#neil's face is perfect

[azucarera-art]

went back to my old trad art style + value study with this handsome devil (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

[paunchsalazar]

just the boys...

[feelingthedisaster]

okay, being 100% honest, dont pull a josten and lie to me

if exy and all the aftg stuff was real, would you actually like exy? if someone mentioned kevin day/neil josten/etc, would you recognize their names?

and if the answer is yes, would you be a hater, a stan, indiffent?

remember, you cant lie

[abramisms]

[unrequitedloveisabitch]

pro exy player Neil Josten on Hot Ones

[skeletonfromthecloset]

i finally got to watching good omens 2 and i am. unwell. what the fuck.

[theviolettulip]

YOUR ART IS SO SCRUMPTIOUS!

🌲🌠 “And that’s how I came to love Camp Campbell!” 🌠🌲

[ivyinne]

my favourite underrated moment in aftg is when they're all shopping for halloween costumes and neil finds like. a milk carton costume with a cutout for his face and the caption "have you seen me?" and he holds it up in front of him, only for andrew to go "oh that's perfect neil!" like lmao?? that's such an unhinged comment to make??? we as a fandom don't talk enough about how little of a filter andrew has when he does bother to speak. what a silly man i love him

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Harvest Moon

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 3,100 Summary: It's Joel's birthday and you're going to make sure he has a good one. Warnings: smut, fluff, dancing in the kitchen to neil young, unprotected p in v, public-ish sex (but under a blanket), talking to neighbors while sitting on joel miller's cock, apocalypse birth control (pulling out), fingering, riding, joel has a filthy mouth, no use of y/n, not beta read.

A/N: I spent most of tonight adding 2,500 words to this barely written piece. Now it's two hours past my bedtime, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOEL MILLER!!! This can absolutely be read as a standalone, but, this is yet another singular smut entry for my Elks babies. This was originally going to be posted as a birthday celebration chapter for that, but I really wanted to give Joel his gift on his actual birthday. Happy birthday you gorgeous old man, you. Hope you like the porn I wrote about you. ❤️🥴

Masterlist

🌕🌕🌕🌕

You’ve been looking for the CD since you learned of Joel’s love of the song. Tommy did it, he actually did it. Somehow by some miracle he found the CD. 

“Not a problem,” he gives you that same shy Miller lopsided grin. “Milt had it. Told me to tell you it’s yours to keep… said he owes you since you were his daughter’s favorite teacher ‘n all.”

“Thanks Tommy,” you say, barely being able to contain your excitement, “this is going to be amazing.”

“Of course. Should be thanking you really,” he shrugs. “It’s about time he had a good birthday.”

—

Joel said he’d be helping fix one of the greenhouses today, but you’re still scared to ruin the surprise as you unlock his door. 

“Joel?” you yell out into the quiet, seemingly empty house. 

No answer. Perfect.

Quick steps lead you to his CD player, the same one he first showed you how much he cared for you with. Now, it’s your turn to show him just how much he means to you. The disc tray opens and you place the CD into the system, you can’t wait to surprise him. 

—

“More coffee?” you ask, holding up the percolator.

He nods and smiles, happily sitting at the table full from the steak, potatoes, and cornbread you made him. He had insisted on sharing the meat, but you refused, happy to let him enjoy the first taste of steak in over twenty years.

Your friend Helen got her boyfriend Greg to cut a small filet of steak from the newly butchered cow. She handed it to you with a knowing smile. It’s nice to see everyone accept yours and Joel’s relationship. 

You lean over his lap, and top his coffee cup off. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love seeing you in a dress? Can’t believe you got yourself all dolled up for me.” He surprises you by pulling you onto his lap. 

“Careful!” you shriek, quickly placing the carafe on the table. “Yes, you have… many times. That's why I wore it.”

“Hmph,” he hums happily, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping securely around you. “Thank you for dinner–and everything sweetheart.” He presses a soft kiss to your skin. 

“That’s not all,” you giggle as he nips at a sensitive spot under your chin. 

He chuckles, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re so good to me.” 

You clutch his chin tilting his head up to meet your eyes. “You deserve a happy birthday.” His big brown eyes search yours, like he’s forcing himself to believe it. “Joel, you do.” 

He rests his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he sighs warmly.

“I love you too. Now, I have something else for you,” you slip off his lap and head towards your backpack. “It’s something small, I promise.”

You return with a bundle of fabric held behind your back. 

“Remember when you tore your favorite flannel and you tossed it in the rag bag?”

You place the flannel in his hands.

“Well, a certain girl named Ellie grabbed it for me. I mended it, reinforced the buttons, and sewed up a couple holes. It’s not perfect, but it’s fixed.”

He holds the flannel up and inspects it. “This is–wow–this–I can’t believe it.” He looks up at you, his eyes wide with adoration. “I was wearing this that first day I saw you, y’know? This is so sweet sweetheart, thank you.” 

He likes it, you thank your lucky stars. Your handsome Joel, here with you on his birthday, allowing himself to be taken care of. 

You know the story of his birthday, you’ve retold the tale to yourself every night as you anticipated this day. Afraid to upset him, afraid to cross a line, but all you’ve wanted to do is give him the world he so deserves. 

It wasn’t just you who thought of him today. It’s Tommy finding the CD. It’s Helen getting you the steak. It’s Ellie grabbing the flannel from the rag bag. He deserves all of it. 

“You’re welcome,” you say with a kiss to his forehead. “Now, put it on. I have one more surprise.”

He slips the flannel on as you head to the living room. The CD waits in the stereo. You turn it on.

The soft guitar and brushes of a drum fills the air as you turn the volume up.  

Joel’s huge smile greets you when you walk back into the kitchen.

“You– how?” he asks, unbelieving. 

“Asked Tommy and he found it for me. Milt had his greatest hits. Now,” you reach your hand out to him, “may I have this dance birthday boy?”

He chuckles and takes your hand, pulling you into him. The two of you sway along to the music, his strong arms enveloping you as your cheek rests against his warm chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart beneath your ear. Your hands slip around his broad back, one of them trailing up to play with the soft curls at the nape of his neck. He sighs deeply before placing a tender kiss against the top of your head. 

“This is my favorite song,” he murmurs.

The sun has long since set, the singular lamp above the sink casts a warm dark amber glow across the kitchen Your shadows dance across the walls as you sway. He smells of coffee and sweet corn bread, like home and comfort. 

He starts to hum then softly sing along. His deep voice reverberates through your ear, pressed against his heart. 

“Because I’m still in love with you,  I wanna see you dance again,  Because I’m still in love with you,  On this harvest moon”

You can hear the contentment in his voice as he holds you closer. Moving in synchronicity with each other, gently stepping across the small kitchen as the harmonica solo plays. If you could stay in this moment forever you would.

You tilt your head up, and his eyes meet yours. The smile he gives lights his face. Lines crinkling at the corner of his eyes, dimple sitting deep on his cheek, mustache curving with his plush upturned lips. He serenades you with the same lyrics as before, looking deep in your eyes. 

“Because I’m still in love with you,  I wanna see you dance again,  Because I’m still in love with you,  On this harvest moon”  

His lips meet yours, thanking you with a gentle kiss. The man you love and adore, feels good on his birthday all because of you. 

The song plays on repeat, the two of you dance together, Joel gently hums and sings along as the harvest moon rises above the mountains. 

You gently pull away, unclasping his arms from around you.

“Come on birthday boy,” you say with a playful smile, “let’s go watch the stars.” 

—

You and Joel sit beneath a large plaid comforter on his porch. The early fall breeze that rolls down the mountainside leaves a chill in the air. The night sky is lit bright with the orange full moon. Most of Jackson is at the Harvest Moon Festival tonight, you can just make out the distant sounds of laughter and music flowing through the air from the main street on his porch. Ellie was especially thrilled about the teen sleepover happening at the Bison tonight, giving you both this rare moment of solitude in his backyard. She told Joel she knew he was in good hands with you for his birthday. 

And he is–or at least you’re in his good hands. 

“Oh, god,” you softly whisper into the night, you’re so tense from keeping yourself quiet. The stars are a little harder to see tonight thanks to the ambient glow of the bright moon, and yet you see stars whenever you squeeze your eyes shut while fighting the urge to moan. Joel’s deft, large thumb rubs circles against your clit while you ride two of his thick fingers. 

He’s driving you crazy like this. His large body and the blanket wrapped around you, overheating all of your senses in this chilly night. You’re completely covered, nobody would know that your legs are spread wide, one draped over his thick thigh while his hand is stuffed up your dress making you quake as he finger fucks you.

“Easy now, easy now,” he says nuzzling against your neck, his large nose charting a course across the sensitive skin. “Gotta remember where we are. You're the sweet, innocent teacher 'n librarian here. Lotta people look up to you, can’t have them knowin’ what my girl really likes when she’s with me.” Your hips slow their movement, he makes up for it by pumping you harder. “See, I can help, just gotta let me know you want it baby.” 

“Want to take–neyugh–care of you,” struggles out of your mouth. 

“You’re taking care of me right now, sweetheart, touching you is my favorite thing to do.” 

“Want to go inside… w-want to–want–to, want to feel you in my mouth,” you grip the straining bulge underneath the fly of his jeans. 

“Not yet,” he sighs deeply when you squeeze harder. “Like seeing your skin glow in the moonlight. What you’re doin’ now is enough, want to enjoy my night with you.”

Your hold tightens around his cock as you fight harder to suppress the urge to scream into the night. His fingers angle up hitting your most sensitive spot and you feel like you could explode. You’ll be the fireworks to celebrate Joel’s birthday. A whimper is fought by biting your lip, it’s so hard to not scream. His brown eyes look almost black in the low light as he watches you struggle and blink rapidly. 

“Shh baby, you’re doing so good, bein’ so quiet, don’t ruin it now. If anybody was out right now they could walk right on by and they’d have no idea what I’m doing to you under here.”

You’ve never done anything like this, so out in the open. Jackson is a peaceful town full of law abiding citizens, and right now you’re sitting on the back of the porch of Joel’s house getting felt up by him. 

“Joel… I–I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me baby.” His hot breath hits your lips before sealing his mouth against yours. Your cunt spasms against his thick fingers, you feel set alight by your orgasm, overheated and burning. Maybe you’re glowing just as bright as the moon. His tongue dances with yours, swallowing all of your gasps and cries. You’re sure at this point, anybody that walked by would know exactly what was happening between the two of you. You don’t care, all you want is to feel Joel’s cock inside you.

“Want you, Joel, want you so bad,” you mew as his fingers rub against your sensitive folds. 

“Okay baby, okay.” His fingers slip from your warmth before he brings his soaked digits to his lips. His eyes flutter shut when he tastes you. 

“Sweeter than birthday cake,” he declares before raising his hips and pulling his jeans down with a grunt. “Come here. Come sit on me.”

Your legs spread wide as you straddle his large lap with your back pressed against the warmth of his chest. He grips himself and moves the half hard heft of his cock against your soaked core, swirling his tip back and forth across your clit. 

“Tell me you want my cock,” he whispers against your neck, licking a line up to your ear. “Tell me baby.”

“I-I want your cock–I need your cock Joel,” you beg. 

“I know you do darling,” he chuckles deeply, lining himself up to your entrance.

The sounds of the festival go silent and the bright orange moon fades as you slowly sink down on his cock. Taking all of him, thick and throbbing into your tight cunt. 

“That’s my good girl,” he grits. “Your sweet pussy is taking me so well, isn’t she?”

Clutching your bottom lip tightly between your teeth, you try to fight the moan his words bring up.

“Oh, you must like that. You’re squeezin’ me so hard sweetheart.” 

You set a pace, riding him gently under the moonlight, his fingers gripping your hips tight. 

His hot breaths hit the back of your neck as your back molds even tighter to his front. His hand snakes down to rub your clit, small circles making your body meld even more against him.. The rhythm of his fingers and cock spearing you pulls another orgasm down from the ethers of space. Shivering, sweating, and stuttering Joel’s name, you’re trying to be good for him, trying to not scream into the night. 

“That’s my girl, grippin’ my cock so good, cummin’ all over me. Getting yourself nice and slippery so I can fuck you real good, huh?” 

“Mmf,” is the only response you can muster. Your cunt flutters around him, and he doesn’t relent, slowly fucking into you while his finger pulses against your clit. 

The sound of two people conversing approaches. Your movements come to a halt, Joel stays still, his finger still resting against your sensitive bundle of nerves and his cock sitting deep inside you. Hank and Billie, the nice couple that lives three houses down from Joel, walk past the porch. Both look over and wave a greeting. Fuck.

“Beautiful moon, isn’t it?” Hank says with a smile. 

“Quite.” Joel responds. The rumble of his loud voice radiates through you.  

“You guys get any barbecue tonight?” Hank asks. “It was really go–”

“We stayed in,” Joel gruffly responds. He subtly knocks his hips into you causing a wave of sensation to hit against your already cock-drunk pussy.

Your nostrils flare with a deep exhale.  

“Oh, well, there will probably be leftovers tomorrow,” Billie offers. “Tell them I sent you and they’ll give you the good stuff.”

“Thanks Billie,” you breathlessly reply, wishing on every star you’ve seen behind your eyelids, they’ll leave. “We appreciate it.”

“Best be getting home,” Hank says, grabbing Billie’s hand. “We both had a bit too much to drink!” 

Oh thank god.

“Enjoy your night,” Joel says plainly as he starts to slowly rock into you once they turn away. 

To the eyes of your neighbors, you and Joel just look like a normal couple enjoying the night sky cuddled together under a blanket… little do they know he’s filling you with his thick cock under the shield. 

“That was close,” he whispers against your ear before nipping it. 

Your giggle is cut off by a moan when he fucks into you harder. 

“Guess we shouldn’t take our time, don’t want to get caught, now do we?” he asks. 

“We can just–nyuh–go inside,” you plead, wanting to be able to moan and scream Joel’s name in the comfort of his home. 

“Gimme one more baby, gimme one more,” he grunts against your neck. “And then I’ll take you into my home and fuck you.”

His hips pound against your body, his thrusts bucking into your core harder. “That’s it baby, you really want me to take you in and lay you down ‘n fuck you, don’t you?” 

“Mmhmm,” you moan, your stomach tightening and thighs trembling as the universe splinters around you. Your orgasm rockets through your body. Color turns to black and white, noise falls silent. All that exists is Joel Miller and his big cock shattering you into a million pieces like your own personal big bang on the back of his porch. 

“Good girl,” he groans, “let’s take this party inside.”

—

The plaid comforter is laid out on the kitchen floor. Your wobbly legs move your still blissed-out body to Joel’s stereo, starting “Harvest Moon” on repeat all over again. 

You lean against the kitchen entrance, admiring Joel as he rests atop the blanket, naked and supporting himself on his elbows. No man over fifty should ever look as good as him. Broad shoulders frame his strong arms, his chest has a smattering of dark hair that trails down to the slight bulge of his stomach. His cock rests in between his legs, still hard and shining with your slick. He’s so gorgeous, and he’s all yours. 

“Come here sweetheart,” his voice is gruffer. “Lay down next to me.”

His dick twitches as you walk to the blanket and settle beside him. 

He moves over you, covering you with his warmth as he engulfs himself in your slick heat. Your legs instinctually wrap around his waist allowing him to take more. 

“Joel,” you moan. The angle allows his cock to push farther in and your walls to tighten harder against him. 

“Ooh, you’re so fucking wet, you hear that?” he asks incredulously. The squelch of your pussy soundtracks along to the song quietly playing in the background. “Sounds so fucking good baby.” 

He gasps when buries himself to the hilt, soaking the curly hairs around the base of him with your wet.

Your body trembles as your hips meet his, his cock sliding in and out of your cunt at a brutal pace. 

He takes no time to own you now behind the walls of his home. Your hands clutch at his wide back, sobs and screams of his name echoing out into the air as Neil Young softly sings in the background. 

You’re so full of him. His body surrounding you, his lips against yours, his cock pounding into your accepting cunt, his name chanting out of your mouth. 

“You want it baby?” he growls against your neck, his cock pumping in and out of your hole at a speed no man over fifty should be able to ever reach. “You want my cum?” 

“C-cum Joel,” you cry, tears sprouting from your eyes as your fourth orgasm launches through you. 

He gasps your name, pulling out of your tremorous pussy and shooting thick white ropes of cum across your pussy and stomach. 

His sweat is slick against your overheated body, you’re a mess of sweat, orgasm, and love. 

He kisses you, his tongue licking against yours before he rolls off you. His chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. “Fuck,” he pants, stretching his limbs out. “Gonna feel this tomorrow.” 

“Well, you are another year older, old man,” you tease, curling up next to him. 

“Yeah,” he turns his head to look at you. “I guess I am,” he sighs. “Thank you for–my birthday and–all of this. I can never put into words how much it all means to me.” 

“So I guess you’re still in love with me?” you tease.

“Always. Especially on this harvest moon,” he returns your smile. 

---

Tagging a couple people who had asked about this piece earlier this month: @almostfoxglove, @sawymredfox, @burntheedges, and @littlemisspascal 🩷🌝

[dcvina-claires]

the year is 2006. you’re an avid fan of collegiate exy. kevin day recently transferred from the best team in the league to the worst after breaking his hand in a skiing accident. before the season starts, janie smalls attempts suicide. she’s a fox, so absolutely no one is surprised by this. however, this means that david wymack has to find a new striker. he picks up a neglected, unremarkable kid from millport. for some reason, this mysterious nobody thinks it’s okay to publicly humiliate riko moriyama, king of exy. apparently, neil josten and kevin day talk shit about riko all the time (this confuses you. kevin and riko are supposed to be best friends). not long after, seth gordon dies of an overdose. once again, it’s the foxes, so no one should be surprised, but something is… off. seth was clean, and it didn’t seem likely for him to throw it away. the foxes don’t get anyone to replace him. despite being short a player, they’re performing better than ever before. you don’t want to admit it, but neil josten can probably be credited with a lot of the foxes success. and something is off about that kid, too. he’s a 5’3 brunette with brown eyes, and then suddenly he’s not. he comes back from winter break with red hair and blue eyes, but more interesting than that is the number four tattooed onto his face, marked for the ravens, marked for the perfect court. the normal minyard twin murders someone in cold blood. neil josten is actually nathaniel wesninski. his father, the butcher of baltimore, tortures him and burns his tattoo off. the trojans throw away their shot at winning. kevin covers up his tattoo with a queen chess piece. he’s never been skiing, the theories behind what happened to his hand are endless. jean moreau transfers to the trojans. this isn’t helping with the abuse allegations. despite everything stacked against them, the foxes beat the ravens. the unhinged minyard twin shatters riko’s hand to stop him from murdering the mafia kid on live tv. for some reason, this is riko’s final straw and he kills himself. some people are blaming kevin, andrew, and neil, but you personally believe that it’s a tad bit dramatic to commit suicide after losing one game and breaking a hand. the rest of the ravens don’t seem to agree, as they’re all suddenly in the most fucked up game of “follow the leader” known to man. jean moreau is spotted being escorted from the foxes dorm room a bloody mess, but that’s only the beginning. one of the ravens stabs himself with a letter opener, another steps onto the subway tracks, and a third overdoses. it’s 2007, and you started saying that the ravens were in a cult as a joke, but you don’t know if it’s a joke anymore. you’re seriously starting to consider that your favorite sport was created solely as a front for the mafia

[danmori630]

NEIL BABYGIRL, WHAT DOES HE EAT WITH HIS CREPES?!!?!??

neil babygirl how does aziraphale take his crepes

...orally?

[odetojupiter]

my favourite thing about the perfect court is how they are all parallels of each other - each person could have ended up like one of the others, but they didn’t.

neil could’ve ended up like jean, if his mother hadn’t taken him and run. neil could’ve ended up like riko, if he’d internalised his father’s abuse and tried to earn his affection instead of fearing it. if he’d tried to become someone his father would be proud of - like riko does - he would’ve become heartlessly violent. but he doesn’t.

jean could’ve been like neil, if he’d had just one family member care about him enough to run. he could’ve ended up like kevin, if he’d gone with him when kevin ran. he could’ve been like riko, if he’d taken everything that had been done to him and inflicted it on the world/people around him, but he doesn’t.

kevin could’ve ended up like riko, if he’d twisted tetsuji’s abuse enough to believe that the things he deserved were taken from him. he could’ve ended up like jean, if he’d refused to run after his hand was broken.

riko could’ve ended up like any of them. if an adult had cared about him enough to save him, he could’ve ended up like neil. if he’d hated his father instead of fighting for his attention, or if he internalised the abuse he faced instead of inflicting the same abuse on others, he’d have been more like jean or neil. if he’d accepted his place and decided to fight for the things he did have - exy, kevin - he’d have been more like kevin. but he doesn’t.

yes, their situations are largely shaped by the people around them - riko, jean, and kevin (until he learns about wymack) do not have an adult in their lives that cares about them enough to change their situation. but it’s also their individual responses to their abuse that shapes how they act. i’m not trying to say that people get to choose their trauma response, but it’s important that riko and neil parallel each other because we’re shown the could have beens. it shows you that it really only takes one person to change everything - mary taking neil and running is so so so important for how neil’s character and personality and trauma response turns out.

neil could’ve ended up like riko, but he doesn’t. riko could’ve ended up like neil, but he doesn’t.

[cherrycranes]

Dream Girl (Neil Lewis x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Neil Lewis x Fem!Reader Summary: You're Neil's favorite (and only) camgirl and the girl of his dreams, and he finally has a video call with you. Word count: 3,307 Contents: (Minors DNI). Reader is a camgirl! Needy Neil, cam sex, mutual masturbation, praise kink, fluff! Author's notes: Once again, a collab with @fuckiingloser my beloved. Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. Underneath there's a Neil playlist I made, the pinterest moodboard to help you visualize this fic and something more! ;)

Neil anxiously stared at the computer screen waiting for it to connect. The circular motions of the loading icon toyed with his impatience. This was serious to him. After selling some old valuable tapes from Gumshoe, he had just enough to pay for a private video call with her: his favorite cam girl, his ultimate dream girl, the one he had been dedicated to watching for the last few months.

He had stumbled upon her in his usual search for porn months ago, in one desperate and lonely night. After closing and closing several porn tabs and profiles, finding absolutely nothing that scratched the right spot for him, he saw her. In all her pink, fluffy, girl-next-door-esque glory. He sat there in complete awe, watching her just smile and laugh, chatting to subscribers and also watching her touch herself… Neil loved it all. From her beautiful hair, her beautiful smile, pretty eyes and perfect body… She had taken over every single thought of his. He became completely hooked since. Generously tipping her, subscribing to her only fans and leaving sweet messages since subscribing.

He couldn’t believe it, after months, he had finally gotten the chance to have a one-on-one call with her. Half of his daydreams and fantasies were about the moment he could talk to her and not just write her his usual nice comments online. He nervously fixed his hair on the reflection of the monitor at the thought. Nothing in this world would let him miss this… Not even the cost. Selling a few of his vintage vhs tapes was not a big deal if it meant he got to see her. 

Neil was positively and undeniably obsessed… Not in the stalker way, of course… He was always respectful. He just had a crush, and a deep yearning to have the chance to take her on a date, get to know her, make her laugh at the very least… His dream girl…

Snapping him out of his thoughts, the screen finally blinked on, making him smile softly when he saw his dream girl pop on the screen.

“Hi there, Neil…” You greeted him with your sensual but sweet voice. You quite liked him as a subscriber. You had seen from his profile that he was only a few years older than you, and from his comments you always knew he was nice, but when you finally saw him appear on your screen you were pleasantly impressed. Neil was much cuter than what you expected him to be. His beautiful pale blue eyes, his soft brown curls, his sweet smile… God help you, he was dreamy…

You sat pretty on your pink fluffy duvet cover on your bed, your laptop was propped right in front of you at the perfect angle, showing your body and lovely face. Neil’s reaction to that image was just delicious, his eyes widened and you moved back a little, revealing the tiny see through pink lingerie set you wore…  At his request, of course. 

From the screen you could tell this already had an effect on him, his cock definitely hardening in his pants and his eyes raking all over you through his monitor. Despite being so used to watching you he still felt weak on the knees. 

“H-hi… you look… so beautiful ...” Neil stuttered just so cutely through his big smile, his usual sweetness shining through. Even when he commented in your livestreams or messaged you he was always a total sweetheart. Most of the other comments you received were well… Vulgar and far too descriptive. That is why Neil always stood out to you, the only one who was actually nice, the one who always tuned into your streams, even the ones where you weren’t naked. He just wanted to see you and hear you talk. 

 “Thank you… You’re too sweet..” You purred to him, smiling and turning around on your knees just to let him see the outfit from the back. Your hand slowly and very sensually ran over your body and the delicate pink lace and flower embroidery of your see-through bra and thong. He watched, completely out of breath. The shape of your ass, the way the lingerie did nothing to hide your charms. He felt himself grow harder.

“Wow…” He whispered, almost dizzy. “You’re perfect…”

Words weren’t enough. “Perfect” didn't even cover just how incredible you were to him. Neil LOVED the dainty, girly lingerie sets you always wore, your all-pink girly room, your innocent eyes, your soft voice. You were the perfect girl next door, the embodiment of all his fantasies combined and presented like a goddess in front of him… And now you were his… Even if it was just for the hour. 

Satisfied with his cute reaction, you sat back down on the bed, smiling softly for the camera.

“You’ve got all of me for an hour… Any special requests?” You asked kindly, charmingly. Neil felt his mind turn to mush for a second, just staring at you for a bit before gathering his thoughts enough to answer. 

“Could you touch yourself and moan my name…  Please?” He asked so softly, your lips curled into a smirk.

“Of course, I can do that. Fingers or a toy?” Your tone was slightly flirty but still very sweet.

“A vibrator… the one you always use…” Neil answered right away, not even thinking about it. He knew exactly what he wanted.

“As you wish..” You smiled and leaned off camera for a second to grab the toy that waited ready for you to use.

“This one?” You came back into frame and, with a cheeky smile on your face, held up the realistic pink dick shaped vibrator.

Neil’s eyes widened a bit in recognition and he nodded with a smile, his hand squeezed his hard on over his pants as he took in the sight of you on the screen. You leaned back against your pretty pink pillows and slowly spread your legs. He shifted closer towards the monitor, lured in by you and the way you gently pulled your sheer panties down your legs and tossed them aside, exposing your pretty little pussy.

It obviously wasn’t the first time he’d seen it… But it was the first time that only him got to see it. He groaned, looking at your perfectly waxed lips reverently. How he wished he could just dive into the screen and magically appear in front of you.

“How do I look?” You asked with a pretty smirk, two gentle fingers spreading your lips apart for him to drool for. His breath hitched a bit and he swallowed hard, fighting his own brain for coherent words.

“You look like a goddess…” He said, almost in awe. “Your pussy is so pretty..” 

You smiled sincerely at his compliment before a motion from your thumb turned the vibrator on. The pink toy slowly and teasingly traveled to your clit, and you moaned instantly when it touched it and made it send waves of pleasure through you. You closed your eyes and Neil kept his wide open, your lips curved into a little smirk before you fulfilled his second request:

“Neil… oh baby… feels so good..” You could have killed him with that breathy moan. He couldn’t contain a groan and his hands couldn’t stop themselves from squeezing his aching cock over his pants. 

When you opened your eyes, you looked at your screen, smiling at the sight.

“You can touch yourself if you want… I wanna see you too…” You cooed to him. 

“Really?” Neil asked, obviously very excited at the thought of both of you getting off together, even if it was through the computer. You nodded with a pretty moan, moving the vibrator against you a bit more. He breathed out, your pussy glistened more and more before his eyes, and for a moment, he savored it in his imagination. His hand took his aching hard on out of his pants and scooted his chair back so you could see all of him. 

Quickly, he spat into his hand and wrapped it around his needy cock, gently groaning at the feeling, imagining it was your pussy instead of his hand. He looked up and saw you watching him with those lovely eyes of yours, he gave himself a few slow pumps.

“Mmm, your cock is so big…” You moan softly, biting your lip as you teased yourself with the toy, enticing the gentle strokes he gave himself.

“Big enough for you?” He asked almost desperately as he jerked off. 

You smiled, gently turning the toy off and sliding it between your wet folds, just teasing yourself with it before finally pushing it in. 

“Mmm… Definitely...” You moaned back to him, and he watched in amazement. You gently pushed the tip of the toy inside you, moaning deliciously as you adjusted around it.

“You wish this was your cock, instead?” You asked him seductively, earning an immediate nod from him. 

“God, yes…” He answered quickly. “I'd literally do anything you wanted of me… I’d-I’d worship you…” 

You moaned again, loudly, his words making you push the dildo in deeper and stretch yourself more.

“Worship me?” Your voice came out sensual, slightly affected by the feeling of the pink toy in you. Neil nodded and groaned, pumping his cock a bit faster.

“Yes... I’d love to kiss you, taste you… make you smile… make you come…” He was beautifully desperate, too fucking sweet. You felt your cheeks at the edge of burning, your hand kept moving, you kept fucking yourself with the dildo.

It was inevitable now, his adoring and genuine praises did something to you, to your wet cunt that only got much more wetter. You arched your back and moaned, never once stopping your hand that held the dildo. 

“More..” You whined to him, needing more of his sweet words. His breathing sped up as his hands worked his cock faster. He was dumbfounded for a split second, but he would never deny you anything.

“I'd spend hours eating your pussy if you let me… I just wanna make you come with my tongue…” He added, his voice a little shaky. 

“Oh fuck..” You moaned loudly, feeling so turned on and getting closer, faster than you expected too… You looked at the screen, seeing him stare at you with those beautiful desperate blue eyes. So, you moved the toy back to your clit and turned it up even higher.

“Neil… I'm gonna come..” You warned him with a loud whine that mixed with the buzzing sound of the vibrator. It was so uncommon for you to even reach this stage so fast, but there was something about his sweet voice, his eyes, his praises… They were doing something to you that you weren’t at all used to…

“Please, come for me…” Neil begged softly, his hand sped up around his cock. “I wanna come with you…” He moaned, shutting his pretty eyes and breathing heavily. 

“Yes... Yes!” You cried out loudly, every muscle of your legs trembled viciously and your clit sent overwhelming waves of pleasure to every last nerve you had. The perfect prelude to an intense, looming orgasm. “Neil…” You moaned needy. 

Neil´s baby blue eyes widened even more, watching you in amazement. With a few more vibrations against your sensitive clit, you came undone just for his eyes to enjoy. Your cry of pleasure sent shivers down his spine and harder pumps to his throbbing, aching cock. Oh, he’d do anything to feel that sweet orgasm of yours happen all around him.

“Fuck, me too.. I’m coming too..” He spoke with  a strained voice, looking right at you and keeping eye contact through the screen. His eager hand jacked him off almost in desperation, massaging his hard cock until reaching an intense abrupt stop. Ropes of his thick white come coated his hand as he let out little groans. His dick twitched and pulsed in his palm and he threw his head back for a moment there. Your eyes studied the scene on your laptop screen detailedly, up until the last little bit of his cum dribbled out.

“Fuuuck..” He groaned softly, he then gave you a satisfied smile. “That was fucking amazing..”.

You giggled a little, his voice was hoarse and just so attractive. You couldn’t agree more with him.

For his eyes, you spread your pussy lips again, proudly showing him the aftermath of what he helped you achieve: your lips glistening with your orgasm. He groaned a bit, his mouth nearly watering.

“I wish I could clean you up with my tongue… I’d give anything for a taste…” He whispered desperately. You bit your lip, it was unbelievable just what this sweet guy did to you.

After a few more breaths, you both sat up and angled your cameras back up to your faces. Neil cleaned himself up on camera, a box of tissues ready on his desk.

“Sorry it happened so fast…” You started to apologize, your mind now clearer and aware that you still had a half hour left for the call, but Neil cut you off before you could finish speaking:

“Please… don’t apologize. That was… Everything to me. Besides… I’d love to just talk too, is that okay?…” He muttered softly.

“Yeah, of course, if that’s what you want…” You answered with slight sheepishness at his sweet words. Still, conversation with Neil just flowed… So naturally… 

“You already know what I do for a living…” You said with a little smirk, his cute laughter resonated from your laptop´s speakers. “What do you do for work?” 

“I actually own a small movie rental store… It's called Gumshoe Video. Been my dream since I was a kid, opened up about 5 years ago now, actually.” Neil answered with a genuine smile, proud of himself. 

“Wow, that's awesome.. I actually love movies, especially older romance movies…” You confessed, and he felt butterflies. You were beautiful AND loved old movies? You really were his dream girl after all. 

“Really?” He asked, a little shocked. You giggled gently.

“Yeah, of course… Brief Encounter is one of my favorites.” You looked at his perfect brown curls through the screen as his mouth turned into a grin. 

 “Wow! Yeah, I love that one! I love David Lean.” He agreed, something deep in his chest fluttering. The more you talked, the more you realized you had more in common than either of you would have ever thought. Talking with him was just so easy, so effortlessly. Neil was just as sweet talking face-to-face as he was online.

“Can I ask where you're from?” He said shyly, not knowing if that’s crossing the line or not. Understandable nervousness stirs in you.

“I usually don’t disclose that kind of information to anyone…” You started and received a pleasant little surprise when you saw Neil nodding in acceptance softly. But before he could speak you felt your gut just telling you to say it. “I live in Chicago.” You suddenly blurted out. 

You watched his eyes widen a bit.

“Chicago?” Neil whispered to himself softly. “I-I’m in the Chicago suburbs!” 

Your eyes widened too, the revelation feeling just right. He was so close to you this whole time and you didn’t even know it…

“Wow..” You whispered, a little shocked at the news. “Small world i guess…” You smiled and Neil laughed a bit.

“No kidding.” He agreed. The girl he’s been pining after and thinking about for months… Practically neighbors with him. 

There was an awkward silence for a second as you both processed the information. Finally, he spoke:

“I'd love to possibly take you on a date sometime… If you’d be okay with it, that is… Just want to treat you like a princess... We wouldn’t have to have sex or anything…”  He rambles just so cutely. You really considered it. Butterflies flew in your stomach. Most men only saw you as a sex object, something they could use and move on from. Neil wasn’t that kind of guy, that was obvious. He was kind and thoughtful. You had never even considered ever wanting to meet someone from only fans… Until today… Until Neil. 

Your beautiful glossy lips almost uttered the word “yes”... But suddenly, you decided against it. You felt a little bad when you saw his face fall a bit at your decline, but you had to watch out for yourself. Though he was bummed, he understood.

“Of course, I understand completely… Maybe we could have another private session? I’d really love to talk again…” Neil adapted the goalposts for your comfort, his sweet innocent eyes making you melt. You smiled, and decided to accept. The grin returned to his handsome face.

“I'll have to sell some things but I'll be good…  Maybe next week? Same day and same time?” He said enthusiastically and your smile fell a bit. Guilt crept back on you. He was selling things just to pay to speak to you. No, you wouldn't let this be. 

Despite the fact that it had just been one call, you felt more for him, more than you ever thought you would. You usually had no problem taking men’s money but with him… It just felt wrong. You felt terrible. 

“No, please don’t do that…” You stopped him, he furrowed his brow a bit in confusion. “Next one's on me because I finished so early this time…” It was an excuse, yes, but one that seemed to work well enough so he wouldn't have to sell his possessions just to see you. 

“Really?” He asked softly, seeming a little shocked by your words. “It's really no problem… I don't want to take advantage of you… I know it’s your job…” He whispered, giving you those perfect sweet eyes that made you melt once again.

“Really.” You told him, completely sure of your decision. “I promise” And you reassured him with a soft smile. Neil´s smirk grew. 

“Thank you so much… I'd just like to see you again... Maybe talk more about movies too, hopefully?” he asked softly, gentle excitement in his voice. You blushed a little bit. God, he’s sweet. 

“I'd like that!” You agreed with a soft smile, a casual glance to the time on your laptop made you notice that you had reached a little over an hour on the call. “Well… I'll see you next week then, Neil…Bye bye!” You said softly, looking at him through the screen and giving him a little wave. 

“Goodbye, beautiful…  Sleep well.” Neil said so genuinely it made your heart burst a little. He gave you a soft wave and you smiled in return. The video call finally ended and you let out a deep sigh, feeling all kinds of emotions.

As the call ended on his end and the screen went back to black, Neil smiled to himself, feeling happier and more excited than he has in a long time. Now that he knew he would see you again next week, just like he did tonight… It made him feel like the luckiest man in the world.

He went to bed that night still reeling, replaying it all in his mind over and over. Finally, he set his phone down and settled into bed. A movie played for background noise as he tried to relax, even if the image of your beautiful face kept him awake and so painfully aware of just how much he needed you. It was then when his phone pinged with a notification from his bank:

 $800.00 USD refunded to checking account.

Under it, there was a message reading: 

“I enjoyed myself as much as you did… I’ll see you next week Neil, can’t wait…” 

It was from you. His jaw dropped a bit in disbelief. This was only the beginning…

Pinterest moodboard to help you visualize, made by @fuckiingloser the queen herself!

Neil Lewis playlist made by me!

Part 2... (coming soon) ;)

[les4elliewilliams]

Syrup.

making pancakes with Ellie ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

cw/wc: 3.5k ! loser!ellie, dry humping, fingering + oral (e!receiving), kind of sub!ellie? oilin' her up 'cause pretty girls deserve special treatment. [not really mentioned because I rushed it towards the end.]

!!mdni!!

daily click・palestine masterpost・neil druckmann is a zionist・more daily clicks.

Skipping classes with Ellie usually meant sleeping in and cuddling the whole morning, basking in the soft glow of your favorite movie or TV show. But not when she was ovulating and going feral over you. Ellie was perfect, such a fucking good girlfriend, never pressuring you into anything you didn’t feel like doing—but there were times when all you needed to do was hide from her. Especially when she was ovulating, it was as if she were reliving the raging hormones of puberty all over again.

What kind of girlfriend would you be if you didn’t help your girl when she most needed you? Letting her ride your fingers whenever she needed, her moans filling the room as you praised her sweetly, or letting her sit on your face for an hour straight until her body couldn’t take it anymore and you could barely breathe. You didn’t mind; in fact, you loved it.

She tasted so fucking good, and knowing she had gotten all wet over something as simple as a few words you’d said or some dumb shit she found utterly irresistible—even when you thought it was stupid—only made it better.

That particular morning, she woke up much earlier than you, her body already humming with need. The poor loser tried to wake you up for cuddles before classes, something you usually did daily before parting ways, but you didn’t budge. Her soft whispers and gentle shakes eventually turned into hungry kisses and wandering hands. Her breath was hot against your ear as she murmured how much she needed you, her fingers tracing the curve of your jawline. 

But you still shooed her away, “Five more minutes,” you mumbled, but five minutes turned into an hour and then two. You were so sleep-deprived, burning the midnight oil on your schoolwork, that you wouldn’t even hear your alarm in the morning if it weren’t for Ellie. Patiently, she took time out of her morning to shake you like a cocktail until you finally woke up.

You could hear her sigh and huff, shifting around uncomfortably, perhaps bored. “So, you don’t want cuddles before class?” she asked, her voice tinged with disappointment. But you ignored her, too exhausted to respond. “Fine, whatever,” she muttered, slipping into a slightly pissy mood because you pushed her away every time she wrapped her arms around you and planted soft kisses on your neck to rouse or wake you.

“Ellie,” you grumbled, still half-asleep, “Let me sleep.”

“Wake upppp,” she drawled into the crook of your neck, her warm breath caressing your soft skin. “I wanna cuddle,” she repeated, pouting, though you couldn’t see it because your eyes remained stubbornly closed. Her desperation and neediness grew as she clung to you.

“Nooo—’s too hot for that,” you whined, scooting away from your girlfriend once again.

When you finally woke up on your own and suggested skipping classes together, she was more than excited at the idea. Of course, she didn’t complain. Why would she when she’d get to spend the whole morning with you?

Let’s say she had different intentions from yours. While you just wanted to sleep in and spend the whole day in your cozy apartment to relax, she stayed home with you hoping for morning sex—but she didn’t get it.

“Skip classes? Fuck yeah, I’m in,” she exclaimed excitedly, her arm hooking around your waist to drag you closer to her. “There are maaany more fun things we could do instead...” Her voice shifted from excited to teasingly sultry, her lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Hmm... like what?” you mumbled sleepily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Well, I could give you a massage,” she whispered, planting soft kisses into the crook of your neck, making their way up to your jawline. “Or we could make pancakes.”

She was a little disappointed when you picked pancakes over a massage, but you were so hungry that you didn’t even notice. You padded to the kitchen with her walking closely behind, her green eyes glued to your ass as she let out a sigh. 

She was starving. 

Ellie was usually never that blunt when it came to these kinds of things. You’d usually pick up on her body language, or she’d let you know subtly, always careful not to make you feel pressured. She was a gentlewoman, after all.

“Get the flour and the eggs. I’ll get the rest.” You instructed her quickly, bringing her back to reality and pulling her out of her thoughts. She quietly complied, gathering all the necessary ingredients and placing them on the white countertop in front of her. Meanwhile, you grabbed a bowl from one of the nearby cabinets.

“Okay,” You scooped up a handful of the fine white powder, your fingers brushing against the cool, smooth surface as you measured the exact amount needed. The powdery substance was light and fluffy, and its scent was faintly sweet as you poured it into the bowl. “Dry ingredients first,” you said out loud, mostly speaking to yourself. 

You’ve always been terrible in the kitchen, managing to burn everything you touched or getting the ingredients completely wrong. Thankfully, Ellie had been there to help you improve over the years, guiding you through the basics and teaching you little tricks to make your cooking less disastrous. 

“Mhm,” she hummed back almost proudly. You could feel her presence lingering behind you, her breath warm against your neck. Her hands rested on your hips, fingers tracing small, lazy circles. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, each touch sending a shiver down your spine. You could sense her frustration; her body pressed a little closer, making her need evident in every movement. 

You started by pouring the powders into the bowl, but as you did, she began to tease you, planting soft, innocent kisses on all your sweet spots, making your breath hitch each time her lips met your skin. 

“And then we add the wet ones…” 

“Yeah, I know, I remember,” you said casually, trying to focus on mixing the different powders in the bowl. But Ellie’s attentions made concentrating difficult, her teasing kisses and soft touches getting the desired effect; she knew what she was doing.

“Can’t wait to taste your syrup on my tongue.” Her whispered words made your breath catch in your throat, and your stirring motions slowed in response. Her mouth was right by your ear, her breath warm and teasing against your flesh. 

“Ellie.” With a frustrated huff, you scolded her, your wispy brows furrowing together as you tried to appear stern. You could feel her lips twitching in satisfaction at your reaction against your epidermis.

“What?” she asked, her voice full of false innocence. She pulled away from your neck, resting her chin on your shoulder as she watched you work on the pancake mix. “I meant the syrup that comes with pancakes.” Her voice shifted back to its usual playful tone as she spoke, her words casual and light-hearted. Her hands rested gently on your hips as she leaned against you from behind.

“Yeah, obviously.” You responded sarcastically, rolling your eyes at her comment. But you couldn’t help but suppress a small smirk that threatened to form on your face, grateful she couldn’t see your expression.

“We’ve gotta mix the dry and wet together, and then we’ve got the perfect…consistency,” The last word was an alluring melody whispered directly into your ear, her soft lips brushing against your neck ever so gently. One of her arms moved from your waist, her fingers trailing softly along your arm until they wrapped around the handle of the whisk in your hand, bringing your motion to a halt.

More kisses were pressed to the side of your neck, making you tilt your head to give her better access. Her tattooed arm was still wrapped around your waist, holding you close and rocking you slightly from side to side.

“Hmm—you’re distracting me.” You couldn’t help but sigh softly, surrendering to her damp smooches and touches. Despite your best efforts to maintain your composure, you felt your body melt like butter against hers, your muscles relaxing in response to her gentle ministrations.

“Still want to make pancakes instead of getting that massage? ’m good with my hands, y’know.” Her husky voice was like silk in your ear, rich and smooth. Every word that left her lips was soothing and comforting, her tone gentle and seductive, making your heart skip a beat. “You might need my touch more than you think…” Her hips ground gently against the plushness of your ass, a subtle motion that made your clit twitch. 

You could feel the heat of her body pressing against you from behind as she continued to kiss and nibble on your neck. The sensation was soothing and arousing, making you lean into her embrace, your eyes closing blissfully as you surrendered to her attention. Lost in her kisses and nibbles on your neck, you suddenly remembered the pancakes you were mixing,

The whisk still clutched in your hand. With a reluctant huff, you shook yourself back to reality, forcing yourself out of the trance she had put you in.

“You’re such a fucking horndog.” you jokingly chided her, swatting at her hand as it crept toward your chest, but truth be told, you loved the attention. It was comforting knowing how much she wanted you, how much she needed you.

“Like you’re any better,” She let out an exaggerated scoff, her hand returned to your waist, joining the other one. 

You added eggs and milk, intently stirring and mixing the pancake batter, when you suddenly felt her grind against you again. The sensation sent a thrill through you, and almost instinctively, you pushed your ass slightly into her, making her breath hitch.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, her hands gripping your hips as she guided your ass against her crotch.

“We’re supposed to be making pancakes,” you mumbled incoherently, letting her use your body to get off.

Ellie’s hands roamed your body with a growing urgency, her touch both gentle and demanding. She pressed herself closer, her breath hot against the back of your neck, the mixing bowl almost forgotten in your hands.

“But you feel so good,” she whispered, her voice low and husky, sending waves of desire coursing through your very core. Her lips brushed against your ear, planting soft kisses along your jawline, her fingers tracing the curve of your waist. “And I’m hungry for something else,” she purred, her cold hands slipping under your shirt, her touch making your nipples harden almost immediately. She moved against you, her hips creating a rhythm that left you yearning for more.

Despite your best efforts to focus on the bowl in your hands, you found yourself pressing into her embrace, “Ellie,” you uttered, barely recognizing your own voice, “we should really  finish making breakfast.”

She scoffed, her voice tinged with a playful defensiveness. “You’re the one pushing your butt into me like a cat in heat!” Her breath was already starting to come in labored gasps. Her cheeks were a beautiful sight, flushed with a delicate rosy pink hue that complemented her complexion, although hidden from your view.

“That’s because you sound pretty,” you argued with a pout on your face, making her whimper at your words. She was so sensitive it was ridiculous; she could feel herself getting wetter with each passing moment, the dampness in her boxers becoming impossible to ignore. Your ass pushed into her again, intensifying her need.

“And I’m the distracting one?” she quipped, her breath catching. “God, you’re just as distracting.” She added, her head dropping onto your shoulder as she continued to roll her hips against you, her hands squeezing your boobs from underneath her your shirt.

You snorted at her words and at the whole situation, finding it amusing. “What’s gotten into you today? You woke up horny or something?” you taunted her, your voice dripping with sarcasm, though the answer was obvious.

“You’ve got me all riled up,” she mumbled softly, a groan slipping past her plump lips. Her rough hands pushed your ass further into her as she began to suck purple marks on your neck, her eyes closing as her movements became more desperate and rushed.

“You’re a fucking loser, El,” you teased her, yet still letting her do as she pleased with your body. 

Her whimpers turned into soft mewls as she ground against you, the friction sending jolts through her and making your pussy ache agonizingly. Her breath felt like the sea breeze against your skin; her soft lips left a trail of moist, open-mouthed kisses along your neck. She was losing herself in the moment, her body responding to every push and pull, every tease and taunt. Ellie’s hands roamed all over your body, her fingers digging into your flesh as if she couldn’t get enough of you.

“Need you right here, baby.” She uttered as she guided your hips, her breath hot and ragged as she pressed her forehead against your shoulder. The fabric of her boxers clung to her wet folds, every movement making the dampness more pronounced. It was as if her walls were pulsing your name in Morse code, each beat a desperate plea for you, for your fingers. “God… feels so good.” her voice barely a whisper.

“Does it?” Her hands gripped your hips, guiding you with a desperate urgency that made your pulse race and your head spin. The smooth and unyielding countertop offered a reassuring stability for the both of you as you leaned into it, your fingers splayed wide, seeking purchase on the slick surface. Her movements were frantic. The dampness of her boxers pressed against your unfortunately still-clothed ass, and you could feel your own slickness seeping through. 

“Yeah… so… so good,” she breathed out, humping against the fat of your butt as she held you tightly in place, afraid that you might vanish at any moment. “My brain stops working around you.” You could feel her body tensing against you, her movements becoming more erratic and rushed as her orgasm approached.

“Does that little brain of yours ever work?” you shot back, a sly smirk playing on your lips—one she couldn’t see, but knowing you, she could sense it. She hated how easily you could turn her into this desperate, needy creature, and she hated even more how you always made fun of her when she got this weak for you.

“I swear to-” She released a frustrated huff, her voice strained and tinged with annoyance as she spoke through clenched teeth. Her nails dig into the soft skin of your hips, leaving imprints of crescent moons behind.

Her reaction only fueled your playful cruelty. “Aww… what? Is my baby mad?” you crooned, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. “So fucking pathetic.” you hissed.

“Shut up,” she muttered quietly, her voice low and uneven, her clit throbbing madly at each word that came out of your mouth, “I’m-’m close,” she whimpered into your ear, burying her face between your neck and shoulder, feeling the cold tip of her freckled nose press against your skin.

“That’s it? Gonna cum in your boxers from a little friction?” you chuckled, her grasp tightening on your hips, your eyes darting to the bowl of pancake batter, lying there, forgotten and abandoned.

At your small chuckle, her head rose from your shoulder, and she shot you a look that you would’ve missed if you hadn’t turned your head ever so slightly at her sudden shift in position. She gazed intently at you, her brows drawn together in a slight frown. Her mesmerizing green crystalline eyes seemed unusually dark, while a rosy flush adorned her face.

“What are you… what are you gonna do about it?” A valiant effort was made to gather her composure, but her attempts were in vain as she struggled to stifle the whimpers that involuntarily slipped from her trembling lips. The muscles in her abdomen tensed beneath the gentle fabric of the oversized shirt.

“Hmm… I could move and not let you finish.”

Ellie let out a shaky exhale at your playful threat, her pace becoming desperate, and she could feel her legs starting to give up. “Don’t you dare,” she warned, trying to sound intimidating.

You smirked at her words and slowly moved away from her grasp, making her whine like a lost puppy.

“No, no, no,” she repeated frantically, her mind and body instantly going into panic mode as she reached for your arm again, yanking your body back against her. “Please, please, I’m so sorry. So sorry,” she muttered out a series of apologies and sweet nothings, kissing your neck pleadingly, trying to get what she wanted.

You clicked your tongue and shook your head, a taunting chuckle slipping away as you edged just out of reach of your girlfriend’s frantic kisses. Her kisses, fervent and pleading, missed their mark, and you couldn’t help but enjoy the power you held over her at that moment. You had her wrapped around your fingers when all she wanted was to ride your fingers. 

“Only good girls get to cum,” she groaned at your words, “Now, how ’bout you help me make pancakes?” Your question was accompanied by a lively and playful tone, which starkly contrasted her frustrated mood. Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you gazed at her, fully aware of the turmoil you were causing within her and enjoying every second of it. She was desperate for touch, for release, but you denied it to her. So fucking cruel.

Ellie looked at you through dark, full lashes, her face a canvas of desperate need, adorned with a constellation of freckles that dusted her pale skin. “Whatever, be that way,” She grumbled and scowled as she moved out of your personal space, giving you attitude.

“Get to work, slave,” You joked, watching her saunter over to the stove. She turned the fire on, her movements smooth and practiced as she reached for the pan, the soft clatter of metal on metal filling the kitchen. As she poured some oil, its golden stream glistening in the morning light, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to what was to come.

In your mind’s eye, you saw her back on your bed, her skin slick and glistening, her breath coming in quick, heated pants as she begged you to fuck her hard, just as she needed.

The thought of her beneath you, oiled up and ready for you, brought a sly grin to your face and a flutter in your pussy stomach.

Breakfast was just the beginning, after all.

She gave you a constant onslaught of attitude throughout the breakfast. She pouted and glowered, her sour mood a bitter blend of disappointment and indignation. Occasionally, she huffed or muttered something under her breath, her annoyance growing with each passing moment. She gobbled down the fluffy pancakes as she shot you glares. Poor thing, all flustered and needy, sitting there, denied of something she craved so desperately.

It was more than obvious that you would satisfy her urgent needs right after satisfying your own appetite. After all, you were starving and would need all the energy you could get for the intense workout in store for the two of you. 

You pulled as many moans and gasps from her as you could, your manicured nails slipping on the soft, slippery skin of her thighs as you eagerly lapped at her folds.

You kept taking and taking, relentless and insatiable. Ellie was a fucked-out mess, babbling nonsense as she teetered on the edge of yet another release. You were fucking her dumb, and you weren’t even close to being finished with her.

“Another one, Els. C’mon, be a good girl for me,” you pleaded with a breathy voice, coaxing her with every word until she gave you precisely what you wanted. She was that good of a slut for you, and you loved every second of it. 

“I know, babe,” you cooed sweetly, your fingers knuckles-deep inside her, her moist and abused walls pulsing around them.

She was a whiny mess, squirming so much that you had to pin her down, her teeth harshly biting her bottom lip, her green eyes teary from the overwhelming pleasure you were giving her. “I know, I know- but it’s gonna make you feel better,” you murmured, knowing her mind was too far gone to focus on your words.

“Just need to cum on my fingers, ’s all.” and all she needed to do was just lay there and take it. Take what she had wished for the whole morning like a needy brat.

Only after about ten orgasms did you decide it was time to let your poor girlfriend recover. Her skin was flushed, and a fine sheen of sweat glistened in the golden light that tiptoed through the window, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Her whole body trembled like a leaf, and the sheets beneath her were damp, ready to be thrown into the washing machine. Your thumb trailed down her happy auburn trail, her bush glistening with her own juices; her pearlescent sweetness dripping down onto the mattress, just like syrup.

daily click・palestine masterpost・neil druckmann is a zionist・more daily clicks.

[carry-a-world]

I take your medic and raise you: Aaron becomes the orthopedic surgeon associated with their pro team. Football teams have them so why shouldn’t exy teams am I right?

i know it's been pretty unanimously decided (and confirmed by nora) that aaron leaves exy and becomes a doctor after palmetto but like. could you imagine if he ended up as the medic for neil and andrew's pro team

cause the comedic potential there is too good to ignore

[mypoisonedvine]

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

title comes from the song you already know by bombay bicycle club

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you've been best friends with neil basically your entire life, and secretly in love with him almost as long. will you ever find the courage to tell him the truth?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 10k

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

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | alcohol consumption, 'kid' as a petname, reader being kind of a femcel, jonathan being kind of mvp??

Neil had asked you to make sure the Thriller section was alphabetized; sometimes you thought he was just giving you tasks to look busy, but then again, you could probably use it since the employees of Gumshoe Video never looked very busy.  You spent most of the day on the couches, watching whatever old bizarre gem Neil put on— sometimes you thought he only had employees other than himself so that he could pay people to sit here and watch this stuff with him.  

But, the point is, you were sorting tapes.  Because everyone needs their VHS thriller movies to be in perfect alphabetical order.

There actually was a customer in the store, for once, so it was better not to be on the couch anyhow.  You hadn’t really noticed him when he came in, but as he wandered around the shelves, he seemed to drift towards you.  

You tried to ignore him when he stopped right beside you— and kneeling to look at the lowest shelf, he towered over you— but when you stood up he got your attention.  

"Need any help, sweetheart?" he asked, leaning in a little too close.  "I'm kind of a movie buff."

He had a frat guy kind of look about him— polo, boat shoes, quaffed blonde hair.  He could be good-looking, you thought, if he didn’t dress like a discount Abercrombie model… and if he didn’t hit on random women at the video store.  "I actually work here," you corrected, barely looking up from your task.  This is why we need uniforms instead of just dressing up to promote specials…

"Oh, really?" he smirked.  "What made you wanna work in a place like this?"

"My best friend owns the place," you explained, "and I'm, you know… kind of a movie buff."

"Right," he said, not seeming convinced.  "You like Kubrick?"

You rolled your eyes so hard you almost choked: Wow, what a deep cut.  But you kept a straight-ish face when you looked at him.  "Yeah, he's pretty good.  Don't care for how he treats his actors, but he was certainly a visionary."

"What are your top five favorite Kubrick movies?"

You knew this guy was a tool, but you were still a bit shocked that he actually had the gall to quiz you.  "Excuse me?" you scoffed incredulously.

"Can you even name five?" he asked, looking horribly proud of himself, and you straightened up as you glared at him.

"You're heterosexual, right?" you asked him, getting a confused nod.  "Can you name five women you've made come?"

Neil watched the guy storm out, Lucien cringed a bit from behind the register— and Jonathan, not seeming as if he had been paying attention at all, kept laying across the couch and tossing a ball up in the air to catch and throw again.

“Okay, that’s gotta be the third this week,” Lucien groaned.  “What are you saying to these guys?”

“Nothing worse than what they’re saying to me,” you assured with a frustrated, sarcastic smile.

“Listen, don’t get me wrong,” Neil began, “that guy totally deserved it— but maybe, you know… work on your demeanor with customers?”

“Wow,” you scoffed as you crossed your arms, “do you think I should smile more, too?”

“Wha— no!” Neil denied.  

“Yes,” Lucien said at the same time, though he changed his answer with an awkward cough and mumble when you both shot him a look.  “No, no— you’re good— you smile too much, even…”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Neil promised.  “But I think half the guys that come here are just coming here to see you!  Nobody even rents movies anymore.”  He groaned a little, dropping his shoulders defeatedly.  “Can’t you… tell them you’ll go out with them if they rent something?”

“What?!” you squeaked. “No!”

“Sales would double,” Lucien nodded.

“No,” you said again.  “I’m not letting you pimp me out to sell tapes, Neil.”

“I just mean— maybe you don’t really go out with them,” he suggested.  “Just… allude to the fact that you’re only interested in guys who…”

He trailed off as he searched around the shelves for a bit, smiling when he snagged a copy of The Maltese Falcon.

“— in guys who like The Maltese Falcon,” he grinned, “you know— for example.  Then they rent it to impress you and we make a few bucks.”

“I am only interested in guys who like The Maltese Falcon,” you frowned, snatching the tape away and shoving it back on the shelf.  “But that’s not the point.”

“Maybe you have to be more straightforward, you know,” Jonathan butted in as he sat up, “guys are dumb.”

“Yeah!” Neil agreed a little too easily.

“Just say something about how a massive VHS collection turns you on,” Lucien suggested, and you glared at him.

“Jesus!” you protested, but Neil tried to soothe you a bit.

"C'mon, kid, can't you just… flirt a little?  Get our sales up?"

He'd started calling you kid since you two watched Casablanca together— which was especially stupid as you were both twelve at the time.  At first you complained because he shouldn't be calling you kid with you both being kids; then you complained because neither of you were kids; and then you gave up.  You still punched Lucien for trying to call you that once… you only barely let Neil get away with it anyways.

But you let Neil get away with a lot.  It was a side effect of being secretly, but massively, in love with him.

It had been an issue since middle school— that was when the two of you became such good friends.  Technically, you’d known each other since first grade (where you had shared your crayons, a true test of friendship at the time), and you’d sort of had a crush on him as early as elementary school (mainly because he was the only boy you could stand at the time), but it all kicked into high gear in seventh grade.  That was when you became inseparable, when you got in trouble together, when you stayed up all night watching movies, when you went through all of life’s ups and downs together: you even went to prom together, platonically of course.  

As for your feelings, you’d managed to hide them this long and still be his best friend, even when it sometimes felt like letting him stomp all over your heart without even trying.  Honestly, the only thing harder than being in love with Neil was trying not to be in love with Neil: you adored his sense of humor, his generosity, his sensitivity— and he’d been there for you through the things you couldn’t have imagined surviving alone.  That kinda stuff bonds you to somebody… and when that somebody has the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever seen, it’s hard not to fall in love.

“Maybe I would flirt if I knew how,” you offered.  “But I’m not exactly, you know, flirty.”

“How hard could it be?” Jonathan interjected.  “Just, you know—”

You stared in quiet disbelief as Jonathan attempted to push his chest together with his arms.  It wasn’t quite working, of course, and the rest of you watched on as he fumbled around trying to force some cleavage.  “You look like an idiot,” you finally informed him after letting him do it for a minute.

“But is he wrong?” Lucien wondered.

“So, what, you guys really think that if I just went up to customers and—” you pushed your breasts together with your arms, accentuating them significantly in your tank top.

“That would work,” all three men asserted in unison before you could even finish.

“I fucking hate you guys,” you grumbled under your breath as you walked to the back, deciding to take your break in Neil’s office until these guys got their act together.

You never stayed gone for long, though— as idiotic as they could be, your friends were certainly charming.  They won you back with a promise to let you pick what tape to put on, and the four of you ended up laying on the couches watching Roman Holiday.  

When the movie was almost over, you rested your head on Neil’s shoulder; you guys did stuff like that, it was normal for you, but it always made your heart skip anyways.

~

This time, you were all hanging out at Jonathan’s primary workplace: the club.  In fact, it was a much larger crowd than just you and the guys— plenty of your local friends and loyal supporters of Gumshoe Video, all sitting around a big table while someone’s mediocre cover band took the stage.

"So, uh, me and Denise broke up," Neil said suddenly, going back in for another swig of beer right after.

The others offered their mild shock and half-hearted condolences, but you knew it was going to happen— he'd told you before he did it.  You tried to tell him that paying off a waiter to spill water on her was a weird way to prove what he already knew, but you couldn't disagree with his conclusion.  She was definitely difficult, and shockingly judgemental for someone who managed to date a video store owner for this long.

“No, it’s fine, it’s fine,” he promised, “I don’t think anybody’s too surprised, right?”

There was an awkward hesitation among the group as they wondered if they should lie, or just fess up now that he was obviously accurate.  You broke the silence to suggest someone go get another round of drinks for the table, and even though that was pretty much a one-man job, nearly everyone agreed and quickly shuffled off— leaving just you, Neil, and Lucien.

“I guess tonight’s your chance to meet somebody new, don’t you think?” Lucien suggested.  “Get over Denise, you know.”

“I think I’m already over Denise,” Neil decided.

“And if I told you that girl back there,” Lucien returned, pointing with the hand still holding his drink, “has been looking over here at you for the past ten minutes?”

You glanced where Lucien was pointing as well, seeing a girl in a denim mini skirt and massive hoop earrings settle her eyes on Neil before looking away quickly with a lip-gloss lacquered smile.

“I think I need some help getting over Denise,” Neil agreed suddenly, patting Lucien on the back before he left the table.  

You wanted to pout, but you were used to this— he was good-looking, he got a lot of attention from women in places like this… it usually didn’t work out for him, though.  Certainly not never, probably more often than most guys, but… definitely not every time.

You tried not to look over too much, you didn’t want to get caught spying or, even worse, looking a little jealous— but you noticed that every time you looked over at them, Neil was talking.  That was his problem, see: he never fucking shuts up.  Guys, girls, anybody who will listen— if you admit to not knowing about his favorite fifty-year-old spaghetti western or the most recent pre-Code horror comedy he watched, he’ll gladly blab to you about it for ages.  The first time you glanced at them, you saw her giving him doe eyes, laughing at something he said— and the last time, those eyes had glazed over and her laugh seemed more nervous and confused; you smirked to yourself.  He’s still Neil…

“So, um,” you struck up a conversation with Lucien, “what about you?  Anybody here catching your eye?”

“That’s actually the perfect descriptor of my type,” he replied.  “Anybody.”

You snorted.  “Then you should go, you know, talk to anybody?”

He shrugged and frowned a bit, and it was a simple movement but you understood completely.

The band started to play a new song, something upbeat and energetic, and you smiled.  “Wanna dance with me?”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m drunk enough for that—” Lucien began to protest, but a minute later you were dragging him up by the stage.  Neither of you were actually any good at dancing, mainly you were just kind of jumping and flailing around together, but it was fun and that was the point.

Eventually, more of your friends wandered in to join you; when the song ended, everyone clapped and cheered, the band bowing in gratitude.  You only stole one more look over at Neil and his conversation partner, watching her interrupt his rant with a hand on his shoulder: your throat felt a little dry.  You just hoped what she was saying was more like hey, my friends are leaving, I’ve gotta go and not hey, wanna come over to my place so you can keep explaining German expressionism to me?

Your heart dropped when he reached for her— what if he kissed her now?  What if he wrapped her up under his arm and they walked out together?  What if you had to spend the whole night thinking about him having sex with her?

“Hey, we should ask them if they know any Strokes songs!” Lucien suggested, tugging on your arm to get your attention, but your mind was elsewhere.

“Uh huh, yeah,” you mumbled blankly, and he frowned at you.

“What’s going on?” he asked, trying to look for what you were seeing; but Neil wasn’t reaching for her, he was lifting his hand to wave goodbye as she left.  You beamed, even though you did feel a little bad when you saw Neil’s shoulders sink— it’s not that you wanted him to be alone forever, you were just relieved that you might have a few more moments to breathe before he got with somebody again.

“Nothing, sorry,” you answered Lucien, giving him your attention again.  “What’d you say?”

“We should ask the band if they—”

And immediately, Lucien lost your focus as you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at Neil again— he was already looking at you, seeing you all on the dancefloor.  You waved for him to join you, and he smiled as he made his way towards the stage.  A new song began, even louder than the last, and you could blame that for not hearing Lucien’s question for the second time in a row.

Although he danced with you all for a few moments, Neil draped his arms over your and Lucien’s shoulders, nearly yelling to be heard over the music.

“You guys are coming over tonight for a movie, right?” he presumed.  “Jonathan’s working ‘til late so he’s out, but—”

“Sorry, I’ve gotta be up early,” Lucien explained, “my brother and his wife are visiting, remember?  We’re getting brunch and—”

“Whatever, party pooper,” Neil frowned, before suddenly smiling at you.  “Guess it’s just me and you, huh, kid?”

You tried not to sigh too noticeably through your smile.  “Yeah, me and you…” you agreed.

~

As you groggily blinked your eyes open, you found Neil staring at you, his face uncomfortably close to yours, with a big smile.  “Mornin’, kid,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

You yelped and nearly jumped out of your skin while he laughed.  “Jesus Christ, Neil!” you shouted, kicking off the blanket on you— and then you began to process where you were and why.  “God,” you groaned as you held your head in your hands, while Neil kept laughing at you, “did I fall asleep on the couch again?”

It was sort of a rhetorical question— obviously you had, it would be much stranger if you woke up on the video store couch without having fallen asleep there.  “Yeah,” he said, standing up and sighing a bit, “but you didn’t miss that much of the movie.”

“What happened at the end?” you asked, stretching your legs and snatching the blanket off the floor to fold up; Neil must have put it on you after you dozed off.

“No, we can finish it later,” he decided, walking up to the register, and you groaned.

“Seriously?  Not even falling asleep gets me out of finishing The Man Who Laughs?”

He smiled a little as he started prepping the store for open.  “Nope,” he said proudly, popping his lips on the p sound.

“It’s not that I didn’t like it,” you assured, getting up and trying to ignore the soreness in your back from sleeping on a ratty old sofa all night— you remembered helping Neil carry this thing from where he found it on the side of the road.  Considering you knew where it came from, it was a wonder you ever sat on it, let alone slept on it… but this happened relatively often.  Sometimes it almost felt like you slept easier here or at Neil’s apartment than your own. 

You stood up and stretched your arms, sparing a glance over at him.

“Can I run home and change?” you asked, and he frowned.  

“We open in ten minutes,” he noticed, “you won’t be back in time.”

“Yes, and who will serve the clamoring crowds that await our open outside?” you rolled your eyes, gesturing out the storefront to the abandoned sidewalk.  “You can handle it on your own.”

“Just go to my place,” he shrugged, “it’s closer.  And I think you left some jeans there anyway.”

Right— you’d borrowed a pair of his sweats to get comfy for a movie night, and forgot to take the jeans back when you left.  You yourself had one of Neil’s short-sleeve button-ups at your place, when you’d both changed there for a costume party, but you let him believe it was just lost… it was too late to tell him now that you had it, ‘cause then he might ask why you kept it so long and then he might, somehow, deduce that you had been cuddling it at night from time to time…

“Right, okay,” you nodded, “but I still need a shirt.”

“Just borrow one of mine,” he said, like it was no big deal at all and didn’t make your heart skip.

For a second you wondered if you should protest— if he was still dating Denise, you probably would’ve said something.  But you decided not to say anything, in case he changed his mind; you nearly bolted out of the store and down the two blocks to his apartment.

Your jeans were on the dresser, draped haphazardly in their same just-peeled-off shape you must have left them in last week.  You grumbled to yourself a little about how he could’ve folded them for you so they wouldn’t be wrinkled… but then again, all his jeans were wrinkled, so he clearly didn’t know any better.

And now the fun part: picking a shirt.  You smiled to yourself as you opened the drawer, perusing through t-shirts with old movie posters and semi-witty slogans… cute, sure, but those were pretty similar to what you already wore.  

But the button-downs?  Those were quintessential Neil, and you'd be wasting an opportunity if you didn't put one of those on.

You felt a little giddy as you opened the next drawer down and found them all folded.  The first one you saw had light blue and white stripes, so you snatched it up and slipped it on.

The fit was definitely off, but you let yourself indulge in a fantasy for a moment: waking up here, in Neil's bed… in Neil's arms.  You'd slip on his shirt while you went to find some breakfast, and he'd hum something about how pretty you look in his clothes, and you'd end up tangled in the sheets again not too much later.  

Sighing to yourself, you buttoned the last button, leaving the two at the top undone so you didn't look too formal, and headed back to the store for opening.

Neil stared at you for a second when you walked in— at the shirt, specifically.  You waited for him to say something, but he didn't.  "What, should I not wear this one?" you asked, looking down at it as well, and he shook his head.

"No, no, it's fine— sorry," he mumbled, "just start sorting out last night's returns, please."

You definitely got a much stronger reaction from Jonathan, as soon as he walked in the door.

(Why was he here when he wasn't even working today?  Who knows— he was just always here somehow.)

“Hey!  You look even more like a lesbian than usual,” Jonathan greeted with a peppy fake-smile as he approached you, and you smirked a bit.

“Don’t blame me, it’s his shirt,” you nodded towards Neil.

“See, I told you you dress like a— wait,” Jonathan stopped mid-insult, looking back at you, then at Neil again, then at you; he pointed his fingers at each of you, crossing them back and forth.  “Did… you two…?”

You narrowed your eyes, waiting for him to explain what he meant.

“Did you guys hook up?!” Jonathan accused, wide-eyed.

You felt your face getting warm, and you stammered out your denial; Neil started waving his hands in disagreement as well, but Jonathan was already on a roll.

“Oh my god!” he yelped.  “The one time I miss movie night here and it gets freaky!  Should’ve known better than to leave you two lovebirds alone—”

“Jonathan, we didn’t—” you choked.

“It’s not— it wasn’t—” Neil butted in.  “She just borrowed my shirt!  ‘Cause she— because—”

“I mean, we’ve kinda all been waiting for this to happen— but I never really thought it would,” Jonathan steamrolled along.  “Well, yeah, I guess I thought it would, I just—”

“Wait wait wait, what?” Neil shook his head, stepping up closer to the two of you.  “What does that mean?”

Finally, he seemed to get Jonathan’s attention, who began to nervously backtrack as both of you stared at him.  “W-well, I just mean—” he started.

“And who’s ‘we all’?” Neil noticed.  “This isn’t just you, thinking this?”

“I… I mean,” Jonathan scoffed, “you know— just, just some people… we thought that maybe… that since you two are so close, that you might—”

“Wow,” Neil chuckled, crossing his arms in disappointment.  “You know, that’s so reductive.  For a bunch of progressive, free-thinking hipsters—” he waved his hands as he said it in a mocking way— “you’re really just, like… like… you know, not!  ‘Cause apparently men and women can’t really be friends?”

“No, come on, not like that,” Jonathan denied, “of course we can—”

“I mean, you’re her friend, you’re both single,” Neil noticed, gesturing between the two of you, “why don’t you two, just, you know… hook up!”

You cringed a little as Jonathan tugged at his collar nervously.  “Well, I—”

“Come on, why not?” Neil went on, smiling at the suggestion even though he was clearly unamused.  “I mean, she’s nice, she’s pretty, she’s got a vagina— why don’t you hit on her?”

“Hey, come on, Neil,” Jonathan sighed, “I’m well aware she’s got a vagina—”

“So what’s the problem?” Neil insisted.  “Clearly you can’t just be friends with someone with a vagina—”

“I would really prefer if we didn’t talk about my vagina anymore,” you mumbled nervously.

“— how come you never hit on her, Jonny?” Neil pressed, backing him into a corner metaphorically— but also somewhat literally, he was leaning in and Jonathan was pressing his back more and more against the shelves.

“You really want me to answer that?” Jonathan replied, almost threatening.  That made you furrow your brow a bit.  It seemed like a rhetorical question, Neil trying to prove a point, but you didn’t expect Jonathan to have a literal answer.

“Yeah, sure,” Neil decided, “enlighten us.”

Neil glanced at you, like you were just as gung-ho about this interrogation, but you were feeling a little sick.  You understood the spirit of Neil’s argument— and technically, you agreed with him— but it still stung to see him so incensed at the suggestion of you two together.  You were trying not to take it personally, it wasn’t like he was disgusted by you or anything… he even said just now that you were pretty, and he’d told you that before, but… it still bothered you a little, for reasons you couldn’t quite describe and that you were sure were illogical.

“I never hit on her,” Jonathan answered, lowering his voice, “because I… I figured it would piss you off.”

That seemed to surprise you both, maybe for different reasons; you bit your lip to suppress a smile.  Did Jonathan really think Neil was that protective over you?  “Why would it piss me off?” Neil wondered, but he sounded a little defensive— defensive in a caught-red-handed sort of way.

“I… I don’t know,” Jonathan shrugged.  “That’s just the vibe I got, okay?  That she’s sorta… off-limits.”

Neil hesitated.  “Well… she’s not,” he decided.  “You’re grown-ups.  Whatever you wanna do is none of my business— as long as you’re not being, you know, creepy or an asshole.”

“Of course,” Jonathan agreed, most of the tension settling as Neil backed up a step.

“Okay, well, ask her out then,” Neil instructed firmly.

“I didn’t say I wanted to!” Jonathan sputtered.

“Neil, Jesus!” you complained simultaneously, and he seemed to relent, shrugging as he walked back to the register.

“Sorry, sorry,” he dismissed, “just letting you know it’s… fine with me!”

You rolled your eyes a bit and looked back at Jonathan.  “Sorry,” you offered him quietly, “he’s… I don’t know.  He gets weird about that.”

“Oh really?” Jonathan scoffed sarcastically.  “Didn’t notice.”

“The real reason you shouldn’t be hitting on me is because we’re coworkers, by the way,” you reminded him.

“Hey, I only work here part-time,” Jonathan noticed, “so I think that means it’s cool as long as we only go out part-time.”

You snorted, but he seemed to get nervous.

“You know I’m kidding, right?” he added quickly, and you nodded with a laugh.

~

"You know, I was thinking— we don't have many events at the store these days,” Neil mumbled around a bite of pretzel, watching you play your turn at Skee Ball.  Normally he would put coins in the machine beside yours and try to beat your score, but the other machine was out of order and you decided to take a relay race approach.  “What if we did, like, I don’t know… maybe a double feature for a couple bucks?”

“Neil, we show movies every night,” you sighed, “and we invite everybody, and ninety-nine percent of the time it’s just some combination of me, you, Jonathan, and Lucien.”

“Yeah, but this time we could do movies that more people like— a little easier to watch,” he suggested, “something that would get new people in the store.”

“New people don’t wanna sit on a musty old couch with strangers,” you reminded him, and he nodded as he chewed and swallowed his next bite.

“You’re right,” he agreed, holding the pretzel out towards you.  “Wanna bite?”

You were trying to get through your skee balls pretty quick, so you just leaned your head over and chomped down on the end of one of the twists while he held it for you.  You hummed in appreciation— it was pretty good, fresher than the last one you guys got here.

Visits to the arcade used to be your thing, back in high school (aside from watching movies, but that was a given).  Then you slowed down with the trips, feeling a little old and out of place surrounded by kids— but the problem was, this place wasn’t filled with kids anymore.  It hadn’t changed much at all since you were both in high school, and that was exactly the issue: it was old, run-down, a bit grimey… kids weren’t coming to arcades anymore anyways, they were all on the Internet apparently.  So, while you and Neil sort of appreciated having the place to yourself, it also broke your heart knowing your old haunt couldn’t hold itself together forever… you two visited not just to recapture some old childhood joys, but to try to do your part to keep the business afloat.  

You pretended to like being here— because you really did want to support the place, and Neil wanted to keep coming back— but it actually made you pretty fucking sad.  Surrounded by all the neon, the noisy pinball machines, the Dig Dug machine that had a fifty-fifty chance of stealing your quarters, the photobooth (you still had some strips from that thing pinned to your wall, some so old that they’d faded from the sunlight that came in your window each day); it all felt sort of eerie now.  You would’ve never known all those years ago how little this place would change, even though you never expected it to— you would’ve never known how little anything would change.  Neil was still by your side, but still so far away… if you could talk to that fourteen-year-old girl now, you would warn her that no amount of time spent running around this place and playing Street Fighter was going to make Neil love her, or you.

But here you were anyways.  “Woo!” you cheered when your final score came through: 50,765.  “Beat that!”

Neil set the pretzel down on the bar-height table (on a pile of napkins, don’t worry, neither of you trusted those tables that much) and brushed the salt off his hands with a scoff.  “Oh please, I can beat that with my eyes closed,” he assured as you crossed your arms.

As he put his quarters in and stepped up to the game, you smiled wide.  “Alright, if you say so.”

You came up behind him and covered his eyes with your hands, making him jump and then laugh.  “What are you doing?”

“Just keeping you honest,” you giggled, holding on tight even when he tried to move his head around so that he could see.  

He did his best, usually struggling to even find where the balls were coming down more than rolling them decently— but after the first three went in the gutter without even scoring, you knew he didn’t stand a chance.  He did score a few times, but when the buzzer went off and he lifted your hands from his eyes, he laughed at the pitiful 1,150 on the board.

“Ohh, that’s too bad,” you winced, “guess you’re just full of it.”

Still holding your hands away from his face, he spun around and twirled under your arms like you were dancing for a moment; it ended with him face-to-face with you, swinging your hands back and forth a bit to force you to twist with him slightly.  “Wanna play Street Fighter next?” he suggested quickly.  “I know I can beat you at that.”

The giddy joy of the moment dropped and shattered; if you thought about it too much, you probably could’ve cried right then.  As pathetic, yet oddly aesthetically pleasing, as it would be to cry in an arcade, you swallowed down the emotion and smiled back at him.  “Yeah, okay,” you agreed.

~

You’d been a little antsy all day— Neil seemed to notice, asking a couple times if you were okay, but you just nodded and shrugged it off.  He had a sense for when you were lying; but that’s the thing, you weren’t lying, really.  You just weren’t sure what to say.  You weren’t sure if you should say anything.  And yet, you felt a little guilty not telling him everything that was going on with you— not just guilty, but plain weird.  Because you usually did tell him everything— except, you know, the thing— but you didn’t know if you should talk about this.  Not that you couldn’t— but should you?

So you were sort of gnawing on your lip most of the day, keeping yourself busy with tallying late fees behind the desk, trying to keep conversation light and meaningless: thankfully, in that regard, Jonathan and Lucien made it pretty easy.

“Okay: fuck, marry, kill,” Jonathan began, “Dracula, the Mummy, and the Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

“Dude, I can’t answer that,” Lucien refused.

“Okay, then Neil, what would you do?” Jonathan changed his target.

“Um, well,” Neil pondered, “I think I’d have to kill Dracula— spare the world from that evil, you know— and I guess I’d marry the Mummy—”

“Freud would like to have a word,” Lucien butted in.

“And I’d fuck the Creature from the Black Lagoon,” he concluded, “out of morbid curiosity.”

You snorted, but didn’t look up from your clipboard.  “You come up with one that Lucien will do,” Jonathan challenged Neil.

“Alright, uhh, let’s see…” Neil stalled as he thought, looking up at the ceiling and stroking his chin dramatically.  “Fuck, marry, kill: Sarah Connor, Ripley, and Trinity from Matrix.”

“Okay, see, that’s a real challenge,” Lucien affirmed.  “If I marry Trinity, do I have to live in the post-apocalyptic wasteland or can she live here?”

“You’d have to live in the Matrix,” Jonathan announced, like it was obvious.

“Hm,” Lucien pondered, “do I know it’s a false reality?  Does she know?”

“She knows, you don’t,” Neil decided.

“Is she gonna tell me?  What if she has another guy on the side in the real world?”

“Okay, you’re overthinking this,” Jonathan groaned.

“And is this the Sarah Connor that’s already had John?  ‘Cause if not, I can’t kill her, or the human revolution stands no chance— but if she has him, I can’t marry her, ‘cause I’m not ready to be a stepfather—”

“You’re useless,” Jonathan informed him flatly.

“Well, it’s easy then,” you offered, still tallying fees on the printed table.  “You fuck Connor, marry Ripley and kill Trinity.”

“Yeah, I guess that works,” Lucien shrugged.

“If you’re so good at this game, you should play,” Jonathan decided.  You looked up from your work for once, finding Lucien looking excited at the idea and Neil looking a little nervous but intrigued.

“I’ve got one for you,” Lucien decided, looking concerningly smug.  “Fuck, marry, kill: the three of us.”

Jonathan let out a giddy ‘ooh’ and Neil raised his eyebrows.  “Oh— I don’t know— that’s too weird,” you shook your head, “it’s different, you’re real—”

“Wait, wait,” Neil interrupted, “now I wanna know.”

You froze for a second, wondering if you should double down on not participating, or if you should tell him the first thing that popped in your head: am I allowed to do all three to you?

Instead, you set the clipboard down and crossed your legs, and the men seemed to straighten up as they prepared for your answer.  “Alright,” you said, looking at them for a lingering moment before sighing.  “I think I’d fuck Jonathan, and then kill myself.”

“Yes,” Jonathan hissed, shaking his fist triumphantly.

“Dude, really?” Lucien snapped at him.  “That didn’t sound like a compliment to me.”

“Don’t care, I stopped listening after ‘fuck Jonathan’,” he replied.  “Alright, Neil, you’re gonna have to make good on that ‘she’s not off-limits’ promise you made to me—”

But Neil wasn’t listening to Jonathan, he was still looking at you.  “Wait— you wouldn’t marry me?” Neil interrupted, putting a hand on the desk and leaning in a bit closer— he looked half-amused and half-offended, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Um…” you started to wonder how to defend yourself from that.  What did he expect you to say?  Yes, I’d marry you, I’ve actually been planning our wedding since junior year.

“Hold on,” Lucien stopped you, “if she fucks you and marries you, that means I’m getting killed!”

“Yeah, so?” Jonathan smirked.

“What, you don’t think I’m marriage material?” Neil laughed… but he didn’t seem like he was really joking, per se.  He didn’t seem serious either, of course, but you decided to take his question seriously since he’d dared to ask it twice.

“Well,” you mumbled, “no.  I don’t.”

Then he seemed a bit more serious, adjusting his posture a bit.  “Why not?”

“I mean… you’re my best friend,” you reminded him, “but… you’re not reliable.”

He nodded, pursing his lips together.

“You’re not ready for marriage,” you continued.  “I mean, I think you’re just as sure of that as I am.”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“And honestly?  You’re a great friend and all, but… if you were my husband, I don’t think I could really… you know, trust you…”

The silence seemed a little heavy— all the men were sort of frozen for a second, you wondered if you should wave your arm around to make sure time hadn’t stopped.  But they did move, Neil first in fact, as he stopped leaning on the counter and nodded a little.

“I’m just surprised that you didn’t fuck Dracula,” Jonathan said to Neil in an attempt to cut the tension, “considering your massive man-crush on Bela Lugosi.”

“Hey, that reminds me, tonight’s movie is Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla,” Neil announced, apparently shaking off whatever odd energy he’d picked up just before, “you in?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jonathan nodded, “should I bring drinks?”

“Uhh, yeah, why not?” Neil agreed. 

“Is a six-pack enough?”

"Uh, maybe…” Neil considered, turning over his shoulder to look at you.  “Kid, how many beers are you gonna want?”

You swallowed nervously.  “Um, I… well, I’m not coming.  I’ve got a date, actually.”

Of course it was just assumed that you would be there; you felt a little guilty admitting you wouldn’t, to the point that you almost considered just skipping said date and staying to avoid the awkwardness.

“Hey, great!” Jonathan said proudly, throwing his arms out wide.

“A date, huh?” Neil noticed, looking happily surprised.  “Sorry, I— I didn’t know— you didn’t say anything—”

“No, it’s cool,” you shook your head, “it’s kind of a last minute thing… you know how they’re showing Rope at the Palace tonight?  I met this, um, this guy the other day and we got to talking, and I asked him if he’d wanna come with me.”

“Rope, wow, that’s a great first date movie,” Neil nodded approvingly, “that sounds perfect.”

“Yeah— he hasn’t seen it, actually,” you admitted, smiling nervously, “so I guess how much he likes it will kinda be a good judge of if he’s worth going out again, right?”

Jonathan nodded approvingly, but Neil seemed skeptical.  "Well, the showing isn't until nine— you can at least hang out until the movie starts, right?"

"I've gotta get home and get changed!" you explained 

"You can't wear that to a date?" Lucien wondered.

"No!" you scoffed, looking down at your ripped jeans and Dracula t-shirt.  "Besides, I have this whole plan of what I'm gonna wear— remember when we did Bonnie and Clyde for Halloween?"

Neil was Bonnie and you were Clyde, in fact; he looked shockingly good in that blood-red lipstick, you tried to convince him to wear it again but he insisted it was a one-night-only situation.  

"I figure if I wear my Clyde suit, I'll look kinda like James Stewart!"

"You're doing drag on a first date?" Lucien pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, lighten up, I'm just dressing up for the movie— I'll still, you know, try to look pretty," you assured.  "What, I don't look good in a suit?  'Cause I got a lot of compliments on Halloween—"

"No, hey, go for it," Jonathan decided, "it's festive!"

"I think it's cool," Neil agreed.  "Have fun, alright?  And if he creeps you out or something, call the store number and I'll come get you."

"I'm not really worried about—"

"You know? Just call the store when you get home," Neil decided, "so I'll know you didn't get murdered."

"Dude, chill," you groaned.  "We're going to the movies, not, I don't know… hiking off-trail in the middle of the night."

You never agreed to call, but you did him one better: you ended up coming back to the video store afterwards, a bit over two hours later.  Of course, the guys were still on the couch— apparently the movie was over but they were watching anime (undoubtedly something Jonathan had brought as a palate cleanser after the movie).

They all looked over at you when you came in the front door and the little bell rang; they seemed excited to see you, and presumably to interrogate you about the date.  You sighed, knowing you couldn't have expected anything else, but you'd come here hoping they'd let you watch something with them so you could stop thinking about the date.

“How’d it go, hot stuff?” Jonathan purred, and you rolled your eyes as Lucien wolf-whistled.

“Oh yeah, it was awesome, best first date ever— I’m at his place having sex with him right now,” you frowned as you tossed your purse down onto the couch, and Lucien chuckled while Neil looked a little defeated.  

“Not that great, huh?” Neil noticed.

“Was he a creep?” Jonathan assumed.

“Did he think the movie was bad?” Lucien pressed.

“No, no, he was great,” you sighed, “he loved the movie.  We talked about it for a bit afterwards and he seemed to really understand it.”

“Okay!  That’s good, right?” Jonathan said optimistically.

“Yeah— so good that I asked him when we could do this again,” you recalled, “and he said that he didn’t wanna lead me on and he wasn’t interested in seeing me.”

“What?!” Jonathan yelped, while Neil winced a little.

“He said I was really cool and funny and easy to talk to,” you explained, “but that he didn’t feel any chemistry.”

“Chemistry?” Lucien repeated, confused.

“He means he’s not attracted to me,” you clarified.

“What?” Jonathan scoffed again.  “Why not?”

“I don’t know!” you whined, but you did know.  “I think I’m just, like, friend material.  I’m just ‘one of the guys’, you know?  Not somebody you actually wanna be with.”

“But isn’t that what every guy wants?  To date somebody who’s just ‘one of the guys’?” Lucien noticed, and then paused when everyone gave him an inquisitive look. “That sounded way less gay in my head.  You get what I mean, right?”

“As much as I would love to never let you live that down,” Jonathan smirked, “you’re not wrong— like, a chick who can hang.  That’s the best.”

“Well, here I am!  Hanging!” you snapped.  “Where’s my harem of suitors just desperate to date one of the guys?!”

“I mean, you are wearing a suit…” Neil noticed, getting a little defensive when you groaned and dropped your head back.  “No, no, you look cool!  I mean, you look really great.  I’m not sure what he wasn’t seeing.”

"Maybe he's got a girlfriend!" Jonathan suggested.  "And he was gonna cheat but he chickened out."

"Maybe he's intimidated by strong women," Lucien added, sounding more like he was quoting a Cosmo than actually thinking that.

"Respectfully, guys aren't that complicated," you assured.  "If he wanted me, he would.  He doesn't.  It's not that deep."

Neil looked away when you said that.

"Well, come take a seat on the losers couch," Jonathan offered, but Neil sitting next to him frowned.

"You think I'm a loser?" Neil protested.

"No, I was talking about that couch," Jonathan said as he pointed to the other one which Lucien was on.

"I'm not even offended," Lucien decided, patting the spot next to him.  "I'd rather be a loser with you than a winner with anybody else."

You smiled and plopped down next to him, pulling your legs up on the old sofa and finding the best angle to see the TV from.  "Okay, catch me up," you requested, bracing for the barrage of borderline nonsensical exposition about whatever obscure anime Jonathan was forcing on the group this time.

~

Since the store closed at eight on Tuesdays, you and Neil decided to go out for a late dinner after locking up— the nearest place you usually walked to was a little hole-in-the-wall dishing out Thai fusion, and even though there were open tables inside, you took your paper boxes outside to eat together on a bench.

You each sat up on it with your legs crossed, facing each other, while he poked at his fried rice with his fork and you stirred your noodles with the chopsticks.

“The Palace is still doing their Hitchcock screenings on Sundays,” you recalled, “I think the next one is Rear Window.  We could make Lucien man the store and go see it together?”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” he smiled.  “But we gotta sneak in the candy, that place is getting so overpriced…”

“Well, that’s a given,” you laughed.  “When I went on my date there I had Sour Patch Kids in my bag, but I was kinda craving Reese’s by the time the movie started..."

"That guy sounded like an ass, by the way," Neil announced with a frown.

"Oh, no, it's fine," you dismissed.  "He was really nice, even when he blew me off, and I… I guess I wasn’t really expecting it to go anywhere, anyways.”

“Really?” Neil scoffed.  “Then why’d you ask him out?”

Just in case.  “I… I guess I’m trying to put myself out there more?”

“Huh?  You’re trying to put out more?” Neil joked.

You rolled your eyes and unfolded your legs to kick him playfully.  “You know what I mean,” you groaned.

“Yeah, yeah,” he admitted, “and I support it.  It’s sort of insane that you’re still single.”

“Wow, thanks for the pep talk,” you rolled your eyes before shoving a thick swirl of spicy-sweet noodles in your mouth.

“No!  I mean, like, I can’t believe you’re single,” he clarified, and you smiled somewhat awkwardly while chewing your mouthful.  “You’re smart and fun and cool and pretty—”

Thanks to the food in your mouth, you didn’t have to worry about coming up with a way to respond to that, so you just shrugged.

“Seriously!” he insisted.  “I mean, guys hit on you at the store— I wish somebody who actually deserved your attention would walk in that place.”

The guy I want is already there every day.  Swallowing, you finally got a chance to talk to him again.  “Thanks,” you sighed, “it’s fine, though.  I mean, I’ve been single this long— I think I’ll survive.”

“Keep waiting for the right one, okay?” he encouraged, and your heart swelled.

“I will,” you promised, sounding more wistful than you meant to.

After a brief lull in the conversation, he cleared his throat and continued.  “Hey, um, while we’re on the topic of Sunday, about the whole fuck-marry-kill thing—”

“I’m sorry,” you offered right away, “I shouldn’t have answered that.  I wasn’t being serious, obviously.”

“No, I wanted to apologize,” he returned, “I shouldn’t have pressed you on your answer.  It was funny.  And it wasn’t like you could say you were gonna kill one of us.”

You snorted.  “Yeah, that one was probably the worst of the three.”

“But I shouldn’t have asked you about what you would’ve done to me,” he shook his head, “I was making it weird.  So, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assured.  “Did you really expect me to say I would marry you?”

“No,” he admitted, “I thought you’d say you’d fuck me, marry Lucien and kill Jonathan.”

“What?” you scoffed, though you were still smiling.  “Why?”

“Well, Lucien would definitely make the best husband of the three of us,” he explained, “and Jonathan was the only one who wouldn’t have gotten butthurt about you saying you’d kill him.  He probably would’ve just asked you to give him a nice send-off, y’know…”

You nodded in agreement, wondering if he was going to address the obviously missing third piece of all this… he sure was staring down into his empty fried rice container with intense focus…

“And, you know, as for me,” he began sort of thinly, “I, um… I guess I just figured, you know, you’re the most comfortable with me.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “obviously, but maybe that would make it worse?  Like, at least with Jonathan, I know that if we ever did hook up or something, it probably wouldn’t mess up our friendship.  ‘Cause we’re friendly and all, but it’s not so serious.  But with you…”

“Uh huh, well, that’s why it’s good it’s just a game,” Neil finished for you, chucking his trash in the nearest can.  “Don’t have to worry about any of that stuff.  Least of all you and I being married.  Talk about a disaster.”

You choked on your throat.  “Yeah.  No kidding…”

“Well, anyways,” he sighed, standing up from the bench and stretching for a moment, “wanna come over and see if the game’s still on?”

“Oh, um, I’m just gonna go back to my place,” you decided, throwing away the last couple bites of your food on account of your suddenly-lost appetite.  “Kinda thinking I should get my sleep schedule in order.”

“That’s good,” he nodded, “I respect that.  Have a good night, then, kid.”

“Yeah, you too,” you breathed, waving as he turned and walked off into the night, tucking his hands into his jean pockets.  

You looked down at your lap, taking a deep breath and shutting your eyes for a second.  Did he have to be so sweet just to cut you down like that?  Could he have even known how it would hurt you to say that?

It’s not even like he was wrong, but you were dying to ask him why he was so sure that you and him together would be so bad.  What was wrong with you that he still couldn’t see you that way?

Not interested in this repetitive thought cycle anymore, and being very familiar with where it leads, you got up and started to walk down the street.  You didn’t turn to go to your apartment, though; you kept going until you heard live music— scratchy, whiny guitars and throbbing bass drums— seeping out of the club.  You just needed to be somewhere familiar that wasn’t the video store or home; and, this place conveniently also had liquor.

You slipped inside— hit by a wave of sound as you entered— and took a seat at the bar, half-listening to the band that was playing, pretending to be focused at all on what was going on in the outside world rather than just spiraling into your own thoughts inside your head.

“Hey,” Jonathan nodded at you from the other side of the bar, and you nodded back.  He instantly started looking for Neil— of course he would— and you deflated a bit.  “You here alone?” he noticed.

“Yeah,” you shrugged.

“Wow,” he smirked, “it’s like when Peter Pan’s shadow escaped.”

You should’ve probably been offended by that, but it wasn’t worth denying— and you were more interested in getting liquored up than justifying that you did, in fact, have a life outside of Neil.

And, actually, Peter Pan was a pretty good way to describe Neil, too.  Fear of commitment, leader of freaks and outcasts, daydreamer… all he needed was some green tights.  “What are you drinking tonight?” Jonathan finally asked.

“What pairs well with feeling completely unattractive and unlovable?” you sighed.

“Well, that would be my drink of choice: whiskey,” he smiled, setting a bottle down in front of you.  “I’ll do a shot with you.”

He poured you both a shot, and you timed it to shoot it back together; he, obviously, took it better than you, and you cringed from the acidic flavor.  "Jesus, people really drink this on purpose?" you grumbled.

"Yeah, give it a few minutes," he assured, "it's gonna numb all those stupid emotions."

"I don't have a few minutes," you sighed, "do you have anything more fast-acting?"

"Yeah— a second shot," he joked, but you nodded in agreement.  "Okay, shit, you're not messing around tonight."

"Nope," you agreed, watching him pour just one shot this time.  "You're not doing it with me?"

"I need to pace myself, I'm here 'til two," he explained.

He slid it to you and you contemplated it for a moment, before forcing yourself to get it down as quickly as possible to avoid the burn.  You still grimaced, but recovered quickly.

"Is it working yet?" he wondered.

"I guess," you answered half-heartedly.

“Well, you could always gush to the bartender about all your problems?” he offered, but you just shrugged it off.  “Come on, you wouldn’t be the first tonight.  And since I know you, I might actually be able to help.”

“I don’t think you can help with this one,” you assured.  “This problem has been going on longer than you’ve been around.”

“Oh?” he pressed.  “Let me guess… boy troubles?”

“Isn’t it always?” you scoffed, irritated that he saw through you that quickly— apparently your reputation of being horrible with men preceded you.

“But this is just one boy,” he presumed.  “One boy who… conspicuously isn’t here tonight…”

“Is it that obvious?” you wondered with a whine, dropping your head in your hand.

“Well, if you weren’t having any issues with him, you’d be with him,” Jonathan guessed— and it wasn’t bad logic.

“But, like, does everyone know?” you wondered.  “Does everyone but him know that I’m in love with him?  Oh god, Jonathan, you don’t think he knows, do you?”

“Wait— love?” he repeated, and you swallowed thickly as you realized the whiskey had already gotten you to say too much.  “You… you’re…”

“Okay, so I guess not everyone knows,” you mumbled.

“No, yeah, I think you managed to keep that under wraps,” he assured with a nod, eyes getting wider.  “Sheesh.  No, I had no clue.  Now it’s even weirder that you guys aren’t together.”

“Well, he doesn’t love me,” you explained flatly.

“Did he tell you that?”

“No, god no— I mean, he tells me he loves me,” you corrected, “but he doesn’t mean— we just say that, you know, like at the end of phone calls or when one of us is sad.  It’s not, like… we never meant it that way.”

“Right, okay,” Jonathan nodded as he wiped a glass— the way bartenders do when they’re listening to people— but he didn’t seem to understand entirely.  “So, you’re not his type?”

“I don’t think I know what his type is,” you scoffed.  “I haven’t really noticed a pattern, have you?”

“You’d have to have a few more data points to really draw any connection between them,” Jonathan laughed.

“Yeah, fair,” you smiled, “he’s only had… I don’t know, maybe four girlfriends since I’ve known him?  One in high school, for a month— then Eva, they weren’t even really serious, just dating for a while.  And then, uh—”

“Tanisha,” he remembered.

“Right!  I liked her,” you hummed.

“What happened to her again?” he wondered.

“Got back with her ex,” you recalled.

“Wow, that blows,” Jonathan sighed.  

“She told me before she told him,” you admitted.  “She wanted me to tell him for her, actually, but I… I couldn’t do that to him.  But I came over right after, you know, and we ate ice cream from the tub and watched movies ‘til we fell asleep.”

Jonathan made a sort of face, one you couldn’t quite interpret, and you tilted your head as he seemed to mumble to himself.  

“What?” you wondered.

“Nothing, it’s just… he’s kind of an idiot,” Jonathan decided.  “I don’t think he gets how lucky he is.”

You wrinkled your brows together, laughing a bit.  “What do you mean?”

“Look, I’m not saying he’s, like, legally obligated to fall in love with you just because you guys get along so well,” he clarified, “even if that’s what Neil accused me of thinking— I really do think it’s fine for men and women to just be friends.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I’m just saying… like, how do you have someone who cares about you that much, and you end up dating fucking Denise for almost a year?!”

“Well, nobody knows how he ended up with Denise,” you coughed.  “That was a fucking disaster.”

“I mean, not to be crass, but, uh,” he stumbled a little over his words, “I’m surprised that you coming over after that breakup didn’t turn into a rebound, at least.”

“After eating that much ice cream?” you laughed.  “That would’ve been awful.”

“But really, though,” he insisted.  “I have a hard time believing the thought didn’t even cross his mind…”

“I can’t really be sure that it didn’t,” you admitted, “I’m just saying, nothing happened.”

“I guess he’s just known you too long to go for it with you,” Jonathan shrugged.

“It’s not just that— you know Neil, he’s kind of an adrenaline junkie,” you rolled your eyes, “or at least he thinks he is.  He wants adventure, I guess— and he always talks about us doing spontaneous stuff but it never happens— and I’m just too familiar.  Too comfortable.”

“Yeah, he does kinda have something against stability,” Jonathan agreed, “do you think it’s a divorced parents thing?”

“I don’t know, I stopped analyzing that a long time ago,” you groaned, “and I told myself I would stop trying to be what I thought he wanted, but I think I keep doing it.”

“Well, I know you know him better than anybody,” Jonathan countered, “but I know guys, and that guy… there’s no way he thinks of you as just a friend.”

“Why do you think that?” 

“Because he was fucking lying when he said it wouldn’t piss him off if we hooked up,” he insisted.

“You really won’t let that go, will you?” you grinned.

“Did you see his face?  He couldn’t get the image out of his head!” Jonathan assured confidently.  “And then that whole ‘fuck marry kill’ thing— he started getting nervous, I think.”

“Nervous about what?”

“That something could really happen with us!”

“You really think he would care?” you frowned.

“I swear to— to Ash Williams,” he decided, “that if I walked into that fucking video store, and told him that you and I did whiskey shots and you came back to my place and we did the horizontal tango, he would beat me to death with the register.”

“You swear on Ash Williams?” you repeated with a smirk, knowing that meant more than swearing on any deity would mean.

“Him and his chainsaw hand,” Jonathan assured, putting a hand over his heart to add to the bit, and you giggled.

“Well, I don’t think Neil can pick up the register,” you decided.

“In that case, you let me know the next time you wanna get back at him for something,” he offered with a wink, and you smiled at him sympathetically.

“I know you’re trying to be nice,” you sighed, “but you don’t have to do that.”

“Hey, come on,” he frowned, “I know you’ve got this I’m insecure I’m a weirdo nobody notices me thing, but you can’t actually think it would be some kind of charity work for me to sleep with you—”

“No, I don’t mean that,” you sighed, “I know I could get laid if I wanted to—”

“But you don’t wanna get laid,” he finished for you, “you wanna be loved.”

You sighed again, even harder.  “Yeah,” you nodded.

“I know,” he agreed.  “And you know I love you, but—”

“But not like that,” you took your turn finishing his sentence.

His only reply was raising the bottle of whiskey with a sideways smile, a silent offer to pour another shot— for both of you this time.

“Yes, please,” you hummed, watching him fill the miniature glasses with a sigh.

part 2