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latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

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Let Me Love You (Jeong Yunho and Song Mingi)

Pairing: Jeong Yunho × Plus sized! Reader (Female) × Song Mingi

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Summary: After finding out their girlfriend has been feeling insecure about her body, Mingi and Yunho take matters into their own hands to remind her that she is beautiful.

Word Count: 4.5+K

Warnings: Body insecurities (remember you are beautiful just the way you are), poly relationship, oral (female receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms (female receiving), unprotected sex (always use protection). (This was utter trash)

Taglist: @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @galaxteez @yunhofingers @yunhoiseyecandy @brie02 @deja-vux @couchpotatoaniki @daniblogs164 @a-soft-hornytiny @nanamarkie @minhyukmyluv @yunsangoveryonder

Special requested by @monbaebes

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Watching her favorite boys play around on the seashore, Y/N chuckled softly as she returned her gaze on the fruit in front of her. Picking up a small knife, she carefully began peeling some of the mangoes, apples and other of the juicy produce they had brought with them. Meanwhile she focused on making sure they had something to replenish their energy with, one of her lovers was concentrated on building a rather complicated architecture with the sand under his feet. Slowly but surely, the castle was beginning to take form and the man couldn't be much happier or pleased than seeing his masterpiece come to life.

"Mingi, think fast!" The other tall male shouted as he tossed the beach ball he was holding in the other's direction.

Mingi's naturally small eyes widened significantly as he witnessed his creation crumble down due to the impact of the beach ball colliding on top of it.

"Oops! Sorry bud!" The culprit grimaced as he saw the result of his little trick.

Immediately standing up, Mingi began chasing after his friend.

"I'm going to kill you Yunho!" He threatened, Yunho running and taking cover behind the oblivious girl who saw nothing that took place.

"What in the world?" She looked back and forth between the two guys.

Pointing an accusatory finger at him, Mingi let out a huff.

"He destroyed my sand castle that I was working so hard on!" He exclaimed.

"I didn't mean to." Yunho defended himself.

Not wanting them to get into a silly fight during their vacation, Y/N began to calm them both down.

"Come on you guys, you're making a scene over things kids would argue over. Seriously, this is why we hardly go out."

Hearing her displeased tone, the boys quickly straightened up their act and decided to just let it go. Seeing the delicious fruit in front of them, the young men sat at opposite sides of Y/N and dug into the food. She was grateful she opted for packing plenty of fruit given how much her boyfriends ate. She sometimes wondered if it was because they were so tall or because their stomachs were a bottomless pit. She decided a long time ago that it was probably a combination of the two.

As they enjoyed their snacks while enjoying the view in front of them, Y/N's wandering eyes soon locked themselves on the two women sitting not far from them. Although she wanted to look away before any negative thoughts clouded her mind, she couldn't help but admire their long, slim legs, their small waists and flat tummies. She envied their shape that they confidently showed off in their revealing and sensual bikinis, making more than a few heads turn in their direction to rake their eyes on their glamorous bodies. And there she was, feeling too big in her cami top and shorts.

Looking away with eyes falling on the strawberry she was holding, Y/N suddenly felt an uneasy feeling in her stomach. Losing her appetite, she tossed the fruit back in the container and just sat back, unable to hide her uncomfortable face which Yunho noticed right away.

"Honey, is something wrong? Do you not feel well?" He asked which immediately sparked the attention of the other male.

Although she didn't feel well indeed, Y/N didn't want to cause any alarm or have them fret over her behavior and decided to make up an excuse.

"I guess maybe I'm just exhausted after spending so much time out in the sun. I think I'm just going to go back to the hotel room. You guys stay here if you want."

Plastering on a reassuring smile, she gave them no chance to argue or say anything else as she quickly got off the beach towel and started heading back towards the hotel that was just in front of the beach. Her arms were crossed protectively in front of her chest, head lowered to avoid eye contact with the young men who were heading in the opposite direction. She shut her eyes when she heard them snicker behind her, no doubt making fun of her figure. She just wanted to lock herself in the room and crawl under the covers of the bed, just her alone with nobody else.

But the sudden calls for her from behind let her know that it wasn't going to be the case.

"Geez, couldn't you at least wait for us baby?" Mingi pouted as he linked an arm around her.

"Sorry, didn't want to cut your playtime at the beach short." She felt even more bad knowing they decided to follow her back.

"It's fine darling. It was getting too hot anyways. Besides we can have just as much fun in the hotel room as we do in the beach." Yunho added, leaning his face so he could whisper in her ear.

"Or maybe even more fun." He snickered suggestively, which made her blush and cling closer to the male on her right, who simply let out a small snort.

"Don't tease her Yunho. You know how shy she gets with these things." Unable to hold back from making her even more flustered, Mingi's hand that was on her waist dropping to slightly pinch her butt cheek.

"And it makes me want to eat her up even more."

With a soft huff, she shoved his hand away from him and simply walked faster to hide from their vulgar teasing that had her cheeks burning bright red.

"She's so adorable." Yunho chuckled, to which Mingi agreed with. Taking advantage of the fact she couldn't hear them, both of them started whispering a few things amongst themselves, huge grins plastering on their faces as they planned out how they were going to spend their night with their lovely girlfriend.

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Staring at her reflection in the long body mirror, Y/N cringed at the sight. She knew the guys were waiting outside in the hot tub for her, no doubt aching to see her in the dark blue bikini they had picked out for her, a color Mingi aggressively shoved into Yunho who wanted to go instead for a more baby pink choice, but eventually caved into the other's choice. She didn't feel up to going out in it though, she felt it unflattering and unsuitable for someone her size. Stripping out of it, she tossed on a tank top and shorts once more, wanting to be as covered up as much as possible. Feeling satisfied with that, she quickly came out of the bathroom, not wanting to make the boys wait any longer.

Hearing the glass door of the room slide open, the young men excitedly looked over hoping to see their gorgeous girlfriend in a swimsuit they bought her, but their faces fell flat when they saw her clothing choice.

"What happened to the bikini we bought you? Oh god! Please don't tell me we got the wrong size." Mingi groaned, already beating himself up for an imaginary mistake.

"No it fit fine, I just.... I just prefer being like this." She replied as she slipped her body inside the hot water, setting herself in between both of the men, who wasted no time in drawing their bodies closer to her, effectively trapping her.

Looking up from one and then to the other, Y/N knew by the smiles on their face that they were up to something else and it wasn't particularly pure. Taking the lead as he usually did, Yunho brought a hand up to trace the outline of her jaw.

"So pretty..." He muttered as he bent his face down to hers.

Starting off with small pecks, Yunho eventually pressed his lips deeper into hers, hand still cupping her jaw so his thumb could draw circles around her cheek. Y/N moaned when she felt his tongue dart forward and infiltrate her mouth. She gave in and allowed him absolute control, moaning louder when he pulled her tongue inside his own mouth and briefly sucking on it. For a few minutes they were lost in their little world until the third person in the relationship reminded them of his presence.

"Ok you got your turn, now let me make out with my baby."

As soon as Yunho's mouth was detached from her lips, it was quickly replaced by Mingi's, who unlike the other male, was more fervent and rougher with his kisses. Whereas Yunho preferred a lot more tongue action, Mingi enjoyed nipping at his lover's lips. Indeed he made sure to get her lips as swollen and red as possible. His teeth endlessly tugged at her bottom lip, a smirk appearing on his features each time he drew out a gasp or whine from the girl in front of him. Her sounds intensified when she felt Yunho's lips occupying themselves on her shoulder and neck, leaving small love bites on the visible patches of skin. His large hand dove underwater to clasp at the end of her top, rising it up slowly so he could take it off her.

Feeling her insecurities rise up once more, Y/N quickly withdrew his hand off her body, ending the makeout session with her other boyfriend in the process.

"Baby did we do something wrong? Did we push it too far?" Yunho immediately worried that they hurt her in any way. Mingi was also mirroring the same feeling his friend was bearing.

"No, it's not you guys...it's me."

Both of the men looked at each other in confusion.

"Are you sick? Is that it? Why didn't you say something before." Mingi brought a palm over her forehead, attempting to figure out if she had a fever or not.

Shaking her head, Y/N took a deep breath before she went any further.

"I'm not sick I just hate my body ok? I hate being chubby, it makes all the clothes I wear look ugly on me. I wish I was skinnier like some of the female idols you guys see almost on the daily. Maybe then I'd be more attractive for you guys.."

Her confession broke them to pieces. They couldn't believe she felt that way and they cursed themselves for not noticing earlier on about their girlfriend's insecurities.

"But darling, you are very attractive just the way you are." Mingi spoke up, though they could tell his words didn't have much of an effect on her.

Joining in to make sure she felt loved, Yunho tilted Y/N's face so she could clearly see his sincerity at his next words.

"Listen to me, your body is very gorgeous just the way it is. You may not believe it, but trust me when I say Mingi and I are absolutely crazy about your body. It makes you more irresistible and we wouldn't have you any other way."

His words lightened her mood just a bit, a hint of a smile starting to form on the corners of her lips.

"And we're not the only ones who think so. There were some assholes who were shamelessly checking you out while we were trying to catch up with you back on the beach." Mingi added, face frowning as he recalled the way they heard the group of men talking about their girlfriend in such a lewd manner.

"What? N-no, I'm sure you got it wrong. They were probably making fun of me." Her theory however was quickly shut down by Yunho.

"No baby, we heard them clearly as they went on and on about how hot you look....among other things that weren't exactly family friendly." Although he tried to hide it, Yunho couldn't keep his teeth from gritting against each other in a jealous manner.

"And we saw how their faces kept turning to stare at your ass." Mingi recalled rather unhappily.

Y/N felt even more embarrassed now, her hands coming up to hide her reddened face, which continued to stay hidden even when she felt both males press themselves into her.

"But if that still doesn't convince you, how about you let us demonstrate how much we adore your figure?"

Peeking out and uncovering her face, Y/N took in their hungry gazes that were awaiting for permission to devour her. Although she nodded slightly, it wasn't enough for them.

"Darling use your words please. We'd much rather hear you say how much you want us as well." Mingi deepened his voice enough to cause an effect on her.

Biting down on her lip, Y/N's voice shyly spoke out.

"Please.... touch me." She gulped before uttering her next words.

"Make love to me."

Finally hearing the magic words, both men stood up, their bodies drenched and pouring water. Taking hold of Y/N, Mingi brought her out of the hot tub as well and sat her in front of him on the wood extension of the hot tub. Reaching for her shirt, he quickly peeled it off her body and moved it somewhere else while Yunho took care of her lower half, removing her shorts and equally discarding them somewhere else.

"Fuck, she looks so damn pretty." Yunho marveled at the sight of her bare, soaked body right in front of him.

Snaking his hands down her torso, Mingi gripped the top of her thighs so he could pry them open, letting Yunho gaze into her exposed heat. He let out a chuckle at his friend's star struck expression.

"Well? Don't just stand there like an idiot. Put those long ass fingers of yours to work." Mingi told him.

Instructing Y/N to keep her legs wide open, Mingi brought his hands back up her body so they could cup her breasts. He squeezed them in between his fingers, astonished at feeling how soft and tender they were. While she was still getting adjusted to the feeling of Mingi's hands around her boobs, Yunho came up in front of her and began kissing along her collarbone, making her tilt her head back.

"God your boobs are so squishy." Mingi groaned as he pressed them against each other, thumbs tweaking at her nipples.

While Mingi's hands continued playing around with her chest, Yunho took advantage of her dazed state to brush his fingers along one of her thighs. Creeping it closer in between her legs, his thumb started slow and gentle motions on her clit. He smiled against her neck when he felt her shudder as he pressed down on her button.

"Mingi be sure to hold her steady while I finger her pretty pussy. You know how she tends to get."

Removing his hands off her breasts, Mingi proceeded to move them to her hips, knowing fully well they'd be wanting to buck into Yunho's hand. Y/N looked down and watched intently as one of Yunho's fingers slowly slipped inside her hole. She gaped with amazement as he effortlessly slid his finger out of her body and then back inside. It always amazed her how such a little action could make her so weak and pliant towards her lovers. Yunho of course knew this and loved to use it against her. Smiling ever so smugly, he inserted a second finger into her hole, his pace starting to pick up. Her breath hitched as she craned her neck back to rest her head on Mingi's shoulder, the latter taking the opportunity to plaster kisses on the side of her cheek.

"Do you like having Yunho's fingers inside of you babygirl?" He asked, lips brushing against her earlobe.

"Y-yes." She responded.

When her thighs tried to close, Mingi was quick to pry them back apart, his grip tight enough that they could leave prints on her skin.

"No babygirl, keep those pretty legs of yours open for Yunho."

Knowing exactly what to do to tip her over the edge, Yunho angled his fingers upward so they could rub at her sweet spot as he continued to wiggle his fingers inside of her. A third finger was added to the combination, which had the recipient crying out from the stretch.

"How on earth are you always so tight babygirl? It's like we don't fuck you enough." Yunho expressed, thumb circling on her nub with more detailed and faster motions.

The wet and sloppy sounds emanating from between her legs were like music to both men's ears. They enjoyed hearing how wet they could make her become, Mingi especially licked his lips as he saw how her folds started to glisten from all the arousal seeping out of her.

"Shit, her pussy looks so good. I can't wait to eat her out."

Shooting a smirk to his friend, Yunho worked his fingers deeper into his girlfriend's core, thrusting them sporadically in an effort to bring her closer to her high.

"Well just let me get her cum with my fingers and then I'll leave her in your hands..... or should I say mouth?"

Hearing them say what they were going to do to her made Y/N shudder. With eyes shut, her voice slightly broke into half cries half whimpers as she came on Yunho's fingers. Mingi's hold on her thighs prevented her from shutting her legs and thus making her orgasm feel more intense as it washed all throughout her body. Making sure to keep his fingers lodged inside until she came down from her high, Yunho gently leaned in to press a kiss on the corner of Y/N's mouth.

"Look babygirl."

Opening her eyes, she was met with the sight of Yunho's fingers pulling out of her heat. They were covered completely in her cum, leaving her surprised that she could produce that much from just his fingers. Keeping eye contact with her, he brought his fingers up to his lips and licked them clean.

"Oh Mingi, you're going to definitely enjoy eating her out." Yunho locked eyes with the other male, sending him a knowing wink.

"Then I guess I better not let her juices go to waste."

Moving her body so she could face him, Mingi layed down on his back and motioned for Y/N to move herself on top of his face, which she hesitated to do. Sensing what she was worried about, Mingi smiled at her.

"Baby, it's ok. I want to feel those thick thighs of yours on me. Now come over here and smother my face with your sweet pussy."

Getting help from Yunho who took hold of her arms, he placed her right on top of Mingi's face. Spreading her lips apart, Mingi's tongue came up to lick up the leftover arousal from Yunho's previous fingering session. Y/N couldn't help but gasp not just from the over sensitivity of her pussy, but from Mingi's warm mouth consuming her taste. Closing his eyes, Mingi lost himself in the sweetness her body had to offer. Flicking his tongue out, he made sure to pay close attention to her clit, circling the tip of his wet muscle around it. As if they had a mind of their own, Y/N's hips began to slowly grind down against Mingi's tongue movements. When she noticed what she was doing, she made an attempt to stop her motions.

"No babygirl. Show Mingi how much you enjoy having him eat you out. He told you to smother his face and that's what you're going to give him. After all, that is what he wants. Don't you Mingi?" Yunho piped up.

The man underneath Y/N responded with a muffled moan against her wetness. His hands clasped themselves on her ass, harshly slamming her down until her heat was covering the entirety of his face. Guiding her hips, he made her drag her core along his tongue over and over, slurping up every inch of tender flesh without leaving any patch dry. Y/N began panting, each stroke of Mingi's tongue making her fall deeper in that hazy state she had been in just moments ago while Yunho had his fingers knuckles deep in her. And both men knew it, they had learned and memorized each pitch of her sounds and every tick of her body to know what she liked and when she'd come crumbling down from the pleasure they gave her.

Knowing she needed a little encouragement, Yunho began peppering open mouth kisses along her neck as his fingers brushed along the sides of her waist.

"Go ahead love. Cum all over Mingi's face. Make a mess of his pretty face." He softly instructed her. A pleased grin framed Yunho's face as merely seconds later, Y/N fulfilled his command. Mingi groaned wildly as his face was smothered by her mound, her thighs trembling and clenching around his skull as another flood of her juices poured out onto his face. Making sure to lick up as much as possible, Mingi detached his mouth from her reddened folds with an audible pop, a proud smirk on his face that he was not wiping off at any moment.

Knowing she was still too worked up from her orgasm, Yunho carefully lifted her up into his arms. Gesturing for Mingi to follow, he carried her bridal style back inside their room, where he layed her down on the soft king sized bed. Stripping themselves out of their swimming trunks, the men whispered a few words amongst each other before reaching the decision of who got to have her first. The beaming look on Mingi's features answered her thoughts on who it was.

Setting himself right next to her, Mingi began stroking his already hard length.

"Come here baby. Hop your pretty self on top and ride me." He motioned for her to sit on top of him.

With hands pressed to his chest, Y/N slowly sunk herself down until his entire cock was safely nestled inside her. Hissing at the excruciatingly tight grip her tender flesh had on him, Mingi looked over to Yunho, who already had one hand wrapped tightly on his dick.

"We really should fuck her more often, she's unbelievably tight." His voice rasped out.

"Well why don't you do something about it? You're literally inside her idiot." Yunho reminded him rather agitated, anxious to get his own turn with his beloved girl.

With sharp cries, Y/N held onto the headboard in front of her as the man underneath her started pounding his hips up into her. Their moans were filling up the room, along with the slick sounds protruding from between their thighs, where they were connected. Yunho eagerly watched them, his hand working to stroke his twitching cock, making sure not to speed up in case he accidentally made himself cum. He knew he'd get his turn soon, but for the moment, he reveled at seeing the two individuals he cared about the most be so intimate with each other. He watched as their facial muscles started contorting and scrunching up with pleasure, their bodies starting to layer a thin sheen of sweat from the intensity of their love making.

Already vulnerable from the previous 2 orgasms, Y/N started to feel that familiar heat pooling in her lower abdomen, spreading under her skin and making her dizzy with lust. Mingi's pace turned slightly more rough. He loved watching as he made his girlfriend ride his cock, especially when he was blessed with the sight of her breasts bouncing right in front of him. He thought it was one of the most amazing sights to behold. Sensing that she was close given how worked out they had gotten her before and by the way her sounds grew more frantic, Mingi gripped at her sides to hold her down as he bucked his cock deep enough to have her crying out.

"That's it babygirl. Let yourself go. Cum all over me." He grunted at her, feeling himself reach his own brink from the frenetic pace he set for themselves.

With aching thighs, Y/N violently shook on top of him, vision darkening as her mind only payed attention to the sensation of her walls clamping around her lover's cock. Feeling overly constricted to the point of hurting in a most delicious grip, Mingi quickly pulled himself out of her core before any of his cum could start spilling inside her. With the help of his hand, he finished himself off by spurting drops of cum onto her thighs and stomach, some of them dripping off to land on the sheets underneath them.

"Oh my God." Mingi threw his head back onto the pillow behind him as he tried to steady his racing heart.

Finally seeing his cue to come in, Yunho fitted himself on the large king sized bed and carefully pulled Y/N off Mingi's lap to sat her on top of his own. Whereas Mingi preferred having her face him, Yunho opted to keep her facing away, pressing his chest onto her back. His voice gently shushed her whimpers as he sunk her down onto his overly endowed length. Fitting himself in her always took a little longer due to his size.

"You're doing so well baby." He cooed in her ear as he waited for her to adjust to him. Mingi was definitely right in exclaiming how tight she was, he himself was gritting his teeth at how hard her walls were squeezing at his shaft.

Knowing she was overly sensitive, clit swollen and folds puffed up, Yunho decided to go for a more slow and sensual pace. His hands gently rolled her hips to move on top of him, soft and blissful sighs being breathed out of their mouths. He made sure not to overwhelm her, and he himself wanted to enjoy the moment for as long as possible. When he heard her agitated moan, he let her relax on top of him as his hips took over. He was careful not to snap his hips too aggressively, still being gentle and precise with each thrust he shot up at her. With one hand sliding in between her legs, his fingers brushed against her pinkied clit before carefully circling around it.

"You're so beautiful my dear. Absolutely perfect." He murmured against her neck whilst his lips pressed tiny kisses on her warm skin.

Y/N gasped when she felt his pace slightly speed up, causing her body to jolt forward, which was stopped from falling when Yunho's arms held her in a tight embrace to keep her close to him. She knew she was definitely waking up sore the next morning, her thighs were already burning from cumming so much and from being bounced on top of two monster cocks that belonged to her tall boyfriends. Her 4th orgasm of the night slowly and silently crept up on her, rendering her almost numb to everything except the dull sting of her juices pouring out once more onto Yunho's cock. Even after she felt him pull out and coat her backside with his hot seed, she was still in hazy state, worn out after all the attention the two men bestowed upon them. The last thing she saw before passing out on the bed was Yunho's voice purring in her ear:

"Remember Mingi and I love you just the way you are..."

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sorry-i-ship-drarry · 3 years

Note

Prompts no 25, 27, 31 angst and non happy ending because I'm a little sad

The affair

Dialogue prompt 31- I want you to list every lie you ever told me.. then I'll forgive you | I hope whoever you are, you're doing better now. My apologies for bringing it out pretty late.

TW- ANGST | Harry loved him, only till fire burned.

Prompt 25 | prompt 27

It could have been love.

Or perhaps it was love until the arson had lasted and the land got buried in the ashes. Maybe it was love, until the fire remained burning, and the air had stated vanishing and soon it died.

He always knew he thought love was a transaction, to get something back in return for what you deposit in, he never believed in it but was Draco swooned. He let himself take the fall hoping that maybe harry would save him. He knew what he was getting into but too fooled was he to believe that love changes people, he held onto the false hope. He assumed, he believed in himself that maybe, just maybe after everything Harry had been through, after everything he fought for, maybe he'd like to not face change anymore. That maybe after everything, he deserved to be loved and deserve to love. That maybe he too felt that there was none who understood him better than Draco like he did, only he should've known.

But once learnt the hard way, draco didn't know how many loses more could he take. Maybe he felt as though he owed it to harry, that perhaps harry was his last shot at love, no matter what happened. Even with the ever consuming lies building up in the relationship that had been going on for 3 years. But Draco would lie to himself if he said he was happy anymore. He used to be, but he hadn't felt the little comfort in the physical affection or more than a chaste kiss in the past few months and he was afraid. Afraid that his inner voice was right.

" I think he's cheating on me " Draco numbly spoke to pansy as he drank his cold coffee

" oh hone-"

" I knew it " Draco interjected.

Pansy gave him a pity look but oh she knew too. She knew he was cheating. The lies Harry had fed only worked a little.

" how do you know ?" Pansy asked, holding a little of Draco's hand in a comforting touch over the table.

" he told me he'd be at the office yesterday. I went to drop him something but he wasn't there. He had left hours ago " Draco replied blankly stating at pansy drawing circles on the upper side of his hand

" but you can't be sure " pansy sighed.

Draco hummed, deciding to not further talk about it.

Perhaps days went by, Draco had stopped counting, he has stopped looking at the calender when their anniversary passed as a forgotten date. Perhaps weeks since Harry tried to come home and cuddle with Draco. And maybe month too when they last went on a date.

Why was Draco doing this to himself? Fear.

He watched as the light, the spark, the fire diminish in Harry's eyes for Draco but a new one was born each day he left for work, like he had something to look forward to. He felt it in Harry's soft light chaste touches that they weren't a secret, private anymore, they were of Someone else too. He even smelled the perfume of another one on Harry's shirt. Yet he rested in fear, fear he'd never be loved again. Because even if everything, harry still was his boyfriend, by tag but he was.. it was all in the labels. But He didn't even come to Draco's work party.

" why don't you leave him ?" Blaise had asked. Draco only shrugged, yawning.

" do you even sleep anymore?" Blaise tried asking again. Draco shrugged once again. He had lost count of hours he slept too.

But alone in the night, sitting on a bed in loneliness even with the body next to him, he cried relentlessly in silent sobs. He would bite his palm to keep the muffles inside as he'd stare at the man he'd once loved, become Lost. He missed the harry who'd kiss him before sleeping or who'd whisper good night or the one's who dragged draco to shower with him or the harry who'd visit between works to take him out for lunch.. he missed the harry that was only his own and not shared as a public property.

________________________

He sat alone on the table of a family dinner as his father for first In a while looked at Draco in pity sitting next to an empty chair, reserved for his love who never showed up.

" we should start. He must be stuck with something " Draco Whispered.

Narcissa hesitantly nodded, helping serve the dinner and the family ate in low Whispers and soft chews.

And then perhaps as if an old friend has knocked his door, Draco was met with the young boy who loved Harry in his rivalry,who stood for what was right, for what wasn't just to him, one who believed that if love existed he'd never settle for less. Slamming the door shut, Draco instead of disapparating, stumbled back home with one bottle of whiskey he couldn't even drink because of the drowning heart that yearned sobriety.

" where were you ?" Harry has asked sitting on the sofa, watching TV at midnight when draco had stumbled back home.

But draco didn't respond, placed the bottle on the counter top, only little drunk, unknown tears smeared across his face.

" I asked you a question Draco, where were you ?" Harry sternly asked as he turned around to watch Draco

" are you fucking drunk ?' harry was perhaps disgusted but it only made Draco laugh. A mock.

" do you ask your other boy that too ?"

" what- what other boy ?" But harry was a bad liar.

Draco sniffed in as he walked forwards, collapsed on the couch next to Harry's and stared blankly out of the window, tears immediately blurring his vision.

" it was my parents anniversary today? Do you remember ? I told you a day before yesterday to be there, even sent a memo ? Did you receive ?" Draco asked, his legs shaking.

" oh- see I kept thinking I was forgetting something. I'm so sorry babe-"

" don't-call-me-that" Draco sneered

" what is the matter with you ?" Harry asked thoroughly offended

But Draco only exhaled a shaky breath, his hands contributing to the shakiness and he finally landed his eyes upon the man he had lost.

" was I not enough ?" His voice broke as he asked, staring into Harry's lost face

" what are you even on about-"

" your affair harry. Your bloody affair " Draco raised his voice so as to be stern, confident that be wasn't lying.

" what ? I don't have any affair. I'm offended that you even think that Draco. After everything we've been through-"

"bullshit " Draco snapped

" you think I can't see it Harry ? I can sense it across an entire room if you're there or not, don't you think I wouldn't know that the man I loved is not just Mine anymore ?"

" you're being ridiculous " harry rolled his eyes.

Draco gave Harry a weak smile before he went on " do you remember the last time you told me you loved me ?"

Harry frowned as he thought upon until the realisation hit " i- I didn't realize -"

" I don't blame you " Draco shook his head " I can't even if I Want to. Perhaps I am infact not enough.. perhaps I've failed to be who you wanted me to be. I don't blame you harry, I don't-"

" Draco, there's nothing going-"

" what's his name ?" Draco interjected

" there's no one "

" does he make you happy ?" Draco asked weakly

" Draco, there isn't-"

" does he kiss better than I do ?" Draco asked, his voice breaking.

Harry sighed " I'm not cheating Draco "

" then when did you fall out of love with me ?" Draco asked

Harry stared at Draco long enough to see the pain turning to mocking numbness " I never did "

" liar " Draco sneered as he looked away, not even bringing his hands up to wipe his tears.

" I love you Draco-"

" liar " Draco suddenly raised his voice " you're a pathetic liar " he sobbed

" all this time I tried to forgive you in my head but I only need to ask one thing, what did I do to deserve this ?" Draco sobbed

Harry's face filled with pity as he closed distance between them to wipe Draco's tears away but he jerked his hands away.

" I didn't mean for it to happen " harry finally said as he looked down at his feets, as though he was disgusted in himself.

Draco looked at harry attentively " how long ?"

" Draco-"

" how long harry ?" Draco asked sniffing

" 5 months " harry replied. It should not have been a blow, not have hurt this bad, because Draco already knew but he did. Tears rapidly burning his face as pathetic sobs left his lips and he looked away as if he couldn't bear to look at harry.

" it meant nothing to me Draco-"

" it doesn't matter " Draco interjected, heaving for a long breath

" no I mean it Draco, it didn't mean anything "

" if it didn't mean anything then why were you with him tonight instead of me ?"

But in hopes of trying to fix things, harry couldn't formulate an answer without hurting Draco.

" I really loved you harry, I still do and I hate myself for it but I will let you go "

" Draco Don't-"

" I have loved you enough but in hopes of trying to keep you close, I have made you runaway from me and that's no one's but my own fault. Perhaps I loved you too much or too little but neither of it was enough to make you stay " Draco cried in silent tears.

" don't say that Draco. Please. I still love you. I never stopped. I'll leave him for you. I only love you. It was a mistake Draco. I promise it won't happen again. I'm sorry Draco, please, please forgive me " harry begged

Draco offered Harry a little smile before he took Harry's hands in how own, locking their finger's together and kissing his knuckles.

" I Want you to list every lie you ever told. Then maybe I'll forgive you "

And in that sweetness Draco left Harry more broken than he had ever felt. Filled with regret he had never felt. Pain he had long forgotten. Misery and sorrow he had said good-bye too. But it was in his sweetness harry had loved him and it was in his sweetness he had lost him. That night when Draco went away, with no response, he never came back again and harry was left alone.

It could have been love, or perhaps it was, only until the night was young and the sun had not risen.

Till the mortal fire had burnt.

It's basically midnight thoughts.

300 followers appreciation dialogue prompt requests open.

( ps. I reached 400 tho )

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one-boring-person · 3 years

Text

Can You Do Me A Favour?

Barney Ross (The Expendables) x reader

Warnings: injury, drinking, sexual content implied, mentions of violence, swearing

Context: the reader is a member of the Expendables and has a crush on Barney. After a job, the two have some time together.

A/N: as promised, here is some Expendables stuff! I hope anyone who reads this will enjoy it! (Just a heads up: I have more Rambo and Escape Plan stuff coming, and most likely some more TLB content, too.)

Masterlist

(I'm also going to tag @yuhhhhhhhhhhhhhh in this, because they expressed interest in Expendables stuff earlier😊💛)

The cold water is pleasant on my heated skin as I cup my hands under the steady stream flowing from the tap, splashing it into my face when a suitable pool has formed in the space. A gasp escapes me from the stark contrast in temperatures, using my fingers to rub slightly at my skin, trying to work out the headache that has set in, only to hiss when I accidentally press into one of the new scars on the side of my face. Pulling back, I repeat my action, doing my best to distract myself from the plaguing thoughts in my head, still disgusted at myself for having them.

But even now, as I massage the contours of my face, I can't get the images of my boss out of my head. Not the sight of him taking out a ring of attackers using his revolver and sharpshooting skills, not the way his exposed arm muscles flexed with each movement, not the determined look on his rugged face and certainly not the fierce eye contact he made with me when he turned around again. At the mere memory of this, a flush of heat goes through me, eyes squeezing shut to force myself to blank them out, not quite realising that his stare is branded into my subconscious. Biting my lip, I shake my head, forcing down the picture of his muscular body and large hands on my body as he dragged me from the collapsing building, not five hours ago.

Growling, I reach over and grab hold of the beer bottle nearby, glancing at my haggard features in the mirror before taking a deep drink, wincing at the stale flavour, having had the drink for far too long. I can see the tension in my body, each muscle tight and uncomfortable, my posture ramrod straight and clearly wrong, my eyes clouded with exhaustion and what I can only assume is loneliness.

As soon as I'd gotten in from the last job, I'd headed straight into the bathroom, grabbing a beer from the fridge as I went, needing to clear my head. Nothing I did could help, my head always circling back to that one person. Frustrated, I slam the bottle on the counter top, wincing when it shatters from the force, a particularly sharp shard slicing into my palm.

Damn him. Damn Barney Ross for getting into my head.

I clean up my hand, just bandaging it up when my phone buzzes, the screen lighting up. Frowning, I look over at it, confused. Nobody calls me. Nobody, except my boss.

Picking up the phone, I groan to myself as I realise it is, in fact, Barney. For a second, I debate letting it go to voicemail, before I finally give in, accepting the call and placing the phone to my ear.

"Sir?" I greet him politely, wondering what he needs.

"How many times have I told you not to call me "sir"?" Barney's gravelly voice sounds through the phone, a low chuckle evident in his tone. I have to ignore the effect his voice has on me, the sound giving me butterflies in my stomach.

"Sorry, sir- ah, shit." I sigh at my own habit, "You alright?"

"Yeah, guess so. Just lonely. Figured you might be, too." He admits, tone going soft as he speaks.

"Bold of you to assume that." I tease, but continue, "Though you are, as always, right."

"Should tell Christmas that, might listen to you." The veteran laughs again, the joke drawing a similar reaction from me.

"We all know he listens to no one but himself." I quip back, still waiting for him to tell me why exactly he called.

"True, true." Barney's grin is almost audible, my mind instantly bringing up an image of that particular expression into my head, much to my chagrin, "You got any plans for tonight?"

Surprised, I take a second to reply, unsure of where this is going.

"No, it's too late. Ain't really got many friends outside work, anyway." I inform him, going out of the bathroom and into the lounge.

"Fancy coming over? I've got a couple of beers that need drinking, and the hangar is pretty lonely this time of night."

His offer stumps me for a moment, though I am quick to recover, my mouth working before my mind can catch up.

"Yeah sure. I'll be over in twenty."

"Great. See you then." He hangs up, leaving me wondering why the hell I accepted that, knowing how much I spend too much time thinking about him (in totally inappropriate ways considering he's my boss) anyway.

Annoyed at myself, I steel myself before going and grabbing a coat, pulling on that and my boots as I leave the flat, taking my motorcycle keys with me. I lock my door behind me, leaving the apartment block quickly, glad to have the fresh air on my face as I make my way over to my motorbike. Looking on it fondly, I climb on and kick out the stand, easily getting it revved up, the vibrating engine beneath me a pleasant feeling.

Thankfully, the roads are mostly clear this time of night, cutting the twenty minute drive short by five minutes as I go at speed through the nearly deserted outer city. The hangar is usually a pain in the ass to get to, the traffic in the roads leading up to it almost always horrific, so I am only too happy to be able to go much faster now that there's not many other drivers around. With the wind rushing around me, I find that my head clears a little, my attention on navigating the roads rather than the thoughts of my boss doing things to me I'm sure he'd find grotesque in nature.

I arrive quickly, pulling into the hangar slowly, knowing Barney is most likely in the plane, as he usually is. Stopping the bike, I put it in park before climbing off, hanging my helmet on the handlebars as I do so, taking the keys with me as I walk over to the old plane. Nearing the aircraft, I frown a little at the sight of the new bullet holes riddling the side of it, unaware that we'd taken so much damage earlier in the day. Sighing, I go inside, ducking in through the small door, only now hearing the music playing from the stereo in the cockpit.

"It's gonna need a new lick of paint." I call out to Barney, who I can see sat in his seat, the muscular man turning to look at me as he hears me.

"It's been a long time coming, so I'm not complaining." He replies, grinning at me as I walk into the cockpit, dropping into Christmas' usual seat, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach from his stare on me again. As I enter, he rakes his eyes over my body, subtly taking my every curve in from where he is.

"Fair enough." I shrug, leaning back slightly, having missed his look, "Got a beer?"

"Yeah, here." Barney hands me a bottle, opening it for me as he does so.

"Cheers." I thank him, taking a deep drink from it as he chuckles lowly, voice sending a bolt of heat through me.

"You're starting to sound like Lee." He remarks, sipping his own bottle with a smirk.

"Should I take that as a compliment? Or an insult?"

"Up to you." He looks over at me.

"Eh, I'll take compliment. You two get along like an old married couple, after all. Must mean something if you're comparing me to him." I decide, teasing him.

Barney laughs at my comment, lifting his bottle.

"I can agree with that." He hums, staring out of the front window.

For a couple of moments, we sit in companionable silence, drinking our beers, Barney eventually lighting a cigar. Taking a deep inhale, he offers it to me, which I decline, choosing to finish my drink instead.

"What do you usually do after a job?" Barney suddenly asks, glancing back at me.

Surprised, I think over the question for a second.

"Nothing, really. I get myself cleaned up, have a drink, then get some sleep. I don't do much else with my life." I tell him, knowing how pathetic I sound.

"What, you haven't got anyone you can hang out with?" He questions, seemingly confused.

"No. As I said before, I don't really have any friends outside work."

"Really? No boyfriend? Girlfriend?"

I shake my head, grimacing at the turn in conversation, just missing the slight darkening in his eyes as he looks me over once more.

"Huh. That surprises me."

Lifting an eyebrow, I look across at him.

"Why?"

He shrugs, making eye contact with me.

"Well, you seem like the person who wouldn't struggle to make friends. You're kind, funny, pretty. You know how to behave in the right situations, you're a good friend to have." He clarifies, seemingly unaware of the impact his words have on me, my heart throbbing as I listen to him, longing building up in me again.

"You think so?" I ask, not quite believing him.

"Yeah, I do." He frowns, looking over at me, "Why, don't you?"

I don't reply, knowing my answer well. He doesn't push it, observing me carefully, his gaze making me blush furiously.

"What'd you do to your hand?" The veteran suddenly asks, gesturing to my bandaged appendage.

"Hm? Oh, I just cut it on some glass back home." I inform him, flexing my hand a little, only to wince at the sharp spike of pain.

Wordlessly, Barney reaches across and takes my hand in his, his touch setting off sparks through me despite the gentle nature of it. Pulling my arm closer to him, he runs his fingers lightly over my skin, the rough calluses rubbing over the palm of my hand, each stroke making it harder for me to fight off the rising need within me. Being this close to him, able to smell him in nearly every surface around me, feeling his hand on mine has sparked the feelings I've been suppressing as long as I've worked with him.

Awkwardly, I pull away, swallowing tightly, trying to suppress the urges I'm suddenly feeling, needing to get myself together again. He doesn't stop me, his dark eyes regarding me quietly, observant as always as he seemingly considers something, his gaze sliding over me once more. After a moment, he puts out his cigar, leaning back in his seat.

"Mind doing me a favour?" The muscular man cocks his head at me, a small smirk playing at his lips.

"Er, sure? What do you need?" I agree hesitantly, knowing that expression means only one thing: he's got something up his sleeve.

"Check that control panel up there, would you? It's been giving me trouble for weeks." Barney's eyes are glittering now in the dim light, clearly up to something.

"What, now?" I frown, confused by the instruction.

"If you wouldn't mind."

Lifting an eyebrow, I place my beer down and get to my feet, awkwardly reaching up to check the panel, which just so happens to be right above his head. I try to keep my body from leaning across him too much, but this is made difficult when I realise that the particular problem lies in the switches even further over. As I go to flick them, a pair of hands takes hold of my waist, suddenly yanking me down towards the chair.

Yelping in surprise, I feel my eyes widen as Barney pulls me down onto his lap, hands tight on my hips, pressing my back flush against his chest. His nose instantly finds my neck, the older man nudging at my skin until I tilt my head to give him access, goosebumps spreading across my skin as I try to process what the hell is happening, my brain short-circuiting with every one of his breaths. They fan out over the sensitive area, my own hitching in my throat as his scruff scratches over my skin, his lips not quite touching me yet, though I can feel their every movement.

I try to get back up, unwillingly, only for him to loop one of his arms around my front and slip his hand under my shirt, flattening his palm on my stomach to hold me against him.

"I'm not blind, you know, (Y/n). I've seen the way you look at me, the way you behave differently when you're with me. You're not as subtle as you hope." Barney practically purrs into my skin, his smirk obvious against my neck, sending shivers down my spine as I try not to groan.

"I- I don't know what you're talking about, sir." I manage out, not quite catching the sound of anticipation that escapes me when he suddenly presses his lips against my ear, whispering into it.

"Really? I think you know very well what I'm talking about." He grins to himself, the hand on my stomach running down to ghost over the waistband of my jeans, my body tensing in his grip, "Want me to demonstrate for you?

#the expendables #The expendables imagine #Barney Ross #Barney Ross x reader #Barney Ross imagine #Sylvester Stallone

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neutron-stars-collision · 3 years

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 27 - Keeping Your Head Up

Masterlist; Chapter 26

Summary: Sleepless nights and plotting the way forward. You and Neil finally talk about the approaching battle. The conversation provides the spark for action.

Warnings: 18+ (not so implied content, if ya know what I mean); swearing.

Author's Notes: Here we go, earlier than I expected because who said that uni should be more important than fanfiction. This one goes through the whole spectrum of human emotions and I'm not even sure what's going on... but here it is. And I'll hope you'll enjoy! Let me know what you think?

P.S. Yes, Stalsk is soon. Yes, I'm terrified. How about you? :)))

Once the last arcs of light disappeared from the night sky and the troops started to disperse, one look exchanged with Neil was enough to help you decide. You led him through the ship’s quarters, hands holding tightly in the unspoken promise. Whatever happened during the aurora only confirmed what you knew from the previous night. There was no question of giving him up. One does not give up on the love of their life. Simple.

As the door to your cabin closed, both of you knew what had to happen. Neil wound his arm around your waist, pushing you against the wall. No space left between your bodies as your gazes met:

“I love you,” a whisper leaving his mouth reverence and certainty.

With the pulse pounding in your ears, you took the words off his mouth with a kiss. Hunger and need betrayed by your eager hands, grabbing hold of his sweater and pulling him down. In response, Neil kissed you harder, lips bruising, teeth tearing the skin to make you understand. Soon it became a duel of passion, each desperate to push the other off the edge. To stake the claim. Mindless of time and caution, you tugged at the clothes and stole the breath from each other’s lungs. Minutes passed, but it was never quite enough. Never satisfied. Only once the lightheadedness made you feel close to passing out from the lack of oxygen, you broke the kiss with a gasp. Your eyes opened to see Neil gazing back at you with a grin on his face. He glanced at your mouth as you licked off the saliva, chasing the taste for that second longer. Then, lost in the daze, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his chest.

“What?” he gently cradled your head, pulling you closer into the strange hug.

With words missing, you took the additional moment to catch your breath and piece together a response:

“It’s... this is good. I don’t want it to end” a shy smile which he could not even see.

Still, the truth. Your idle hands ventured underneath the clothes, settling on the belt loops with the thumbs grazing over his sides. The warmth of the skin, a vivid reminder about the previous night. Something within your reach.

“It won’t. I’m never letting you go again,” confirming the words he tightened the hold, “Do you want to pick up the conversation or...” Neil trailed off, something in his voice arousing curiosity.

You raised your head, noticing the hint of a smirk on his lips. And the sparks in his eyes.

“Or?” courageous fingers ghosting over his stomach, bringing out sharp inhales.

You were never someone who paid too much attention to men’s musculature. It was never on the list of ‘requirements’ or expectations. And yet, as you carefully brushed your fingertips over his firm abdomen, that spark of satisfaction was there. And attraction, never waning since you first laid your eyes on him.

“We could continue with this...” ignorant of your thoughts, Neil searched your face with hints of hesitation in his eyes, “But only if you want to. I wouldn’t want you to think that all I’m here for is…” the deepening frown made you snap out of the reverie and shut him up with a finger against the mouth.

“Neil,” firmly, yet with a playful smile upon your lips, “You’re telling that to someone who just considered fainting if it meant extending that kiss,” your grin widening upon the shock on his face.

And then he grinned, cupping your cheek and brushing the pad of thumb over your lower lip. Drawing out a sigh with ease that not that long ago would have embarrassed you. Now there was no reason to hide it.

“Fair point” Neil smiled lightly, gaze distant showing you that he still had some things to say, “It’s just that…”

His eyes met yours a helpless plea. To understand, to chase away the worries and doubts. He did not need to ask for that.

“Yes?” you picked up the conversation, fingers running through his hair.

The gesture both a comfort and a way of reminding him of where you were. Of what you could give him if he only agreed. Judging by the way he leaned into your touch, it did work. After a beat, he met your gaze again, words pouring out with desperation and self-directed bitterness:

“We’ve lost so much time because of my stupidity. And I feel like it’s running out. If there’s not much left, then I want to give you all I’ve got” the earnest look stealing away the remains of breath from your lungs “And words can only go as far. Some of what I feel can’t be expressed like that, it’s...” trailing off, he faltered as though uncertain.

Oh god. It felt almost surreal to understand. That he would be questioning your desire to have sex again after all the confessions and admitted truths. That he would worry about going too far. As if that was not exactly what you wanted. All because he cared too much about your issues with being this close. Idiot. Ignoring the need to stop his silly doubts with a kiss, you tilted his chin and made sure he could see the longing in your eyes:

“I don’t need much convincing to agree for a repeat of last night. Only an idiot would’ve said no to all that… pleasure” simply, just as letting your free hand bravely brush over his crotch.

The answering gasp was more than promising. You could see the resolve breaking as he tried to level the breathing. Fingers taking hold of your shirt, toying with the material. Knuckles brushing over the skin on your stomach. The internal conflict close to a resolution. A favourable one. Only…

“You’re not tired?” the blue eyes full of concern and unmeasurable yearning.

Too good. With heart close to bursting from the amount of love, you took that as the cue to be brave. To be honest and show him the extent of need ravaging through your blood:

“I am. But I want you” purposefully meeting his gaze with an unguarded look, “I want to feel your hands on my body. To make love with you, knowing that you’re mine,” you observed as he swallowed hard, hands grasping onto your waist underneath the shirt “To feel you inside me” the conclusion whispered as your courage wavered.

Because that was a first. Explicitly stating wants and desires were never a forte, with the insecurities and anxiety making you forgo every attempt. Until now, with Neil, who was stunned into silence. His eyes darkened almost imperceptibly as the words sunk in. He understood.

You barely had the time to register when his lips crashed against yours in the kiss to put every single one before it to shame. This time there was no moderation, no slowness in any of your actions. Hands barely had the time to catch up with the needs as you both fumbled around with the clothes. A casualty – the cup of tea abandoned by the bed sent tumbling onto the floor. But you have not even noticed, too occupied by Neil, his skilful hands and breathtaking moves.

Logic of your closeness startling in its simplicity. Without needing to ask, he made sure you were ready, consent chased at every stage with something as straightforward as eyes searching yours, looking for that nod. For the spark, that told him what you wanted. And then, as he allowed you to have everything once again, gazes locked and held. Love passed with each sigh, shudder and moan. Faster and harder, seeking that familiar rush. Confirming what you both knew already. Never enough. Hands worshipping every inch of your body as you drove him to the edge and over, following suit. This time you did not bite back on words that settled on the tip of your tongue. With every single instance, the three words rolled off with more ease. That moment not any different, the I love you whispered as he offered you the necessary release, sealed with a kiss and explosion of pleasure. Nothing came close. Nothing ever would.

***

The quietness of the moment right after was astonishing in its tranquility. Neil pulled you back down to lie next to him on the bed with your head propped on his chest, the heartbeat a constant white noise bringing peace. With those careful hands caressing your skin, there was no place for insecurities. Only the overwhelming feeling of completeness, as if now when you knew that your heart was safely his, everything else has sunk into the background. That, of course, was an illusion, one that had to be shattered pretty quickly with the reminder about the topic you were yet to discuss. But it could wait. Just a little longer.

“Not a bad way to finish off the evening,” the low murmur tinted with a playful edge.

Of course. Despite the warmth spreading through your body, you grinned, arms embracing him tightly, even if only to show agreement. It really was. And yet…

“Was it still that good? Like you said, in the morning-” the eternal need for validation speaking up before you could properly gather the thoughts.

Thankfully, Neil sensed what was coming before you did. He sat up, dragging you with him.

“Christ, you-” the exasperation betrayed by the heavy sigh, “If I need to tell you how amazing it was every time we have sex, then I will. Keep that in mind” he observed you closely, taking in the spreading blush and deepening shock “My love” an addition followed by a bop on the nose.

Just like that. Without giving you time to react, he laid down again. This time you seemingly had a choice, no arms holding you close as if to show that you were free to suffer the doubts alone. As if. With a quiet huff, you settled back on the bed facing him. The lack of touch felt strange.

“I’ll take that as a warning” stubbornly, you met his gaze, awaiting nothing but satisfaction.

Rightfully so. The infamous smirk graced his lips as he stared at you fondly. Maybe it was time to abandon the uncertainty. Maybe you really got that lucky.

“You should,” as though he too was missing the contact, he reached out to stroke your cheek slowly, “And yes, it was still very much mind-blowingly good. Splendid. Terrific” with each word, the blush was darkening.

Neil’s smugness growing exponentially. Too much.

“Okay, stop,” ignoring the sudden desire to punch him, you chose the puppy-eyed look instead, “Please,” placing your hands on his shoulders if only to assert the dominance.

The sudden flash of darkness within the blue eyes was unexpected. And fascinating.

“Make me,” a whisper accompanied by his touch trailing down your stomach.

That was a challenge you gladly accepted. Using the moment of stagnation, you rolled over to trap him beneath you. His eyes swept over your chest, hands settling on your waist, making everything easier as always. It was not difficult to lean in and shut him up with another breathtaking kiss, with teeth catching that frustrating lower lip showing him why it was unwise to test you. The answering groan and tightening grip were good enough confirmation. And also, a perfect moment to let go and let him suffer alone.

The offended look on his face - absolutely delightful. You waited patiently as he got over the initial shock and wound his arm around your waist once again. From the wistfulness on Neil’s face, you could tell that he was not done:

“Now I know why I’ve always been so drawn to you. You’ve got quite the skillset” the meaningful look giving more confidence than anything ever “And, mind you, I might be catastrophically in love with you but that… no wonder we couldn’t keep our hands off each other” accentuating the meaning, he cupped your face once again “You’re unforgettable. Wonderful. Extraordinary. And mine” the litany closed off with happiness in his eyes “Which is why I’ll start counting my blessings” a kiss on your forehead finishing the speech.

You met his gaze with a gaping mouth. What on earth… That amount of affection expressed just like that was overwhelming. The only thing that could be done was to hug him tightly and hide from the fond look by burying your head in the crook of his neck. The warmth of your bodies slowly lulling you back into the peaceful illusion of safety. Into believing that the drama was truly beyond you. Only one last issue circulating your brain, nagging at the thoughts and creating ‘what ifs’ that needed answering. Maybe…

“I’ve got one more silly question before I’ll be quiet for eternity” your whisper broke the silence with the husky timbre.

You felt Neil’s low chuckle before you heard it. His hand stroking your back without a stutter. As if that was second nature. As if he always knew how to touch you but held back. Until now.

“Go on then,” you raised your head in time to see a happy grin, “Miss silly questions,” fingertips skirting over your profile, stopping at your mouth.

The ghost-like touch, parting your lips just because it was possible. Because casual intimacy was no longer out of bounds. Ignoring the sudden onrush of feelings, you chose to use the rare courage to your advantage:

“Are you my boyfriend now? Is that what I should call you?” blurting out the questions with deepening blush and increasing embarrassment.

Too clingy. What if he wanted to keep this casual, without labels? And you just messed it up? Like everything in your life. Before the sabotage could take over, a familiar hand tilted your chin up. The blue eyes, searching yours, looking for clues towards the extent of self-inflicted damage. Whatever he found was enough to call for a soft kiss, followed by a cheeky smile:

“Boyfriend, partner... husband, whatever you want darling,” the wink almost making you brush over the words.

Almost. Your brain froze as you remembered the meaning of the terms used. The ridiculousness of it all taking away the last bits of reason.

“... We’re not married,” staring at him as though he has officially lost it, you stated the obvious.

Only the answering grin was not that obvious. Or the way he took hold of your hand and kissed your knuckles, all the while maintaining eye contact.

“Are you sure about that?” the arched eyebrow adding the final blow.

There was no end to the shock as the absurd of everything caught up. The laugh could not be contained anymore, giggles interrupting whatever you could want to tell him. The happy look in his eyes, making everything even worse. Only once you could catch your breath again, an expression of exasperation the only thing passing through your throat:

“Jesus Christ… Neil” a hint of warning.

Mostly to stop being so bloody charming. Even with spite, it was difficult to find flaws in that beautiful face. Or to stop the constant flood of affection whenever your gazes locked. He looked completely unbothered, amused by your reaction.

“You knew what you’re signing up for,” a shrug showing no remorse whatsoever.

He did have a point. Still.

“Yes, but… I hate you sometimes,” the words triggered by the eternal frustration, “You with your perfect eyes and jaw that cut through my defences. And let’s not even mention all that smooth talk” ever so casually, you traced the outline of his jawline.

Catching the hints of something darker in his expression, you felt the need from before return. Making you cling closer to him, find a temporary fix for the addiction in the way you fit together. Legs entwined; comfort brought by something as simple as the possibility to share the pillow with him. Or the option to get lost in his gaze, let his hands explore all the curves and edges. Everything that you could offer.

“And yet,” the simplicity of his answer was enough to make you grin.

Distractedly, you let your fingers skim down his chest, watching with fascination at how easy it was to treat him as yours. The naturality of the conversation and the variety of responses to keep up the banter. Effortless. Before you found the right words, Neil traced the path down your thigh, creating the tiniest sparks of electricity.

“My most humiliating defeat,” you admitted with a feigned disappointment painted on your face.

That seemed to be the bait he needed. You observed with satisfaction the way his eyes lit up. The cheeky smile back on his lips. There we go.

“You didn’t seem humiliated. Just now,” hand getting dangerously close to the space between your thighs “More like… satisfied” Neil shifted forward, closing the gap between your faces “By me” a low whisper before he captured your lips in a kiss.

A hard one that deepened the bruises and showed you why you had no choice but to give in. Why resting within his embrace was where you were meant to be. You let the feelings consume you whole, clinging even closer to him, arms holding him tightly, letting the breathlessness roam free. The only cue to end the kiss came from Neil, who has run out of oxygen and ended the contact with a sharp gasp. He did not let go, however, extending the hug for at least five minutes, during which you both savoured the moment. The quiet only disturbed with the sounds of your breathing and the synchronised heartbeats, marking the passage of time. It would be easy to fall asleep like that, feeling safe and loved. Finally important to someone. Finally his. But you knew that the things needing talking over would catch up eventually. And so, with the heart getting heavier and the body aching for more, you let go and disentangled enough to meet his eyes again. Nothing but affection there. It was that overwhelming love that prodded the next reflection:

“Sometimes I can’t quite believe you’re real” you let yourself stare a little longer, taking in his infatuated gaze and ruffled hair.

His beauty always startling in its harshness. The angles and sharp edges capable of shattering a heart. You knew that best of all. And yet, with the blue eyes that always showed a myriad of feelings, he was not intimidating, only absolutely fascinating. Someone you could admire for hours and would never have enough. Now, with your curious glance reflected and gentle touch caressing your temple, the luck felt almost immeasurable. Because how could you get this fortunate?

“I am, all yours to touch... and do whatever else you want,” the response bringing the confirmation.

It was that simple. The darker glimmer in his eyes told you as much. You hoped the smile was a good enough answer, for there were no words. Neil acknowledged your speechlessness with a timid smile, as though he too needed time to get used to the new dynamic. To the honesty and unrestrained confessions passed between you to make up for the lost time. The longing in his gaze was enough to let you know that it was time. That you could not stall anymore.

“Tempting…but…” you let out a long exhale and forced out the serious tone, “We should talk,”

One look in his direction told you he understood. The smile wiped off his face in an instant, the frown replacing the previous shyness. With the sudden need to make your circumstances a little bit more bearable, you got up and took hold of his t-shirt abandoned on the floor. Without thinking too much, you slipped it on and turned back to face Neil. An answering grin was a needed reassurance. You observed as he put on the boxers and settled back next to you, instantly drawing you into a half embrace with an arm placed over your shoulders and a hand resting on your thigh. It was all the comforts you could hope for beginning the difficult topic. Nothing to hold you back now. One look at him was enough to permit you to start. Alas…

“Every second I’m falling harder in love with you, and there’s no end to it,” the opening sentence getting out without a stutter as you stared at his fingers idly tracing patterns on your bare skin “I might not understand much-” watching with horror as he opened his mouth to protest you closed it with hand placed over his lips “No, Neil, let me say it” firmly, gaze held to show the determination; after a beat, he nodded and you resumed “I don’t understand much. Probably a quarter of what you know since you’re the smart one here, but... I refuse to give up before we try to make it work together. Let me help you” you could see the conflict brewing in his eyes, thousands of worries passing through his face; one last thing to say “I like to think that there’s a reason why I’ve been brought into this. That I’ve got a bigger role to play than being your lover” you whispered the word shyly, as if almost unsure if it was the right one.

It seemed correct, but… With growing uncertainty, you watched as Neil’s frown deepened. Then he seemed to consider something with eyes closed as though needing to block you out of the picture. That did not help the anxiety. Before your heartbeat could kick in with the elevated speed, he faced you again with new emotions painted all over the features. Most obvious of all – hesitancy. And then…

“You’re much more than that,” a long inhale as though that could give him courage, “You’re… You could be my- We could-” he faltered, the blue eyes looking anywhere but at you.

With your mind starting up the sirens for the world-ending kind of emergency, you could only blurt out the straightforward questions:

“What? What are you trying to say?” your voice wavered, betraying the chaos within.

It was that one false note vibrating through your vocal cords that made Neil calm down a fraction. Finally, he met your widened gaze, and after an extended second of soul-searching, he responded:

“I want to marry you… even today,” oh “If you’d want that, of course,” a hurried addition, with eyebrows knitting together and teeth nibbling on the lower lip restlessly.

Oh. Christ. Now nothing was stopping your pulse from picking up the tempo. The blood rushed into your cheeks as the words sunk in. That was far from anything you expected to hear. Now or ever. From him or anybody else. The sight he presented at the moment told you that there was no point in doubting the authenticity of the proposal. No one would look this terrified because of a lie. With words missing, you could only let out a half-hearted laugh:

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the forced lightness bouncing off his rigid resolve with the speed of light.

He took your hand in his, thumb brushing over the knuckles. Additional regard given to your ring finger almost thoughtlessly. It was hard to remember about something as basic as breathing as you stared at him, pondering his very next sentence. An explanation, hopefully.

“I’m serious. I need you to understand how much I love you. More than I can express and enough to know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you” the earnest look stunning you into silence with his beauty.

The confession needing at least two business days to be processed and understood. But there was no time for that. The part of your heart that has fallen in love with him circa New York ready to abandon logic and say yes. No matter the approaching battle, the lack of reason or sense in any of this. But that voice had to be silenced. For now.

“Neil… You can’t- It’s been less than a day since we-” you stumbled over the protest, failing to piece together a coherent argument.

Because it was both a yes, and a no. Yes, I want to marry you. Not now. Not yet. Not with the world on fire and uncertain chances of survival. But how do you say that?

“I know, but I’ve been feeling like this for months. And everything that happened showed me that I’m right. I need you” your internal monologue got cut short by Neil’s response, “But if… if you don’t want me like that, it’s alright. I-” it was the sudden insecurity betrayed by the stutter that alerted you.

You could not allow him to doubt your feelings like this. Never again. Following the instincts, you clamped your hand over his mouth again, cutting off the horrifying ramblings.

“Shut up,” you met his gaze and replaced the hand with your mouth, kissing him slowly, “I want you, exactly like that. But I want to have a future with you, filled with so much love and understanding that it will make my heart ache” the meaningful look focused only on the man inches away from you “That’s why we need to work together. So, one day if you’ll still feel the same… you’ll ask me properly, and I’ll say yes” the breathless addition costing you blush on the cheeks and a flash of anxiety.

The best answer you could offer hanging in the tense silence. Hesitantly, you looked at him again, searching for a response. The knowledge that he understood your plea and was willing to accept it. As your eyes locked, Neil smiled, the expression brightening up the mood in an instant. Maybe it would be alright.

“That might have been the most poetic rejection I’ve ever heard,” he murmured, and before you could comment on that, captured your lips in a kiss.

Gently showing you that he understood. Deepening the contact, making the reality catch up. It was real. He wanted you, and not just now. Loved you enough to marry you if the universe allowed. That was a prospect good enough to fight for. An idea to fight off the doubts and worries. Because no matter what your brain had to offer in exchange, it could not compare. Ending the kiss, on a contented sigh, you rested your forehead against his. Taking an additional moment to level the breathing and stare into the eyes that have seen the inside of your soul and accepted it.

“You took me by surprise,” the nervous grin appearing on your face on its own accord.

Neil mirrored it, fingers cupping your face and stroking your cheek tenderly.

“Sorry…” a kiss on the forehead “Since I woke up today and looked at you… it’s been on my mind. The idea that you’re the one, and I need to let you know somehow. An obvious way would be to make you my wife” an overwhelming wave of fondness passing through the system at his words.

Neil’s wife. That sounded good. Hopeful. A label you would be proud to have one day. Final confirmation of your love. That was the needed spark to steer the conversation back on the right track. You leaned in once again and laid a small kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“Will you let me help you?” the simple question as you forced the seriousness once again.

This time he looked less nervous. Instead, you could see the battle playing out within his gaze. Fear and worry most prominent, close to tipping the scales and engulfing his mind within their shadow:

“I understand your logic… and why you want to go with me,” the diplomatic tone making you frown, “But… I don’t think I’ll be able to survive losing you. If something went wrong and you’d- I can’t let that happen” steel-cold resolve you knew from those disastrous meetings where this topic was the ultimate hot spot.

Now, technically, the issue of holding back was out of the way. Now neither of you had to pretend that you cared less; that there was anything else at stake but your feelings towards each other. Still, the fear of another argument was settling in the pit of your stomach as you aimed to answer with necessary determination:

“That goes both ways, Neil,” your comment causing him to look up with a surprise, “You need to understand that we’re both stubborn idiots who won’t let go. The best we can do is compromise” the softer tone needed to persuade him somehow.

You observed as he swallowed hard, your hand still within his grasp, now clutched tightly. As if he was afraid you would disappear if he relaxed the grip. Finally, he raised his head once again and met your searching gaze. Panic. Denial.

“But what if-” the words coming out strained, broken.

You did not like where it was going, and so you interrupted the supposition:

“What if what? There’s a reason why TP sent me those materials. Why he thought it’s crucial we know about the lock, and we prepare for it” the urgency crept into your voice, disrupting the illusion that you were the calmer one.

But how can one discuss something this important emotionlessly?

“Maybe they’re meant for me. So that I can go in there, open the gate, and leave” Neil’s answer made you snap up with sparks of passion burning in your eyes.

What you found on his face made it worse. It was that same resignation from before. As if he had no other choice but sacrifice himself. As if that was the only option, and he did not even want to consider alternatives. Why? Ignoring the desire to slap sense into him, you urged the reason to fight alongside you and put on the most definitive of voices:

“But what if something or someone stops you?” the question tearing through the fragile reality as you faced his conflicted look, “You’ve got reasons to come back now. Don’t you dare give me that same self-sacrificial crap” mindless of your need to stay strong, a single tear trailed down your cheek.

It fell perfectly onto your joined hands, making Neil look up sharply. His forehead creased with a new dose of angst as he reached out to wipe the wetness from your cheek. Taking a moment to stroke your neck then, gently caressing the skin as if it was necessary. As if the time was running out.

“Maybe this… maybe it’s all we’re meant to have. Those few days and-” the heartbroken look he gave you was enough to call for drastic measures.

Impatiently, you took hold of his free hand and grasped his chin to force him to meet your gaze:

“No” certain, no place for bargains, “I won’t give up on you without trying. You’ve made yourself essential to me, you’ve given me something else to… to be” you faltered, more tears streaking down your face; words needed but missing “I can’t let you take it away like that” a sudden stroke of anger adding inspiration for the very next argument “And why? Because ‘what’s happened happened’? That’s just another way of excusing inaction” with fascination you saw him flinch.

You have hit the right spot. Now it was the question of persisting. Of making him understand how ridiculously he was acting. How selfish it was to get himself killed in the name of philosophy. The wrong one, at that.

“It’s not. It’s an expression of fate in the mechanics of the world, not an excuse to-” he recited the words as though he knew them by heart.

As though it was his credo. Bullshit.

“Do nothing?” you completed the sentence with an arched brow, “And what is it that you’re planning to do?” biting edge unplanned but helpful.

If only to see him hesitate. No scripted cue for this question.

“Save the world. For you,” the candid answer taking you by surprise, “Because this the only way I can assure your survival” Neil stared at you with startling emptiness.

It was not exactly unexpected, but still. The fact that you mattered that much, the lengths he was willing to go to for your sake. Fuck. Overwhelmed with love and fear, your heart begged to be released. It thrashed within its cage, pulse pounding in your ears as you forced the brain to work. To tell him how wrong he was to think you wanted a life that did not guarantee his presence.

“The trouble is I don’t want to live in the world without you in it” that straightforward; making sure he held your gaze before continuing, “Listen to me. We will devise a plan, the best we can come up with, and then we’ll go in there together. I’ll cover you and help you escape after the job is done” you outlined the most reasonable of options and added upon his silence “It’s that simple,”

The conversation slowly draining the remains of energy in your body. You wanted nothing but to curl up in his embrace and sleep, forget about this whole mess, even if for a few hours. But you could not have that yet. Not with Neil offering yet another counterstrike:

“It’s everything but simple,” more worry in the stormy eyes, “I don’t know if I can do it… if I can let you…” he trailed off, the unspoken concerns making him interlace your fingers securely.

That called for the final defensive.

“Do you trust me?” you dropped the question with a neutral tone.

The answer hoped for but never taken for granted.

“Yes,” he did not stumble, the word rolling off his tongue with ease.

A rare surge of hope blooming in your chest.

“Then trust me on this too,” raising your joined hands to your lips and kissing his knuckles, “Together we can come up with something brilliant, I’m sure of it” a tentative smile to sign off the sentiment.

You did not know it was the gesture or your words that did it. You saw him waver, teeth nibbling on the bottom lip showing you the depth of the internal struggle. And then his eyes softened.

“You’ll need to be careful. I can’t risk losing you,” refusing to look at you, attention focused on your hands resting in the space between your folded legs.

It felt strange to know that you were this important. But it also explained everything, helping you find the solution to his worries and a way out of the stalemate.

“I know. I love you, and I’ve no plans of dying until we’re both ready to go. Together” you could only grin at his shocked expression, “So?”

You knew you had won the moment he cracked a tiny smile:

“…Okay… but only if you promise me that if things get nasty, you’ll leave. Without putting up a fight,” waiting for your response, he gazed into your soul, careful touch running up your thigh.

That seemed like an acceptable condition. One that offered space for maneuvers. One that could be argued with later.

“I promise,” the whisper opening up a space to lean in and kiss him.

Sealing your fates, confirming the beliefs. A final opportunity to show him why you were willing to do anything to save him. And vice versa.

As the kisses evolved into cuddles and the simple need to find comfort in each other, the tiredness caught up with you both. Another yawn interrupted the comfortable silence. Your hands were idly resting over Neil’s heart, the steady rhythm helping you calm down after the eventful day. He kept on stroking your hair, fingers tangling in the strands and smoothing them down. The repetitive movement easing you in, bringing a needed break from the stress and anxiety of the past weeks. As your eyelids felt heavier with every passing breath, a final question had to be asked:

“Can you stay with me?” the sudden timidness not fitting in with the intimacy of the situation.

And yet. Any voices of uncertainty got extinguished the moment you looked up at Neil and met his bright gaze:

“As if you think I’d leave. Don’t be silly,” the sheer audacity of your question causing his grin to widen, “I need to make up for all those lonely nights somehow” voice lowered to a whisper, gentle touch trailing up your arm, soothing and promising.

Good enough to succumb to and let go already. However, that need for water was stronger, causing you to smile apologetically before untangling from the complex web of limbs and standing up. His eyes followed your movement like a hawk, smirk forming on his face as he took in your dishevelment. As you stretched, the hem of the borrowed shirt rode up, exposing the glaring lack of underwear. The rare rush of confidence was strengthened by the look in his eyes. Suddenly being seen did not hurt that much.

“That you do” taking a sip of the water, you asked, “Can I keep the t-shirt?”

It was just a simple black shirt, good enough to sleep in, engulfing you in the additional dose of that ‘Neil smell’.

“Of course,” an appreciative nod, distracting you to glance at the abandoned phone, “You seem to like me shirtless… which I’m not complaining about,”

The comment was enough to make you turn back, however. Obviously. Taking in his satisfied grin, the urge to slap him was back. That, though, could turn your peaceful evening into something else. Something that perhaps was best left for the future.

“I just generally rather like you, Neil” the retort dropped with perfect disinterest.

No one messaged you, which was bound to be counted as a win. You got a far as making sure the phone was on mute, and you were ready to join him back in the bed when Neil’s question made you turn with widened eyes:

“Can you check my phone, please?” there was nothing suspicious in the way he asked.

As if it was nothing. But it was not exactly nothing. With trembling hands, you went through his notifications. Nothing remarkable or worth mentioning. It was when you faced Neil again after a minute that you noticed his taxing gaze, analysing your every move. He acknowledged your startled look with a serious smile:

“I can see that shocked face, and I’ve got one thing to say to your mean brain - I’ve nothing to hide from you” the emphasis placed on the right words “You can go through my texts if you want to test that” a passing glance at the device you still held in your hand.

Now that was too much. The idea itself triggering the reservoirs of worries. That you were too possessive. That the insecurities were getting ahead of you. As though burned, you put the phone down:

“Christ, no, sorry,” covering your face with your hands for a beat, “I don’t know why…”

Why what? Fuck knows. Looking for comfort, you glanced at him helplessly. Maybe with time, it would get easier. Maybe.

“It’s alright. Come here” Neil had no doubts as he extended his hand towards you in the simple invitation.

He need not say it twice. You switched off the remaining lights and took his hand, letting him pull you into a hug. The whispered reassurances and affirmations followed as you settled for the night. Carefully, you placed your hands over his heart and the scar on the side, mirroring night from another place and another time. As you closed off the day with a final breathless kiss, it was astonishingly effortless to realise that it was where you were meant to be. His lips glided over yours with tenderness reflected in the way he pulled you closer. Finally, you exchanged another confession and closed your eyes. Joined hands resting in the space between your heads like a beacon of hope. Someone to hold on to.

***

The initial sleepiness lasted for about three hours. After that, your brain switched back on, no longer satisfied by the presence of Neil’s steady breaths or the anchoring touch reminding you of the new circumstances. With every minute, it was harder to focus on falling back asleep. Instead, you were forced to go over the various what-ifs and worries centred around the battle. Thoughts of locks, guns, and bullets elevating your pulse and warming up your body in the familiar signs of an upcoming anxiety attack. Overwhelmed with the flood of ideas, you opened your eyes. No salvation in the darkness. Only the warmth of the embrace acting as a reminder to breathe. With a spark of fondness, you realised that Neil pulled you even closer throughout the night. His hands have slipped underneath the shirt. The touch comforting yet also warm enough to be bothering the heightened emotions. You had to get up and cool down. Only that was easier said than done. With his tight hold, it was difficult to untangle, and the first attempt got stopped with half-asleep Neil clutching you with stubbornness, refusing to let go. Despite your heart desperately clinging to the comforts of the position, you decided to take it slow. You raised your head and watched him for a short moment, involuntarily smiling at the peacefulness painted across his features. The relaxed forehead, long eyelashes falling on the cheeks, and strands of hair splayed on the pillow like a crown of gold. Beautiful. Leaning in, you placed a fleeting kiss on his temple, then another one on the cheek, lips brushing over the corner of his lips in a ghost of a touch. Message simple – sleep, it’s alright.

It worked, for he relaxed his hold enough for you to get up from the bed and trod over to the window. The coldness of the room waking up the senses, moonlight spilling over as you glanced at the horizon. Nothing but the ocean and the starry skies. No salvation to be found there. Unable to let go of the worries, you sighed heavily and pressed your forehead against the glass. There was hardly any point in trying to go back to sleep. That train has left the station. Your hands trembled lightly, betraying the anxious energy stored in every single cell of your body. Needing to get out somehow. Briefly, you considered putting on clothes and slipping out to let the cold air calm you down. But that could only help for a brief moment. You needed a better solution. A way to shut down the qualms. How was an entirely different question.

Your nervous internal ramblings got cut short with the unmistakable rustling coming from the bed behind, followed by:

“Why did you leave?” Neil’s husky voice enriched with the sleepy drawl causing a smile to spread on your face.

With the permanent warmth seeping through your chest with the reminder that it was finally your reality, you turned back to face him.

“I can’t sleep,” sheepish admission completed with a small shrug, “It’s fine though, I can-” as you sat down on the mattress, Neil silenced you with a hand taking yours and lacing the fingers.

“What’s wrong?” he seemed more awake now, the familiar focus back in his eyes, “And don’t tell me it’s nothing because I’m not buying that,” the disclaimer placed with a firmness that still startled you.

Supposedly it was time to get used to being seen like this. Right through, no bullshit allowed. Terrifying and endearing. Because for once you were understood. Accepted.

Taking an additional moment to collect the thoughts, you brushed the hair away from his forehead. Careful touch making Neil shut his eyes and lean into your palm as you traced the sharp edge of his cheekbone.

“I can’t stop thinking about the lock… All of the what-ifs and plans are starting to drive me insane,” you admitted quietly, not stopping the tender caress, “It’s like whenever I try to go back to sleep, the thoughts just keep rushing in, and there’s no end to them” the dejected note causing Neil to open his eyes and meet your tired gaze.

His brow furrowed, hold over your hand tightened as though he wanted to reassert his presence. A reminder that you did not have to deal with it alone anymore. In response, you squeezed his palm and rested your head on his shoulder.

“I know the feeling well,” a kiss on the top of your head, “Maybe we should make use of it,” the hopeful edge kindling curiosity.

“How?” somehow, it already felt a little bit better.

As though being able to share the troubles could make your heart less heavy. Because he was there and willing to fight the demons away with you. That was enough to assure you that he was the one. He had to be.

“Let’s go to the bridge and start planning. You won’t sleep and, frankly, knowing you’re feeling like this, I won’t either, so what have we got to lose?” the explanation simple in its directness.

For a moment, you wanted to argue, to tell him to go back to bed and let you deal with this one your own. Because it was selfish to drag him along at 3 am to brainstorm over the filter coffee and A0 format blueprints. Yet the moment your eyes met his, the protests died on your lips. Everything you saw in his gaze told you that there would be no bargaining over it. That he was bound to follow you into the bridge and start the planning right now if it meant you would be able to sleep and calm down. You could only show how that realisation felt through a kiss that strengthened every single feeling twice fold.

***

That is how you have found yourself slouched over the terrain maps and Sator’s compound blueprints with the old-school ticking away the early morning hours on the opposite wall. This early (or late?), the bridge was bathed in the glow of the dawn spreading throughout the eastern horizon. It was incredibly cold, the biting chill causing you both to huddle at the corner of the large table with pullovers zipped up and mugs clutched in your hands. The adorable pinkish tint on Neil’s cheeks and tips of his ears were almost good enough to suffer.

Quickly you established the main points needing covering: the area separating the drop-off zone from the epicentre and tunnel leading inwards, the ten minutes you would have for the whole job, and the potential fuck-ups. With your directions, Neil drew the simplified plan of the terrain on the blackboard, and you attempted to figure out the optimal time needed to cross the distance while inverted. That turned out to be a rather inspiring conversation…

“How fast can you run?” standing at the head of the table, Neil threw a glance at you in passing.

With a grin, you noticed that he managed to get a blue marker stain on his chin. The desire to get up and deal with that distracting you from answering the question. Long enough for him to glare at you offendedly. Riiight…

“Not as fast as you… with all those legs, but I’ll manage” you eyed his slender form with a glimmer in your eye, noting down the exact route to cover.

Tough, but manageable. You were definitely not going to back out now. Not a chance.

“All those legs?” Neil’s clueless tone made you look up with a wide smile.

Cute. One would think someone this gorgeous would be vain. Not this one, however. You stared at him, fascinated by the confusion visible in his face. There was only one way to show him. You got up and crossed the space in two strides, stopping half a meter away, a wicked grin on your lips.

“Legs for miles, sunshine,” one more taxing look directed at him, slowly slipping over every single inch of his body.

Ending the scrutiny on his face again, you closed the space and cupped his cheek. Taking in the widened pupils and parted lips.

“Blimey,” a longer exhale, timidity highlighted by the deepening blush and disbelief in his voice, “Is there a part of me you’re not crazy about?”

As if. Perhaps it was the mix of anxiety, sleep deprivation, and unbelievable luck that made you braver. You placed your hand around his neck to get proper leverage and make him bow down slightly.

“…nope,” the poker face easily achieved before you kissed him on the marker smudge, “Do with that what you will,” a wink as you made sure to press your body against his in a clear message.

And then you strolled back to your chair. As though nothing happened. After all, it was time for work… and a little bit of fun.

Your punishment for the provocation came not long after when Neil came back to the table to help you figure out the best way into the epicentre. Busy with the blueprints, you only noticed his presence once you felt a teasing touch run up your spine, followed by lips trailing kisses down the nape of your neck. However far the collar of your pullover allowed. Involuntarily you shuddered, the reaction instantaneous as you grasped the edge of the cold table to keep focused.

“Neil-” a half-whine exposing the frustration.

Mistake. He must have knelt on the floor behind your chair, for the next thing you felt was the warm breath causing goosebumps all along your neck and throat. He pressed another kiss to the spot right under your ear. The specially chosen one always resulted in thighs clenched tightly and warmth spreading down your veins.

“Don’t tell me you thought I’ll let that pass” the whisper confirmed your suspicions.

One glance at Neil told you he was rather proud of himself as he mirrored your wink from before with a satisfied smirk.

“Rude,” you rolled your eyes, huff added to the drama.

Perhaps mission planning could be interesting like that. Perhaps. As though following your line of thinking, Neil leaned in once again and pressed a kiss to your throat. His hands sneaked around your waist and between the thighs for a split second. Enough to make you groan.

“Is it now?” he chuckled and got up before you could utter a sound, “So… which entry do you propose, miss?” leaning over your head, tone strictly business.

Just like that. Bloody bastard. There was nothing else to do but sigh heavily and begin to plot revenge in the quiet of your mind. That could be rather pleasant.

You decided on an entry point, separate from the tunnel used by the splinter unit just in case. Whatever that case might be. Around five o’clock, when the whole of the room was bathed in the mellow sunlight and the few fucked up seagulls were desperately trying to fight over a fish on the line of your eyesight, you yawned for what felt like the hundredth time and glanced at the sofa longingly. It seemed like now, after over two hours spent planning and talking about nothing but the bloody lock (and the possibilities of your relationship), anxiety has started to die down, leaving nothing but the worst of energy slumps. Neil must have caught your worsening state, for, suddenly you felt a careful touch on your shoulder. He drew you into a half hug, lips pressed against your temple in the soft kiss. You relaxed in his hold instantaneously, the sense of peace finally palpable and within your reach.

“You can go lie down,” he murmured, gently steering you towards the settee, “We’ll go over the obstacles we need to prep for now, but I don’t need you at the table for that” with a small smile, Neil pushed you down to sit.

“Thanks,” you grinned at him, the expression carrying over the rest of what you could not say just yet.

It was too easy to prop your head on the armrest and listen to him ponder on the various ways your mission could be hindered. So easy that you did not even realise when sleep has won over everything else, and you have given in to dreams with Neil’s steady voice fading into the background.

***

When your consciousness has once again reached the surface, you have noticed two things at once. A presence of a duvet you have been covered with that was not there previously, and a blinding light shining right at your face. Slowly, you opened your eyes, squinting at the brightness, and took in the surroundings. The bridge. Early morning. The steady sound of the keyboard typing. Neil. An unauthorised smile welcomed itself onto your face as you stretched out the stiffness from the nap on the sofa. One look at the clock was enough to let you know how badly you have fucked it. 7:30. No more, no less. One question needing answering… why hasn’t he woken you?

You sat up, quietly folded the duvet, and glanced at Neil still slumped over the plans. He had his head propped on the hand, hair falling over his eyes, and fingers restlessly typing out the document. Next to him, there was an unfinished coffee and a half-eaten protein bar. With a flash of gratefulness, you noticed that apart from fetching the blanket for you, he also remembered to eat.

It was that affection and fondness that prompted you to sneak up on him and use up some of the many vengeance scenarios you have thought of. In a smooth move, you have covered the distance and threw your arms around his neck. A startled yelp he let out, only giving more conviction that this was the right maneuver.

“What-” the beginning of the question cut short when you kissed him on the neck.

Slowly savouring the taste of his skin, you placed your hands on his thighs, relishing in the feeling of the muscles tensing underneath the clothes. It was easy to become addicted to this kind of power. The rush of courage prodding you to graze your teeth over his skin. The answering groan and slight head tilt giving your more space for exploration, nothing but approval.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” giving him a breather, you asked the question.

There was no reason to acknowledge it in any way. He would understand you were sure of that. Before he could answer, you picked up the activity, trailing kisses down his neck, giving additional attention to the pulse points and spots that made him fidget in the chair.

“Could never,” the hoarse whisper complemented with his hands covering yours, “What are you doing?” the hint of uncertainty causing a wicked smirk to spread across your lips.

A teasing answer on the tip of your tongue when the unmistakable sound coming from the airlock shattered the moment.

“Well, well, well… good morning, lovebirds,” the familiar Cockney accent broke the silence with an impish edge tinting every syllable.

There was no point in fooling yourself that they have not caught what you have been doing. Still, with cheeks burning red, you took a definitive step back, away from Neil and faced the rest of the team with an awkward smile:

“Hi,” the word came out quiet, raspy voice bringing out even more embarrassment, “We’ve um…” you trailed off, gaze helplessly slipping over Wheeler and TP.

No help apart from a knowing grin on her face and an inquisitive look in his dark eyes. The pronoun you have used ringing out in the space. We. Correct, and yet strange. Because you knew that after a show like this, there would be no more pretending. Everything out and clear. But maybe that was better… Your increasingly more hectic thoughts got interrupted by the sound of the chair scraping the floor.

“Couldn’t sleep. So, we decided to start the planning. For the lock,” Neil finished your sentence and added an explanation on a long exhale.

Unable to deny yourself the pleasure, you glanced at him briefly. He took a step closer, throwing you a reassuring smile. His cheeks were still flushed after your earlier ministrations, hair ruffled and begging to be arranged. Maybe later.

“You’re one entity now?” the shameless staring got interrupted by another cheeky question by the squad leader.

Oh christ. Resisting the urge to facepalm, you fought hard to find an answer.

“No, but… I’m going in with Neil. To help and cover” the truth had to do.

After all, it was what Ives wanted from you. The final decision on the state of things. A way out of the impasse. A sleepless night seemed worth it. One look at the soldier told you the decision has surprised him. He turned to look at Neil, directing the next question at him:

“Alright… and you’re all prepared for that? No more drama?” the emphasis given to the last three words brought back all the traumatic meetings from mere days prior.

No more drama. At last, there was no reason to feel the fear rise at the mention of the war council. Maybe the worst was truly beyond you?

“Yes, we’ve talked it over” Neil confirmed your thoughts with resolution.

On its own accord, his hand brushed against yours, the gesture not escaping the attentive gaze fixed on both of you.

“Doubt that’s the only thing you did,” the comment whispered low enough to be caught by the three of you stood close.

Your face reddened as you understood the connotations. On the one hand, it was nothing to be ashamed of. On the other, the part of you that always hated being seen like that was close to lashing out. However, your boyfriend had your back.

“Ives,” Neil uttered the warning, shooting you a worried look.

That was enough this time, luckily. Without a shadow of remorse, Ives grinned and strolled over to sit at the head of the table. Nonchalance personified.

“Mind sharing what it is that you came up with?” he arched his eyebrow in an open invitation.

Alrighty. You glanced at Neil, a silent question on your lips instantly understood, and answered with a nod of the head in the direction of the whiteboard and your abandoned plans.

As TP and Wheeler took their seats around the table, you both took hold of the papers and arranged them to prepare the presentation. Then a short eye contact was enough to kick it off:

“We’ll go in” Neil uncapped the blue marker and drew two dots on the board.

“Inverted,” you added, gaze sweeping over the audience.

So far, comprehension has seemed to be maintained.

“Yes. We’ve figured out that 4 minutes might be enough to cover the distance from the drop-off zone” drawing the line indicating your route, he motioned for you to pick up the compound blueprint.

“And get into the hypocenter. Via this tunnel,” exchanging a small smile, you took hold of the paper and pointed at the alternate entrance.

“Different to the one you’ll be using in case something went wrong,” he explained, “Then I’ll pick the lock and open the gate” quiet confidence you have missed hearing tinting the sentence.

Maybe it could work out just right.

“While I make sure he’s safe and sound,” complementing his sentence, you took that one step closer to Neil.

Emboldened by the dynamic you have easily fallen into, you shot him a confident grin and placed your hand on his shoulder.

Suddenly being watched did not feel half that bad. As though he was following your logic, Neil winked at you and finished the presentation with a telling shrug:

“And we exit,” you enjoyed the way his eyes glimmered with conviction.

For once, it felt like it was not just you who wanted it to work. Perhaps the conversation made an impact on how he saw things. And now he was willing to fight for your future. Together. The sudden need to take his hand got interrupted with a neutral question coming from Wheeler:

“What if someone stops you?” the poker face masking the hints of concern you knew well.

“We can discuss that now” Neil grabbed the list he composed during your nap and opened his mouth to speak.

Not for long.

“Have you been rehearsing that?” Ives’s question made all of you snap back to him in an instant.

The witty smirk gracing his features was a cause for concern. Because you knew well what he meant. Feeling the wave of embarrassment wash out the bravado, you struggled for an answer:

“No… that’s just-” biting on your lip in search of words, you barely registered what happened.

“Chemistry” Neil smiled assuredly and took your hand in his without missing a beat.

As you faced him with wide eyes, he raised your palm to his lips and kissed the knuckles in a gentlemanly fashion.

That was certainly a memorable way of announcing your relationship. Probably better than a Facebook status. Then you did not have Neil befriended on that. Did he even have an account? For whatever reason, your tired brain decided to treat those types of issues as most important of all, fixating on bloody Facebook of all things.

“You alright?” the tightening hold on your hand combined with the worried undertone in the question made you drop the pointless thoughts in a second.

As you met Neil’s gaze, you mustered another smile and squeezed back his hand. The company did not matter he was everything you could see anyway.

“Yep, sorry. Just knackered,” you whispered the assertion, refusing to acknowledge the ridiculous questions.

However, judging by the scepticism in his face, you knew it was not getting brushed off eternally. The sound of a throat being cleared pointedly made you both turn back to the audience with apologetic smiles.

“Hate to interrupt your little conversation, but I think we should use your head-start and try to complete the plans” Ives stood up from the chair and strolled over to the blackboard.

Marker in hand. Things still needed looking into if you were to make this mission successful on all fronts. Sleep and tiredness would have to wait.

“Sure thing” you passed the soldier a weary nod and sat down on your chair with a quiet groan.

Sofas were not the ideal places to nap. Note to the future self. Before you could do as much as glance at the documents again, a passing remark made you look up with eyebrows knitted:

“Congrats, by the way,” Ives threw the words with a telling wink directed at you and Neil.

Does the torture ever end?

“… Thanks?” the frustration seeping through your tone as you added, “It’s not like we’re getting married or anything, though”

“Yet,” the husky voice on your right chimed in with just the right amount of cheekiness.

Naturally. You glared at Neil sharply, any intent or purpose forgotten once he met your gaze with that familiar affectionate look in his eyes. Might as well…

The next few hours were spent on making sure every part of the plan and the tactics made sense and fit with the rest. It meant more filter coffee (fifth cup? More likely than you think) and more marker smudges all over your hands and arms. On the chin, too, if you ever got too lost in staring at the blonde bastard to your right. Which did happen. Often.

The cause of your death was the assigned job of drawing out the tactics on the large block of paper spread across the table. It was well past noon when you had finished half of it, and the pounding headache only seemed to increase with each second spent on staring at the red and blue lines and dots covering the piece. Stuck with the especially tricky part of indicating your two special task units on the plan, you let the frustration boil over with one simple curse, breaking through the dam:

“...fuck me-” the rest of the sentence, saturated with even more annoyance, was never meant to be heard.

“I am,” the two words invited themselves into your intended message.

Your eyes widened as the culprit confidently approached your workstation and gave you a little pat on the head. What the fuck? From every available expletive, you knew in a few different languages nothing seemed to come to mind in the outrageous moment.

“Neil, I swear-” that had to do as you made sure to show him the extent of fury through the look in your eyes.

You did not even dare glance at the others, knowing that this was quite the scene. Hilarious.

“What? Everyone knows anyways” the feigned innocence in how he batted his eyelashes at you only increasing the frustration.

He did have a point they knew. Especially after something like this. Still.

“That’s not an excuse,” the steel-cold voice doing nothing against the playful sparks in the blue eyes.

It was in the way Neil pushed himself closer to you that you knew what was coming. The ultimate finale to your early morning banter. Showdown. He caught the bottom lip between the teeth and glanced up at you through the dark eyelashes. Nothing but allure personified.

“Am I gonna be punished for the disobedience?” he overenounciated the words with a challenging tilt to the tone.

All of the annoyance was gone, the prospects opening up with his question. Mirroring him, you nibbled on the lower lip, letting the permanent desire back into your gaze. It was easy when faced with someone like Neil.

“... perhaps,” the word whispered with the promising wink.

And a pat on the blonde head, for good measure.

You need not turn to look at the company to know who facepalmed at that.

#tenet #tenet fanfic #neil tenet #neil tenet fanfic #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

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Steve Rogers, The Man On Fire

Hey y'all, as Pride month draws to a close I would like to post this fic. It's been in my drafts for a month and I finally today found the motivation to finish it. This is special to me for many reasons, one of which being that I'm proudly a part of this community. Some of the anger written in is my own. I think a lot of people will resonate with it. I really hope you all enjoy this and happy Pride Month <3

This was based loosely off a headcannon and once I re-find it I will credit!

Synopsis: Steve is freshly thawed, queer, and pissed | A.k.a. Steve's experience in 21st Century America

Characters: Steve Rogers, Mentions of Bucky Barnes, (loosely a Stucky fic but Steve thinks he's dead here)

Warnings: Angst but not bad, Steve Rogers being volatile and chaotic (we love), poorly written accents (I literally read this with an accent in my head), literally a 2k monologue

Word count: 5.1k

Steve Rogers came out of the ice angry.

No— not angry— Steve Rogers came out of the ice fuckin’ furious.

He came out of the ice with his hands curled into two fists, with his jaw clenched so hard his teeth were liable to snap, and with a bone to pick with every damn reporter and historian and too loud opinion on this side of the Brooklyn Bridge.

He came out simmering— no, erupting— like the serum in his blood couldn’t keep his body from hibernation all those years ago but it sure as hell won’t keep him from setting the entirety of New York on fire now. He’ll burn it all down if he has to and rebuild it the way he remembers it— the way Bucky would have remembered it— and at the end of it all no one— not the bigots or deniers or the homophobes that seem to be the only thing that came with him from the forties— will be able to say that Captain America can’t love whoever he wants.

No one will be able to say that Steve Rogers didn’t love James “Bucky” “the man I’ve loved since twelve years old” Barnes with everything he had and then some.

No one.

So he starts with the museums in Washington— because sure it isn’t New York but where else would a relic like himself belong more?

He still has hope when he enters the building. They didn’t make them like this when he was a kid— they had science fairs in the town hall and culture fairs in the backstreets near the docks but never anything this grand. No tall marble pillars or enough stairs to make him wonder if he would have been able to climb to the top when he was half the size he is now. It’s strange. It’s kind of wonderful. Yeah, the Smithsonian museums make Steve Rogers feel small for the first time in a very long time and that gives him hope.

That hope doesn’t last long, though, because soon he’s wandering through the halls, following the signs that say Captain America: The First Avenger— what the hell is an Avenger? Is that what they’re calling soldiers these days? Now he feels small and old.

Turning the corner is like landing on another planet, one devoted entirely to him. His picture is everywhere he looks, his name is in lights, even his damn uniform has been replicated and presented on a little stage and he hates it. The rage is back, sparking at his fingers— he’s a match and lucky for everyone this building is made of stone because if it wasn’t he’s sure it would be reduced to nothing but ash by now.

It only worsens as he begins reading through the plaques and the paragraphs flashing across screens on the walls— he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that. The more he reads, though, the more he wonders if the stone is really, truly safe from the fire in his blood. He doesn’t think it is.

He surely isn’t at least— he feels like he’s going to explode. This isn’t him— none of this is him. War hero. Martyr. Golden boy. He has to stop reading that plaque— clearly no one did their research. Clearly no one dug up his medical files— or his police records. Brawls at the pub, disorderly conduct behind Mr. De Luca’s sandwich shop, public nudity at the beach that one time— thank you Bucky for the best night of his god damn life. Golden boy— ha.

Golden nobody with the black eye and broken hand is more like it.

For a moment he thinks he’s fine— he thinks it can’t get worse than this. Then he gets to the early life section and for an even longer moment his tongue tastes like gunpowder.

Steven Grant Rogers grew up in the streets of Brooklyn alongside his friend James Buchanan Barnes—

He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence— not when they already got the most important part wrong. Friend. Friend? No, no, no. No! There are a million words in the english language that Steve could use to describe Bucky and ‘friend’ will never be the first one.

How about best friend?

How about partner in crime?

How about soulmate who loved Steve so much that every night for the past forty-eight days since he woke up in an era that Bucky doesn’t exist in he’s cried himself to sleep with the same cherry cola taste of his ‘friend’ on his tongue.

It’s the final straw— Steve loses it.

“Anyone got a marker?”

The museum is quiet before he speaks but when his voice— steadily rising and taking on that New York headiness that his troops used to jazz him about— cuts through the exhibit— his fuckin’ exhibit— it’s silent. It’s dead, almost as dead as Buck— Nobody dares move a muscle as he rips his ball cap off his head and throws it at the statue of himself. Everyone knows who he is— everyone is going to know who he is so help him god.

“I said—” he tries again— “does anyone have a marker?”

It takes a moment for the people around him to pick their jaws up off the floor and he allows them that moment with a smug grin starting to tug on the corners of his lips. Finally— they’re starting to get it.

He’s not a hero; he’s a supernova of every scrawny, queer kid who’s ever gotten beaten to a pulp for kissing who they want.

Maybe then it’s fitting that the marker— when it’s finally produced and placed in his waiting palm— comes from a teenage girl with a shaved head and a blue, pink, and purple denim jacket and a busted lip. She doesn’t say much— only a mumbled here you go— but her eyes say everything that her words don’t. Give em’ hell, Cap. For the first time since waking up he flashes a genuine grin back— yeah, this one’s for you kid.

Steve wastes no time uncapping the sharpie— he’ll look that one up later— and scratching out the error. The blasphemy to his unholy name. It takes him a little longer to decide what to write in its place. There are a million words, sure, but somehow none of them feel right at this moment. None of them are enough. That’s something he’ll have to come to terms with later, though— how much nothing feels like enough anymore without Bucky.

Finally Steve settles on a word and he scribbles it as neatly as he can given the fact that he hasn’t had to write anything in eighty years. When he takes a step back, feeling alive for the first time since waking up, he beckons over the girl with the shaved head and points to the place where he’s taken it upon himself to correct history.

“Hey kid, why don’t you go ahead and read that outloud for everyone here.”

He allows another moment— this time because she deserves the time it takes for her eyes to light up and the smile to stretch across her bruised mouth.

Steve laughs— a rusted, croaky laugh; another first in forever— when her head whips around, facing him as she loudly proclaims: “It says boyfriend. Steve Rogers grew up in the streets of Brooklyn alongside his boyfriend Bucky Barnes!”

“Damn right I did—” he mutters to the kid before taking a step towards the crowd of gaping mouths. “Did you all hear that? Don’t worry if ya’ didn’t— I’ll say it one more time. Boyfriend. Bucky was my boyfriend and if he was here today he would be my husband. If any of you have a problem with that then feel free to take it up with me. I took on half of Brooklyn for that man and I’ll do it again.”

When no one says anything Steve nods, turning to hand the girl back her marker and to thank her— he may be angry but he hasn’t lost all his manners— but when he looks at her she doesn’t look back. Instead she takes the same step forward that he had, one of her hands balled into a tiny, shaking fist at her side and the other wrapped around a cell phone that’s pointed towards the crowd. He doesn’t understand the mechanics but he thinks she’s recording.

“You hear that?” She parrots the super soldier with a wavering but fierce voice. “Captain America likes men! And none of you can deny it!”

This time it’s his mouth that drops, watching as she shakily turns the camera off and spins back around. Before Steve can say anything, though, she’s talking again, this time hastier, and he can’t help but think that she sounds so much like him. All flushed and scrawny and pissed.

“I’m sorry, I’ll delete the recording if you want but, I jus’ know these bigots are gonna’ try and cover everything up and that would be a fuckin’ shame. I don’t know if you know how many kids need to hear this. I did— and I think they should too. Only if you want, of course.”

He doesn’t answer right away— he can’t. It’s like looking at himself at fifteen. Suddenly he’s back again, his feet hanging in the water as his boyfriend paces behind him, asking if he’s ready to have him look at his knuckles yet. He didn’t get that many good punches in— the scrapes are mostly from the pavement— but Buck always worries too much so it doesn’t matter. The protective idiot.

Steve shakes his head, blinking away the sunset lingering behind his eyes. “Bucky woulda’ loved you, kid.”

The next time he loses it— the next time he turns into more flame than man— is after he saves the city he’s been trying to burn down for three months.

It isn’t long after that day in the museum when Nick Fury decides it would be best for everyone if Steve goes back into the field. Of course, no one really asks him what he wants— they pretty much just shove a new suit into his hands and tell him to get training, Captain— but what else is new?

No one really comments on his outburst besides that either. Can you really call it an outburst when you’re just trying to reclaim the parts of you that have been stolen? Sure, the press gets a hold of the story and, true to what the kid had said, tries to twist it into something more digestible, but no one actually addresses it up with Steve. Apparently when someone saves the world as good as he does no one cares that they kiss men.

Or that they don’t wanna’ to actually save the world anymore.

See, in those three months— between the training and training and even more training that Steve Rogers begrudgingly obliges— he has time to catch up on the world. More importantly, he has time to catch up on what the world thinks of him. He scours a plethora of documentaries, scholarly essays, and whole books of information about his time as Captain America. Well— his time as Captain America when it mattered. In all his scouring he learns one thing: everything written about him is wrong.

It’s all so fuckin’ wrong.

Just why the hell would he want to save a world so bent on destroying who he is?

The Smithsonian exhibition was nothing compared to what’s been written in the eighty years he spent in the ice. Better yet, nothing compared to what hasn’t been written about him. They’ve taken an eraser to every part of his life that doesn’t fit with the golden image that they constructed for him. A.k.a. every part that matters. His relationship, his past, every little thing that made him supposedly perfect for the role he was given. Gone. Erskine told him he was a good man— apparently he was the only one who thought so.

Apparently being a good man isn’t good enough.

They only wanted the perfect soldier. Yeah, well, they had one and they fucked him over too. Don’t even get him started on what they did to Bucky— Steve doesn’t want to think about what Winnifred— Winnie for short— Barnes would do if she saw the history books erasing her baby’s Jewish roots. Or his relationship. It wouldn’t be pretty, that’s for damn sure. If ever there was someone more protective than Bucky it would have been his mother. Not that there’s a damn note about her in anything either though.

Maybe that’s the final straw that does him in this time— watching the place that Mrs. Barnes loved more than almost anything else in the world crumble, while also knowing that the world no longer gives a shit about the two people she loved more.

“Mr. Rogers, this is where you grew up, is it not? Is there anything you would like to say about what took place here in your home city today?”

Maybe he pretends not to hear the last part— maybe he really does only hear up until where the reporter asks him if there is anything he wants to say. He’s been around quite his fair share of explosions; it would make sense that his hearing is a little off. Maybe he just doesn’t care anymore, though.

Scratch that— he definitely doesn’t care anymore.

And why the fuck should he? He does have something to say and propriety be damned he’s going to say it.

Steve stares into the crowd of faceless reporters and flashing cameras with a scowl on his grimey face. Around him stand the other Avengers— his ‘team’. The last time he had a team the historians screwed up the history for every single member. Dugan, Morita, Falsworth, Jones, Dernier, Sawyer, Juniper, Pinkerton. Barnes. All of them were brave men with families and sacrifices and all of them were treated like jokes by ‘reporters’ just like the ones in front of him now. He really doubts there’s a difference between old and new journalism.

The only difference is that now he’s here and this time he’s not going to let them write anything but the damn truth.

“It is—” Steve muses, brushing the sweaty hair from his forehead— “I’m surprised you know that though.”

The reporter cocks his head, clearly confused, and it makes the super soldier’s blood boil. “Come again, sir?”

“I said I’m surprised you know where I was born, kid.” This time when he says the word— kid— it’s derogatory. “Ya’ know, considering how you all seem to know nothing about me otherwise.”

Steve almost smiles at the way the crowd tenses. He actually would if it weren’t for the white hot rage coursing through his veins, mingling with the last of the adrenaline leftover in his system. It gives him an extra kick— not that he needs it. Even when he was just a runt from the wrong side of the tracks he needed nothing more than an offhand comment to raise his fists. Fighting to Steve Rogers has always been intoxicating— the aftershocks of winning the battle just makes it more thrilling now.

Who knew, right?

“Sir I asked—” The reporter sputters and Steve simply holds a hand up, silencing him before he can start again.

“Yeah I know what you asked, alright. You want me to talk about the battle here in New York today and how I am more than happy to have risked my life to save it. But I can’t do that, kid. Because I didn’t save it for you. I didn’t save it for any of you.”

Steve feels his team tense— maybe were it any other time he would stop talking. He would just leave it, let the issue go, because Bucky would tell him too. They aren’t worth it, bruiser, he would say, they aren’t worth your blood. Maybe he would listen to his boyfriend because usually he was right. Bucky was always right. So yeah, maybe he would list—

Who is he kidding; he knows he wouldn’t.

Not then and certainly not now— not when Bucky isn’t here to defend himself against everything Steve has been reading about. That’s exactly why he doesn’t stop talking. Someone has to defend him and who better of a person than him? So, yeah, he keeps going, even when he hears footsteps behind him.

“You wanna’ know who I did save it for? James Barnes, that’s who I saved it for! You see, just around that corner there is a bookstore. Rickley Books. That was my boyfriend's favourite bookstore. You know, the man who gave his life to stop a train in Austria from reaching the enemies? Yeah that was him. That train was filled with supplies. Had it reached their headquarters, who knows if we’d be standing here today. If there would be a New York at all. Not that you would know that. But who cares about that dead sergeant from the 107th, right? There’s plenty just like him.”

Steve shrugs nonchalantly— a move he picked up from the very man he’s speaking about— but he spits his words at the reporters with enough venom to cancel out any peace that the action brings. That’s his own move.

He keeps going. “You know who else I saved it for? His mother. Yeah, his mother Winnie Barnes. Wonderful lady. She used to run a soup kitchen a couple blocks from here. Kept the rift raft like myself from going hungry most nights— I was a brawler, you know.”

A couple of reporters in the crowd laugh at that and Steve flinches, his vision tinting red as he cranes his neck, seeking them out.

“Oh you think that’s funny, do you? You think I’m joking? I’m not. You ever been backed into a corner, son? Had people hurl slurs at you that I can’t even repeat today? Ever been beaten up for loving your best friend? No, I bet you haven’t. You weren’t a queer kid in the thirties. That’s hard— that’s borderline impossible actually. I only made it because of people like Winnie Barnes. That woman was a saint but nobody talks about her either.”

Steve has to take a deep breath, clearing the rasp in his voice that rises as he dwells on the woman he called his second mother for so long. She wasn’t just a saint, she was an angel. He can’t cry here though, not now. Not even as his throat begins to tighten.

“Winnie was the type of lady who didn’t let anyone walk over the little people. She used to sit me down and say Stevie you gotta’ fight for what you want because ain’t nobody gonna’ give it to you. She told me that I shouldn’t have to but that there were going to be people who would try to tear me down just for being me. And she was right— just like her son— because that was the era, you know? But now, here in the twenty-first century, you’re all still trying to tear us down.”

A hand lands on his shoulder, small fingers tugging at where his suit has begun to tear. Natasha Romanoff. He meets her gaze quickly, neck craning to stare down the red head, and in the few seconds their eyes meet it’s like Bucky is next to him. Somehow the blue in her irises catches the falling sun just like his used to. Steve can hear the gruff of his voice in the depths of his mind. Back down, bruiser. The sentiment is echoed across Nat’s face.

Steve shakes her hand off him, turning back to the reporters— don’t they know that he can’t?

“You all say you care about me, huh? That I’m a hero? You know nothing about me— you don’t want to. Before I was a soldier I was a kid. A queer kid. I said that already but let me repeat it. Queer. Did you write that down? None of you certainly did before. That’s how I know that you don’t care— because in an age where being queer is infinitely more accepted you still don’t bother to write it down.”

He pauses for another breath, shutting his eyes against the blinking red lights of the cameras. They’re like little demons, always watching his every move. Recording. Everything’s always recorded these days. Will he ever be used to that? Bucky was the technology guy, not him. Not then and not now.

When Steve picks up again— eyes open and shoulders freshly straight— it’s on a new note— a clear note.

“You don’t care about me— you certainly don’t care about the real heroes of the war because if you did you wouldn’t erase our history. Do you know how much it would have meant to Bucky to see our relationship accepted? The man who died for you? How much it would’ve meant to his mother? You can’t just pick which of our stories and our sacrifices are worthy and which aren't.”

He hasn’t spoken this much since he’s woken up, not all at once at least. Maybe he should have, though— maybe if he had then he wouldn’t feel like ripping the heads off everyone in front of him right now. Call it fight or flight. Call it revenge. Hell, call it whatever you’d like because it doesn’t really matter. Either way he feels like a kid again— again— backed into a corner behind the deli with his fists up and his teeth bared.

He feels feral again.

“So now you just want me to save the world like I did— like Bucky did— all those years ago— or maybe jus’ New York— as if that’s any better— and you don’t even bother to write a proper article about me? Hell, I never even asked for an article, let alone a whole exhibit! I’m just a soldier— and before that I was just a kid. If there’s never another article written about me I’ll be grateful. But now that I’m here, standing in front of you, I’ll say this—”

Just as Steve’s voice is cresting into a shout that would no doubt be heard regardless of whether or not the microphones were in front of him, Natasha tries one more time, her fingers slipping between his.

Her voice is a dull buzz compared to his, only reaching his ears by sheer will. “C’mon Stevie— we gotta’ go now.”

Like before he’s stunned but this time instead of seeing Buck— instead of hearing him in his head— he hears Winnie.

You fought good, honey. You fought good for us. You can rest now.

It’s jarring and it’s not lost on him the handful of awkward seconds that it takes for him to respond. That’s just the effect Winnie had on people though— still has, apparently. Steve shakes his head— I know, mama. But I gotta’ finish this fight.

“No, Nat— I’ve got to say this.” Steve mumbles— voice just beginning to waver despite how hard he clenches his jaw— before sneering at the crowd one last time.

“If I ever read an article from any of you that discredits Bucky Barnes, our relationship, or myself just know that I’ll come for you. I’ll come for this city. Don’t you ever forget who I saved it for. James Barnes, Winnie Barnes, and every queer kid who’s ever felt erased because of people like you. The bigots in the forties couldn’t stop me. The Nazis couldn’t stop me. Not even the Atlantic Ocean could stop me. So don’t think for a second that any of you could either. Have a good day.”

With that Captain America turns, marching off the impromptu stage and beginning the trek back to his apartment. He doesn’t bother looking at his team as he passes them— he can imagine their stunned faces well enough on his own. No doubt he’ll be getting another assignment from Fury soon enough to make up for this ‘outburst’ too. Still, he feels a little bit better. There’s an ache in his shoulder, and one under his ribs too, but he still smiles as he passes Rickman and Sons Books. That must mean something good.

The last time Steve Rogers burns he doesn’t burn the way he’s expecting to— he doesn’t vandalize his own name or blow up at a reporter. No, the third time— the final time— that Steve Rogers burns it’s with nostalgia— and with a damn good cup of coffee in his hand.

“I had no idea this place was even here.” The girl across from Steve muses, tiny hands shifting the steaming cup back and forth.

Her name is Ellie, he learned that back at the museum after asking for a copy of the video she took. He barely knew how to use his phone back then, let alone his email— hell, both still confuse him more often than not— but she had been patient. A little awestruck and a little riled up too but he took it in stride— easily. It’s not hard being nice to the spitting image of him.

“I’m glad I’m good for something other than making the news.” Steve chuckles and this time he means it— there’s no malice or ill intent, only humor. “O’Malley’s ‘s been here longer than I have. Looked a little different then—” he takes a moment to let his eyes wander the old coffee shop and it’s new appliances— a moment to feel his age catch up to him— “but I guess I did too.”

Ellie’s laughter joins in there and it’s strange— strange that he hasn’t laughed with another person in seven, almost eight, months; strange that her laughs sound so much like Bucky’s when they were younger; strange that Bucky isn’t here to hear. Here to laugh, too. Because he would have.

He would have called Steve an old man, would have wrapped his arm around his shoulders, would have asked— no, demanded— that Ellie try the plum cobbler. They always made the best cobbler. Bucky always had the best laugh. All grit and breath and him. Steve feels warm just thinking about it.

“Well thanks for letting me in on the secret, I’ll make sure to guard it carefully.” She even has Bucky’s warm sarcasm.

Maybe it’s not so much like looking in a mirror as it is looking at what he wishes he and his boyfriend could have been back then.

“And thanks for letting me interview you—” Ellie continues, setting the cup down but not before nodding at it, her eyes wide— “wow. You weren’t kidding about the joe, huh? Anyway— thanks for scheduling this. I know you’re probably super busy— and that there are more well established people you could have gone to.”

Steve sets his own mug down too— if he hadn’t there’s a possibility it would be more puddle than porcelain. “Well established means nothin’, kid. Not when you don’t have heart. They’re parasites, all of ‘em. The press couldn’t care less about me.”

Ellie nods, lifting the lid of her laptop. It’s a little bit dented and slathered in stickers, not quite the newest model— he would know, he has the newest one and it’s still sitting in his apartment in the box. Yet another testament to how little the people around him truly know him.

“Welcome to the twenty-first century, can I get you a side of classism with that commercialism?”

Now she sounds like Winnie too.

“Say, has anyone ever told you that you’re funny?”

She shrugs, tilting her head, a lopsided grin glued to her face. “Once or twice— I never know if they mean it or if they just want me to shut up. I never do so I guess we’ll never know.”

Steve sputters out another laugh because; “I guess we’re the same then— never give them a moment, kid. That’s the best advice I can give you.” He pauses— again— he supposes it’s going to be a day of pausing— he supposes it’s about time he pauses— before adding, “Bucky would’ve scolded me for saying that.”

Ellie’s fingers, swift and deft over the machine— Steve hadn’t even seen her begin to type— pause too as her smile softens. “What would he have said instead?”

Her question shouldn’t catch off guard— this is why he asked her to meet him; to finally, properly write his story— their story. Still he pauses— Steve’s empty hands feel hot, his shoulders warm; bare— what would he have said? It doesn’t take long to hear his boyfriend’s voice, not there but somehow loud in his ear all the same.

Just relax— they aren’t worth it. It’s too nice out to care about anything but the water— are you coming in or not? Summer doesn’t last forever, you know?

It’s impossible but Steve can feel the sun on his back and on his ears again, like he’s there— like he’s back, sixteen and on fire. Those were the days where everything made him cold. The days where his skin burned no matter the season but especially in August which was when the ocean was warm enough to swim in. It never stopped him from joining Buck— nothing could have stopped him. His cheeks warm, too, at the thought.

Steve blinks, his own smile— perhaps a little lopsided in it’s own right— shaping over his mouth. “He would have told you to relax— and to try the plum cobbler. It’s fantastic.”

With another giggle— and a reiterated comment— has anyone ever told you you’re funny, Steve?— they fall into a conversation, just a kid and a relic, about life. It’s not an easy conversation— but then again those kinds never are. It’s real, though, and unedited. Unfiltered. Just the way Erskine and Winnie and Bucky would have liked it— the only way Steve wants it. It’s not perfect but, hell, Steve has never been perfect.

He’s never wanted to be.

Maybe Steve doesn’t know everything his boyfriend would say— and maybe he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t blow up once or twice after today— but he can confidently say that he gave Brooklyn a run for her money— twice— and lived to tell the tale. He can say then when it mattered, he burned. That he still burns. That he will until he doesn’t— until he’s extinguished.

But, hey, though Summer doesn’t last forever, not even the Atlantic could extinguish the flame that is Steve Rogers.

That’s what he writes— in Sharpie— on the card he writes to Ellie— the one attached to the computer he knows he’ll never use.

#Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #Stucky #steve x bucky #Queer!steve rogers #Queer!Steve #Queer!Bucky #Queer!Bucky Barnes #Captain America #pride month #Steve angst #steve fluff #Marvel cinematic universe #Mcu #mcu fic #steve fic

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cazimagines · 3 years

Text

After seeing @toobruhlforschool post the article, I had to translate it!

English translation by google translate below the cut

Daniel Brühl tried for the first time as a director - and he succeeds very well. His debut “next door” (in theaters July 15th) is full of black humor about how embarrassing, tricky and exhausting it can be to be a famous actor. Especially when you meet a neighbor in the corner bar in a Berlin neighborhood, played by Peter Kurth , who obviously hates you. The story is based on Brühl's idea, and very vaguely on his own experiences, from which the writer Daniel Kehlmann draws("Measuring the World") has made a script in which the price of fame is demonstrated with relish. In addition, allusions to Daniel Brühl himself are hidden in the film, who not only directed the film, but also plays the protagonist, a famous actor, in “next door”. Brühl, who last worked in the international Marvel series “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier” , speaks in an interview about what made him decide to make this story into a film and how to approach such a project.

Interview with Daniel Brühl: About the price of being in public and the success of projects

Mr. Brühl, in your directorial debut you investigate the price a successful actor pays for being in public. Why did you want to do this film?

One topic I've always been interested in is gentrification. The initial spark was an observation I made in Barcelona. That was about ten years ago. I moved to the city for a while. That made me very proud, because I've always felt very connected to Barcelona, I was born there and finally wanted to say: “I'm a Barcelonian now”.

Instead, did you attract attention because the actor Daniel Brühl was recognized?

No, I just acted very silly, always walking through the streets with my key fob to show that I don't live in a hotel, I'm from here now, then I always talked loudly to the people in the market where Street, via FC Barcelona et cetera. Then I always enjoyed going to such a lunch spot and one day there was a crusher in front of me, such a real edge, and looked at me piercingly without blinking. Forever long. Like Clint Eastwood.

Just like in your film a man from the neighborhood, played by Peter Kurth, who takes on an actor who is very similar to you.

Yes, with the man in Barcelona back then, I immediately felt that he couldn't take me. As I sit there with my trolley suitcase, just flown in from Berlin. The jet set that somehow rattles around loudly with the waiters, makes each other mean and wants to please. That totally exposed me. Then my imagination started. I thought it was a scaffolding builder who had been able to look into our apartment from a construction site for months and now wants to confront me with everything he knows about me.

How do you relate this story to gentrification?

There is such a constant feeling that you are not to blame for gentrification but are part of the process. I've been dealing with this since I've lived in Berlin and I noticed it again in Barcelona. Then the mind game started that an actor, someone who is in public, offers a completely different surface to attack.

How do you translate that feeling into a project?

I enjoyed the way such a person was approached in a masochistic way. As he is told, “I found your film poop. I think you shit as an actor. " Then I moved the story to Berlin, the East-West topic was added, but at some point I realized that I couldn't write it alone and approached Daniel Kehlmann. He could do something with it immediately. While we were writing we noticed how much more was there. That was around the time some public careers were collapsing. That was an interesting component, people who outwardly have perfect lives, whose careers are ruined by rumors that come out about them.

Which personalities are you thinking of?

Well, of course the case of Kevin Spacey, the very different case of Harvey Weinstein. There have been many cases, some of them based on real crimes. It became an interesting topic for me because I wanted to play someone who would completely lose himself in his career and then be held up in the mirror.

If so much of you went into the script, why is Daniel Kehlmann the only one who has the credit and you don't?

There are so many Daniels. At some point I just felt uncomfortable reading my name so often. In addition, Daniel Kehlmann did the most on the script. I couldn't have made the film without him. That a Kammerspiel (From what I learnt in my film studies, Kammerspiel is a certain type of German cinema) remains exciting for over 90 minutes depends on the dialogues and they mainly come from him. I was a sparring partner who fed him ideas.

You have had a veritable career as an actor for over 25 years, appearing in blockbusters and playing a leading role in an international Netflix series. Then that's a fundamental step in deciding whether to direct. How do you manage to take such a new path?

You can't take a quick shot. I've been waiting for the right time, but you can't let it pass. That's what happens when you're too scared, too respectful. At some point you have to trust yourself. Now that I've done it for the first time, my humility towards directing is even greater. I consciously wanted to do something small. I would not have believed myself capable of certain other substances. Then I would have the feeling that I am falling out.

How do you know that you are on the right track and that you can get started with a project?

If an idea remains interesting for you after long deliberation and reflection, and does not suddenly become stupid or boring, you can ask yourself whether this idea is reasonable, i.e. whether you trust yourself to implement it. I knew this was a world and that there were characters - I just know my way around that. If you are also lucky enough to be able to set up a good team, then you are on the right track. It is of course a total luxury that someone like Daniel Kehlmann has promised me to write this. Peter Kurth replied with a handwritten letter within 24 hours. We met and hugged in his local pub.

The role actors and actresses play in public is not only the topic of your film, but was also discussed in the course of the #allesdichtmachen campaign, a campaign against the measures taken by the federal government to contain the corona pandemic. Were you also asked about this?

I was actually not asked, but I know many of those involved. I wanted to stay out of this heated Shitstorm number and clarified that privately with those I know. I not only found the action unsuccessful, but also the counter-action excessive and absurd. I can see that in many areas at the moment, how quickly such a thermal rises, which is toxic. That's a bit of the theme of the film.

Then again quickly an easier topic: What is the most absurd thing that has ever happened to you as a public person?

Haha, a scene that also made it into the movie. In Barcelona a couple came up to me in a park, two blondes, with a camera in their hand. It was immediately clear to me that they were Germans and they wanted a photo with me. I instinctively put my arm around the woman. They were Swedes, of course, who didn't recognize me at all, but wanted me to take a photo of them. It was so embarrassing and even more terrible than in the film because then I started to explain in English “You know, I'm a famous actor…” The way they looked at me! Haha, that was one of those moments when you notice how you blush. Well then I think I could tell you about embarrassment for an hour.

#daniel bruehl #daniel bruhl #daniel brühl

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demonicheadcanons · 4 years

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can you do a HC of 18th century Obey Me brothers?? I'm super into historical drama at the moment and would love to see classical Obey Me AU

AN: Thanks for sending this in!! I’m not very good with history, so please forgive any mistakes as I have pretty much just skimmed a few different websites trying to find whatever info I could pick up ;u; This isn’t a traditional headcanon set, but rather an overall ‘18th century Devildom’ headcanon. I hope that’s alright!!

It is occurring to me as I write that this probably isn’t what you want at all because this ask says ‘historical drama’. Sorry ;u; I kind of just ran with whatever came to my head.

I make some references to things that happen later on in the game, around Lesson 15/16. I don’t mention anything outright, but there are definitely hints at some spoilers, so please don’t read this if you haven’t gotten that far ^^

Obey Me - 18th Century AU

The brothers are less put-together than they are in the actual game, with a few hundred years less development under their belt. It shouldn’t make much of a difference as they’re all at least a few thousand years old, but because of some issues between the brothers that have been dragged into the Human Realm, the Devildom is a disaster.

Issues like... Satan and Beelzebub have been having an ongoing argument, contributing to the many wars and famines across the globe. In his free time, Satan has been travelling to the human realm and assisting global leaders from the sidelines, to relieve stress and to cause chaos for his own amusement. Beelzebub’s anger causes food to spoil easily in the Human Realm. Belphegor watches it all from the sidelines, enjoying watching the Human Realm crumble under the demons’ grasps. He doesn’t like seeing Beel upset, and encourages him to take it out on the humans. Beel himself is reluctant to do so, and most of the damage he does is accidental. He feels guilty for it, but is confused because it seems to make Belphie a lot happier than he has been.

Diavolo decides to put a stop to it, and settles on an exchange program of sorts. He puts it into action immediately, banning the brothers from travelling to the human realm and pulling a few humans into the Devildom. The first exchange goes... poorly. There isn’t any way for the news to really spread in the Human Realm, so the disappearance of a few humans is easily covered up. The next time, the MC is pulled into the Devildom and put into the care of Mammon, who is less hostile than his other brothers.

Mammon believes he can personally benefit from a stronger bond between humans and demons - he’s already in contact with witches, and it would help him gain their trust. At the same time, he’s also willing to follow Lucifer’s lead irregardless of how reluctant he may seem. Because of this, he puts effort into actually protecting his human this time; last time, things hadn’t gone well, and he really hadn’t enjoyed the cleanup. He hadn’t been attached to the humans then, and now that he feels a pull to the MC he’s going to be by their side constantly so they don’t meet the same fate.

Asmo loves the clothing, and is one of the first to bond with the MC. The secrecy of it all! What do you really look like? Why do you insist on covering up so much? He treats the MC like a forbidden treat, but genuinely loves the outfits they wear and, with a few adaptations, starts trying to get similar clothing trending in the Devildom, with some genuine success. His forward and suggestive nature is somewhere between disturbing and almost refreshing - its nice to be around someone so open once you get used to it.

Levi is the same as ever, but without all of his technology. The Devildom is still more advanced than the Human Realm, but I can see him with a typewriter writing out poetry and such. Perhaps he and Satan are closer during this time, Levi not being quite so much of a shut-in, and the two read and write together at times. Levi also helps contribute when Satan travels to the human realm to cause chaos - he doesn’t really care all that much, but its fun to lead any navy, even if its a pathetic human navy, and it helps him to de-stress and gives him some inspiration for his writing.

This changes when the MC arrives. He meets them on that first day when Mammon runs away, and they still go through with the pact plan. He’s a little less awkward, but still talks down to the human until they break their seemingly quiet and controlled nature and snap at him. It creates an interest for him, because he’s never seen humans up so close when he’s not fighting them, and he’d only paid attention to the fictional humans in his books. He ends up watching the MC and spending time with them when Mammon isn’t, one of the more controlled brothers who doesn’t really feel like hurting them because there isn’t some big game to play on a watery battlefield.

Lucifer is... busy. RAD isn’t what it is yet in the game - its tough trying to wrangle the demons in and to get them to adapt and better themselves. He’s determined to help Lord Diavolo however he can, but between getting everything set up and dealing with his brothers’ outbursts, he’s rarely able to see the MC.

When he does, he’s a bit of a mess, jumping between being proud and acting like a nobleman, to teasing them because before they’ve adapted to Asmo’s nature, their reactions to everything are entertaining. He’ll flirt and be downright inappropriate at times to get a reaction out of them, using it to help him stay calm amidst all the chaos. Because he usually ends up feeling calm or excited around them, he takes a liking to them quickly enough and ends up quite defensive.

He has quieter moments with them, too, if they know how to play the pianoforte. He invites them to play duets together, and likes to listen to them sing or work their way through the sheet music he has laying about. One day they quietly make their way through an old, old song he last heard hundreds of years ago, and he stands silently in the doorway before walking off to spend some time with his brothers, the memories of easier times fresh in his head.

Satan is also a mess but for different reasons. He’s suddenly lost his main output, and now there’s a human here that he’s not supposed to mess with? He might be a little manipulative at first, but one day he walks into the library and the MC is curled up reading one of the many books, or has discovered some of his writings and is smiling to themself as they read it before carefully and gently setting it back where it was. He changes after that, becomes quieter and tends to watch them a lot when the two are in the same room together. Were all humans like this when they weren’t fighting with each other? When they didn’t immediately rise to his words? It’s not that he feels guilty for the things he’s done, because he doesn’t feel he has done much other than offer advice to people already wanting to fight and conquer. But a soft spot develops for the quieter moments in human lives, where they create - through embroidery, drawing, painting, singing, etc. He finds a new output through them.

Beel tends to avoid the human, not wanting them to realise that he’s potentially been a catalyst for some of their struggles in the Human Realm. However, he begins to feel left out as his brothers are all one-by-one getting attached and spending more and more time with the human. They remind him of something, some old memories he’d long since pushed down, and now he isn’t sure whether he wants to remember or forget about them. They become easier, softer, to hold onto with this human around, and so he stays by their side whenever he can. They seem almost enchanted by him too, Beel being different from how most humans present themselves at the time. A common curiosity is what holds the two together, really.

Belphegor stays the same as he is in game. When the two eventually do bond, its because of Beel, and because all of his brothers are already so attached to the MC. He wanders around silently for the first few days he’s able to, watching them read with Satan or sneak into Levi’s room to write letters together, listening to them laugh with Mammon and Beel, and play piano with Lucifer - it’d been so long since he’d heard that song, since he’d heard Lucifer sing like that. Its hard not to get attached, and he realises that there’s no ill will in their heart at all despite everything the demons had done. One day he’s in the planetarium, laying on the floor with his eyes closed, taking a break from watching the stars. The MC walks in and freezes when they see him there, and they lay a blanket over him before leaving, and it settles everything into place for him. He could trust them.

Diavolo throws a lot of balls / parties for everyone to get acquainted, and because he heard it was common in the Human Realm. He has the MC and other humans help to teach the brothers some dances, and in return the brothers and himself teach them dances common in the Devildom. This sparks a jealousy between the brothers, who have all in one way or another, started to become attached to the MC. It becomes a silent battle of who can ask them to dance first, who gets to spend the most time with them, and so on.

Diavolo himself joins in if only to see the brothers reactions, and to see how well his plans have all worked out. The human seems content, seems to feel safe, and they smile calmly up at him and he feels guilty because he himself has accidentally caused harm to their kind before. How can they look up at him as if they’re safe in his arms, how can they laugh as the two dance together, practicing and developing a new dance that combines human and demon tradition together to form something new, to begin a new era? He relaxes over time, especially with Barbatos’ guidance and input. The plans are working and the MC is happy, and he feels like both are equal accomplishments.

Barbatos himself is happy to watch it all from the sidelines. He trusts that Diavolo will lead things where they need to go, and if anything happens, he knows he himself is capable of taking care of it. He finds himself curious about the human, who has settled into a life so different from what it had been. He doesn’t get too involved, but regularly brings them treats and, if he passes them at RAD, asks about how they’re doing. He mainly keeps Diavolo updated on anything he notices.

The angels aren’t brought into the picture yet, but a second exchange program is held shortly after that involves the Celestial Realm as well, and both Simeon and Luke quickly grow attached to the MC. They’ve helped so much with settling the Devildom and helping peace grow between the realms. Luke clings to them and asks about how they can cope around so many demons, and enjoys participating when they bake or draw or paint. Simeon’s interest is quieter, and he mostly enjoys watching how they interact with Lucifer, and seeing what traditions they have kept from the human world. Like Satan and Levi, he finds them to be an inspiration, and asks if he can write a story based on them.

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babyybitchhh · 4 years

Note

This is the anon who commented about yami! I didn't like nozel at first but I can't lie, he kinda grew on me and he's fine asf. I couldn't look at magna in anyway until I saw him with his hair down. Now I'm like 👀👀👀. More than anything, I just want yami to ruin me. Spank me and call me a good girl pleaseee

Yessssssss

Yami was BUILT to be daddy. So strong, so rough around the edges but with a big soft heart, so beefy 💗🥴💗

Words: 3937

Warnings: daddy kink, alcohol, drunk fingering, vaginal fingering

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27172960

❤️❤️❤️❤️

You probably should have known better than to start drinking with them. No, not probably. You definitely should have known better.

Hindsight was always twenty-twenty though, and you could see now just how grievous a mistake it had been to accept Vanessa’s invitation without stopping long enough to consider the consequences but, well ... she was one of the only other women in the squad and she seemed to like you well enough. You wanted her to keep liking you, of course. So you’d foolishly jumped at the chance, far too eager to be included in this decidedly unorthodox team bonding exercise of theirs.

The Black Bulls were, by nature, sufficiently rowdy enough on their own but adding alcohol to the mix only seemed to fan the flames. They were the very definition of unruly. Clothes had been shamelessly discarded, more cigarettes smoked than you would have thought possible, arguments over nothing at all turned heated with alarming frequency only to be immediately forgotten and you, you were stuck in the middle of it. Thoroughly lost in your own world and floating serenely through the hazy bog of consciousness without a second thought to what chaos was going on around you.

It was kind of nice, actually. Liberating.

“Remember, ya’ gotta’ have at least three matching pairs to discard,” Magna reminds the assembled party as he quickly deals out a fresh hand. “Or you can do the same suit if ya’ want, but it has to go in order. No incomplete sets.”

The worse for wear table everyone had initially gathered around started off cramped, a tight fit for so many people and with little elbow room to spare. As the night wore on, however, most of the plucky squadron had gradually called it quits and retired until eventually only four remained. You were proud of yourself for outlasting the others but you also knew just how in over your head you were with this particular group. Yami could likely drink anyone under the table and Magna appeared to keep up with him just fine. While Vanessa didn’t exactly hold her liquor well , she could certainly put it away. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that you were on your last leg here even if you were, for all intents and purposes, having a good time.

“Alright, lets see what ya’ got.”

Feeling simultaneously as light as a feather and sluggish under the weight of heavy, invisible chains, you slowly flip your cards over. It was hard to tell which way was up anymore, especially when your inner vertigo was so off kilter. You were warm, too. Almost unbearably so. Clammy in the worst possible way and you teeter forward in your chair, struggling to focus your swimming vision on the cards spread out in front of you.

It was a shit hand.

Grumbling under your breath, you distractedly tug at your clothes. A soft, fitful whine claws its way up your throat when it does absolutely nothing to alleviate just how stiflingly hot you are and, in fact, only seems to make it worse. You were absolutely burning up and this card game was its own special brand of torture, you decide with nothing short of woozy contempt.

“What the hell’s your problem?” Yami asks mildly from his spot beside you.

He was infuriatingly collected despite having consumed even more alcohol than you had, guzzling down mouthful after mouthful while you’d taken your time sipping on the fruity concoctions Vanessa made special just for you. You’d lost track of how many cups he’d emptied quite some time ago but you were still only on your third. It didn’t make sense. How were you so damn tipsy already?

“Hot.” You groan, not bothering to look up from what was possibly the worst hand you could have been dealt. Letting Magna shuffle the deck was, unsurprisingly, yet another mistake to add to the ever growing list.

Turning his head, Yami glances over at you and you catch the movement from your peripheral but still refuse to divert your attention from the cards. Maybe if you just stared at them long enough, hard enough, they’d morph into something you could actually use. You weren’t a magic knight in name only, right? Surely your grimoire was good for something .

“You’re drunk.” He suddenly announces, loud enough to make Vanessa whip her head around.

“M’not.” You grumble.

“Bullshit.”

The inebriated witch inserts herself into the fray before you can respond, wrapping slender arms around your shoulders and pulling you in against her bosom. “Awww, honey! Did’ju really like my drinks that much?” She coos at you sweetly. “I wasn’t tryin’ to get you drunk. Promise.”

“M’not drunk.” You insist, louder this time, much to Vanessa’s giggling amusement.

Heaving a clipped sigh, Yami leans across the table and taps your cards with a thick finger, slowly drawing your attention back to them. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you,” He says around the cigarette in his mouth. “But someone who isn’t piss drunk would probably know better than to lay their hand out on the table like this. Do you even know what game we’re playing right now?”

Mouth tugging into a frown, you wrack your muddled brain for the answer to that question. “Go fish?”

Magna inelegantly snorts at that. You can feel yourself starting to flush in embarrassment as Vanessa begins fussing over you, softly petting your head with murmured, nonsensical endearments. She definitely wasn’t helping matters and you sincerely hoped none of them could see your fluster.

Yami doesn’t seem to miss it though and he purses his lips, pinning you with an unimpressed glower. “That’s what I thought. Sorry, sweetheart, but you’re officially cut off. No more booze tonight, okay?”

Both you and Vanessa groan in unison. Your head immediately starts to spin in earnest now and you slump against the other woman even as she grabs your drink and holds it up to you as if she were bottle feeding a baby. The notion that she might accidentally dump it all over your head when she was just as intoxicated as you doesn’t even cross your mind and you obediently open your mouth to accept her offering.

“Come on, captain! At least let her finish her dr-drink first! I worked really hard to -”

Yami cuts across her babbling with a huff, standing and grabbing hold of the cup so he can pull it away despite Vanessa’s best attempt to keep it in her fumbling grasp. You watch it go, feeling an odd mix of disappointment and relief. The giddy, jovial mood you’d been imbued with was nice, yes, but realistically your body probably couldn’t handle much more. It was likely for the best.

“Just knock it off.” Pointedly setting the drink down towards the center of the table, Yami turns back with a furrowed brow. “Are you trying to kill her or something? What all did you even put in that?”

Vanessa hums a noncommittal sound of guilt, winding a strand of your hair around her finger.

He scoffs and moves closer with an accompanying shake of his head. Your heart gives a little jolt when you realize he’s coming towards you, not Vanessa, and you can’t help the anxious tinge that sparks in your chest. He was probably mad at you for getting so drunk. He looked mad. You didn’t want to be on the receiving end of one of his lectures though and you lean further into the softly swaying witch next to you in search of protection.

Much to your faltering surprise, however, Yami’s tone sounds closer to exacerbated than angry when he says, “Alright, brat. C’mere. You get to sit with me for the rest of the night so I can keep an eye on you and make sure someone doesn’t try to sneak you anything else.”

You blink, thoroughly confused, and it feels like even something as simple as a muscle twitch takes a small eternity to accomplish. Yami either doesn’t notice or he doesn’t care though.

Shooing Vanessa away, he bends at the waist and curls big hands under your armpits, hauling you straight up out of your seat. You outright squawk, flailing weakly in Yami’s grasp when you suddenly find yourself much further from the ground than you were used to. But your panic lasts only a terrifyingly brief moment and you relax when he draws you close, allowing you to curl your limbs around his thick frame. With a slight jostle, he adjusts his hold and secures you to the front of him. You instinctively nuzzle further into his arms, drunkenly whimpering as you tightly lock your elbows behind his neck.

“You’re no fun …” Vanessa whines on your behalf.

He clicks his tongue. “I’m thinking ahead. You’re not.” He says, those rumbled words reverberating inside your skull and further grounding you by some margin. “But if she gets sick, you’re the one who’s gonna’ clean it up.”

With that admonition, he moves back to his own chair and sits down again. It takes you a moment to get situated on his lap, still unbearably hot and fussy now after forcibly being removed from the fun. The last thing you want is to look like a lightweight in front of your teammates but he finally stills you with a large, mindful hand against your lower back. The silent warning in that innocuous gesture is enough to make you quit while you’re still ahead and, mewling something unintelligible, you press your warm face into his neck so you can settle in to pout.

Magna says something then, successfully distracting Vanessa from the subject, and the game carries on without you. The three of them don’t seem to mind the loss one bit as they seamlessly pick right back up where they’d left off.

It's hard to shake the feeling that your presence at the table was nothing more than an afterthought to them, or maybe a simple nicety, and it stung a little. There was no denying that. But you were much too hazy and disoriented to linger on it for more than a moment, molding yourself to the firm weight against you and going pleasantly slack in Yami’s arms. He was surprisingly comfortable, given his hard physique. A little too warm for your liking when you already felt swelteringly hot, but ultimately comfortable.

The even rise and fall of his broad chest is almost enough to lull you into dozing off right then and there with your head resting on his shoulder. Yami’s rough fingers tracing nonsensical, soothing patterns across your spine is the only thing that keeps you tethered to reality and you sit there, eyes closed, just listening to the slurred conversation going on at your back. It sounded far away now. Muted, as if your ears were stuffed with cotton, but you didn’t mind that too much. Magna was loud enough when sober and even worse when he was drunk.

A long moment later, Yami removes the cigarette from his lips and turns towards you when the other two start bickering about the validity of a certain card sequence. “How you feeling, squirt?” He asks, pressing his mouth against your hair.

“Good.” You murmur dreamily.

He laughs, very quietly, and gives you the briefest squeeze. “Yeah? You’re deadweight, baby girl. Sure you’re not gonna’ pass out on me over there?”

“Mmhmm.”

With a soft click of his tongue, Yami focuses back in on the game. The hand resting on your back slips lower, inconspicuously giving your behind a playful tweak that seems to go unnoticed by the table's other occupants given that they keep talking without pause. Magna would more than likely look away, politely pretending he hadn’t seen it, but Vanessa … if she’d caught so much as a glimpse, you’d be hearing about it right now. That was at least one reason (of which there was many) why what you had with Yami, whatever it was, still remained a secret to the rest of the squad even though it was probably a miracle they hadn’t caught on already, especially when he was so damn handsy with you.

Normally you’d err on the side of caution for that reason alone but you felt just daring enough to give him little push back. Emboldened by the liquid courage sitting hot and heavy in your stomach, confident that he wouldn’t have initiated this had it not been safe to do so, you discreetly roll your hips into him. The drag of your pussy across the front of his pants makes your breath hitch and he stiffens underneath you. That’s all the reaction you get for your trouble though, prompting you to lift your head from his shoulder and lean close to Yami’s ear.

“ Daddy …”

It’s nothing more than a tiny, breathless sigh but the effect it has on him is instantly noticeable. Steel chorded arm tightening around you, he breathes out a terse exhale and pulls you more firmly against his chest until you can scarcely breathe. A wavering puff of air slips from you as your thighs flex around his waist, silently trying to urge him on. It doesn’t work though and a shudder works its way down the length of your spine when he turns towards you again, growling right against the outer shell of your ear.

“Watch it.”

You whine, bucking against him more insistently. “ Nooooo .”

Yami snorts and swivels his attention back around to the cards clasped in his other hand. Pressing your face into the crook of his neck, you take a deep breath until the naturally heady scent of him swarms your senses like a fragrant, masculine cocktail. You can taste him in the back of your throat and it just makes you want him all the more.

Another wiggle of your hips is all the incentive he needs, calloused fingers slipping further down to grab a pinching handful of your ass. Roughly nudging you to sit a bit higher up on his thighs, he reaches lower and snakes his hand under your skirt. You squirm at the first touch against your panties, whimpering softly into his skin. Yami merely tightens his arm around you as he ever so carefully pulls the thin layer of cotton aside just enough to slide those sinfully long digits past the flimsy barrier.

“Spoiled brat,” He murmurs fondly, just loud enough for you to hear. “Already so damp and needy for me.”

You bite down on your tongue to keep yourself quiet, shuddering when he casually traces the length of your slit with abrasive fingertips.

Magna abruptly cackles about something and the sudden noise makes you jolt. Yami, to his credit, remains perfectly still though and merely waits a torturously long beat before continuing in rumbling hushed tones. “How long were you sitting over there in your own mess, hmm?”

“I - it’s not a mess.” You warble into his shoulder, your cheeks flushing hot.

“Oh? This certainly feels like a mess to me …” Pausing, Yami dips a finger into the meat of your labia and the slick quality of your pussy suddenly makes itself known. You hadn’t noticed until now, either because you were too caught up in your inebriated stupor or simply too focused on pouting to pay it any mind, but you were absolutely soaked. It wasn’t exactly surprising. Your body always responded eagerly to being manhandled by the captain but even this seemed a bit excessive.

Whining low in your throat, you decide you don’t want to play this game after all and try to angle your defenseless little cunt away from his searching hand. But Yami puts a stop to that quickly enough and shifts his legs further apart, forcibly spreading your thighs until you can’t find the leverage needed to wriggle out of his hold. You lip quivers when he takes advantage of this vulnerable position to worm a finger into the tight, squeezing heat of your body, gummy walls contracting around the intrusion with a pleasant flutter. It takes everything you have not to throw your head back and unabashedly moan up at the ceiling.

“Can’t you feel that, baby? You’re so wet I didn’t even have to work you open.”

Hiccuping, you shove your face against Yami’s neck again. “Dah - daddy … please .”

“Shh.” He warns even as he starts up a slow pace, sedately pumping into you. “Keep quiet or I’ll have to stop.”

As if on cue, Vanessa says something to him then and Yami effortlessly diverts his attention to the slurring witch as if nothing about the situation were out of place. You dig your nails into the broad expanse of his shoulder blades and bite back a groan, suddenly feeling ten times hotter than before. Even with all your concentration focused on keeping as still and quiet as possible, you find yourself imperceptibly arching to give him better access to your sticky cunt. It was certainly a blessing in disguise that she was just as drunk as you were, otherwise she might have given the whole thing a second thought. The way you were sitting on his lap. The smallest twitch of your hips to accompany the shallow quality of your breathing. It was so obvious what you two were doing. How had they not noticed already?

The table.

Neither Magna or Vanessa could see over it unless they came around and stood right next to the chair. You were essentially safe from the waist down and a fresh spark of confidence alights throughout your whole system with this realization, doubling and then tripling your arousal. It was still risky doing something so brazen right in front of them but you were just drunk enough not to care.

Loins twisting and curling, you carefully rear back to meet his shallow thrusts. You’d never felt more uninhibited in your whole life. “Oooh, daddy,” You whisper, choking on it. “Right there.”

Yami doesn’t miss a beat, easily keeping up with the conversation as he allows a second digit to slide in with the first. You feel the stretch in your bones and you quietly seeth, lashes fanning against the apples of your cheeks when it pushes you to just this side of discomfort. Even being as wet as you are, his fingers were just too thick for your eagerly clenching passage to accommodate them without some resistance and you hedonistically bask in the searing burn. It felt good. Almost good enough for you to lose yourself to the pleasure but, somehow, you manage to keep your wits about you instead of shamelessly writhing in his lap.

You may as well have thrown caution to the wind though. Discretion hardly mattered anymore. You already felt like a blatant little slut and the shock of how much that turns you on has your pussy drooling obscenely all over Yami’s hand.

“Hah - harder, daddy … nnghh, harder, please.”

Rather than obliging, he actually pauses his ministrations and you quietly mewl at the loss of friction. You squirm on top of his muscular thighs and desperately try to fuck down on his digits, panting like a bitch in heat against the captains neck. He shifts underneath you, says something to Vanessa that makes her direct a chiding tone at Magna. Their bickering starts up again and with the rise in volume, Yami gives his wrist a good twist that shoves his fingertips into your upper wall. Static electricity shoots through your system at the sudden pressure on that pulsing sweet spot and the tension in your gut immediately starts to toe the line of unbearable.

Your mouth drops open in shellshocked ecstasy but nothing comes out. It’s hard just to draw breath when the dizzyingly sharp jolt of arousal has your toes flexing uselessly in the air and you tremble, quaking in his arms. Unperturbed by the effect this is having on you, Yami takes his time caressing the velvety soft lining of your insides with sedately smooth motions. Those worn fingertips gradually curl up in the general direction of your belly button and press in deeper, harder, making your cunt absolutely gush around him. You weren’t going to last much longer at this rate.

“Oooh god !” You gasp, clutching him in a death grip.

Turning your head, you press your cheek against Yami’s shoulder and fix your gaze to a random spot on the far wall. The room looked like it was tilted on its axis - - spinning, spinning, spinning - - and all you can do is whine and shake when he scissors his fingers, making more room for himself within you.

You weren’t just overheated anymore. It was as if you’d caught flame, burning from the inside out, and it only gets worse when he flexes his hand, jabbing at the spongy soft spot again and again.

A choked off squeal rises in your throat, just barely held back by tightly clenched teeth. You’re almost positive you can hear the greedy, slopping clicks of your pussy sucking him in deeper just below the surface of the enthusiastic argument going on behind you but they don’t seem to notice. They just keep shouting back and forth at each other, oblivious to what was going on at the other end of the table. You have no idea how you’re getting away with this - aren’t even really sure if you will get away with this when all is said and done - but that’s the very last thing on your mind anymore as you haltingly roll your hips into the blinding pressure.

“Ah - ahh - d - dah - ahh - ddyyy !”

“Do it.” Yami murmurs, his mouth pressed tight to your ear. “Come now , baby. Do it while you have the chance. Come on.”

Your eyes roll back in your head and you give your pelvis one good little twist. The drag of your throbbing clit across the front of his rough pants is the last push you need, the resulting friction searing your veins. It sends you spiraling right over the edge into doped out bliss and you squeak, jerking against him when full bodied tremors grip you in earnest and make you shake.

Riding out the cresting waves as discreetly as you can, you blink back an onslaught of reflexive tears. Your pussy squeezes tight, milking your orgasm on his fingers, even though the effort of forcing yourself to remain quiet nearly breaks your resolve. But you manage, somehow, to breathe through it even as your hips weakly buck in unmitigated pleasure, subduedly twisting in his arms. It felt like you were drowning in it, choking on immense, all encompassing relief.

But Yami doesn’t immediately let up on his concerted attack, continuing to work you over until the spasms start to subside and you whine in frazzled distress. Digits finally stilling inside you, he offers a brief kiss to your hair and it makes you breathe out a tired sigh. You immediately slump, going boneless on top of him, now even clammier than when you’d started. The sweat clinging to your skin has you feeling worryingly damp but you were also satiated and comfortable. It was an acceptable tradeoff, as far as you were concerned.

“Such a good girl. You even managed to stay quiet for me. I’m proud of you.”

Smiling at the hushed approval in his tone, you snuggle further into Yami’s musclebound frame. You were floating on cloud nine, no longer concerned about being removed from the card game; not when the pleasant afterglow and the reassuring presence of your captain - your daddy - had you feeling so at peace. There would always be a next time.

#Black Clover #yami sukehiro #yami x reader #self insert bullshit #My writing

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