#i need to manage my expectations for what i'm getting in oslo because there are like four songs i am desperate to hear

[me-sploh-rada-imas]

someone on twitter made this spreadsheet to document what songs had been played so far

in the concerts, all 10 songs from demoni have been played and 7 from umazane misli. maybe tallinn can expect to hear proti toku, omamljeno telo, and a sem ti povedal? the only other song not yet played is ssol.

they played carpe diem, everybody's waiting, umazane misli, šta bih ja, and almost all of demoni (minus ngvot, padam, and tokio) both nights. also šta bih ja is the only song played three times so far - twice on night one! i'm really curious for how this will change the next few concerts!

[mypoisonedvine]

Time After Time | dark!Neil (Tenet) x reader

summary: it’s tricky when feelings get involved in an organization like tenet.  still, you’ve never been happier than you are with your boyfriend Neil, even if he’s a bit elusive and a very erratic coworker.  for all his secrets, you never expected what he would tell you the day he finally proposed.

word count: 5.5k

warnings:  smut!! (dub con, for extremely complex reasons), almost kinda stockholm syndrome?, yandere/soft!dark neil, breeding kink, confusing time travel stuff

"What are we doing here?” you asked as you looked around the safehouse— like any secret Tenet hideaway, it was sleek but sterile, nestled in a historic neighborhood in southeastern Moscow.  It was sort of how you remembered from the last time you’d been here for work, but somebody had rearranged the living room and changed out the rug.  (Knowing the nature of your business, you were pretty confident you knew why the rug was replaced.)  

Neil had made it clear that you weren’t coming here for a mission, but never said what you were here for, and had kept up the veil of secrecy all week long.  At first, you had assumed that since tomorrow was your four-year dating anniversary, it must have something to do with that, but the more you pondered the potential options, the more you were unsure.

You turned to look at him and found him wearing his signature smirk, the one that made you sure he was up to something— but you still didn’t know what.

“Seriously, Neil, just tell me!” you pleaded with a laugh, shoving him playfully.  

“We’re here,” he explained slowly, “because I need to ask you something.”

He sank down onto one knee, clutching your hand in his, as you looked down at him with wide eyes.  "Oh— oh my god,” you barely managed to stammer, entirely breathless.

“As soon as I met you, I knew you were the love of my life,” Neil began with that smile of his that always melted your heart.  “I knew that I had to do everything in my power to make you as happy as you make me, to have you with me until the end of time— whenever that actually comes.”

You laughed a little, but it fell into a sob of joy as he reached into his jacket and pulled a ring out of his pocket, brandishing it to you.

“Darling, will you be my wife?” he asked, almost sounding like he was a little nervous that you’d say ‘no’, for some reason.

“Neil,” you whispered, “of course— yes, yes!”

He popped up and kissed you, smiling too hard for it to be a very effective kiss, though it was a perfect one nonetheless.  You felt him slip the ring on your finger and you felt like you were floating on air.  It was even more surreal than the first time you were inverted.

“I’m so glad you said yes,” he admitted with a sigh of relief against your lips.  You pulled back from the kiss and looked up at him, bewildered but overjoyed.  

“Were you really worried I’d say no?” you scoffed incredulously.

“Terrified,” he laughed, and you laughed too, kissing him again quickly before launching into the first of so many questions you wanted to ask.

“When did you— how did you—?”

“I got the ring last month,” he explained.  “I thought about waiting longer but I was so tired of hiding it from you.  Then it was just a matter of getting you here.”

“Don’t take this as me criticizing your proposal,” you giggled, “but I have to ask: why here?”

He sighed a little, smirking slightly, and looked away before catching your gaze again.  “You’re gonna think I’m a bit crazy—”

“Already do, continue,” you winked.

“But this is where we first met.”

He was right; you did think he was crazy.  You furrowed your brow and laughed nervously.  “Neil, we met at a coffee shop, the one by my old apartment.  I didn’t work here then, you recruited me yourself.”

He chuckled slightly, turning your confusion into an eerie sense of nervousness.  “Sometimes you amaze me with your naivete, darling.  This is where we first met, the first time.”

Gingerly, you pulled your hands away from his.

“I didn’t recruit you, originally.  I was here, working, when a close friend of mine came in and introduced me to the newest member of the team.  It was you… and you captured my heart, instantly.  Only problem was…" he trailed off, chewing his lip as he glanced away.

“Tell me, Neil,” you demanded quietly.

“You’d captured someone else’s heart, too.  And he had already married you.”

You stood up instantly, walking away a little before turning back to stare at him in bewilderment.  You couldn’t believe what you were hearing; you could hardly stand on your wobbly legs anymore.  “I… I had a husband?”

“Yeah, met him once; seemed like a nice guy,” he shrugged.  “But he wasn’t right for you.”

“And how’s that?”

“Because he wasn’t me.”

You shook your head, terrified to imagine the ways Neil had tampered with the flow of time for something as trivial as an infatuation with you.

“I tried to hide my feelings for you, darling, really; we were just coworkers for a long time, I kept it strictly professional.  But the more I got to know you, the more I grew to love you.  I knew I couldn’t be happy just being your friend— you’re my everything.  I tried to tell you— but you wouldn’t listen,” he shook his head.  “You told me you loved your husband.  You told me you had just found out you were pregnant.”

His words hit you like a train and you stumbled back slightly, bracing yourself against a credenza to try to keep from falling to the floor.

“I realized I had to go back,” he continued, becoming a bit more passionate as he explained his plan.  “You couldn’t be convinced if you were pregnant with his child.  But if I was going to invert myself to try to confess my love for you sooner, I figured it would be easiest if I took it a step further and avoided the whole marriage itself.  You had told me once about the day you met him.  So, I went and found you in that coffeeshop, the day before.  And I recruited you to Tenet.  Truth was, we could’ve used you a lot sooner, so it was advantageous to the organization as well— which is why I got approved to be inverted by the boss himself.”

That hurt.  He was Neil’s friend, but he was your friend, too.  Had he known that when Neil went back to recruit you, he would irreparably alter the course of your life?  Or had he only realized later and decided not to try to correct it?

“Don’t look so heartbroken, darling,” he pouted, stepping forward and reaching out to gently rub your shoulder.  “We’re finally together.  Things are finally the way they should’ve been from the very beginning.”

You pushed his hand away and averted your gaze, unable to look at him anymore.  "I'm sorry, Neil, I can't do this— I can't live a lie," you shook your head, beginning to step away.

“No, you can’t go,” he breathed, desperation apparent in his tone along with his expression.  “You can’t go!  I finally got it right this time!”

“Is that why you were afraid I’d say no?” you realized with wide, watery eyes.  “Because I said it before?”

“Yes,” he admitted, faster than you expected.  “But—”

“How many times?”

There came the silence, his nostrils flaring as he crossed his arms and looked away.

“How many times did I reject your proposal, Neil?”

“...Fourteen.”

“Oh my god,” you sobbed, “Neil, you— you never gave me a choice, did you?  From the beginning?  Every time I tried to get away from you—”

“You always knew you belonged with me,” he posited fiercely.  “You always knew, it was why you kissed me that night, a year from now, on the bridge in Oslo.”

“That wasn’t me!” you cried.  “I was never married, Neil, I was never pregnant, I never kissed you on any godforsaken bridge!  You undid it all, and now you’re holding what I never did against me?”

“Even then you knew we were meant to be together,” he explained, stepping a little closer; out of love for the man you thought he was, you had a moment of sympathy for the man he had become, and let him pull you closer and cradle your face in his hands.  He wiped a stray tear from your cheek as he smiled down at you.

It almost felt right for a moment, but you couldn’t trick yourself into believing this was anything but wrong.  "I'm sorry, god, I'm so sorry," you whispered hoarsely as you turned to walk away— but he chased you and spun you back around, overpowering you as you tried to wriggle from his grasp.

“After everything I did for you,” he growled, grabbing your wrists tightly when you tried to get away, “you can’t just walk away from me.”

“You didn’t do any of this for me, Neil,” you spat as you struggled, “you did this for yourself.  You stole my life!”

“I saw your life, it was shit without me, okay?”

"But at least it was mine!"

He grabbed you by the shoulders and pinned you to the wall, making you yelp as he glared at you, eyes wild and teeth bared.  “I’ll just go back and do it again.  I’ll do it a million times until you stay with me forever, I swear.  So what’s the use in fighting me?  You’ll say yes, eventually.  Why don’t you save us both some time— in a sense— and just accept it now?”

This was a side of Neil you hadn’t seen before.  He wasn’t livid, he wasn’t violent (at least, not to the level you knew he could be), but he was undoubtedly threatening you… and you knew that he was right.  More than ever you were sure that he was going to keep doing this, keep taking you through the same loop until he got the outcome he wanted.  It was horrifying to imagine, but at least this way you could know the truth.  Maybe you could even find a way to escape him someday— you couldn’t even imagine how, but you might come up with something later.  You had all the time in the world, after all.

He softened slightly as he must have realized you were considering it, reaching down to pull your hands into his.  You glanced over at the sparkling diamond on your ring finger, remembering how ecstatic you had been to wear it just a few minutes ago.  Now it was a tiny gold shackle, each glimmer of the stone like a silent taunt.

Devastated, but with nowhere else to turn, you began to sob and allowed him to embrace you and pull you into him.  He held you close as you cried into his shoulder, terrified and confused and seeking comfort even if it was from the man who had imprisoned you in time.

“Shh,” he soothed gently, “it’s going to be alright, darling, take some deep breaths for me.  Can you do that?  In—” he inflated his chest, guiding you to breathe with him, which you did to the best of your ability—” and out…”

Smooth breaths were difficult with sobs vibrating your lungs, but you eventually managed to stabilize yourself as he guided you through a few more.  You resented that he knew you so well to be able to calm you down; you resented that your body trusted him enough for it to actually work.

“That’s it,” he praised softly, “you’re okay, it’s okay…”

~

You stared at yourself in the mirror, contemplating the way your face looked through the lacy white veil.  Silently, you wondered if this was how you looked at your first wedding; the one that never really happened, to the man you never got the chance to meet.  You liked to imagine that you looked happier than this, that your eyes were filled with excitement rather than resignation.  

A knock at the door didn’t even tear you from your trance, nor did the sound of it opening; only Neil’s reflection appearing beside yours in the mirror made you snap back into reality, if only slightly.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your ear.

“Bad luck…” you mumbled.  “It’s bad luck,” you began again, “for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”

“I think we’ve had enough bad luck for a lifetime already,” he joked, making you furrow your brow and turn around, looking up at him.

He bore a startling resemblance to the man you’d fallen in love with, to the man you’d been ecstatic to marry when he got down on one knee for you in a nearly-abandoned safehouse in Moscow.  Even the way he smiled at you, his gaze so gentle as it scanned your face, was exactly the way he’d looked at you a thousand times— when you first met, as well.  The first time for you, at least.  He’d known you for years then; it was no wonder that he looked at you with such love, struck up a conversation that perfectly targeted your interests.  He must’ve spent years practicing to be your perfect man, until he finally got tired of the lie and trapped you in his twisted idea of the truth.

It made you question his motives for appearing suddenly and spoiling the surprise of you in your wedding gown— a sight he must have been dreaming of for years.

“Did I leave you at the altar?” you asked, below your breath.  “Is that why you’re here?  You came back to stop me?”

He chuckled lightly and brushed his fingers over your face.  “I don’t know yet.  This is the first time.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat.  “How can I trust you?  How can I know you haven’t said that every time?”

He didn’t answer, instead leaning in to kiss you gently.  You closed your eyes, accepting that you could never really know the truth anymore.  Maybe someday you would become comfortable with unknowing, or at least complacent enough to tolerate it.

Walking down the aisle felt sort of like walking toward the gallows, but instead of death waiting for you at the end, there was a life of futility, an existence guided not by destiny or decision but by derangement: one man’s fight, against God and nature, to keep you to himself and steal you from the life you were once meant for.

You managed to keep your footsteps steady, glancing briefly to the pews scattered with parse friends and family— wasn’t much time for either of those with the kind of work you did.  All the time in the world, but not enough time for a real life.  That was why it had been so easy to fall for Neil, since he was one of a few people you spent significant time with.  Had that always been the nature of the job?  Or an orchestration by Neil himself, separating you from others until you couldn’t choose anyone but him?

Thankfully, you managed to get through the wedding without crying more than was appropriate or screaming at him or trying to run away.  You exchanged the vows and the rings, you kissed each other, the whole shebang.  Occasionally you actually managed to enjoy yourself, in those moments that you forgot this was all a hollow facade, greeting guests and listening to toasts and dancing with Neil— your new husband.

You forced yourself to keep up the image of a happy bride for the sake of your friends, and everyone who came here in expectation of a fun wedding.  It was what they deserved, even if it was costing you everything.

But once they were gone, you didn’t know how to play the part anymore.  You didn’t know how to swallow down the sick rising in your throat as Neil led you to the honeymoon suite, how to smile back at him when he looked at you with so much joy.

You didn’t know how to prepare yourself for what you knew he expected.

“I… should change out of this dress,” you realized once you were alone in the hotel room together, and he nodded his approval.  You knew if you looked at yourself in the mirror, you would cry, so instead you focused on getting out of your uncomfortable gown.  The lacy white lingerie underneath was intimidating, not for what it was but for what it symbolized.  You couldn’t go back out there like this, obviously— so you grabbed one of the puffy white robes, the hotel’s logo stitched onto the breast pocket, and you threw it on as you stormed out of the bathroom and directly to the balcony.

Tears threatened to burn your eyes as you looked out over the London skyline.  It was stunning, and it made you appreciate that you should be thankful for the freedoms you did have.  There was a big, beautiful world out there and you had the means and the motive to explore it all, if you wanted— you’d already seen more than most.  

But you still mourned for the life you never lived.  Some would argue that in an infinite number of alternate universes, you had the choice to leave him if you wanted to; and apparently, from what Neil had implied, you usually took it.  Yet, that was useless to you now.  The irony was not lost on you that you would be so spoiled as to hate your life when you were standing on the balcony of a luxurious hotel, in a gown that cost more than your first degree, with a gorgeous new husband and more money than either of you would ever have any use for.  You knew you were being petulant.  But something deeper longed for freedom, with everything it cost.  Does it matter how decadent a cage is, if you are still trapped in it?

The balcony door opened behind you, and you defiantly sniffled, quickly wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

“Darling?” Neil gently called to you.  “Is everything alright?”

You didn’t answer, fearing the waver in your voice would give you away.

“I know it’s all a little… overwhelming,” he relented, his voice coming closer along with his footsteps.  “But you really have nothing to worry about.  I think you’ll rather like it.”

“Like what?” 

He paused for a bit before he replied.  And when he did, he said it like it was obvious: “Being my wife.”

You turned to face him, expecting rage in your voice but hearing only sadness.  “And if I don’t?  You’ll just… go back, and do it again until I do?”

He sighed a little, seeming hurt by the question.  “Please, darling, it’s our wedding night,” he cooed, “you can’t hate me.  Let me remind you how good we are together…”

His touch was distantly familiar, and against your better judgement you relaxed a bit and let him pull you closer, his cheek brushing against yours as he spoke beside your ear.

“I never inverted for this,” he explained with a whisper, fingertips grazing over your arm.  “I didn’t learn your kinks, memorize your body and then go back to impress you from the beginning.  The first time we were together… it was the first time for both of us.  And it was perfect.  Do you remember?”

You nodded.

“Tell me,” he instructed, lifting your chin to tenderly kiss your neck.

“Paris,” you sighed.  “We were posing as lovers to check in to a hotel without arousing suspicion.  I’d been enamored with you since I first met you and I thought maybe you felt the same way, but I told you we couldn’t be together because of Tenet…”

“But I kissed you anyway,” he reminded you.

“And I didn’t care about Tenet anymore,” you remembered.  “I just needed to feel you.  And we made love for hours— nearly missed our signal to get out of the building.”

He chuckled lightly against your skin, his fingers leaving goosebumps where they travelled across your back.  “It was worth it,” he decided.  “It was beautiful.”

You pulled back and looked up at him, finding so much love in his eyes, and you searched desperately within yourself for a way to love him in return again after what he’d done.  

Swallowing, you slid your fingers into his hair and examined his face one more time, illuminated in the faintly bluish glow of the city lights.

“Go back,” you whispered.

“What?”

“I need you to go back,” you repeated.  “To the day you proposed.  Don’t tell me the truth this time.”

Realization dawned on his face, somber but calm.

“I’ll be yours, Neil,” you promised, “forever, like you wanted.  But I can’t live like this.  I can’t live knowing what you’ve done.  And I can’t live with myself if I know that I gave in to you.”

“I hate to leave you on our wedding night,” he argued, turning away slightly— but you held his face and pulled him back to look at you.

“Do this for me,” you pleaded.  “Consider it a wedding present.”

He gave you a small, sad smile before he embraced you again.  "Anything for you," he whispered as he kissed you on the top of your head.

~

Neil all but kicked the door down as he carried you in his arms, unable to break the kiss even for a moment to open the door properly.

He stumbled around the room a bit before he finally tossed you onto the bed, eliciting a girlish squeal as the puffy layers of your wedding gown's elaborate skirt flipped up over your head.  Growling playfully as he climbed atop you and slotted himself between your legs, you pushed your dress out of the way to look up at him.

As your laughter died down and you examined his face, you were compelled to reach up and hold his jaw in your hand; he turned his face slightly to kiss your palm as you caressed his cheek.

"I love you," you sighed as you brushed a stray strand of hair back out of his face.

"I love you too," he smiled, "more than you could ever know."

You rolled your eyes.  "There goes my husband with his crypticness again."

He hummed at the title, kissing you again.  You figured you were lucky he didn’t rip the dress as he got you out of it, growling when he saw your lacy white lingerie underneath.  “You really are too good to me, darling,” he purred, leaning down to capture a nipple between his teeth through the fabric until your back arched.  “All wrapped up for me like a pretty little present…”

You whined when he slipped his fingers down between your legs, toying with you and refusing to just pull the panties aside and get on with it.  Of course he had to draw it out, savor every inch of you, but did he have to drive you so crazy along the way?

"Neil, please," you whimpered, "need you…"

"I know," he soothed between heavy breaths, kissing down your chest and stomach until he reached where you'd nearly soaked through your flimsy lace.  He kissed your swollen clit right through the fabric— damn him that just that little touch made you moan and grab his hair.  He loved seeing the effect he had on you, it was clear by the way he grinned and did it again, a little firmer, relishing in the way you squirmed.

Finally, he pulled your panties aside; although of course he did it tantalizingly slow before sliding his tongue through your folds, moaning lowly when you accidentally pulled his hair a bit.

He looked so damn good with his face between your thighs, staring up at you and holding you in place with his petrifying gaze.  His eyes were always uncharacteristically dark when he did this to you, like he'd been waiting all his life for this moment.  Like the taste of you drove him wild.

You shuddered when he pushed his tongue inside you, instantly putting pressure against the most delicate places inside you.  When the pleasure threatened to become too intense and you instinctively tried to squirm away, his strong hands gripped your thighs and held you down nearly effortlessly, likely leaving marks on your skin for you to notice tomorrow, to remind you that you were his.  As if the ring wasn’t enough.

“Fuck,” you groaned, “please— please let me come.”

You didn’t always ask him for permission, but he always gave it when you did.  So you weren’t expecting him to grin and stop his task to suck a hickey onto your thigh.  “Not quite yet,” he purred.  “I need you to ask really, really nicely…”

“Um,” you stalled, distracted by watching him leave a trail of marks along your skin with his teeth, “please… don’t stop, Neil, please let me come… I’ll do anything, you know I will.”

“That’s already true,” he reminded you, snarling as he gave your pussy a sudden spank; you yelped and jolted from the impact, but it ended with a moan and more wetness gathering at your hole.  “You can’t be so obedient all the time and try to use it as a bargaining tool, darling.  You know better than that.  Offer me something I don’t have.”

“If you let me come,” you pondered your potential options as you bit your lip and rocked your hips up in hopes of friction, “I’ll… make dinner, every night, for a week—”

He quirked an eyebrow.

“A month!” you blurted out instead.

“You’re negotiating against yourself,” he chuckled, slapping you right on your clit and making you cry out.  “And you’re not much of a cook.”

You were teetering on the edge, desperate for any leverage you could grapple onto, keening for just a touch more stimulation to bring you the rest of the way— and you were so fucking close.  You could only think of one thing Neil wanted, that he didn’t have, that you could give.  And it was a stupid idea, but you needed to offer him something fast before those dreaded spanks between your thighs made you come before he’d given permission.

“We can fuck on a mission,” you announced through your teeth.  Finally, you felt like you had his attention.  The only time that had ever happened was the one time you let it happen— the first time.  The next day you’d had a long conversation about how you weren’t going to let feelings interfere with the job; he agreed, and since then the two of you had done a pretty good job of separating business and pleasure.  Although he did occasionally get irritated with your work in the field and take it out on you that night in bed, but that doesn’t count, right?

“Really?” he mused.  “Whatever happened to boundaries?  What happened to ‘respecting the other team members’?”

“They don’t need to know,” you explained.  “Please, Neil, I really really need to cum.”

He pressed a thumb to your clit and drew slow, relaxed circles— just slow and relaxed enough to make sure you couldn’t come from it.  You sobbed and let your head fall back, exhausted of his teasing.  “How can you be sure you’ll be discreet enough?  You’re not exactly… subtle,” he smirked, your moans now exactly proving his point.

“Can’t be loud with my mouth full,” you countered, and his smile finally fell.  You finally had a bit of power back.

“You’d really suck me off on a mission?”

“If you can promise to keep quiet,” you chuckled.

He growled a bit as he dove back in, the sudden pleasure forcing a deep moan from your lips.  “Fuck,” he mumbled against you, “so dirty for me, huh?”

“Yeah,” you agreed as you bit down on your lip.  “God, I’m close, just don’t stop…”

“As long as you keep up your end of the deal,” he smirked, and you nearly forced his head back down between your legs but thankfully, he kept his mouth shut after that— well not quite shut, just busy, and before you knew it the pressure that built in your gut finally flowed over and you sobbed his name at the peak of your orgasm.

He kept going for just a moment too long, sending white hot shocks up your spine from the overstimulation, but thankfully he slowed down and pulled back, licking his lips and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

With that out of the way, and you nearly melted into the bed at this point, he sat up and hastily opened his belt and fly while he gazed down upon you with a burning hot stare.

"I should return the favor," you offered, sitting up slightly and reaching to wrap your hand around his length, but he shook his head.

"I’ll get my chance, but right now I just need to be inside you,” he explained gruffly.  “Can’t spend another moment without being buried in this gorgeous cunt of yours; I might die if I can’t have you now.”

"Well, if it's a matter of life and death," you grinned, poorly faking indifference as he shoved you back and caged you in, guiding his cock to your dripping wet entrance.

“Ready, darling?” he prompted quietly as you felt the head of him prodding at you.  You nodded, and yet you still gasped and clutched his forearms when he pushed into you.  It was like the first time every time, with the way his thick length speared into you and stretched you open, but you craved it regardless; by now it wasn’t even pain, just raw sensation that pushed your limits in all the right ways.  He sighed a bit when his hips met yours, already pulling back and setting the pace of his thrusts.    

Even with how wet you were, there was friction just from the size of him, but it was the right kind of friction— a smooth, slow drag against your walls that compelled you to wrap your legs around his hips and hold him deep inside you.

“Is that how you want it?” he interrogated.  “Deep?”  You nodded and he chuckled a little.  “I can do that.”

He stopped moving only for a moment to grab your legs and push them up, such that when he thrusted again, the tip of his cock hit the furthest places inside you and you choked on your own moan.  "Fuck!" you croaked, eyes shooting open and hands reaching out to clutch his shoulders.

"How deep am I inside you?" he asked coyly, well aware of the answer already.

"So deep,” you slurred, barely able to form words with a heavy tongue and empty lungs, “all the way…"

"Good."  He leaned down and growled against your ear.  "I hope I knock you up tonight."

His words shocked you, in the best possible way.  You surprised even yourself with the way your body reacted, and your hands were almost moving of their own accord as they grabbed his face and pulled him into a deep, needy kiss.

“Neil,” you mumbled as you broke it just enough to look up at him, “put a baby in me.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, thrusting into you faster than ever, “I will, darling…”

He was unstoppably filthy after that, relentlessly pounding into you, claiming your entire body as he whispered unimaginably dirty things in your ear.

"I know you want it so badly, darling, I know you need to be filled with my seed… can't wait to see you all round and glowing with my baby in you."

You didn't understand his emphasis on the word "my,” as if it could ever be anyone else's!  But you didn't really notice that very much, too busy crying out at the feeling of him stretching you out and reaching the deepest places inside of you.  “Neil, please— I’m so close, want you to come with me,” you whimpered.  

“Yeah?  Wanna squeeze my cock with this pretty little cunt while I fill you up, darling?” 

“Please,” you sobbed, and you were sure you’d never needed him this bad; never needed anything this bad.

Deep little growls coming from between his teeth signified that he was close, and you felt your body tightening around him as you reached your peak one more time, much more intense than before and so much louder than you meant for it to be.  He finally spilled inside of you, painting your walls with his spend as you whimpered and began to descend from your high.  His body relaxed atop yours, though his arms wrapped around you to hold you close.  After a few moments of that, he fell onto his back and you laid your head on his chest, humming happily at the feeling of his warmth seeping out of you.  You were confident you’d be sore all over tomorrow, but you couldn’t feel it now as the afterglow served as a painkiller, keeping you numb and happy while you cuddled into him.

His arm around your shoulders pulled you closer so he could kiss your forehead.  You looked up at him, admiring the way he looked horribly disheveled and yet entirely perfect; he looked back at you, smiling softly.

"Can't believe you're finally mine," he sighed wistfully, "forever."

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

But I do think Olivia will require the most time and distance. Although neither of them have ever confirmed it, the pictures in Italy are pretty unambiguous. And I think the longer it lasts the more time there will need to be on the other side, before it's even possible to start strategising how to negotiate what happens next.

And that's interesting to me, because it tells us what decisions Harry is making at the moment.

I'm the anon who asked about the HL confirming their relationship. That last bit kind of hit me like a freight truck. There's the logical part of my brain that understands the position HL are in and why they can't come out, let alone confirm they're together. But then there's the naive part of me that secretly hopes they'll do it in a few years. Yeah it's not gonna happen. Everything you said about distancing and time makes sense. The 1d managment that forced them in the closet will remain nameless. Except to the ones in the industry, but to them, this is all second nature anyway. Temporary outrage from fans on Twitter won't matter. Closeting in the entertainment industry will continue. The random beards will get lost in the chaos of the CO and Taylor is bigger than all this anyway. You're right, she can narrate her way out of this. But Olivia? Her and Harry are in your face together together. The making out, hand holding, dancing, her following him around, will be hard to explain without significant blowback. Unless they scale back and she goes away when they break up. Except that she has given no indication of going away gentle into that good night. She is a narcissist who even within the constraints of whatever contract the relationship is under, has managed to make the stunt all about herself. Harry and his team see this and see the fandoms reaction to her. Yet he continues to go along with it. Just 2 days ago they were photographed walking hand in hand in Oslo. Which means Harry has absolutely no plans to "distance" himself from her. Which means there's absolutely no plans for any kind of larry CO. Thank you.

Oh anon - I was reading this and planning to discuss the dynamics of closeting and what might happen. But three quarters of the way through it really took a turn. So instead I'm going to focus on what you say at the end, why I disagree, and why I think there's absolutely no evidence based for it, and it only makes sense within a very specific, misogynist world view that fans have been created.

Why should Olivia go gentle into the good night? She is a person with a career and life - and I think the first red flag is that you think that is a reasonable expectation of someone who has pretended to date Harry - it absolutely is not (even leaving aside the subtext of using that particularly literary allusion is that you think she should die).

When you complain that she has made the 'stunt all about herself' - I'm not sure what the alternative is. She has posted on her social media and been photographed places. Everybody's social media and also existence is about themselves. Expecting a woman's social media appearances and existence not to be about her is deeply misogynist.

You claim she's a narcissist - what the fuck are you talking about? You see very little over her life and almost nothing of her interaction with people, let alone the sort of internal processes that would allow you to know that she's a narcissist. If you want to come back and tell me what you mean and what you're basing that on I'd genuinely like to know, because all I see is particularly fucked up fandom dynamics.

I know there are large parts of fandom where that's a completely normal way of talking about a woman, just because she's pretending to date Harry. But I really want to present an alternative view - that this is not an OK or justifiable way of thinking. That you are messing with your understanding of the world and ways to treat people by acting like it is. Olivia is just a person who is existing that we know very little about. I know that Harry and her pretending to date isn't what you want - but dealing with your distress by demonising women is a really terrible way to navigate the world.