— hit me like a meteorite
summary || Steve and you watch porn and decide to role play it.
warnings || unprotected sex, anal sex, butt plugs, dirty talk, role play, light spanking. MINORS DNI
I have decided to not do taglists anymore, so if you wished to be notified of my newest updates please follow @bonky-n-steeb-lib and turn on the notifications!
I’d seen a video and wrote this based on it. This has been in my drafts for way too long. I hope you like it :)
“Ma’am I can’t let you go inside.” Steve said exasperatedly and rolled his eyes. He was blocking the entry door with his huge expanse and denying you entry.
“Oh come on! It’s nothing I swear. Just let me go, I’ll be late otherwise.” You tried your best to sound annoyed and desperate all at once.
You and Steve had watched porn together a few days back and a particular video had caught your attention. In the beginning you had been sceptical of watching it with Steve, but he was a much cooler boyfriend than you thought.
So now here you were, enacting to be a passenger while Steve played a douchebag security guard. While you were just standing in your house, you both considered it to be the airport security check; cuz that’s where the fun was.
“The metal indicator over here says otherwise. It’s beeping every time you enter.” He folded his hands and leaned against the door and you salivated at his bulging arms. “Yeah yeah. But trust me, it’s nothing wrong.”
“I can’t trust your words. Do you have any metal items on you ma’am?” You chewed your lower lip and Steve’s eyes followed it. “Not really.” You lied straight through your teeth.
“As I said I don’t believe you. I’ll have to check you myself.” You shook your head in panic. “No please don’t.” He narrowed his eyes at you. “Either let me check or you tell me what you are carrying.”
You couldn’t tell him what was setting the detector off, so you just went with it. “Okay fine. check me.” A mischievous smirk crosses across Steve’s face as he walked up to you.
His hands began from your shoulder and he took his time wandering them down to your palms. Then he straightaway placed his hands on your tits and started kneading them.
You can’t stop the moan that erupts from your throat. “Really? All it took was just one touch and you’re melting, sweetheart.” His hands continued down, eager to reach the actual prize.
Once he was done checking your front side, he motion your to turn around. With a long sigh, you finally turned around. He once again started with your back and went lower, massaging your muscles on the way.
Once he reached your ass, he kneaded it just like boobs. “Oh fuck! It feels so nice.” You blurted out and quickly bit your lip. You could clearly hear the rumble of his chest as he chuckled but it quickly died down as his hands touched something nestled right between your ass cheeks.
“I must ask you ma’am. What are you hiding?” You turned to look at him over your shoulder. “Ummm, nothing.” He pressed his hand over it making a tingle go down your spine. That asshole knew what he was doing.
“I can clearly feel something.” That was all he said before tearing your pants right in the middle. You could hear the sharp intake of his breath, though he was the only one who placed it before this began.
A butt plug.
A butt plug with hot pink jewel at its base was lodged right into your hole. “Hmmm… now I know what was causing all this problem. I’ve got a naughty one I see.” His eyes were twinkling with lust.
He spread your asscheeks to take a better look at it. His dick was hard just from the sight and he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you. He relished the moan that slipped through your lips as he jostled the plug.
With quickly motions Steve discarded the torn pants and shirt. “You’re so beautiful.” Steve lovingly pressed a kiss to your temple and went out of character for a minute.
Before you could say anything Steve pulled you away from the wall you were leaning on and made you lie down on the bed. He pulled your ass up so that you’d be on your hand and knees on the bed.
“Oh fuck!” You exclaimed as Steve spanked your left butt cheek. His hands seemed to be glued to your ass as they constantly rubbed and squeezed.
“Looking so beautiful and ready for me. I gotta have some fun don’t you think?” His gravelly voice was making your pussy even wetter. “Yes please! Please please please..!”
You had been already riled up by the buttplug and how Steve had inserted it painstaking slow before this and now Steve wasn’t making anything easier.
“What do you want sweet girl. Tell me.” He was bent over you as he whispered in your ear. You gulped before replying, “I want… I want you to fuck me.”
He hummed as he ran his fingertips on your wet cunt. You squeaked as two thick fingers entered you. Steve knew your body by the back of his hand and he knew exactly what you liked.
His other hand was securely wrapped in your hair and he kept you from falling on your face. Your eyes rolled back and you curled your fingers in the covers as he pumped his fingers into you hard.
“Steeevee..” his name left your lips like a whine. His lips started trailing kisses to your nape and back. He scissored his fingers in your tight channel and your eyes rolled back.
“Steve I’m… I’m gonna cum.” Your mouth was forming the ‘o’ shape as you pushed back against his fingers. It didn’t take much to make you cum around his fingers.
“Just like that you dirty little slut.” Steve could feel you clamping around his fingers. Hearing Steve call you filthy names always made you more wet than you already were.
“Yes Steve… your slut. Only yours.” You gasped as Steve pulled out his fingers and rubbed his thick cock over your swollen folds. He entered you in one fast thrust as he growled out, “Mine.”
He set a fast and unrelenting rhythm and laying down, you just took it. His hands were planted near your face, caging you in as he rutted into you.
His fingers started playing with the plug in your ass, slowly pulling it out and pushing it back in. “You’re such a whore. Letting a guard fuck your holes isn’t a very lady like behaviour ma’am.”
“Hhnngg… fuck!” You writhed as you came once again with the force of supernovas. Your toes curled but Steve still didn’t stop pumping his cock into you. His growls filled your ears as your walls pulsed around him.
“Where do you want me to cum?” His voice was hoarse and strained in your ear. “In… in my ass.” Your voice was breathy.
Steve stopped for a moment and leaned down, “are you sure?” He wiped the sweat off of your forehead to check on you. You nodded, “Yes. Please Steve. Please!”
“Fuck!” Steve cursed before pulling himself out. You whimpered as Steve removed the plug and slowly, inch by inch, inserted himself. You were already lubed up and Steve’s cock was wet from fucking your pussy. “Oh god. You’re so tight.”
It wasn’t the first time Steve was fucking your ass, but since you both were close to coming, the intensity of the whole act was too much.
It felt like you could fly off and the only thing holding you back were your fingers clutching the bed sheet in a death grip. “Steve…” you were already very sensitive from previous orgasms.
“Are you gonna cum from me just fucking your ass. Fuck doll, you’re a treasure.” You both were panting and sweat and slick was dripping off your body into the covers.
“You’re taking me so well. Look at that tight little hole swallowing my fat cock.” His words alone were making your thighs quiver.
You started thrusting back to take him deeper into your hole. “Oh yeah. Fuck yourself on me sweetheart. Just like the cockdrunk whore you are.” You just knew you were gonna cum harder than you ever had.
“I’m coming!” He announced as his hips had lost the rhythm and were just rutting into you hard. “Oh yes Steve! Give it to me. Fuck yes!” He pressed himself as deep as he could go and spilled himself in you.
Feeling him fill you up with his hot cum, your own orgasm was triggered. You felt like an electric shock wire as liquid pleasure flowed through your veins.
You hissed as Steve pulled out. He spread your asscheeks to see his cum drip out of your clenching hole. “Steve, please don’t tell me you’re getting hard again.” Your face was pressed in the pillows and your voice was muffled.
“Sweetheart, you look so damn sexy.” He scooped up the cum and rubbed it on your pussy. Once he was satisfied, he started pressing tender kisses to any inch of your skin.
“I’ll be right back.” He whispered in your ear and you just groaned in response, tired to speak anything else. He wasn’t gone for much time and he returned with a warm, wet cloth.
Gently and with utmost care, he cleaned you, all while praising and kissing you. He laid back besides you once he was done. “I love you.” He pulled your close and you clung to his warm body.
“I love you too Stevie. That was the hottest sex I’ve ever had.” Your eyes were still closed but you could feel his chest rumble as he chuckled. “Same here.”
“You know, we could try out more such things.” His hands were roaming across your back, warming you up. “Yeah. We definitely could.”
You were almost about to fall asleep, but the next words that Steve said made your ears perk up. “For the next time, I was thinking of maid kink.”
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Edge of Time⌛1
Warnings: this series will contain dark elements such as noncon and rape, violence, blood, sickness, death, ecological disasters, and other warnings to be added as it progresses.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. It features (nomad)Steve Rogers x reader. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Synopsis: The end has come and you find yourself waiting it out. However, your own fate is not as clear as it seems. [Apocalypse AU]
Note: Unexpectedly posting on the weekend and unexpectedly turning a one shot into a series. And I dunno.
Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)
I really hope you enjoy. 💋
<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!
You were alone before it all fell apart. You thought that would make it easier. Maybe it does. Maybe that's why you're still alive. Barely.
The droughts came first, when the world was still overcrowded. The earth dried up and the sun beamed mercilessly down at those desperate for a single drop of rain. People fell where they stood and were left to rot in the heat, no one strong enough to move them or bury them.
That's when the auditors began. They used scarcity to their whims. They hoarded supplies of water and took in only those they deemed valuable. Often, that value was passing.
The collective emerged as a counter to the auditors, those who wanted to help all not just the few. It devolved into violence, as things do when humanity is brought to the brink of desperation.
Then the rains came, the floods, and just as many drowned in the depths. High ground was not as easily hoarded and the want for water was sated and the opposite became the mantra of man. The former loyalties split and death continued to ravage those left behind.
You watched it all from the peripheral, waiting your turn, waiting for death. You wandered by in the shadows, easily forgotten, and waited. But it never came, even with the snow and that frigid, bitter, deadly cold.
The rains receded and those rivers left behind turned to ice as snow heaped higher than any head. It rarely stopped and you can never shake the lingering chill deep in your core. Warmth is the most fickle of commodities. It is not a bottle of water or a sixteenth story floor, it is intangible and seemingly unreachable.
But your turn has come. You feel it. You're sick, you're alone as you have been, even before, and there's not much left to save you. The city, the world, has been picked bare by humans as much as the elements.
Still, there is the flicker of mortal will in you. That urge to live on.
You mourn your neglect. At first, it was a shiver, that was usual, the a trickle from your nose and stuffiness behind your eyes. The fever came with a dwindling hunger and you know it’s time to do something.
You descend from your retreat in the old apartment tower, half eaten away by the once immeasurable tides. You go down the back stairwell, slowly, carefully. You still hear others now and then, you're not the only one around, but the others travel in groups and that makes them dangerous. It's dark, you can hide.
You're out of breath at the bottom and lean heavily on the wall as your chest aches. You quake with the unshakeable chill and steady yourself. You push away from the brick and pull your scarf up over your face.
The pharmacy isn't far, two blocks. The streets are barren but for the skeletons of civilization; cars, trees, people… You keep close to the walls and duck behind the post boxes somehow untouched by the chaos.
Pharmacy is dark but you don't dare bring out your flashlight. With its broken window, you would light up the whole place. You brush away the broken glass with your glove and hop over the ledge.
You listen intently. A pulsing moment before you dare to tread further. Behind the counter, bottles scatter from previous searches and the orderless lashing of overflowing waters. You cannot say how much remains.
Most of the bottles or empty are coated with dissolved pills, turned to powder and paste. You don't need tylenol, it's unlikely to do much now. Whatever you do find, is unlikely to work but it's your only hope. Hope for what? What did you have to live for?
You tiptoe clumsily past the counter, the backroom is open already. It's not a good sign. You see the mess on the floor, baskets and bottles tossed all over. You get to your knees between the shelves and grasp at the containers.
You pull your scarf loose and drape it over your head. You bring a handful up, flashlight in the other hand, and blind yourself in the encased glow… empty. You move on your knees and continue your tedious search. You're allergic to penicillin but it seems that is all gone anyhow.
A bottle rattles in promise and you bring it under your makeshift tent. Azithromycin. You were no doctor but you recall taking it for some bout as a teenager. You tuck it into the chest pocket of your coat and zip up quickly. You continue your search but find little else. You manage to scout out a few boxes of cold tables still sealed in their plastic jackets and go out the back.
You suppress a cough as the cold hits you like a wall. You struggle to breath and your hands shake. Better to take something now, the sooner it takes effect the better. You fumble and force down two of the large tablets on your raw throat.
You feel dizzy as you pass behind the buildings and edge down alleys, ears perked for any disturbance. You heard a man screaming two nights past, there was a reason for that and it was rarely anything but other people.
You get back to your building. You begin the treacherous climb up the escape as your body weakens with each step. You stop halfway and sit to catch your breath. You need to lay down.
You grab the railing and drag yourself up, stopping just outside the fire escape where you came out. You hear voices. Shit. They've found your hideout no doubt. Not the first time but definitely the worst.
You listen as you peer back down the stairs. You have a kit on the eight floor. An old trick you learned in a book about New France, the Algonquin and Iroquois used to bury supplies for the winter in case they were stranded by snows. Hopefully they haven't discovered that yet.
"Doesn't look like a place for five," a deep voice carries as you take your first step down, "pretty small… not much. You sure this is all yours?"
"What's it to ya, buddy? We found it first so fuck off before we toss you out the window."
A chuckle, deep and amused, is the only response.
"What's so funny? Five of us, one of you. And I still haven't clocked a gun on you so it seems like you shouldn't be laughing." A snarl rolls back.
"I don't need a gun," the other man says calmly.
Then, suddenly, swiftly, a scuffle sounds and your feet clatter away. Whatever it is you want none of it. Whoever wins, you lose.
You stop as you count the eight and climb through the window, the door is rusted shut and immoveable. You hear more noise, above, below. Gunshots and hollers. Fuck.
You go to apartment 806 and rip up the cushions of the dingy couch. You waver on your feet as you lift the canvas bag and try to shake away the stars in your eyes. Your teeth chatter even as your skins on fire. You can't go back down the escape, someone likely heard you.
You stumble and catch yourself on the door frame. There's a place on Walter Avenue, you've had it in mind for a while. You nod and take a breath. You can make it.
As you enter the hall, you hear an unsettling crunch from above, the crush and collapse of several floors. Plaster and slivers of wood dust over you, the door frame keeping you from the weight of the flights above.
A man lands, broken and dead atop the pile of shrapnel. The whistle of another descent comes from above and you retreat as another figure appears, boots crashing down around his victim. You fall onto your ass and land on your bag with a gasp.
Your vision skews for a moment and you struggle to lift the weight as you get a knee below you.
"Please," you shield yourself with an arm as you get a foot flat but only stand and slip back down in a moment, shadow lurking closer, "I…"
You cough through your scratchy throat and clutch your head. You gape up at the man, a dark scarf at his neck beneath jis thick beard and overgrown locks, blue eyes catching the moonlight peeking in through the windows. He's huge, terrifying, you've never seen anyone like him, though he seems vaguely familiar.
"Hmm," he catches you before you can hit your ass again, "you don't know them, do you?"
"Who are you?" You ask, senselessly.
He considers you as your lashes blur around your sight. He doesn't answer as he pulls a glove off with his teeth and touches your forehead. He sighs as you shiver against his hot touch.
"Shit," he swears and lets you down, laying you against your pack, "you got any meds? You take anything?"
He reaches under his fleece-lined jacket and pulls out a canteen, "here, water. Fever's gonna dehydrate you fast."
"Two," you hit the chest of your coat weakly and the pills rattle, "just two."
He trickles water through your lips and you drink greedily. Your head is thrumming so bad and your limbs felt filled with sand. You cough again and spit up your mouthful.
"Why?" You croak as you wave away the canteen.
"What?" He caps the container and hooks it back on the leather strap around his middle.
"Just kill me," you groan, "like them."
"You're alone?" He ignores your plea.
You nod and close your eyes. "And sick. So…"
"Right," he grabs your coat and pulls you up suddenly.
He holds you up with one hand and unhooks the bag from your arm. He hooks it over his shoulders, against the pack already there, and slips his other arm under your knees. He lifts you easily and walks over the musty carpet towards the metal escape.
"Door doesn't open," you eke out, "you should leave me. Please."
"You'll die," he says as he approaches the door, "sorry about this."
He kicks the door and it flies from its hinges and hits the railing outside. The motion jolts you and has you coughing again.
"Why?" Your head lolls as the pale winter stars twinkle down.
"Why not? You need help," he says lithely as he heads down the steps, "we help those in need. We don't help those who take."
"We?" You blink, each time your eyelids get heavier.
"You'll see," he says as he turns onto the next flight of metal steps, "save your energy, doll. I got you."
"No, I don't wanna…" you cover your mouth and shudder against him in another fit, "go."
He says something but you don't hear him as you grasp the front of his jacket. Your head is spinning and the world won't stop unless you keep your eyes closed. The air in your lungs licks like flame.
Doesn't matter, it's your turn. You've waited long enough.
You wake in motion. Layers cocoon you but you're still freezing. Metal rattles and you hear the rumble of an engine. There aren't many vehicles still operational and you haven't seen one since before the floods. You murmur through your haze as mutters rise around you.
“How long?” a voice you know asks as you fell a brush against the blankets thrown around you.
You blink at the metal roof of the truck, some sort of military machine. Your eyes focus as the man kneels beside you and you feel his calloused hand on your forehead. He gets an answer but you can’t make it out.
“Bruce’ll know what to do,” he says over his shoulder, his hands working to free his canteen again.
“You should’ve left her,” one of his companions says, a smooth female voice.
“She’s not one of them,” he insists as he touches the open mouth of the canteen to your lips. You drink and the lukewarm water soothes your ragged throat. “They were robbing her… she must’ve gone out for those meds.”
“They’re expired. Well past. More like, she was trying to put herself out of her misery,” the woman replies and you hear a thump on metal, “Buck, don’t take the main way. We’re not fucking around again. Those bandits aren’t worth my energy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” a man grumbles from further away as the one before you asks if you want any more water. You shake your head as you listen to the mumbling, “...no fucking around… don’t gotta tell me.”
“You should try to sleep,” the man in the scarf says, “we got a few hours.”
You nod again. You can’t even try to talk as your throat feels like broken glass. He adjusts your head atop a folded rag and fixes the blankets, nestling them under your chin.
“Goddamn, Rogers, you just can’t help yourself. How long has it been and you’re still on your hero shit,” the woman sneers.
“Sleep,” he pats the layers over your shoulder and stands, hunching beneath the low ceiling of the truck, “what’s the harm, huh? She’s one person. She needs help.”
“We’re not in the business of help, not anymore,” the woman replies.
“Nat,” the man, Rogers sighs, “you don’t gotta worry about her, alright?”
“That’s the thing,” she retorts, “you say that but I always end up worrying.”
Your eyes roll back and your head lolls as their argument continues. You can’t help but agree with the woman, Nat. With the way you feel, you’re better off dead. The thought of your inevitable end had almost been a relief. You slip back into the nether, the agony dulling with your descent.
The next time you awake, you’re still. You hear beeping, the hum of electricity, and you think it’s some twisted dream. You inhale, a little easier than before, but when you move your arm, there’s a tug. You open your eyes, propped up against the bed, angled to keep you bent. Your wrists are cuffed to the rails, a tube running from the back of your hand to a bag of clear liquid.
The walls are clear and look out onto a vast vaulted chamber, what could be a laboratory, or something more sinister. You feel like a mouse in a cage as you’re kept in the box to look in on. You feel warm for the first time in months but sleepy still.
The cuffs ring against the metal rails and you test their resistance. You’re weak, it’s pathetic. You moan and press your dry tongue to the roof of your mouth. The machine chirps and you sense movement on the other side of the transparent walls. A man approaches, dark hair and stubble, and lets himself in as the door beeps and slides open.
“You’re awake,” he says as he approaches the single table and lifts the folder atop it.
You want to ask where you are but you cough instead.
“My name is Bruce Banner,” he nears you as he speaks dully as he reads, “and you are?”
You squint at him. You know that name. A name from before. You laugh and it devolves to another cough. It can’t be. You choke past your arid throat, several tries before you rasp out your name. He takes a pen out of his pocket and scribbles it down.
“Well,” he addresses you by name, “you had a nasty case of pneumonia, coupled with a viral infection. You also took some expired pills that didn’t do much for that. You’re lucky Steve found you.”
“Steve…” you echo and grasp at fragmented memories, “... Rogers?” your mind works to piece together the more distant thoughts, those times before the world fractured.
“The very one,” Bruce confirms, “you’re on the other end of it now. Your lungs are clearing out. I suggest you spit out anything that comes up.” He taps the metal dish by your leg with his pen, “You should stay in bed for a bit and not stress.”
He puts the pen away and takes out a key. He frees your right hand but not the other.
“Why…” you begin and swallow the dryness in your throat, “why?” You lift your hand so the other cuff clangs on the rail.
“You know the world we live in, it’s no different up there than down here,” he says flatly. “Water,” he points to the cup on the table you can just reach, “we’ll hold off on solid food for the time being.”
“Down here?” you prompt.
“You came pretty far,” he closes the folder and puts it back beside the tall cup, “a whole border away. Can’t say everyone’s happy about having a visitor, as rare as they are.”
“Oh?” you frown, “I… I…” your throat is itchy and torn, “...asked him… to leave… me.”
“Have some water,” he says, “and try not to agitate yourself.” He pulls open the single drawer in the table and pulls out a book, “Atwood… kinda fitting.” He tosses it into your lap, “but it’s what you get.”
“I— thanks,” you sniff.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he shrugs and backs away, “I’ll be back to check on you in a couple hours. Don’t forget, spit.”
He turns on his heel and you watch him go, the door shutting behind him and the unseen lock whirring into space. You put your head back and exhale. You’re used to being alone, it’s the idea of the company that unsettles you.
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description || sometimes acting can lead to your real emotions and when you’re in a scene where barry’s character dies, you can’t help but spill real tears.
warnings || angst, fluff, spoilers for dunkirk
pairing || barry keoghan x actress!reader, harry styles x platonic!reader
word count || 1,351
a/n || please this idea was amazing. thank you for requesting this, anon!
IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ACTING. You tried your best to contain your emotions simply only for the scene, but unfortunately, you were being unprofessional when your real feelings threatened to pour out.
You were currently on the set of Dunkirk in your trailer as you waited for your next scene. Anxiousness started to overwhelm ur body when you remembered the scene your boyfriend was about to film today.
Lately, you have been having these recurring nightmares of Barry dying and with him having a death scene to shoot today, your worries started to feel like they were coming true.
A soft knock at your trailer door dissipated your worried thoughts as you walked to it and saw who it was through the peephole.
"Oh, hi, Harry. What's up?" On the first day of filming, you were a big fan of Harry Styles and eventually, the two of you became best friends. With the time the two of you got to know each other, Harry has been able to see whenever you are genuinely upset or worried, seeing right your faux emotions.
"You're not okay. I can see right through that stubborn skull of yours. What's wrong?" You knew it was no use trying to lie to him, so you told him the truth.
"It's most likely nothing, but I've been getting these really weird but super vivid dreams for a while and they always end the same way. Barry dies."
Harry saw the frustrations and worry in your eyes. Grabbing your hands gently, he caressed them while making you look up into his eyes.
"Y/n, they are simply dreams. I think you're just worried about the scene Barry has to film, but I assure you he will be okay. I'll make sure of it." You were so grateful for Harry, aside from Barry, he was the only other person you were able to show your real feelings to.
"Thank you, Harry. I really appreciate you."
"Of course love. Now go get ready, our scene is coming up soon."
When it was finally time for you to film, you walked out on set with Harry to see Barry in your far vision, leaning on the railing of the yacht. He was laughing with Cillian until his eyes finally landed on you. He gave you a heartwarming smile before running down on the deck to give you a hug. Even though you were away from him for only a few hours, Barry embraced your body as if he hasn't seen you in years.
When you pulled away from your embrace, Barry sensed something was definitely wrong. Your hug wasn’t as passionate and your racing heart didn't go unnoticed by him.
"What's wrong, darling?"
"It's nothing. Come on, let's shoot our scene," you said unconvincingly. Before you could walk past him, Barry gently grabbed your wrist, pulling your body towards him once again.
"Y/n, please tell me what's wrong. Did I do something?" Hearing Barry's concerned voice, made you feel horrible for not telling him, but you didn't want him to worry too much before your scene.
"Nothing, let's go," you unintentionally said harshly. Barry was taken aback and before he could ask any more questions, you walked past him, ignoring his voice calling out your name.
You got in the yacht, taking your position for the scene while you heard Barry's footsteps increasing closer behind you.
"When we're done shooting, we need to talk," Barry whispered in your ear. He laid his position on the floor, with his bleeding bandage on his forehead, acting as if he was on the brink of death.
When the director called action, you started to spill out your fake tears, standing by Barry, (now George's) side.
"Hey, George, stay with me, you're okay. You're okay," you said in your fake British accent. You were holding his hands close to your chest, just like you would in real life.
Slow steady breaths started to come out of George's mouth, his hand touching your cheek and a small smile curving on the edge of his lips. But before words could even come out, George retracted his hand, now it lying lifelessly on your lap.
"No, no, no, no, George wake up! Don't leave us, please don't leave me." You laid your head on his lap and this was when your real emotions started to pour out instead. The fake tears you once had in your eyes were replaced with genuine ones, the image of Barry really dying not leaving your head.
You didn't even hear the director say cut, with your uncontrollable sobs loud enough to cloud your hearing. Harry attempted to pull you out of your emotions, but nothing was working.
And when Barry sat up from his faux death position and when he noticed that your fake tears were real, he attempted to get your attention by making you look into his alive eyes, but your eyes were shut closed, not daring to open them with the sight of Barry dead in front of you. You weren't even sure if this was another dream that you have been having for the past few months.
You could faintly hear Harry tell the crew to give them space and once you heard the receding footsteps, you felt another pair of arms wrap around your body.
Now you were confused, why were there two pairs of arms around you?
Still confused, you slowly opened your now swollen eyes to see Barry was indeed alive and well, along with Harry at your side who was comforting you.
"Love, please talk to me, what's wrong? I need to know what is wrong." You didn't say anything as you simply tackled him into a hug. Harry took this as his queue to leave and before he did, he respectfully placed a kiss on your head while bidding Barry goodbye as well.
You stayed in Barry's embrace for several minutes before finally looking into his worried eyes.
"I keep having these dreams...these dreams where you die. A-And when I saw you on the floor—lifeless, I couldn't help but put my mind to the fact that you were really gone." Barry didn't let you explain anymore, knowing that you were about to break down again, so he placed a soft kiss on your forehead before embracing you in another hug, his warmth and steady heartbeat soothing your body.
"Y/n, why didn't you tell me this earlier?"
"I don't know. I guess I just didn't want it to be real if I actually told anyone." You held your head in shame, your explanation starting to sound like an excuse. You felt fingers lift up your chin and you were met with Barry's eyes which were now glossy.
"I assure you, I am okay, my love and I am not going to leave you. I will never leave you. Please tell me next time, I don't like it when you keep secrets from me and I want you to tell me everything." Nodding your head softly, your lips were suddenly met with Barry's. His kiss was soft, but passionate as if it were the end of the world. When you pulled away, you opened your eyes slowly, your reality finally being settled as you knew Barry was indeed alive and well.
"God, I love you so much," you said to Barry. He shook his head making you release a grin.
"No way, that's impossible because I love you more." Before you could kiss him again, you heard the sound of a camera shutter, both you and Barry looking up to see Harry and the rest of the crew with smiles and muttering "awes" at you and Barry.
"Now this is definitely going on my Instagram," Harry said while waving his phone like a little kid. You simply flipped him off before you felt yourself being pulled onto Barry's lap out of nowhere as he kissed you, your body on top of his.
"Have I told you, I love you very much?" barry asked sarcastically.
"Yes, like a million times, honey."
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