars. You could still smell the sea too. It would usually be comforting. But this was not usual. You saw his muscles and big hands- he could overtake you in a fight. A blow from his fists would hurt. He could easily overpower you. You should have known. You should have known he was Roper's friend. And friends meant one's future-your sister's future. Yours.

He had a smaller cottage near the property. He took you right inside into the front foyer- a little hall with a kitchenette right there. Then he locked the door and looked at you. His jaw tight. Then he took a step forward. You squeezed your eyes shut and braced yourself.

“Just get it over with, quick!” you insisted.

“Y/N…you're safe here. They would have pressured me to hit you. But I'm not. Not here or anywhere. I’m not going to hurt you…” he said.

You opened your eyes. Your shoulders relaxed though your heart was still racing. He went up to you.

“Thomas, what are you talking about?” you hissed.

He leaned in close. His voice was just a whisper.

“You don’t have to call me Thomas here…you can call me Jonathan.”

“What…you have another name?” you asked, your mind reeling with every word he said.

“Yes-Jonathan Pine.”

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lokidbadguy · 8 months

Text

the intro 🤭

jonathan pine x bathroom = perfection

#lokisaidkneel #lokidbadguy #tom hiddleston edit #tom hiddleston x reader #jonathan pine x reader #jonathan pine #jonathan pine edit #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston #the night manager #the night manager edit

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darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor · 10 months

Text

Crushed Masterlist

Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings. (Colin Shea, Jonathan Pine)

Status: In Progress

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

#colin shea #jonathan pine #dark colin shea #dark!colin shea #colin shea x reader #jonathan pine x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #what's your number?#the night manager

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five-miles-over · 1 year

Text

The Forbidden Room - Part One

Summary: During a late night alone in the lobby of the Hotel Meister, you - a student at the University of Zurich - meet the charming night manager Mr.Jonathan Pine. And what starts out as simply two strangers getting to know each other turns into something more when Pine shows you a secret part of the hotel.

Warnings: Innocence/corruption kink, age gap (reader is of legal age, maybe 19?), sheltered reader has overprotective parents, mentions of strip poker, some comfort/fluff

Word Count: 4,234

"My name is Pine. I'm the night manager."

Sitting in the empty, luxurious lobby of Hotel Meister, you looked up from your hardcover copy of Henry V. You wore a little black dress, matching flats, and red-tinted lip balm, with your hair remaining as close as possible to its natural texture. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Pine." You offered the tall, blond man standing in front of you a smile.

"And you are…?" Jonathan's eyes traveled over your form, and his thin, pink lips reciprocated your smile.

You gave him your first name, crossing one leg over the other and placing the book in your lap.

"It's nearly eleven-thirty. What are you doing here by yourself?"

"Oh," you craned your head to glance at the gilded windows of the hotel. "I…I'm so sorry, I didn't realize the time. I…" You closed your eyes and shook your head. "I was here to have dinner at the restaurant, and after I finished, I was hoping for some time to read, and to enjoy the…the ambience of this place. Sorry, I didn't realize it was so late."

The night manager chuckled, and he glanced at the hardcover. "No need to apologize. Are you a big reader?"

You nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah, always was."

"You must be quite intelligent." After a moment, Jonathan sat next to you. "Are you here on holiday?"

"No," you gently corrected him, sharing that you were actually a student at the University of Zurich, studying history and political science.

Jonathan listened intently, his smile widening just a little. "So…what's a lovely, intelligent young woman doing here all alone tonight? No boyfriend or perhaps a date?"

You nervously chuckled. "Actually, I…I have never had a boyfriend before. Or have ever been on a date. No boy was ever interested in me like that."

He raised his eyebrows, and a small laugh escaped. "That's impossible. A young woman like you…pretty and smart. How could no one have noticed that? Unless…" Jonathan bit his lower lip. "Unless you're not interested in dating. How long have you been single?"

"My whole life?" You shrugged. "My parents were protective; I wasn't encouraged to have a boyfriend or date."

A more clear picture of you formed inside Jonathan's mind as you spoke: a picture of a young woman who was constantly guided to focus on her studies, someone who'd never gone to parties or dated people, someone with an innocent demeanor. "So you've been a good girl your whole life?"

"I…I was the good girl." You confessed. "Perhaps I still am." Leaning forward, you rubbed your knees underneath your dress. "My parents had a lot of rules growing up - no short clothes, no clothes that showed cleavage, no boyfriends, no dating, no sleepover, no swearing, no…running up and down the stairs, no crushes, no bold makeup, and screaming."

The night manager laughed. "And what did you do? Did you rebel, and break a few of those rules? Or were you a perfect girl, like a doll?” His glance flitted towards your hands and knees. “Let me guess…no tattoos or body piercings either?”

“None.” You shook your head with a small giggle. “"Though...there were a few times I used to go to school early, sneak into the bathroom before class started, and put on magenta lipstick behind my parents' back."

Jonathan laughed again, he was already beginning to adore you. "That's very naughty: putting on makeup behind your parents' back. Did they ever notice it?”

“No. If they did, they would’ve scolded me, asking why I would need lipstick for school.” You joined in his laughter, leaning against the leather couch in the hotel lobby. Never before had you felt so safe around an older man whom you'd barely known, yet there was something about this night manager that gave you the sense of protection, like nothing bad was going to happen to you under his watch. Maybe it was just because he was handsome, older, and charismatic. Or perhaps it was because this night manager was meant to be so much more.

“I bet wearing that lipstick made you feel quite free,” Jonathan surmised. “Tell me, darling…have you ever broken any other rules?”

“I…” You began, your cheeks growing hot. “I…once got caught reading an erotic book that my mum bought when I was twelve years old…I’m not really sure why she bought it, but I snuck into her closet to read bits of it in the morning while getting ready for school. And one morning, my father caught me.”

“And what did he say?” He chuckled, enjoying how comfortable you were to talk to him like this. “Did he get angry?”

“Yeah, he did. He loudly scolded me to stop filling my head with unnecessary things that polluted the mind, and to get ready for school.” You placed one hand over the other. “My mother also got upset with me for reading it, so you sat me down and lectured me about how erotica exploits women."

“They seem quite strict. Did you keep reading the book after they found out?” He tilted his head o the side, out of curiosity.

“It was my mother’s book. I…I don’t think I ever saw that book again, she probably hid it really well.”

“Perhaps that explains why you seem innocent.” Jonathan teased, a thin row of white teeth present as he smirked. “Your parents never let you do anything! I bet they never let you go to parties or go out to have a good time with a group of friends. You've never even drank alcohol or smoked a cigarette, have you?”

“No cigarettes or alcohol.” You shifted in your seat, crossing one foot over the other. “But I was allowed to go out with a few friends in high school to have ice cream. Only girls though, and my parents had already met those friends.”

“See!” Jonathan remarked. “Your parents were strict with you; your friends couldn't even be male. But you don't seem resentful of your parents, not at all. Why is that?” His playful demeanor shifted into an expression of curiosity.

You shrugged. “Maybe it's because I was given anything I needed. If I wanted a book my parents were willing to buy it for me. Of course it had to be something educational, not dirty. My parents took good care of me, and because of them, I have the privilege of going to a wonderful university.”

The night manager took a breath, relaxing into the couch. “Perhaps you’re right in that sense. But you never got to experience the parties, the dates, the kisses that are so typical of adolescent experiences. Don't the strict norms of your parents make you feel as if you've missed out on some things in life?”

“Sometimes…but it’s not like there was a line of boys waiting to date me or anything like that.” You laughed a little.

“Are you sure?” Jonathan’s lip reverted to a smirk, and he raised an eyebrow. “I doubt it. You’re smart, pretty, and not at all rebellious as we’ve previously established. A girl like you would have made any boy crazy about her.” He leans forward a little. “Maybe they were just too scared to ask you.”

“Maybe.” You blushed, tapping the hardcover book in your lap. "I've talked a lot about myself, I'm sorry. I'm not very good at keeping secrets.”

The night manager chuckled, his cerulean eyes twinkling with amusement. “I love hearing from you, it's a pleasure. You’ve told me about your school days, your parents…even that you wore lipstick behind their backs. You’re not exactly shy.” Jonathan smiled and leaned back on the couch. "Now I think it's time for you to hear about me. What do you want to know?" Jonathan put his hands behind his head as he spoke your name for the first time.

You turned onto your side and ran a hand through your hair. “I want to know...what were you like as a boy, Mr.Pine?”

“Me?” Jonathan looked up, as if he were buying time for his next words. Then, he began to make up a backstory for himself, one that was akin to a young man from a privileged yet troubled background “I was…I happened to be a bit mischievous when I was a boy.” He tilted his head and assumed a jovial tone. “Always stirring up trouble, always getting into something.”

You giggled.

“That’s how I ended up in military school.” Jonathan continued, “There I got involved with a group of boys, and we had our own set of shenanigans.” “What did you do?”

“We…” the night manager narrated with a hint of bravado in his voice, “stole, like a merry little band of thieves. We used to steal from our superiors’ stash of alcohol, even before we were of legal age to be drinking.”

Continuing to giggle, you gazed at him. Just the way he told these things with such conviction made you believe that he was truly someone who’d seen the world, someone who’d been through more things than you could even imagine.

"I swear, we didn't just steal alcohol. Guns, watches, souvenirs,… you name it and we could steal it." A mischievous smile crossed his face. "Do you want to know the biggest thing we ever stole?"

You nodded eagerly. “Was it an antique?…A tank?”

Jonathan grinned. "No, nothing like that. No, when I was about fifteen or sixteen, my friends and I stole a car - our lieutenant’s car: a nice, new black Corvette. It was risky but we took it at night and went on a joyride in the streets of Dover. It was the best night of our lives.”

With a gasp, you burst into a fit of giggles that made Jonathan’s heart melt. To him, yours was the type of smile that would make someone do a million things just to see that smile reappear. “Wow! Did you..” You bit your lip to stop laughing . “Did you break any speed limits?”

“Of course. We were practically kids,” Jonathan explained. “We went over 160 kilometers per hour a few times, we even had a few shots of vodka while we were driving. Stupid, yeah, but the adrenaline…it was incredible.”

“Did you get pulled over by a police officer?” Your eyes widened.

“Yes. You’re a smart girl.” The night manager admitted, “We got caught by the police and our lieutenant in charge had to come and get us from the station. I remember him yelling at me like never before, I had never seen him like that, it was terrifying.” Jonathan laughed and shook his head. “We were sentenced to corporal punishment for a month, but it was worth it.”

You giggled, still leaning against the couch. “So…how did you grow up? I’m assuming you don’t race cars or steal alcohol anymore.”

“Not anymore.” Jonathan took a deep breath and rested his head against his hand. “I grew older, and eventually had to stop being irresponsible.” “What made you realize that you didn’t want to race cars and steal booze anymore? Was it...when you turned of legal age, and you could have alcohol?”

Jonathan clicked his tongue. “"That's a good question. Well... it was not only when I turned of age, it was... it was when I realized that I could die. I lost someone close because of alcohol. And when I was deployed across the globe, and nearly lost my life in combat several times. That’s when I realized that life is much more." Jonathan said quietly, a serious expression on his face.

Your smile disappeared. "I'm so sorry, Mr.Pine. I...I couldn't even imagine what that must be like.” You took a breath, straightening yourself. "So...what does life mean to you now?”

"Life... life is a gift. I always try to do the right thing. To do something that impacts others or leaves a small mark on the world.” Jonathan simply said with a small, charismatic smile. "To try to be happy without hurting anyone, and maybe help others along the way. I think that's what life is all about.”

You looked into his eyes with amazement. How could such a wonderful man be so real? “That’s really brave of you to say, Mr. Pine.”

Johnathan eyed you for a moment, and replied. “I have a feeling you’re pretty brave yourself. After all, you moved away from home to study at the University of Zurich, that’s not easy. And you’re here all by yourself in a hotel lobby past eleven-thirty at night.” He stood up from the couch and offered you his hand. “Follow me, I want to show you something.”

You blinked, wrapping your fingers around your book. “W-w-where…where are we going?” Your legs shaking and your heart pounding inside your chest, you stood up and cautiously followed the night manager.”Mr. Pine, where are we going?”

"You'll see soon enough...." Jonathan said with a devious smile as he walked further and further away from the lobby without saying a word.

You shuffled your feet behind him, holding your book in one hand and glancing at the artwork that lined the opulent hallways. Finally, you and Jonathan reached a door near the staff room at the very back of the hotel lobby. Without a word, Jonathan opened the door at the back of the lobby, led you down a flight of dusty stairs, and near a small door at the end of the staircase revealing a room. Inside the small, dimly-lit room were filing boxes, dust and some old furniture: a coffee table, two sofas, one small fridge, and a bedroom. "Welcome to the hotel's basement. This is where the... more private activities happen," he introduced with a mischievous smile on his face.

"Private activities?" you trembled, your voice barely louder than a whisper. Taking a few steps, you glanced around to find no window in sight, no way of escaping except for the door, which Jonathan closed with a click.

Jonathan leaned against the door. “Yes. Private activities. It’s the hotel’s forbidden room, the one place where clients can be sure no one can find out what they’re doing. No one other than the staff, of course.” He crossed his arms, and let out a small, darker chuckle. “Perhaps you can imagine what kind of activities they might be up to in a room like this.”

You swallowed. “Drug deals?…Smuggling.” Your knuckles whitened as you held onto the hardcover book in your hand, while your free hand stroked your own arm in a self-soothing manner.

The night manager smiled and walked towards you. “No. Those aren’t the activities that I had in mind.” His tone turned a bit more flirtatious. “Why don’t you have a seat, darling?”

The word rolled off his tongue like honey, and all of a sudden, you were reminded why you felt so…comfortable around this man. Despite having known him for a few hours - what time was it even?- you felt as if you could tell him anything, and that he would keep you safe.

“Come on.”

You sat down on the edge of one of the couches, your eyes following his every move with curiosity. “Gambling?”

“Sometimes, but that’s not the most popular thing to take place in this room.” Jonathan laughed, standing an arm’s length from you. “Be honest,” he gently said, calling you by your name, “and tell me what you think happens in a hotel’s forbidden room.” Jonathan looked into your eyes with a hint of seduction. “Don’t be scared, darling. I won’t hurt you.”

After a few moments of silence, you answered with a thick swallow. “Adultery.”

“Something like that.” With a smile, Jonathan placed his hand on your upper arm. “This room is ideal for... discreet affairs. The clients can come with their lovers or mistresses and have a good time with them without anyone knowing. And the staff is sworn to secrecy - they won’t tell a soul. This room is a safe heaven for all those forbidden and hidden romances.”

Your eyes widened, and you felt a slight tingling in your lower stomach, butterflies perhaps. “If it’s supposed to be forbidden, how do people come to know about it without…getting the hotel in trouble? Does the hotel owner know about this?” Your voice grew quieter with every question.

“A forbidden romance can’t be incriminated in this city.” Jonathan simply said, rubbing a circle along your arm. “And because only certain people know about this secret, those who frequent the inner circles of the hotel’s patrons. A rule that the staff and I never break: what happens in this room stays in this room. No words spoken, no information given, no clues.” The night manager smiled. “And do you know what happens when that rule is broken?”

You rifled through your mind, thinking about what you already knew about famous gangsters and their affairs, which probably took place in seedy hotel rooms and luxurious private lounges .“They’re silenced.”

His smile faded. “Exactly.” He leaned in, close enough that you could see the incandescent light of the room reflected in his ocean blue irises. “Now…can I trust you to respect the one rule of this room? Can I trust that you'll never mention anything about what happens in this room?”

You bit the inside of your cheek and watched as Jonathan let go of your arm and sat down on the other sofa. “You can..You can trust me, Mr. Pine. But tell me why we’re here.”

“I didn’t want you sitting in the lobby all night, a place open to the public. This way, you’ll have a bit more privacy without having to take one of the guest rooms. Now,” he began, “let me tell you what kind of activities I had what kind of activities I had in mind for this room. And if you like them, we’ll do them. Alright?”

Placing your book on the coffee table, you nodded. “What did you have in mind, Mr. Pine?”

“Well... first I was going to invite you to drink some champagne with me. To celebrate our new friendship and to make sure you're relaxed.” Jonathan stood up and walked to the small fridge "Then... I was thinking that we could start with a game of strip poker. If you lose a round, you have to take off one piece of clothing. And we'll see where that takes us." Jonathan said with a flirtatious smile. "Sounds good?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know…”

Jonathan continued to smile, confident that he could get you to change your mind. “What if you win? What if I'm the one that has to take off a piece of clothing?” He opened the fridge and reached inside it, grabbing a bottles of champagne. "Come on. You only live once, darling. It's time to do something dangerous and live a little. And this is the perfect place for it, don't you think?”

“But…why me?” You quietly asked, looking up at him with shaking hands. “Why…why would you do this? Bringing me here of all places?”

The night manger set the bottle of champagne down, and his demeanor morphed into a caring one, almost protective. He put his hands in the pockets of his blazer, and gazed upon you as if you were a rare, exquisite piece of living art.

“Because I think you’re someone special, darling. I think you're smarter and braver than you think you are. I have a gut feeling that says we're going to get along and understand each other. I like talking to you, I believe that we could have... something special. And if you let me, I want to show you a night you'll never forget.” Approaching you again, the night manager brushed the back of his finger along your shoulder. His eyes seemed to soften from their striking ocean hue to a soft shade of pale blue. “I want you to have fun, experience new things, to live a little.” He took a step towards you. “Would you let me make this night unforgettable for you, darling?”

You blinked, and harshly bit the inside of your cheek, your heart racing at the infinite possibilities of what could unfold throughout the night. Would there be more people involved? Was something illegal going to happen?

“Yes, Mr. Pine.” You uttered.

With a rakish smile, Jonathan took the champagne bottle and opened it with a loud pop. The bubbles freely flowed from the bottle until the night manager filled two clear flutes with the golden liquid. Then, he offered you one of the glasses. “To a special night,” he declared with a soft theatricality in his voice, raising the other glass.

That damn smile was enough to make you wrap your fingers around the stem of the glass, clink it against his, and raise it to your lips. “Cheers.” You took a sip of the golden liquid, sucking your lips in while the alcohol trickled down your throat. “It’s…it’s bitter,” you admitted, “but it’s good.”

Jonathan took a drink as well. “That's the effect of alcohol: the first time it tastes bitter and even repulsive. But sooner or later, you discover that it's not so bad. Some people start to enjoy it…others, not so much.” He took another gulp and emptied the contents of his glass. “Just be slow with your drink, take your time. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, please tell me. Alright, darling?”

You nodded. Your fingers crept towards the rim of the champagne glass as Jonathan knelt before you. He took your free hand in his, looked into your eyes with a sincere expression, and murmured your name. “I think you’re very beautiful.” His large, pale fingers stroked the back of your knuckles. “Would you let me give you a kiss?”

You took another sip and gently set the glass aside. Never had you been kissed before and yet here you were, alone with one of the most charming men you had ever seen in real life. And this man, this elegant variant of a man was asking to kiss you.

“Just a kiss,” you agreed, leaning towards the night manager. Closing your eyes, you felt his lips, slightly chapped, delicately brushed against yours.

The kiss started off sweet and affectionate, as delicate as a feather, but soon Jonathan’s fingers reached for your hair and pulled you closer. His lips pressed harder against yours, allowing him to savor the aftertaste of champagne on your lips while his fingers rested on your soft cheeks. After a few moments, you leaned back on the couch and allowed Mr.Pine to take control. He grabbed your waist with his free hand and you put your arms around his broad shoulders, your fingertips enjoying the crisp fabric of his blazer. A little intoxicated by the champagne and a pleasure you never thought you desired, you couldn't help but admire how easily he could overpower you.

“Mr. Pine…” You breathed after a few moments, breaking the kiss for air. As Jonathan pulled apart from you, you licked your lip, hoping you could catch the aftertaste of his lips.

The night manager blushed as he watched you recover. “Now, for the next part of our night…a game of poker,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, already a bit excited about the game. “Do you know how to play?”

“I know how to play poker,” you answered, straightening yourself. “I learned how to when I was fourteen, some family friends taught me.”

He nodded. “In this game of poker, we can use anything as a bet: a kiss, an article of clothing, a touch... whatever comes to our minds. But only one rule applies: the loser has to do what the other person asks, no questions asked. Are you okay with it?” Jonathan asks, his voice getting slower and more seductive with each word.

“Okay.” You climbed off the couch and sat on the floor, in front of the old, worn-out coffee table. You couldn’t believe you were actually going to play poker - a game you’d only seen among grown-ups in real life and mafia men in films. And now instead of watching them with awe, you were going to play for the first time. “Do you know where the cards are?”

Jonathan smiled and walks to a nearby cabinet, opening the rickety door to find a dusty box. "They're right here.” He opened the box and fished out two decks of cards, taking one and shuffling them in his hands several times."I give you the deal, do you want to cut the deck first?”

"Sure." You split the deck of cards into two halves, lifting one half of the cards and placing it face down next to the other half.

Jonathan picked the deck of cards, holding it in his hands. "Here's how we play this game: it's just a simple poker, five cards for each one of us. The person who has the most points wins and he gets to choose the bet of the next round. Do you want to deal the first hand or should I?”

Part Two

Tagging: @lokischambermaid @smolvenger @lovelysizzlingbluebird @evelyn-kingsley @omgsuperstarg @holdmytesseract @lokidbadguy @stupidthoughtsinwriting @icytrickster17 @thatdummy-girl @fantasyfan4life @anukulee

#tom hiddleston #jonathan pine imagine #jonathan pine x reader #jonathan pine #the night manager #the night manager fanfiction #tom hiddleston character x reader #tom hiddleston character #tom hiddleston characters #jonathan pine fic #jonathan pine x you

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ladycamillewrites · 1 year

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⎨Masterlist⎬

Thomas Sharpe

➢ Welcome home

➢ Devil's Baronet (dark)

James Conrad

➢ Spying on the captain

➢ Quick, Captain

➢ use me

➢ show some (series)

Robert Laing

➢ It's party time

➢ liquid confidence

Jonathan Pine

➢ How unprofessional

Will Ransome

➢ Amnesia

Mister Hiddles himself

➢ Against the odds - with @holdmytesseract

❋ second blog @fictive-sl0th ❋

#masterlist #fanfic writing #ladycamillewrites #thomas sharpe fic #james conrad fic #jonathan pine fic #robert laing fic

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springdandelixn · 1 year

Note

I'm sooo excited you're taking requests, love! 🖤

This Jonathan Pine gif just makes me feral...

so, maybe reader has done something stupid on a mission and now she's in a greater danger. Can be as dark/smutty (or both 😏) as you feel it. I hope this works for you and there's absolutely 0 pressure (;

Radio Silence

Summary: Your mission to capture Jonathan Pine goes sideways in the most unexpected way.

Warnings: implied noncon, kidnapping, gunplay, bondage & death threats. There may be more but be aware that this is a dark fic. Read at your own discretion.

Characters: Jonathan Pine x Agent!Reader

A/N: This fic was pretty much inspired by watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Thank you, @coldnique for this request though I do apologize if it's a bit sloppy. It's Monday again.

Your feedback is highly appreciated and encouraged. Reblogs would be really amazing. Enjoy! ❤️

“I got eyes on the target.”

“Remember, don’t spook him or we will lose him again,” Hank calls through the earpiece.

“Copy that.” You say with finality before fixing your scarf to tuck your chin deep within the wool. You shove your hands in the pockets of your coat and reel into the act of a shivering civilian before looking both ways and crossing the street, heading towards the building your mark entered.

For three long years, the British Intelligence has been hunting down Jonathan Pine after going rogue and started causing havoc by selling sensitive information to interested buyers across the globe. You worked closely on the case, tracking him down and going after every lead that presented itself. But each time you think you’re a step closer to catching him, the trail quickly goes cold and you’re once more back on the drawing board.

Until one day, when an anonymous tip came of Jonathan resurfacing, that he was spotted on several occasions in a small neighborhood in Brooklyn, Hank immediately had you shipped off to New York in hopes of finally bringing him in.

You’re the most qualified for the job, Hank told you when you asked why you were going in alone and you didn’t doubt his judgment for you believed it to be true. With Jonathan gone, you were the top agent of the organization, and you’ve proven countless times your credibility in bringing down some of the most dangerous beings on the planet. But you know that wasn’t the sole reason he chose you, rather the fact that you were once mentored by the rogue agent himself.

For years, you’ve worked closely alongside him, digesting every fact and feat he would demonstrate in order for you to do your work the best that you can. All the skills he possessed were passed on that you were ranked second to him. And it secretly brought a smile to your face and had you feeling slightly cocky and confident, how the irony that his own pupil would be the one to turn him in and bring him to justice.

It still pained you though, that it had to come to this point in your career. How much you pitied your former mentor that he’s chosen to use his expertise to harm instead of continuing to protect the greater good. Either way, you won’t let your sentiments muddle your judgment. He’s done bad things and it’s your job to stop him no matter what it takes.

Leaning against the concrete wall of the building—a library, you wait a few seconds before walking in. You pat your hip through your coat pocket, making sure that your weapon is within reach. You didn’t see them upon arriving at the borough yet you’re confident that backup has been prepared and is on the ready in case the situation gets hairy.

It’s not as crowded as you expected as you walk towards the shelves of books and you don’t quite know if you should see it as a positive; giving you more visual of your surroundings, or a negative; making it slightly harder to blend in, making it easy for Joanthan to recognize you amongst the civilians. But you keep your composure, making the best of the situation and remain at the sidelines, running a hand through the spines of the hardcover while looking for a spot for you to wait.

With vigilant eyes and light feet, you peruse every aisle, keeping up the act of a college student looking for resource materials. You grab a random book from its hold and flip it open, opting to take a seat on one of the singular armchairs at the corner of the library that give you a good view of the exit as well as the round help desk at the center of the vicinity.

You whisper an update through your comms but frown when faint static plays into your ears before going radio silent on the other end. You repeat your words, hoping for any response of acknowledgment but still get none. The building must be interfering with the frequency, you think, but don’t dwell too much on the fact, choosing to focus instead on the task at hand.

People pass by in front of you and give extra attention to each dark blond you see. Yet some minutes pass and you can’t help the groan of frustration you breathe out when he’s still yet to be seen. He couldn’t have gotten far, and he wouldn’t think of using any back exits for you’re positive he hasn’t picked up your scent. Still, you remain seated and discard the thought of searching the entire library. You keep your senses on high alert for any telltale signs of his presence while flipping through the pages of the book on your lap.

“I’m terribly sorry.” You know that voice. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Your head snaps to the side, your heart rate spiking when you see him by the entrance with a book in his hand which he hands to the elderly woman clutching a cane standing in front of him. You take note of his appearance; a grey hoodie hidden underneath a leather jacket. You scoff in amusement when you see no effort into hiding his face. Rookie mistake.

As soon as his interaction with the woman ends, you stand from your seat and casually return the book to the shelf. You feign choosing a new read, counting down to ten before slowly making your way out of the building when he finally leaves.

“He’s on foot. I’m tailing him.” You call into your comms yet still, the line remains silent.

You maintain your distance while keeping your eyes locked on the back of his head and follow him down the street. You’re positive that he’s heading back to where he’s been holing up, leading you right to him. The image of him taken by shock burns into your mind and you can’t help but smile once he realizes it’s you that’s cornered him like a rat.

Blood pumps into your ears as your body sings with excitement, keeping your pursuit and grinning when he turns into an alley. Like a rat. You echo in your head and immediately reach for your weapon as you sprint down the path. Once you reach the corner, you keep to the crowd and take a deep breath before pushing into the alley.

You stand stunned in confusion when nothing but an empty backstreet greets you. You don’t understand, you just saw him come in here and yet there are no signs that giveaway any soul coming by. The wired fence up ahead is too tall to scale up fast, the fire escape ladders remain untouched. You jiggle the handle of a lone door at the side of the brick wall but it’s locked and you’re certain he wouldn’t have jimmied it open for you would have, for sure, caught him in the act.

You tuck your gun back into your holster and huff out a breath as the thought that he’s once more slipped from your grasp fills you. This can’t be! You almost had him! And yet, you are once more met with a dead end, one you don’t understand how it came to be.

Defeated, you decide to regroup back at your hideout to figure out the next steps to catching him. He couldn’t have gotten far and if you call for the local police force to cord out Brooklyn, it’s no question that he’d be apprehended just in time.

All of a sudden, you gasp in surprise when an arm wraps tightly around your neck from behind, a solid surface pressed against your back as you struggle to set yourself free from your assailant. Your hands grab the arm that entraps you when it tightens further, the muscle digging into your throat, preventing you from making a sound.

“Looking for me, sweetheart?” The deep baritone that fills your ears is all too familiar. No!

A stinging pain then blooms at the back of your neck, your breath hitching as you feel a cool, alien liquid quickly run through your veins. You’re then released, a hand pressing at your back and shoving you forward, making you drop down to your knees before you could even catch yourself.

Your breathing is suddenly labored, your skin tingling and body growing heavy that you slump face first onto the dirtied concrete floor. You fight to push yourself up except a hand grabs you by the shoulder and you’re flipped onto your back, your head cracking against the pavement. A pained groan slithers from your lips and when you open your eyes, your vision is skewed. What’s happening to me? You want to voice out but your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton.

Jonathan’s face comes into view, a wicked grin playing on his lips. You try to stand but it’s no use. Your body feels so heavy that you don’t think you can even move. He says your name, once, twice, you don’t know. Then his face blurs, mixing with the colors of the alley and the stone walls that surround you, his deep chuckle the last thing you hear before the darkness swallows you whole.

Your mind feels all too convoluted when you open your eyes, blinking several times before the world gradually comes into clarity. It’s like you wrestled with a bear with how your body aches, feeling it deep within your bones, making you groan. You try to move, to get off the soft surface you’re laid on but panic quickly runs through your veins when the realization that you’re naked, wrists bound together dawns on you.

Looking around frantically, you try to take in your surroundings, assessing the situation you were thrust into. You’re on a bed, plain sheets rumpled atop with a lone pillow hanging by the edge. The room is bare of any furniture leave for the singular bedside table with a lamp emanating a muted yellow hue and a singular table at the far end corner. Although, what you notice next makes the hair on your skin stand in fear, the lone dark figure sitting by the desk, a light tapping coming from its direction.

You’re certain that your captor is Jonathan, that despite your disorientation, he’s the last person you saw before you blacked out. You blink as you fight to steady your vision, your throat tightening as the fear that once took over your senses is replaced by anger. He stands and you groan as you tug on your restraints, bending your knees as you prepare yourself to fight back.

“What did you do to me?!” You snarl, swiping your legs immediately when he comes closer. “Let me go, you psycho!” Another groan pulls free from your lips when the restraints dig deep into your skin. “I’m going to kill you once I’m free! And I don’t give a fuck about what Hank says!”

A deep chuckle echoes through the room and you narrow your eyes, baring your teeth when his face comes into view. “I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere anytime soon, sweetheart.” He scoffs, a grin of amusement playing on his lips before he leans closer. He reaches over to caress your cheek and you quickly snap your teeth at him, barely missing his fingers when he retracts his hand. “Ohh, you’ve certainly gotten tougher since we last saw each other.”

“Better too!” You snipe and thrash against the bed when he nears you once more. “Hank knows where I am, Pine! And once backup comes, you’ll be sorry you ever—”

“Backup?” The mirth in his voice takes you aback, trepidation lacing your nerves as the grin on his face broadens. “You think backup is coming?” He emits a sinister laugh, something you didn’t expect. In an instant, a thought clicks into your head, that something has gone terribly wrong and you’re to receive the brunt of it.

His shadow leaves you as he strides back to the table he previously occupied, a patch of light illuminating his face in the darkness that shrouds him. The smile is ever-present on his face, a sickening sight and you hear him punch through the plastic keys of the device. A beep interrupts the silence, tension thickening in the air, and once more, he walks back to you, your eyes following his hand, staring down at the flip phone that he places on top of your chest.

“We got the drive, Pine.” Your blood turns cold when you hear Hank’s voice in the recording. And you don’t understand why he’s calling a fugitive. “We sent her alone so you don’t have to worry about running into trouble. Though we do expect you to uphold your end of the bargain and we will keep ours.” Your ears pique at the words your boss utters. What bargain? What does he mean by all this? “Both your files will be eradicated from the system and you shall never be bothered again.”

That can’t be! This is all a lie! It has to be!

“Oh but it isn’t a lie.” Jonathan chuckles, plucking the burner phone from your sternum, his response making you realize that you’ve voiced your thoughts out loud. “What you just heard is the cold hard truth. This whole,” he pauses, waving his hand animatedly in the air before he continues. “..operation of yours was a setup. You weren’t sent to capture me. You were simply sent as a means to an end.”

“What are you saying?! That the British Intelligence sold me for your cooperation?!” You spit, gritting your teeth in rage and disbelief, tears welling in your eyes. “They’d be fucking stupid to trust you!”

“Oh, I know. That’s why it was so easy to manipulate them.” The snap of the phone catches you by surprise, seeing the device drop to the floor, broken in half. “But it’ll be too late once they realize that they’ve made a grave mistake.” His cockiness bleeds into his words and you feel even more afraid of what he’s truly capable of. “In the end, they think they got what they wanted and I got mine.”

“Me?” You ask in disbelief and he simply laughs. “Why me?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He clicks his tongue, your body going rigid when he comes closer. “I have wanted to break you since you walked that ass of yours into the briefing room.” The bed dips from his weight when he climbs atop it. You kick your legs when he grabs them, wince when his fingers dig painfully into your flesh, your legs going slack and easily allowing him to wrap them around his waist.

Your body shivers when he presses a hand against your abdomen, fingers tickling your skin as he trails them up your torso and cups the underside of your breast. You cringe at the sight of his face, how his teeth catch his bottom lip and his sapphire eyes turn a shade darker when he gives your tit a rough squeeze.

You turn your head away when he leans closer, whimpering at how he buries his nose in the crook of your neck and deeply inhales your scent.

Tears slowly fall down your face as you gravity of the situation finally sinks in. You were sold, like a slave by the man you trusted with your life. You don’t understand why they would do this to you, why they would throw you in abandon. You did your best in every mission thrown at you, abiding by the rules and following the law, always giving your all. Even if that meant you had to exchange your life for the safety of masses.

But now, with how everything is crumbling right before your eyes, you start to think if everything you once believed in, about Hank, the organization, was a lie.

Your breath hitches when Jonathan bucks his hips against yours, the tent growing in his pants pressing roughly against your bare cunt. You cringe, disgust rolling deep in your belly, that he would have such lascivious desires towards you. He growls, his clothed pelvis rubbing further against your clit that you bite your tongue to fight a moan from escaping, cursing your anatomy and how it responds despite your internal protests.

“You don’t have to be shy around me, sweetheart.” He drawls, pulling away from your neck while his hand runs down to your side, stopping at your hip only to grab it and press you down against his erection. “See what you do to me? I had to hold myself back every time when we would wrestle around.” A salacious hum spills from his lips, a smirk forming on his face that is only inches away.

You scowl at him, eyes burning with rage. You push your head back as he attempts to close the distance, but before he could even succeed, you gather up that saliva in your mouth and spit at his face, your nostrils flaring and a smile kissing your face when he wipes his face and looks back at you with equal fury.

“You shouldn’t have done that, sweetheart.” He sneers, anger evident on his face yet you don’t let it deter you from your plans to escape. You just have to catch him off guard and you’ll have the upper hand, his training slowly filling your head.

He moves to sit up from the bed but you stop him from doing so, locking your legs around his waist tight and groaning loudly as you lean all your weight to the side to topple him over. The loud thud has you grinning in glee, making you pull your leg back to prepare for your next attack. Yet, before you could even launch your foot to kick him, a hand grabs you by the ankle, Jonathan towering over you once again and you freeze on the bed, eyes wide as your breath catching in your throat when the muzzle of a gun is pressed between your eyes.

“After years of working together, I’d expected you to know me better.” He tuts, cheek twitching when he pulls his thumb back and releases the safety. “I must say, I’m very disappointed in you.”

“You and me both, asshole.” You hiss.

“You know, I could simply kill you and no one will ever care that you’re dead.”

“Then do it!” The wrath in you bursts in flames and you lean forward, having the metal cylinder press harder against your forehead. “Fucking kill me, you coward!”

“Oh, don’t you worry. I will.” He chuckles darkly. “But not now. Not when I haven’t even had my fun.”

It’s as if the anger in him dissipates as a sinister smile forms on his face. You shiver when he slowly slides the gun down your cheek, digging it on your chin before running it down the valley of your breasts. He stops at your stomach when he kneels back on the bed, your eyes following the movement of the firearm. You inhale sharply, feeling your heart pound against your chest when he rests the gun against your cunt, rolling the muzzle slowly around your clit.

You whimper when your body sings in fear, Jonathan adding pressure on your clit as he keeps his torturous act. Then he pulls the gun away, a soft sigh of relief leaving your lips but is soon replaced by a strangled cry when he angles it against your core and pushes the barrel past your folds.

Your thighs squirm at the sudden intrusion, your pussy walls clamping down on the dangerous weapon on instinct. You try to kick him away but he only pushes the barrel deeper into you, making you halt all your limbs go stiff in fear that he would pull the trigger.

“Good girl. Stay still.” He mocks praise, pulling back the gun from your cunt only to push it once again, whimpering in horror as he fucks you with it. “I wouldn’t want to ruin this beautiful pussy. At least—not yet.”

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springdandelixn-archives and turn on notifications.

#jonathan pine #jonathan pine x reader #dark jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #dark fic #radio silence #jonathan pine au #request fic #requested by coldnique #the night manager au #tom hiddleston characters #coconut bun stories

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pearlypairings · 5 months

Text

Jonathan Byers x Chrissy Cunningham

Summary: Jonathan drives around Chrissy to sober her up and help her decompress after the party's crazy confrontations. After a little scare, she opens up about her break up and how she's been feeling lately.

Fanart for this chapter💕

Chapter preview below the break:

She giggled, tapping on his arm on the middle console to the beat. Even in his periphery, he could see her bouncing and shimmying her shoulders in the passenger seat, and he had to turn his head, her light irresistible. If there was a human embodiment to sunshine, even on a stormy day, it would be her. It was contagious.

He bobbed his head side to side, nudging her hand as he refocused on the road. For the few minutes of that song, they had a little bit of late night fun to blow off steam. Jonathan wasn’t sure if this was what The Cure had in mind for this song, but the claps and catchy beat helped her let go of the tension that boiled over. It even helped him ease into being her inexperienced escort for the night.

The night had settled, draping a thick darkness over the highway and its woods. Only his headlights and the twinkle of the autumn constellations lit up the street as he drove carefully down the last stretch before they were out of Hawkins proper. With the change of song, Chrissy propped her elbow to stare out the window at the trees rushing past.

Quiet solitude, but not awkward, just comfortable. He steered the car through several bends, one after another, in quick succession like a horizontal roller coaster. He wondered if whoever had designed this road was drunk from the way it curved graciously around the groves of trees. As if answering his unspoken question, Chrissy gripped his wrist on the wheel.

“I need to get out. Now!” The urgency in her voice scared him. She’d gone from carefree and floaty to desperately demanding in an instant.

He swerved to pull over into the patch of grass outside the treeline, realizing maybe she’d panicked when she saw they were in the outskirts of their town alone. His heart thumped against his chest. “I can take you home now. I wasn’t taking you anywhere, I swear.”

By the time he lifted his hands off the wheel and tried to look earnestly at her, Chrissy had already unlocked and flew out the door....

Read the rest on ao3 ❤️!

#fic update #had to use my moodboard😜#there is a light that never goes out #photocheer #jonathan byers #chrissy cunningham #jonathan x chrissy #stranger things rarepair #stranger things fanfiction #so much pining #and fluff #and vulnerability!#thank you for reading if you have already 💕

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lokidokieokie · 1 year

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Fic Recs

Hello hello hello! It is that time of the week again my lovelies! Take a glimpse blow to cut to find my fic recs for the week of 14/11 - 20/11!

Loki Laufeyson

Sunday Worship by @lokisgoodgirl

A Piece of Heaven by @fictive-sl0th

Poker Face by @mochie85

Need You by @acciotherapists

Get Over Him, Not Under Him by @lykaonimagines

Oh No by @lykaonimagines

It’s Not Your Fault by @stupidthoughtsinwriting

Mischief by @donaweasley

Tale As Old As Time by @michelleleewise [masterlist linked]

By The Light of the Fire: Winter Warmers by @lokisgoodgirl

The New Sorcerer Supreme by @muddyorbsblr [part 1[

The New Sorcerer Supreme by @muddyorbsblr [part 2]

I’m Dreaming of a Green Christmas by @joyful-enchantress

Tom Hiddleston

Don’t Wanna Miss A Thing by @lykaonimagines

Oh Crap by @lykaonimagines

Prank Gone...Right? by @fanficshiddles

That Voice by @fanficshiddles

Jonathan Pine

I Won’t Let Go by @holdmytesseract

Stephen Strange

I Don’t Get Jealous by @girl-of-many-fandoms

Just as Important by @lykaonimagines

Wall of Text by @lykaonimagines

Sherlock Holmes

Deep Water by @starks-hero

Perfect Sync by @obsesswriterepeat

Unintentional Mystery by @fool-who-dreams

Personal by @annesthaeticc

Sentiment by @goldencherriess

The Bet by @belleinhell

Please show these amazing authors some love by commenting on and reblogging their posts!

See you all next week for more recommendations!

#fic rec #fic rec list #fanfic recommendations #Ella's Fic Rec List #sherlock bbc #bbc sherlock #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston characters #benedict cumberbatch characters #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange #jonathan pine #loki #loki laufeyson

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

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As the World Turns 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, imbalanced power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: Your new job takes you to new places with lots of new people.

Characters: Nick Fowler, Jonathan Pine, Lloyd Hansen

Note: I know I shouldn't have done this.

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

When you accepted your new position, you didn’t expect that two days later you would be on your very first business trip. Ever. Like at all!

It’s exciting. It’s not only your first trip overseas for work but your first trip across any border. You’re as happy to get use out of your passport as you are to have the new experiences. You don’t know, however, how much you’ll be able to enjoy any of it. It’s still work after all.

You stand at the luggage belt as your phone vibrates. It’s your boss, Mr. Fowler, once more asking you where you are. The car’s already there. It’s not your fault the elite class flyers got off first and you’re stuck searching for your bags among the sea of coach passengers.

‘Will be there shortly, sir. Just coming through customs.’

It’s a small lie but you don’t think he’ll be impressed to hear you’re struggling to find your bag. It’s not very big but it should be easy to find. A round plastic suitcase in a shade of sunflower you can’t miss. You think it’d be obvious amid the black and black suitcases milling along on the conveyor belt.

You see the plastic slats part and your bag shines bright, like a beacon calling to you. You race forward and grab onto the handle. You accidentally press the button with your thumb so the handle extends and you’re dragged along awkwardly as you struggle to lift it.

Another passenger approaches to remove his heavy black bag but doesn’t walk away before helping you. You thank him with a smile. He’s older, maybe your grandpa’s age, and he assures you it’s no problem. He walks off and you plant the wheels of your bag straight, swerving around as you follow the signs.

You bring your phone up again and read Mr. Fowler’s next impatient text.

‘Take the cab fare off your per diem.’

Right. You’re not surprised. From what you know of your boss so far, he’s a stickler. He knows what he wants and he doesn’t settle for less. While he can be charming, even accommodating, he can also be terrifyingly stern. One moment he has that smile that makes his eyes twinkle and the next, his jaw is set and danger darkens his features. The very memory of that expression makes you shiver.

You suppose it’s your own fault. You should’ve considered the job description a bit closer. An executive assistant does a lot more than just the typical secretary. The pay itself was proof enough. Can you really complain? The perks include free trips!

You try to stay as positive as you can, ignoring your mother’s voice as it sneaks into the back of your head. She always has something negative to say. She could win the lottery and complain about the trouble of claiming her winnings.

You make your way through the terminal and into the atrium, passing by new arrivals and waiting departures. You check your smart watch, you’ll get in your steps for sure, and hurry as the minutes tick by. You follow the flow outside and find a spot along the pick up area, waving down a taxi as your phone buzzes again.

‘Don’t show up without scotch’.

The message is terse. You can only assume the flight was less than accommodating. You spent your time in coach looking out at the clouds or catching up on the adventures in Westeros. Terribly depressing books but it only makes reality a little less so.

You get into a taxi and ask the driver to take you to a liquor store. He doesn’t seem to understand you. Oh, boy. You pull up Google translate on your phone and speak into it, setting it to translate into the native language. You let the speaker play the text to voice. The driver nods and starts the meter.

Okay, not bad. You’re figuring this out. If anything, Mr. Fowler has to give you points for effort, right?

You ask the taxi to wait as you run in and find yourself faced with shelves of bottles and cans. This is the hard part, you’re not much of a drinker. With the help of Google, you ask the clerk for a bottle of scotch and pay with the company card. You’re right back out to the taxi.

Everything is so fast, you feel like you’re still catching up. You’re doing things. Every minute matters. You feel important, probably for the first time in your life. No more sitting behind a desk yawning, you’re tired for good reason.

You give the hotel name next and let yourself relax. Just for a little. Your eyes drift to the traffic outside the taxi, the voices all around, the dimming of the sky as the city sets to evening. It’s beautiful and new and wonderful.

The driver lets you off in front of the hotel. You’re greeted by a valet who offers to take your bag. You try to refuse but he insists, so you let him and follow him inside. As you enter, another man approaches.

You’re confused at first. He’s tall, blonde, and dressed as if he’s a businessman visiting on his own sojourn. You look around, thinking he might be headed for someone behind you. No, it’s only you. You turn back and find his blue eyes centered on you as he stops before you.

“Miss, welcome,” he lilts in his refined accent, “may I have your name so we may get you checked in?”

“Oh, yes, thanks, uh, sir. Actually, first, my, er… my boss is here. I think. He must’ve shown up twenty minutes ago. Erm, Mr. Fowler. I have, a oh,” you look down at the bottle in your hands, “I have this for him.”

“Wonderful,” he eyes the bottle, “Izak,” he addresses the valet, “Fowler.”

He takes the bottle from you without resistance. There’s something about his confidence that has you frozen. He hands it to the valet, Izak, and sends him off. You smile and give a nervous chuckle.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you rub the back of your neck.

“That is my job. I’m at your service, miss. Jonathan Pine, manager,” he offers his hand.

You shake it, doing your best to keep a firm grip. His fingers are so long that your hand feels tiny in his. He lets you go as you rescind your hand, crossing one arm over your stomach as you cup your other elbow, playing with the button of your blouse.

“Your name, miss?”

“Oh, duh,” you clutch the front of your blouse and eke out your name.

“Great, this way,” he beckons you with him and leads you to a round desk. He steps behind and types as his blue eyes reflect the screen. “I assume you’re here on business. You mentioned your boss is in another accommodation.”

“Yes, uh, my first business trip,” you almost wiggle with delight, “I’ve never even stayed in a hotel, you know?”

“Well, then I hope your stay is exceptional,” he smiles as he clicks around, giving a thoughtful hum, “allow me to make your first a special one,” he intones, “I’ve upgraded you to a suite.”

“A suite? Oh, but–”

“No additional fee. It will remain at the rate of your previous room,” his eyes flick to you.

“Wow, that’s… do I sound that pathetic?”

“Pathetic? Not at all, miss.”

You chew your lip and sway back and forth, crossing both arms across your chest. You don’t know what to say. He’s so nice that it almost feels patronizing. Or you’re just insecure.

“Allow me to show you your suite,” he comes out from behind the desk, holding out a small black folio.

You take it and look inside, two cards and a little insert with tiny text on it. You bring your hands down to fold over your stomach and back up to let him lead you. He struts along with you to the elevator and hits the button. He gestures you in first and follows.

“You haven’t traveled before?” He asks.

“Not really. We used to go camping but not far from home. Then we didn’t go anywhere. I’ve been working since, er, college, so… this is my first chance.”

“Well, the world is vast and not all are so lucky as to venture beyond their front door. It’s truly a privilege,” he says. The doors ding and parts, again, he waits for you to go ahead of him.

You step out and check the folio. You read the number and match it to a door at the far end of the hall. He’s right behind you as you get to the suite.

“Shall I show you around?” He asks as you stop on either side of the doorframe.

“Erm, sure, why not?” You shrug.

“Might I?” He points to your hands and you give him the folio.

He takes out a card and holds it up, “these can be unfortunately finicky. You must make sure you hold it so,” he shows you how to position it and slides it through the slot beside the handle. The red light turns green and the door unlocks. “Please,” he opens the door and nods you inside.

You enter as he follows. The door slowly closes as he lets it go and he slips the card back into the folio. He puts it on the corner table beside the door and taps it with his fingertips.

“You’ll find the wireless information in there along with the room service details and our continental breakfast times,” he explains, “if you’ve any questions, you may call the front desk.”

“Thank you,” you smile.

“Let me briefly go over the rest of your amenities and I’ll leave you in peace,” he avows as he waves you further inside, “a full bath,” he stops at the doorway to his left, “there are jets built in, rather useful after a long flight.”

You give a polite laugh and he presses on. He guides you through the suite; a kitchenette, a mini bar, a sitting space, a bedroom, a balcony, and a key to the private pool. You thank him again.

He goes back to the door, about to leave but pausing at the door, “if you require anything, you may ask for me. Jonathan, remember.”

“Jonathan,” you repeat.

He nods and steps out into the hall, gently closing the door behind him. You feel another buzz in your pocket. Shoot! Mr. Fowler.

‘Scotch is here. Where are you?’

You cringe and hurry out of the room. You should’ve known better. There was just a lot happening at once. You hurry down the hall and stop short of the elevator. You don’t know where his room is.

‘On my way, sir. Where is your room?’

You key in the message, awkwardly lingering as you wait for his response.

‘Not there. In restaurant. Two minutes.’

You push your head back. You really just want to go back to the room and jump into that giant bed. A full queen to yourself. That’s actual heaven. You answer, affirming your obedience and head for the elevator.

You get down to the lobby and once more find yourself lost. You have that problem, not thinking two steps ahead. As you look around, you see the valet, Izak.

“Hi, uh, is there a restaurant around here?” You ask sheepishly.

“Yes, miss, right through there,” he points towards the rear of the lobby to a wide archway crested with a point.

You thank Izak and scurry across the lobby. You put your phone away as you enter the restaurant and a server approaches you. They ask if you want a table for one and you explain that you’re meeting your boss. She points him out and asks you if you’d like a drink. You assume you won’t be staying for dinner so you pass.

As you near his table, Mr. Fowler doesn’t look up. You stop just across from him and wring your hands. You wait for him to say something but he’s focused on the menu.

“Sorry, sir, I was just checking in–”

“Sit,” he demands.

“Right, thanks,” you sit and grip the edge of the table, “it was very busy at the airport and I had to stop on the way for your scotch–”

“But no time to bring it yourself?” He challenges as he sets the menu down, finally looking at you, “I have a colleague meeting me here shortly.” His eyes dip briefly as he eyes your blouse, “hm, you didn’t change?”

“Like I was saying, sir, I didn’t have a chance yet–”

“Undo your top button,” he waves off your excuses as he sits back and grabs the short glass of scotch in front of him.

“Sir?”

“You look like a nun,” he retorts, “just one button, sweetheart.”

You furrow your brow but pop your top button open. It doesn’t show very much but it still feels wrong. You sit back and peer around the restaurant. The din is quiet and the lightning soft and warm.

“Um, so, you want me to stay for dinner?”

“You leave when I dismiss you,” he says curtly.

“Yes, sir, I understand,” you reply.

“Stop fidgeting,” he clucks, “try to sit still.”

“Yes, sir,” your voice shrinks.

He sighs and stares at you, “smile, okay? This is an important dinner.”

“Right,” you force a smile, cheeks trembling.

All the excitement, all your former optimism, slowly slakes away. You get the churning anxiety in your stomach. The same sensation that kept you in bed a few minutes past your alarm. You’re only a few days in, you can do this.

“Fowler,” a voice booms across the restaurant as footfalls approach.

Your boss stands and you scramble to do the same. He shakes the hand of another man as you turn to face his acquaintance. It must be his aforementioned colleague.

“Hansen,” Fowler counters as their handshake becomes a battle, “about time.”

“Pfft, you were always boring. You gotta get out, buddy. Especially around here. I’ll give you a few names. There’s a sweet girl down at the spa–” the man, Hansen coughs, stopping himself midsentence as his eyes fall to you, “oh? And this is?”

“New assistant.” Fowler sits and pushes the tails of his jacket back.

You give your name as Hansen puts his hand out again. Instead of shaking yours, he takes it and kisses it in a very old-fashioned gesture, though something about his demeanour is sleazy.

“Lloyd,” he winks as he clings to your hand, “Mr. Hansen is so boring. Makes me sound like an old man.”

You smile and repeat his name.

“What happened to Bennet?” He turns and claims the third chair. You lower yourself, content to be peripheral to their reunion.

“Gone,” is all Fowler says as his eyes meet yours, “so, what’re you drinking, Hansen?”

172 notes · View notes

smolvenger · 10 months

Text

How To Fake Date A Spy (Jonathan Pine x fem! Reader). Part 1

Summary: When you joined your sister, Jed, for a lovely summer in Spain, you wanted to enjoy yourself. Instead, you have to deal with numerous men of Roper's business having a gross interest in you for more than small talk. Going to Roper for help, he offers an idea- pretending to be the date of his newest friend. A handsome sous-chef known as Thomas Quince. Little do you know yet, the man's real name is Jonathan Pine and he is on a mission to take Roper down...

Word Count:5K

Chapter Warnings: Sexual harassment (not our boy, Pine). Discussions of suicidal intentions- if you or a loved one have thoughts, please please PLEASE reach out, call a hotline, tell someone you need help, and get help right away and this I hope is portrayed well and healthy and hopeful in this chapter. Some Fix-It-Fic-ness (Poor Elena deserved better. Hmmm, interesting of Le Carre to have the not-white female characters killed off to further the male characters' storylines. Guess what? We're fixing that crap. At least for Elena). Mentions of murder and domestic abuse. Reader being thirsty, but no actual smut.

Comments, reblogs, dms, and asks about my work are always appreciated!

A/N: You can decide if you’re a sister by adoption or by birth and I want to leave that open ended in the fic to make this an inclusive x reader fic. Shout out to @evelyn-kingsley for suggesting this idea in the first place! This fic wouldn't exist without you! :)

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

You screamed as the robber grabbed the boy and pulled out a gun to the child’s forehead.

“Nobody move! Nobody move!” the robber yelled.

There were more screams behind you and as people shot up, you heard plates clatter on the floor. Your heart was racing a mile a minute. It seemed all was well one minute- enjoying a seaside restaurant with your sister and some friends. Paid by the man she was in an arrangement with- Roper. Drinking wine and dancing and laughing. Little Danny playing games on his dad’s phone. A phone with worldwide secrets that also conveniently housed Candy Crush.

Then like a flip of a coin, a robber grabbed Danny and pulled him over to sit on a chair, moving the gun between pointing at the boy or your party. Danny’s sobs mirrored the screams you heard rabbits made. Sounds when the creatures thought they were going to die.

Roper-with an eerie calm-spoke to the robber. Offering the robber anything he wanted.

“Jewelry! Wallets!” the robber demanded.

With shaking hands, you took off the earrings. Your sister bought them for you on a shopping trip last week. Being mistress to Roper, Jed could afford to spoil you with gifts however she wanted. You then removed your ring and your necklace. It was harder with the shaking, but you dropped them in. You saw Jed doing the same next to you, her jaw quivering. Then you took your wallet and all of you put your items in a bowl. Everyone did- an offering to an angry god demanding a sacrifice.

“That’s shit! Where’s the real money? Where’s the rest?” the robber asked, waving the gun at each of you.

Roper promised him 10 thousand dollars in fifteen minutes. As long as Danny was returned. The robber began to back away, still holding Danny.

“We’ll take the boy! Until we have the money! Everyone on the ground!” he threatened.

Jed offered herself in exchange. Out of gut instinct you pulled at her arm, tears in your eyes. Bringing her back.

The Robber pointed the gun at each of you and your body shot, seeing your imminent death in its Barrell. There was silence from all of you- the about-to-be-dead.

“On the ground or I’ll shoot!” he yelled.

All of you went to the ground. You kept sobbing and so did Jed, your legs still quivering as you laid down. The robber ran off, carrying Danny. The boy’s screams could have cut you in two. You sat on the ground. The party crawled back up.

From out there, you heard yelling and a commotion. Then the screaming stopped. But there was no gunshot.

All of you ran down the steps to the stairway to enter the place. There was no robber- and Danny was safe. Danny scrambled back into his father’s arms, hugging him and crying. Even Jed leaned down to touch his arm. You had to cup your face, crying tears of relief this time. But your eyes wandered to someone else.

On the ground near him was a man in a chef’s suit, groaning in pain. His face so bloodied and hurt he was unrecognizable.

“What happened-what happened?” Jed asked.

“They ran off…he scared them…he saved me…” Danny explained.

The staff said the rescuer was a sous chef from England. Corky began examining the hero of the hour, still groaning from his broken nose and pain. Roper examined him, his blue eyes turning into a hawk gaze. Jed wrapped her long arms around Danny and let the boy cry his tears into her. You comforted him by running a hair through his head.

It was decided. They couldn’t let their hero bleed to death. He was coming with you.

•─────⋅�� ☽⋅─────•

You hardly saw the sous chef after he moved in. Not that you had time to. You had another party of Roper’s he was hosting. And it meant dealing with your least favorite thing- men. Specifically- Roper’s men.

The party itself would be okay. You were glad you kept a small book in your clutch. Your phone batter was down to 10 percent and Danny was standing by his dad. But many of the men would gather around you. Or introduce themselves. Drunk on money and power, they believed they could do everything. Like having access to you when you didn’t like them.

One fucker-you didn’t remember his name and he didn’t deserve it-approached you as you began to sip your flute of champagne. Already you could smell how he reeked of cologne to where it stank. He leaned in closer than you liked.

“Hey there-Y/N, isn’t it? You’re looking nice today?”

“Thanks.” You said curtly.

He smirked.

“I just like what I see….would you like a drink?”

“I have one, no thanks,” you said.

His eye wandered to the book sticking out of your clutch.

“Ah-What are you reading?” he asked.

“A book,” you answered.

“Hmmm…what kind of book.”

“It’s a…a…a romance book,” you answered honestly. Maybe he would be disappointed in your interest of “fluff for women” and turn around.

“A romance book. You like that stuff?” he asked.

Already there was that hint of putting down. Slight dislike. Condescension. You took it and ran. You gave him a frown.

“Yes, I do,” you said, going around.

Then at dinner, you could feel their eyes on you. One guy- Mr. Jacobson- was enjoying his time sitting next to you a little too much. He was tall and barrel chested with a dark beard and dark hair, manspreading on his seat. You squeezed your knees tight together so they wouldn’t brush his pants. But his leaning in gave you less space to flee.

“Well-everyone has a type for someone! A type they fall for!” Caro Langbourne began, just for casual conversation.

But Mr. Jacobson turned to you with a greedy smile. You could feel the eyes on you.

“Hmmm, means you got a type, Y/N? Like us big, hairy guys?!?”

You turned next to him.

“No.”

It was quiet and the conversation went on, but he kept talking to you. More than you wanted to. There was one guy. He was closer to your age. And he wasn’t bad looking at all, not to you. But as he turned to you during dessert, having innocent talk, just in a corner alone, he suddenly, out of nowhere, asked.

“So-When will you let me stuff it in your mouth?”

You nearly dropped the plate in shock. You blinked, processing that he said what he said.

“What did you say to me?” you asked in a hiss.

He put his hands in his pockets and repeated it.

“When will you let me stuff it in your mouth. You’ve had dessert, you can take it.”

You felt like you could get sick with disgust.

“Forget it. Don’t’ you say that to me- leave me alone!” You pushed off and walked away, heels clicking furiously from the party.

You found yourself, once alone, crying a little. You wiped it off in the bathroom, redoing your makeup with a frown on your face. Why did every gathering have to be like this? The stares. The smiles. The comments- it was too much.

You were so sick of them. All these guys hitting on you like they were entitled to you. You really were sick of it. In their bright smiles and uniforms but with such disgusting words spewing from their smiling mouths.

All this finery- nice dinners. Beautiful places. Numerous Shopping splurges with your sister. Trips to every country. Restaurants and clothes that would cost ordinary people a fortune. But the price- to be harassed daily by these dicks at every event and more. It was exhausting. Hell, the way Caro’s husband sometimes leered at you made you feel sick to your stomach. And the man brought his kids!

Besides, you didn’t even want to be in a relationship. How could you trust them-trust anyone? There were lots of hot guys out there who seemed perfectly nice. But they only seemed that way. Was it worth being abused- be it with a man beating you, or saying something cruel, or worse? Or being cheated on-giving all your heart and love to a guy only for him to find someone hotter, better, and to betray you because you were not good enough? Or the pain, the drama, the hurt of trust, the heartache? No, there was no one out there who was worth it. You didn’t want to fall in love, you didn’t want to get hurt. Even Jed and Roper were just a business arrangement. Despite the smiles and PDA, it was no different than Corky’s agreement. A loveless job.

You had to call it a night.

But as you were walking, you passed by a door. You remembered it-it was where the heroic sous-chef was staying in that room. You hadn’t been in it. You hadn’t even seen him since then-only once as they were tending to him with bandages and towels over his bleeding face when he was helped in here.

You had to go in and visit. That was a better end to the night. This was Danny’s savior, after all. You had to let him know how grateful you were. You knocked on the door.

“Come in,” a bright, baritone voice. English accent. Proper. Refined. Elegant, even.

You opened the door a little, and took a first step in.

“Hello the-“

Your voice stopped as did your steps. You almost did not recognize him. There wasn’t blood all over his face. Only a bruise over his eye and a bandage over his nose.

But even so, he was one of the handsomest men you had ever laid eyes on.

His eyes were blue, and his hair was an in between of dirty blonde and red. He had cheekbones that could cut glass and the shirt covered his broad chest, slim waist, and bulging biceps. You felt the wind knock out of you, the words hanging in the air, until you regained yourself. You took another step in and continued.

“Hello there-just me…”

He turned up.

“You weren’t interrupting anything.”

You began to grab your arm. He was so attractive you wanted to shy away-flee away like Snow White from the Prince. But you forced yourself there.

“I don’t think we’ve introduced each other since…since that night. I’m Y/N. Jed’s sister. I help look after Danny.”

He looked up, eyes meeting yours.

“I just wanted to…to…thank you. For what you did.”

He gave you a smile.

“You’re welcome. What’s your name?”

You gave him your name.

“Lovely. I’m Thomas-Thomas Quince.”

“Do you need anything?”

“No- I’m fine for now.”

“Let us know, okay Thomas?”

“I will, Y/N.”

You could have come at how he said your name, but you held yourself together.

“Okay, have a good night, Thomas.”

“You too, Y/N.”

Then you closed the door. But you realized you were still smiling, feeling very warm and tingly. Without question, this was a better ending to the night.

There was going to be another of Roper’s male colleagues coming over to stay with you. But he didn’t have a history of saying gross things to you. Not even with his wife, Lucia, and kid traveling with him. Juan or “Apo” was joining you with his wife and their teenage daughter, Elena.

Their car arrived the next day. You were squinting from the Spanish sun. Roper smiled as all of you waited just outside the penthouse when the driver opened the door. Out popped Apo, Lucia, and Elena. The group was all smiles and handshakes and hugs with Roper.

That is, except Elena. Her eyes were big, and she wore a shining, diamond necklace over her Chanel dress, but she didn’t smile. She was slumped as she stood. When Roper hugged her in greeting, she froze, only patting his back stiffly out of politeness. She seemed to shrink within herself. Even when Danny went up and said hi, showing off his new book about ocean creatures, she only nodded in response.

Roper put his hands on his hips, keeping a toothy grin at her.

“Ah! Well-I bet you’re sick of annoying little boys already, Elena! But don’t worry-you’re a big girl now! And you can join the big girls-like Y/N, here!” he said, with a grand sweep towards you.

As housekeepers hauled their luggage inside, Elena turned to her dad.

“Papi…can I go walk, please? I’d like to explore the city,” she asked.

Apo turned to her, reeling off praise to her.

“Oh! My little girl! Already so adventurous! Here-don’t go alone. Have this…this…Y/N! Walk with my Elena, will you?” he offered.

“Oh, sure thing!” you replied.

Though you hadn’t really talked to her, it would be a nice change from staying by the house all day. And she looked like she could get out. Something was up and her father was oblivious to it.

Both of you walked about. It was the late afternoon melting into the early evening. You walked through tall buildings with laundry wires across the streets over your heads. They sloped down the hill as people walked about. Though the sun was still bright, there were more shadows across the town.

“How was traveling?” you asked.

“Okay… great even,” Elena answered.

Then there were the sounds of bells chiming the hour. You noticed a palm tree and a few restaurants.

“Are you hungry? There’s a stand for some street food. My treat.” you offered.

“I’m fine,” Elena replied.

She gestured to her necklace.

"Would you like to have this?" she asked. She dangled it in her hand, not caring if some bold pickpocket eyed it.

"Uh, no thanks-but thanks for offering!" you replied.

She turned skittishly around. Her head full of long, black hair moving with her. You paused.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

She turned to you and this time; she didn’t answer the question.

“There’s a cathedral here…I know it’s the next block over-can we go?” she asked.

“Sure thing!”

It then struck you that you were going about without guards. If she noticed a pickpocket or a stalker, you were the only one guarding her. But you walked over to where the bells chimed to enter the large cathedral.

Walking over with her, you turned and walked inside. It was infinitely cooler in the cathedral than outside. You were used to air conditioning, so the summer trips had been brutal here. You let out a sigh of releif. You did admire the elaborate paintings and design of the cathedral- its dome over your head, the numerous statuettes of saints, the golden crucifixes. And all in a building that was older than America! They definitely didn’t make most churches as pretty as this back home! Tourists wandered to snap pictures. Locals were in the pew, praying. Elena walked forward, her feet turning into stumbling. You saw she was shaking all over-as if her strength was sapping out of her. She gripped onto the pew, sitting down. Then she knelt and gripped her hands in prayer.

You went down and joined her.

“What is it, Elena?” you asked. You made sure to keep your voice low. The place made a lot of echoes from the high ceilings.

“Nothing.”

“You don’t have to lie to me. Something is up. You’re upset. Your dad is blind to it. But he isn’t here- you can tell me. Anything.”

She looked around again. Checking each person around her. Then she turned to you.

“Is no one watching us?” she asked.

“No. No one is. Not even Corky and he creeps around everywhere. Just you and me. I don’t care how messed up it is- I won’t judge.”

She began to blink tears, and then leaned her head down, beginning to cry.

“Elena…did something happen?” you asked.

She began to blubber out.

“I’m…so grateful for cathedrals. They’re peaceful. They’re quiet. Anyone can have sanctuary there….”

She turned to you.

“Sanctuary? From what? Are you in danger? Is someone threatening you?” you prodded.

“I want...I want…I want the pain to stop…I’m a burden to everyone…I’m the reason people are dead…” she confessed.

“What do you mean?” you gasped. You immediately grabbed her hand. You had an idea and it chilled you, but you asked it.

“Are you…thinking of ending your own life?”

“Yes.”

A sick, horrible feeling swept through you. Chills, dread, terror. But you prodded further. No matter how uncomfortable, it was the right thing to keep talking to her.

“Do you have a plan how?”

“Hang myself. And I was going to do it on my birthday party. Snuck out the party to my room. They wouldn’t care- it’s like it’d be better without me. Too busy congratulating each other and being fancy. I would do it- Hang myself right there…”

“Elena….oh my god…oh god….” You muttered in shock, your hand never leaving hers.

“Elena…thank you for telling me. I know things always seem bleak- it’s hard to realize that there are options out there when you feel that way…”

“Options? I was born into this family! I didn’t choose it!”

She turned to you; her voice lower. So, no one could overhear.

You know what my dad does? He defends Roper. We’re rich. Because of Roper…Roper and his…his-his-his…acts!”

“Acts?” you repeated.

You knew Roper was head of Ironclast. That the immense money didn’t come from nowhere. But you had to find out further. She turned to you, her eyes brimming, tears falling.

“Dad’s rich protecting him. So, Roper can’t ever be caught. Roper sells bombs. And you know what he does? Drops them on villages- his own personal bombs. He treats people like toys. Cities. Full of innocent people. And anyone who opposes him or his friends or tells them no? They die. That’s why I’m even here-innocent people who are dead!”

She let in a shaky breath.

“Do you know…do you know Freddie Hamid? Did he ever appear here at Roper’s party?” she asked.

“No, I don’t. He never showed up.”

“He’s a friend of Roper’s. He’d appear with Papi and at the parties…. Freddie beats up women. And he’s a murderer.”

“A murderer?!” you hissed quietly.

Elena nodded.

“He had -a mistress. Sophie. I met her every time she came over. She…was nice. She let me pet her dog. She’d talk to me like no one ever did- like I wasn’t a princess. Like I was a person. I wanted to…to…to be like her. And there’d be bruises. On her arms. On her face. She’d say she’d fall. But it was clear-I knew it was Freddie. I knew it! But no one would believe me. And do you know what happened to her? Sophie was Found murdered in her hotel!”

You felt a horrified chill over your body as you spoke “And Freddie or Roper killed her?”

“At least sent their men to do the job. She must have stepped out of line. That’s what happens here-you step out of line. You’re dead. I was dead anyway…and you know what-she’s just one of many.”

You swallowed. Part of your stomach got sick. But you kept listening. You put your other hand on hers.

“I was dead anyway. I thought it’d be better…die rather than get killed. Then…I left the party and ran to a cathedral instead…”

You realized there were tears in your eyes too.

“I’m glad you did, I’m glad you did, Elena…I’m glad you’re here…talking to me…”

She released one hand of hers, touching her necklace.

“You see this shit necklace? I see it and just see more dead Sophie’s-dead people! Papi says it’s the most expensive necklace in the world! And it was paid for with blood money!”

She gripped it like she could rip the necklace to shreds. But she couldn’t-her nails dug into her skin. She looked at you right in the eyes.

“Roper…he is the worst man in the world…and you’ll see that…”

It all hit you-hit all at once. You knew she was telling the truth. There was no matter of denying it. The more you thought about it, the more it made sense.

“You’re right…he is…he’s got my sister in his clutches. She was desperate. She was broke. And she…she has a baby. Mom hates her. Roper gave her an opportunity. Now she’s chained to him. A man old enough to be our dad, too. She doesn’t have a choice to leave him now. I see how unhappy she is on the inside…he is the worst man in the world. “

You smoothed her hair so you could see her face.

“I’m concerned Elena…because I care about you. I’m going to support you- however I can…” you promised.

You took her and hugged her. She let herself cry-relieved. You cried too, for her. For your sister. For yourself. For everything. You held onto her, keeping on shaking. Waiting until she was ready and let go. She turned around, seeing the crowds.

“Could we…could we walk around?” Elena asked.

“Yes…we can stay here as long as you need. I don’t have anywhere else I need to be.”

“But dinner…”

“If you don’t want to eat with Roper, we can get our own dinner,” you said.

She walked about. Elena did go to the confession booth. It wasn’t therapy but it was something. Talking in a private space with someone sworn to secrecy. Elena did talk to plenty of other people. Just talk- nothing more. Not about her emotions. She spoke to an old woman, a priest lighting a candle, and a tourist lady with a pregnant belly. It was probably good to give her space and not overhear when she did. But you never kept her out of your eyesight.

When she finished talking, you got her hands as she sat in the pew again turned to her.

“Elena…when we’re done, I’m buying you a sangria, and tapas, and ice cream. And when we get home, you’re not staying by yourself-you’re with me now. I’m staying by you-“

Elena raised her eyebrows.

“And you don’t have to pretend. You can be with me. I’ll keep you safe. You’re not going to be alone-and you’re going to live.”

You grabbed her shoulders and her eyes became big.

“You’re going to live! And if you even think about doing it-tell me! And we’ll get out of there and do something! We’ll go swimming in the ocean naked! Stuff our faces at some restaurant! Stay at this cathedral! Get fucking plastered and sing karaoke!”

“I don’t…don’t want to live off of blood money…I don’t want to live as some spoiled pet from other’s deaths!”

“But you will live…they keep saying you’re a big girl…and you’re going to have a life without living off of Roper. I could…could…could help you escape.”

“Escape?” she gasped.

“That’s the most expensive necklace in the world. That alone could buy you rent for an apartment of your own. Long enough until you get a job. And you can stop living off money used to kill people! A life all on your own! And…have you thought of getting help? Professional help? I’ll seek it out.”

“No…didn’t consider getting a therapist…but you can’t tell my parents why…”

“I will tell them you need help-that you need a counselor. And you can tell me anything! I’ll sneak you out however I can!”

She blinked. And then, slowly, she smiled. A small, present smile. The first smile you saw on her face.

“It sounds…wonderful.”

You linked her arm in yours.

“Good…we’re friends now. Best friends. And I’m not going to let anyone get you anymore…if you think you’re rebelling, if you think you’re in danger-from Roper or Freddie or yourself…I’m going to help you.”

Indeed, the Sangria, tapas, and ice cream were delicious. You even got her to giggle a litte. Once it was dark, both of you returned back to the house.

“Could you room with me?” she asked.

“Oh, of course!”

“Y/N…Danny got rescued, didn’t he…who did it?”

“Oh- his name’s Thomas!”

“Where is he?” she asked curiously.

“Resting up from his injuries!” you answered.

“Can I meet him?”

“Yeah! Sure!”

You took her to the door to Thomas’s room.

“I got to warn you- he’s really hot, too. Took everything in me not to faint when I saw him!” you whispered.

She made a small smile. You opened the door and there was Thomas, reading a book with a finished tray of dinner on his bed.

“Hello- we have a new guest. This is Elena-Elena, meet Thomas.”

She went over and greeted him. She smiled. Though then she leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Part of you was shocked by this sudden intimacy- even boldness from this teenage girl to a grown man. Hopefully, there was nothing concerning! If the man was a pedo, you would gladly kick his ass. But there was no change in his expression.

She moved into your room. Sleeping in the next bed. As she slept, you poured through her luggage. You got rid of all long things- scarves and whatnot-so no possible nooses. You made sure there were no guns or sharp objects or knives or dangerous medications. Though it made your stomach feel sick and shiver to think of how fragile life was. How so many random little things could end a life. It made you want to vomit and even cry- but you put them all in trash bags and threw them away.

The next two days were a simple pattern. You always stayed by Elena. She would walk out, go to the cathedral, and talk to people. A priest even gave her a blessing. She even ran into the pregnant lady again and they chatted. Then you would walk back. Now that Thomas was walking around, he was hard not to ogle. And you didn’t blame Elena for sometimes going up and talking to him! You made sure there was nothing dangerous- even if she had to go to the bathroom, you joined her. You never left Elena alone. Only if you knew someone would stay by her. You began to research counselors here to immediately get her help and signed her up for one. You told her parents she was troubled, and suicidal-they had the right to know. Just not the reason why. Once a counselor was picked, you both began to research apartments here. Once she was done with school-or even before- she would move out. A poor life made with money on her own was better than one living off of Roper’s corrupt wealth. Elena was always by you- and She didn’t mind having to be the third with Danny.

But you protected both. Yet…how could you protect yourself? There were going to be more events and parties and dinners. And Roper’s men would still leer at you.

You had to tell Roper. He was the Worst Man in the World. You knew that. But no one else could stop the harassment. Knowing Elena was safe with someone, you went up and found Roper. He was on a deck, talking to Andrew. They sat on a little table under a shaded umbrella with cold drinks. For the topic you were about to bring up, it was very pleasant. They turned to you, their low voices stopping.

“Roper- I have to talk to you. Now!” you said.

“Oh, goodie!” he replied dryly.

You stepped up to them, sitting on the extra free chair. You could feel the wind and hear the nearby ocean.

“Roper…I have this problem. Your friends, all the men keep hitting on me. Please….i just need…need some help. I need you to stop them. Really!”

After scratching his grey head, Roper put his hands in his pockets where he sat. He gave a half smile. But you noticed Thomas was still frowning, but something in his face softened.

“Well-the price paid for being a pretty lady here!” Roper laughed.

“I’m serious! It’s uncomfortable!” you prodded.

He put his hands in his pockets, but he kept smiling. He then looked at Thomas and back at you. Then his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Oh-you’re lucky. Have a look at Thomas. You see-he’s getting some business done. He’s about to have a very important job with me- joining my circle. Let’s say, a little thank-you gift. He’ll need to be seen at events-parties. Gatherings. The works. But they will think he’s no one…”

“What does that have to do with me?” you asked.

“He’s got to make an impression if he’s going to succeed. I’m getting him a new suit. A new business card. A new wallet….and a new woman.”

Your back straightened. Roper began grinning even bigger, like an evil Cheshire cat.

“Do you mean…mean…am I…am I…in an arrangement with Thomas? Like you and Jed?” you asked.

The shock was like an ice cube in your stomach. Even if Thomas was an attractive man, were you going to have to sleep with someone you barely knew?! In fact, this was a step above- a new man in Roper’s circle, only this time it wouldn’t be words, but actions.

“No! No arrangements! I’m not asking you to sign any marriage contract, sweetheart! Just be his date for a few events! Let them think you are his!” Roper said.

You looked over at Thomas again. His own eyes were big. His jaw was slack as if he was just as surprised as you were. And he still didn’t say a word. But he did lean forward.

“Y/N…I won’t force you to do anything…don’t be scared…” he assured you.

But Roper went on as if congratulating himself.

“But I see. You…. tolerate each other.”

Thomas folded his arms and leaned back into his chair. You saw his adams apple lowering as he swallowed. You had no words but listened. He did keep glancing at you and you at him.

“Y/N, you’re sick of being some sort of…. forbidden fruit, shall we say? Well, when you want to keep the fruit from flies- you make sure it’s taken care of.”

He turned to the handsome rescuer.

“Thomas, you want to keep your business up and running and frankly, I don’t like to see you sit inside and brood all day. Doctor says you’re good to go about now. So let’s kill two birds with one stone, shall we?” Roper declared.

He then took his hands and placed your on each other. For a second, it did feel like a marriage ceremony.

“Be each other’s dates when we’re in public!

Thomas tightened his jaw and leaned forward in his chair. You nearly jumped up where you sat. Roper went on.

“Tell everyone you’re a couple, now. Go to a few parties and restaurants, hold arms, and smile at each other. Maybe a kiss on the cheek, sometimes! Don’t be scared- Thomas here is a knight in shining armor and he has the libido of a monk, from what I’ve gathered. You both win- Thomas, you will be a social butterfly with a contract and influence and Y/N will keep those nasty little men from drooling at her.”

You hated that he was right. It was a sad truth. Those men wouldn’t respect your word alone. But if you were taken, they’d respect your boyfriend instead. Even a fake one.

“I can tell you- you can make up a reason to break up any time you want!” Roper then finished with a playful, short wiggle of his eyebrows.

You wanted to crawl beneath a rock. Thomas kept calm, the light in his eyes did not deny his surprise.

“Well, what’ll it be? Thomas, I think there’s a bit more freedom for you to say no. But it’s Y/N here who’s a bit more anxious, shall we say. And Y/N could use the protection!”

You looked at each other. Thomas got out another hand and put it over yours in slight protection. They were warm and soft. Already at his touch you felt…safe, for lack of a better word.

“I…I…I don’t see any pros of saying no…” you began.

Roper clapped his hands together and then rubbed them in joy.

“Well, then! We’re going to have a little cocktail reception later today! All for Apo’s family coming in! Your work starts tonight- Only me on your little secret that it’s pretend-deal?”

You glanced at each other. Thomas gave a nod.

“If Y/N’s alright with it, I am.”

“Deal,” you agreed.

“Well then, time to leave the lovebirds alone!” Roper chirruped.

He got up and turned out with a smile, leaving you alone with Thomas. You heard seagulls cawing and the shadows of the house shifted. Thomas leaned towards you but didn’t let your hands go yet.

“I’m sorry…so sorry, I’ll make it up to you. I bet you’re furious, right now,” he said.

“I’m…I’m actually not. At least not anymore. It doesn’t sound that bad,” you replied.

“But those men-they’ve been bothering you. Keeping you unsafe- haven’t they? I can do something. They don’t have to bother you anymore…” he offered. “It’s the least I can do.”

“And now with you, they won’t.”

He gave you a smile and your insides turned again.

“It’s not that bad. Just go to a few events. Hold arms. And smiles. I bet whatever you’ve done, that’s not the hardest thing you ever had to do,” you wondered.

Thomas looked back out to the sea and your gaze followed his. He let his hands go.

“No, it’s not.”

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