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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 2 months

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Never Again

Beau Arlen & daughter!reader

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: Beau never wanted his life as a cop to affect your safety, but he doesn’t always get what he wants.

“That wasn’t the agreement, Beau, it was—“

“I know what the ‘agreement’ was, if you could call it that, but things have changed!” Beau didn’t often get too heated with his ex wife—he let her do the belittling and he didn’t say much against it. But this was different. This was about you.

“Seriously? What, you get a little overprotective and we just throw out what we agreed on?”

Beau ground his teeth, trying to calm down.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying that she’s be safer at my place until all of this blows over.”

“Safer? What, with you out all day and—“

“Don’t pretend you’re home anymore than I am,” Beau cut in. “And if need be, she can come to the office with me.”

Silence filled the phone for several agonizing seconds.

“This is really serious, isn’t it?” She said finally.

“I wouldn’t have called you if it wasn’t.”

“And you’re not going to back down?”

“You know I won’t. Not when it comes to her safety.”

“Fine then. She can stay with you, but just until this all goes away.”

Beau sighed. He hated how against his ex was with him having custody, and he knew that soon enough there would probably need to be some sort of custody battle if he wanted more time with you, which he did. But for now, he’d settle with having you safe at his place for a few days.

“Thank you. I’ll pick her up from school this afternoon.”

“Fine.”

Beau was almost surprised that his ex hung up without a crack about you being disappointed when he showed up instead of her. There’d been plenty of those lately. Although Beau supposed she was getting tired of it, especially since they both knew it wasn’t true; you’d always been your dad’s daughter.

…

Beau arrived at your school at exactly three, eager to get you to his place quickly. He waited in his car, looking around for your familiar green backpack. Five minutes went by. Then ten.

It was nearing four o’clock when Beau finally decided to head inside. At first he’d just figured that you were held up by friends, but this was too long.

Beau made his way through the halls, scanning for you through the hoards of teenagers loitering near lockers as he went. He didn’t see you the whole way to the office, and when he went inside he inquired with the first person he saw—a young woman seated behind a computer.

“Y/N Arlen…” she repeated in a mumble, her brow drawn in concentration as she typed on her desktop. “Yes, here it is. Her uncle brought in a note to get her out of classes early. She left during lunch, about four hours ago.”

Beau’s heart sank to his toes, and in its absence his chest constricted. All the breath left his body as though he’d been thrown to the floor, and for a long, agonizing moment he forgot how to breathe.

“Sir?”

The voice of the woman snapped him back to attention.

“You just let some random man take my daughter?”

She looked taken aback.

“He—he had an ID, and his note had your signature on it. That is, if you’re the father—Beau Arlen?” The woman produced the note from her desk, and Beau snatched it up. It was his signature alright—and the forger was an expert. Beau knew deep down that he couldn’t blame the woman in front of him, but he couldn’t quite get that message to his panicked adrenaline.

“And you didn’t think to call me?” Before she could respond, Beau continued. “What did he look like? Where did they go?”

“I-uhh…” the woman faltered for a second before regaining composure. “We have security footage in the building as well as parts of the parking lot. We’ll be able to see him, if maybe not his vehicle.”

“Show me.”

The woman faltered again.

“We’re not really supposed to—“

A quick flash of his badge shut her up.

…

You woke up to the ground rattling beneath you. You tried to push yourself up, but your hands wouldn’t move right. There was a coarse…something, inhibiting your movement. You blinked your eyes open slowly, groaning at the pounding in your head.

You struggled to recall where you were or what was going on. Last you remember, you were at school…

You were called into the office…

You hadn’t been feeling very good this morning, so when the woman in the office told you you were being picked up, you didn’t stick around to hear the rest. You’d gone straight to the parking long, expecting to see either your mom, dad, or Avery; your mom’s new husband. Secretly, you were hoping for your dad.

Instead, a black SUV swerved in front of you. Before you could berate the driver for almost running you over, the side door swung open, and a man with dark hair and psycho-wide eyes grabbed you around the middle and dragged you inside. A foul-smelling cloth was pressed to your nose, and despite struggling for a couple of minutes, the chloroform took over and you were knocked out.

…

Beau got lucky—the security cameras had a good shot of both the kidnapper and his car.

He recognized the man immediately—the leader of a local cartel that Beau had been working for months to put away. It was pretty much the worst case scenario.

Halfway through watching the footage, Beau called up the department.

“Sheriff’s Department, how can I help you?”

“Poppernick, I need you to pull up traffic cameras of every road leading out of the county from the last four hours.

“Beau? What’s going—“

“Now! I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

…

Once realization set in, so did panic. You’d been kidnapped, straight out of school! Not to mention the kidnapper hadn’t bothered to put on a mask. That took a pretty gutsy criminal.

The motive wasn’t hard to figure out—with a cop got a dad and a lawyer for a mom, your family was pretty well acquainted with criminals. Besides, last time you’d visited your dad, he’d acted…off. He’d even hinted at you coming to stay with him for a bit. He must’ve been worried about a criminal case.

But the motive wasn’t your big problem.

“Hey, she’s awake.” A gruff voice invaded your ears as you felt yourself being twisted into sitting up. “Wakey wakey,” the voice taunted, his rough hand slapping your face, making your eyes snap open. “There we go.”

It was the man who’d dragged you into the car. He had short dark hair and a twisted smirk that accentuated the scar running from under his eye to his chin.

You glanced around the interior of the car to see just one other person—the driver. Apparently he was more skittish, because he was sporting a ski mask.

You opened your mouth to speak, only to discover that a thick cloth was stuffed in your mouth, and no sound escaped.

Scar Man’s grin twisted wider at your struggles.

“If you scream, I’ll slit your throat,” he threatened before lowering the gag.

“What do you want?” You demanded after taking in a gulp of air.

“What’d you take the gag off for?” Ski Mask asked after hearing your voice.

“Gotta make sure her dad gets a good look at his little brat.” The kidnapper chuckled. “You think she looks banged up enough?”

The driver spared a glance back before shrugging.

“You could rough her up a bit. But don’t go nuts, we gotta give her old man a chance to do what we say before we really mess her up.”

…

Beau was halfway to the department when it hit him. He would have to call his ex.

“Not until I’ve got more to go on,” he muttered to himself. He knew that wasn’t the real reason; he couldn’t bare to call the mother of his child and tell her that he had let you be taken. He couldn’t admit that to anyone, much less to the woman that broke his heart. It would make it too real.

…

Your body felt like a pulsing mass of pain. If Scar Man had taken it easy on you, you didn’t want to know what him taking it seriously was. Every square inch of you felt bruised, but you noticed that he took particular care to mark up your face and arms—the most visible places. You were now tied to a hard metal chair, the ropes around your wrists far too tight. Moving your arms even slightly sent pain shooting up your wrists from where the rope rubbed your skin raw.

“That should just about do it,” the dark haired man said with a grin. “Now for the finishing touch…”

You tried to move away from him when he pulled out a large knife, but it was futile. You whimpered as he dragged a long cut across your cheek, and you vaguely registered that it seemed to match his own.

“Perfect,” he said with a chuckle. “Now to show it off to dear old dad.”

…

“I’ve got the footage, what am I looking for?” Poppernick wasted no time when Beau entered the department, which he appreciated.

“Black SUV, Honda civic. License plate 23J OV3.”

During the silence while Poppernick went to work, Beau felt his phone buzz in his back pocket. He pulled it out reluctantly, assuming it was his ex wife checking to see if he’d picked you up.

Once he saw the image, he wished it had been her.

Beau staggered back, his feet no longer able to hold him up. Thankfully, the back of his knees collided with a chair, and he fell back into it.

“Sheriff?” Poppernick looked away from his computer, and jumped to his feet when he saw the paper-white tone and utter terror in his boss’s face. “Beau!”

Beau’s hand went limp, and Poppernick grabbed the phone before it could fall to the ground. He took one look at the image and his face turned a slightly greenish tint.

“Oh gosh.”

“What’s going on?” Jenny Hoyt asked immediately after stepping inside, noticing the palpable panic and disgust.

“They…” Poppernick couldn’t even speak, he just showed Jenny the photo. She swallowed, trying hard to keep her composure.

“Quentin, right?” She asked through gritted teeth, referring to the cartel leader that Beau had been after. The very name seemed to snap Beau back into focus. He sat up ramrod-straight in his chair and turned to Poppernick.

“Finish the trace. Now!”

Poppernick didn’t argue, and after a moment longer…

“I got something.”

…

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Scar Man taunted as he put the camera down. “Soon enough you’ll be back with your daddy, and I’ll have him off my back for good.”

You tried to ignore him, too busy trying to breathe through the pain. But his last statement caught your attention.

“You’re…you’re gonna let me go?”

A harsh grip on her chin had her wishing she hadn’t spoken, but the man just tilted her head up and grinned down at her.

“If our dear sheriff cooperates, and you’re incredibly lucky, then yes.” He dropped his hand and turned to leave without another word.

You wanted to believe him, to hope, but the crazed look in his eyes contrasted his words.

…

Hoyt, Beau, and Poppernick were gathered around Pop’s computer screen, tracking the black SUV, when Beau’s phone rang. He answered the unknown number immediately.

“Beau Arlen,” he said instinctively, then waited with bated breath for a response. While Pop had been working, Hoyt had set up a tap on Beau’s cell phone, and he was prepared to keep the kidnapper on the line as long as possible to get the trace.

“Nice to finally speak to you, Sheriff,” said a voice that chilled Beau Arlen to his core. “I’ve got a sweet little thing that belongs to you who would just love to see you again.”

Beau but back a thousand threats that wanted to escape his lips, and instead went for a smarter question.

“What do you want?”

“Nice and direct, I like that.”

Beau inwardly cursed himself for not stalling—maybe he should’ve went with a threat—but he also didn’t want to make the kidnapper angry.

“What I want—“ the kidnapper continued, “is for you to back off the investigation long enough for me to disappear. It’s reasonable—more reasonable than you should expect in your position. My cartel is out of your little town, your kid gets home safe, and I get my freedom.”

“Yeah, to go terrorize someone else’s town,” Beau spit out.

“Well they’re not you’re concern, sheriff. This is.”

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, and then—

“Dad?”

Beau’s heart lodged in his throat.

“Baby?”

“Dad, don’t—“

“And there’s your proof of life.” Your voice was cut off, replaced by the kidnapper. “Now do we have a deal?”

“I don’t negotiate with kidnappers.”

A chilling laugh echoed across the line. “Well then I hope you got a good last look at your daughter.”

…

“Dad, don’t—“ Ski Mask covered your mouth as Scar Man pulled back the phone to continue talking. Once you stilled, he let you go. Your gaze never left the phone in the dark haired man’s hand, desperate to hear your father’s voice.

You needed him more than you ever had, and you knew even just a few words from his voice would help calm you. You’d been trying hard not to panic, but knowing that your father was just barely out of your reach had tears pricking your eyes and despair stealing your breath.

You don’t know what your father said to the man, but his eyes were suddenly on you as a terrifying laugh shook his frame.

“Well then I hope you got a good last look at your daughter.”

A knife was suddenly in his hands, and you didn’t know where it had come from.

“No, please,” you whimpered as he advanced on you, lifting the knife above you.

…

“Wait, wait!” Beau demanded as he heard your panicked pleas on the other end.

“Yes?” The kidnapper said.

“I want to talk to her.”

“Don’t stall, sheriff. I know you’re trying to trace the line. I need a yes or a no, and I need it now unless you want me to start carving into this little girl.”

“I…” Beau glanced helplessly at his people, who were waiting for his response. “Ok. It’s a deal.”

“Good. You’ll get the address to where she’s being held as soon as I’m out of the country.”

The line went dead.

“You’re not really gonna let them go, are you,” Hoyt asked.

“Pop, what do you got?” Beau ignored Jenny’s question and focused on Pop’s computer.

“Nothing on the trace, there wasn’t enough time. But I’m still following the route that the SUV took, so far it’s still in sight of traffic cams.”

“So you were just stalling for time?” Jenny tried to clarify.

“We can’t let them go,” Beau said.

“Are you sure?” Jenny said hesitantly. “We don’t want to put Y/N in—“

“You don’t get it.” Beau shook his head. “This guy’s MO, his track record…he’s lying. He’s not gonna let her live. We need to find them.”

…

The kidnappers ignored you for a while after the phone call, busying themselves with packing the meager belongings they had into the back of a truck.

“What about her?” Ski Mask asked, nodding his head at you. “We gonna leave her here for her dad?”

“Let her live?” Scar Man chuckled. “What’s the fun in that?”

…

“I’ve got it!”

Beau jumped out of his seat at Pop’s outburst.

“Where are they?” He demanded, leaning over Pop’s chair to look at his screen.

“Well, I don’t have an exact location, but they turned down this road.” Pop ran his finger along the map open on one side of his screen, while the other side showed the black SUV turning down a dirt road. “And that’s where the cameras stop, they don’t go down side roads.”

“What’s over there?”

“Not much.” Pop shrugged. “A couple of warehouses.”

“Perfect, let’s go. Hoyt, you’re with me.”

…

Knowing that someone plans to kill you is an odd thing. You watch every move they make, no matter how innocent, waiting to see if he’s going to strike. Is he reaching for a knife, or his phone? Is he grabbing his bag, or the gun next to it? You never knew which breath would be your last, which thought would be the last one you’d ever think.

You wondered if your dad would ever find you. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to or not. Seeing your body would kill him, but never getting closure could, too.

You shook the thought away. You definitely didn’t want that to be your last. You’d never thought about it before; what you wanted to be thinking about when you died.

“I think that’s it.”

You were snapped out of your reverie when Ski Mask spoke.

“Great. Now for the fun part.” Scar Man picked up a curved knife from a metal table as he spoke.

You started to struggle against your ropes despite the pain of your raw, bleeding wrists.

“No.” You began to cry as though you were already dead, and you were mourning yourself. “Please, please don’t do this.” Perhaps you were crying because you knew it was futile; there was no sympathy or mercy in this man, you could see it in his eyes. You couldn’t bring yourself to continue to beg, too afraid to even speak.

You’d never thought about what you wanted your last thought to be. Even so, the memory came to you instantly; the perfect one.

You were little, maybe six or seven. Your parents were together and in love, and your father hadn’t been broken by grief. The three of you were painting your room, because you’d finally chosen a favorite color to paint over the white that had been there since you were a baby.

You tried to help, but your parents just ended up painting over the mess you made. Your mom was working on painting one wall, while your dad was making his own version of an enchanted forest on another. He’d already done several mushrooms, and now he was working on a fairy.

“What is that, a flying toad?” Your mom asked with a laugh.

“It’s the fairy princess!” Beau said, staring at her open-mouthed in mock offense.

“It looks like a toad.”

You giggled at your mother’s words, and Beau snatched you into his arms.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” You squealed and squirmed in his arms as he started to tickle you. “You think it’s funny?”

“Stohop!” You giggled, and after a moment Beau stopped, but he kept you in his arms.

“What do you think, huh?”

“I like the fairy princess,” you insisted.

“See?” Beau grinned.

“That doesn’t count,” your mother countered. “She likes you better.”

“And she understands a masterpiece when she sees it,” Beau said. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?

“Y/N?

“Y/N!”

Your daydream vanished as the very voice you’d been thinking about echoed across the warehouse.

“Dad!” You were still crying, now from relief. Your father was running across the room, gun in hand.

“Get away from her!” Beau aimed the gun at Scar Man, who had the knife clutched in his fist. “Drop the knife!”

Scar Man, psycho eyes wide and enraged, lunged for you, the knife raised.

Two shots rang out, and Scar Man staggered back before slumping to the ground.

Ski Mask lifted his hands in surrender, and Hoyt went over to arrest him.

Beau wasted no time in putting his gun away and running to you.

“Dad.”

“I’ve got you.” Beau offered you a strained smile as he got to work on the ropes binding you. You didn’t realize how much you were leaning against the restraints until they were gone, and you all but fell out of your chair.

Beau held you up, letting you fall against him and bury your face against his shoulder.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he repeated again and again. “You’re safe, I’m here.”

You cling to him despite the way his jacket scratched at the raw part of your wrists. Your body shook with sobs, and Beau held you tightly, rubbing your back and letting you cry against him.

“Hey,” his grip slackened as he pulled back enough to look at you. His hands framed your face, and the cool texture of his hands eased the pain of your bruises. His thumb brushed feather-light against the cut on your cheek, so gentle that you didn’t even flinch. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here.”

Beau kept a hand on you the whole way to the car, unwilling to let you go for even a second.

“Can we go home?” You asked, clinging to your dad’s arm.

“We’ve gotta go to the hospital first,” Beau sighed.

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “I wanna go home.”

Beau stared at you for a long moment. Proper procedure told him to take you to the hospital, then the station for some questions.

But his fatherly instincts were telling him to take his baby girl home and do whatever she needed to feel safe.

The latter won out.

…

By the time Beau reached his place, his phone had been blowing up with texts and calls, probably from Hoyt and Pop, but he ignored them other than a quick text to both telling them he was ok and headed home.

The texts continued after that, but Beau turned his phone off.

“Do you want to go to your mom?” He asked gently, not quite sure what you’d meant by “home”.

You didn’t hesitate.

“No. Your place.”

He got you to his trailer in record time, and he led you inside and to the couch. Your eyes never left him as he went to get your favorite blanket and drape it around your shoulders.

“I’m gonna get you some ice for those bruises, ok?” Beau didn’t give you a chance to respond as he went to get the ice. He returned a moment later, and you put the ice pack up against one of the worse bruises on your face. “Do you want me to make you some food?” He asked.

You shook your head, reaching your free hand out to him without speaking.

Beau got the message. He sat down next to you on the couch and wrapped you into his arms, the soft fluff of the blanket around you brushing against his arms, and your hair tickling his chin as he tucked your head under it.

“I’ve got you,” he promised. “No one’s ever gonna hurt you again.”

“Don’t go,” you pleaded.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere.” Beau lifted a hand to the back of your head. He found himself rocking you back and forth slowly, and the ghost of a smile lifted his lips when he heard your gentle, relaxed breathing for the first time since you’d been taken.

Time stopped when he was like this, with you. He might’ve been holding you for five minutes or five hours, it didn’t matter to him. He was pretty sure you fell asleep at some point, but he didn’t move, determined to never let you go again.

#beau arlen x daughter!reader #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #big sky #Beau Arlen big sky #beau arlen x daughter #beau arlen x y/n #beau arlen reader insert

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ckret2 · 5 months

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Chapter 29 of human Bill Cipher will find a way out of being the Pines' prisoner or so help him, featuring:

Summerween!!!!

and also:

Henchmaniacs.

Kryptos doesn't actually talk like that, it's just how he's currently feeling.

####

January 1, 1982

"You're late," Bill said, a bit reproachfully.

Ford gave him a surprised look. "Did we have an appointment?" He didn't remember one. He was pretty sure he'd remember an appointment with his muse, even if he'd made it in a dream.

"Pfff, appointments are for people without an eternity of time! No, I'm just used to you dreaming by midnight. It's weird for you to stay up past two when you aren't working on a project."

"I suppose it is." Ford was flattered Bill was paying close enough attention to notice his sleep habits. "I thought I'd stay up late to bring in the new year."

"The what?"

"The... new year?" What wasn't registering. How do you explain New Year's to an alien/angelic messenger? "It's when—"

"Oh, oh right." Bill waved off the rest of Ford's explanation. Several calendars and clocks spiraled in the air like a Ferris wheel in front of Bill, "Between trying to figure out whether you meant it was 0 Pop or Tishrei 1, I completely forgot about Chaos 1. You guys have too many calendars!"

And he'd skipped over January entirely. Wryly, Ford said, "The next time somebody asks for my input, I'll let them know you want us to use a few less."

Bill laughed. "Smart aleck." The calendars and clocks vanished. "And all you did to celebrate was stay up a little later than usual? No parties? Okay, I know you don't know anyone throwing a party—but you didn't even celebrate at a bar?" Bill ruffled his hair. "All work and no play makes Ford a dull boy!"

Ford endured the ruffling. He wasn't quite sure whether Bill was scolding him for staying up celebrating, or for not celebrating enough. "I... suppose I could celebrate in here?"

"What do you want, a fireworks show?" In the distance in Ford's mindscape, a single large firework exploded. It shifted colors, purple to yellow to green to red, before fading. "I don't think so! If you wanted fireworks, you should've gone to the show on the lake. I've got some prophecies to pass on, and I'd rather get to them this REM cycle."

By "prophecies" he probably meant a random assortment of warnings about Ford's upcoming week, which historically had varied in severity from "don't visit the lake Tuesday evening or you'll get caught in a snowstorm and die of hypothermia" to "you'd better get groceries in the morning before they sell out of your toothpaste brand." And Ford was always grateful for such messages—but now he wished he could see what sort of fantastical color-changing dream fireworks show his muse could put on. "I take it it's not a new year on your calendar."

"I don't keep track of that stuff. When you're as ancient as me, celebrating the new year is like celebrating a new hour."

Bill had so easily brushed off the implicit invitation to discuss "his" calendar. Ford wasn't surprised. Over the years of sporadic meetings with his muse, Ford had noted that Bill never shared information about where he'd come from or how he filled his time when he wasn't bestowing his wisdom—as if Bill was a thing that simply is, a muse that offered inspiration because it was made to inspire, with no history or identity outside of its role in service to humanity. He always dodged the questions gracefully.

But he never seemed bothered that Ford had asked. In fact, as long as Ford didn't pry into Bill's history and kept his inquiries comfortably shallow, Bill always seemed happy to receive personal questions. Ford had found that even when Bill talked like he was in a hurry, it was very easy to get him off track (and consequently extend his visit to two or three more dreams) by asking him about himself.

Ford wondered why that was. Was it a part of his duty—was he compelled to answer his chosen students' questions, to enlighten them on the mysteries of the universe, to help tug back the curtain of reality to reveal wonders unknown—wonders that included Bill himself? Or perhaps Bill was used to students seeing him as a source of knowledge without seeing him. Perhaps he was grateful that somebody was interested in him enough to ask.

Whatever the case—Bill clearly liked being asked about himself, and Ford liked getting his muse to stick around a little longer than planned. So rather than letting Bill get on to the prophecies he'd promised, Ford asked, "Do you ever... participate in any human holidays? After all, you've offered so much to humanity. I'm sure any of your prior protégés would have been honored to invite you as a guest to our celebrations. I would be honored." And Ford wouldn't mind having friendly company on the holidays that he'd gotten in the habit of ignoring until they shrank to nothing but a square on a calendar.

"Ha, I know you would! But no, not really," Bill said. "Don't get me wrong, it's not that I look down on your cute little local festivals. They just don't have any relevance to me! A celebration of a bountiful harvest, a prayer to get through the winter, the veneration of a local long-dead celebrity... I come from a timeless realm of divinity, sublimity, color and light! Most of your planet's holidays are about issues that don't matter to me."

"Ah. I see," Ford said. "Are there any human holidays you care about?"

Bill mulled over the question. "Maybe one or two."

####

June 22, 2013

Bill thundered down the stairs, charged into the kitchen, and announced to the Pines, "If I don't get to wear a Summerween costume I will literally die."

Without looking up from the morning paper, Ford said, "Then die."

####

It took ten minutes for Bill to bargain Ford up from "death" to permission to wear a costume—provided that it was free; that Bill agree to stay inside for the holiday without complaint (WITHOUT COMPLAINT) no matter what fun activities he heard happening outside; that Ford didn't have to do anything to help Bill obtain said costume; and that Bill take a dang shower.

Bill groaned. "Another shower already?"

"You wouldn't need so many if you didn't insist on running around in an acrylic sweater and polyester leggings in summer."

Bill knew that. That was one of the reasons he did it. It was useful for the humans to think the showers were their idea.

Bill agreed to all terms, and even volunteered to get the dang shower over with now so they could both get on with the rest of their days.

He'd never admit it, but Bill had been wanting a shower. Not for the hygiene, but for the privacy. This was the first time he'd had a door between himself and the Pines since he'd broken the shack's unicorn hair barrier.

Time to call in reinforcements.

Bill covered the mirrors, turned on the shower, undressed, stuck his head under the shower stream so that if anyone barged in on him he could use his wet hair as proof he'd been showering, and squinted through the wooden door to confirm there weren't any humans lurking nearby. Coast was clear—but wow, it hurt to bend his eye that way. He rubbed at it irritably as he set up his ring of candles again, and wasn't surprised when his fingertips came away bloody. He thought it hurt more than it had last time. He wondered how many more times he could glance into higher dimensions before this body's eyeballs gave out on him. Hopefully he wouldn't need them that long.

He drew Kryptos on the floor, lit the candles, and started muttering the chant to summon him. "Rhombus sapphirinus. Fraternitas, caritas..."

The steamy air went chill, the water pattering in the tub grew muffled, the whole world slowed and paused. For weeks, Bill's every attempt to break into the mindscape had been a futile strain; but now, instead, the mindscape surged up and swallowed him into its gray twilight, like evening embracing the land on the heels of sunlight's departure. Bill knew he wasn't awake anymore. It was working.

A force outside of Bill borrowed his throat to speak the last of the ritual—it worked!—and before his eyes, a diamond window opened into the Nightmare Realm.

####

Standing at the edge of one of the Quadrangle of Qonfusion's many perpendicular floors, arms crossed, scowling deeply, Pyronica glared at a neon-acidic cotton candy nebula light years away. "Guys," she said, "it's doing the thing again."

8 Ball, Keyhole, and Zanthar glanced away from their video game toward the nebula. Amorphous Shape peeled a few squares off a column to peer at it with Hectorgon.

"Look at this." Pyronica clapped her hands.

In the nebula, crackles of lightning-like bolts of light millions of miles long shot through the starry clouds. A noise like thunder boomed from it, rattling the Quadrangle. An ugly statue fell off a column-shaped pedestal and landed on a wall.

She clapped twice more—each time, eliciting more lightning—then gestured emphatically at the nebula. "How am I doing that!"

"Can't be you controlling it," Amorphous Shape said. "That nebula's over a dozen light years away. That light had to have happened years ago, we're just seeing it now."

Already turned back to his video game and determinedly trying to murder Keyhole, 8 Ball said, "Maybe the nebula's controlling you."

Pryonica said flatly, "You think a bunch of stars is making me clap."

"Eh. Like astrology or something."

Hectorgon said, "Could be a time loop thing."

"Could be," Amorphous Shape said thoughtfully.

Pyronica threw up her hands, which made the distant nebula's colors shift slightly. "If it's not weird butterfly effects or faster-than-light light, it's time loops. I hate this place. All it'd take is a hard sneeze to knock the whole dimension down."

She'd been saying things to such effect for the past few months. Consequently, nobody really paid much attention to the latest round of griping about the Nightmare Realm's poor maintenance, until she said, "I'm bailing on the Quadrangle. Soon as I can find a decent rock in some other dimension. Who else is coming?"

8 Ball glanced down at Pyronica from the floor with their gaming setup. "Hold on, are you serious?" He quickly had to look away as Zanthar took advantage of the distraction to attack.

"Yeah, I'm serious. I don't wanna break up the gang, but I'm sick of this dump."

Huddled on a nearby wall like an unemployed gargoyle, Paci-Fire said solemnly, "I will stay, Mother. The Quadrangle of Qonfusion is the only home I have ever known."

"Probably one of my worst life decisions," Pyronica muttered. "The Quadrangle isn't our home, it was Bill's. We're just... just..."

Ducking in from between two columns that seemed to lead to a purple-shadowed nighttime meadow, Teeth said, "Eternal couch-surfers."

"Ha! Yeah, that. Hey, where you been the past week?"

"Took a wrong turn to the bathroom. I ended up in that pocket dimension Bill grounded the electrical wiring into."

"Again?"

"I never know how many times to cross that one infinitely looping hallway!"

Pyronica gestured at Teeth. "See, this place is a complete mess. We'd be better off moving to any other dimension. And you'd like living in a real dimension if you gave it a shot, Paci!"

"No." Paci-Fire crossed his arms. "I do not want to."

"At least think about it. Wouldn't you like to live somewhere that has moons? Instead of going on a road trip to another dimension every time you want to drive a civilization to extinction?"

Keyhole muttered, "I hate those stupid road trips. They're always a zillion light years long and we never do anything fun."

"Hey!" Pyronica pointed at Keyhole. "Watch it! My kid's a lunarcide prodigy, he gets to go on as many moon-destroying trips as he wants!"

Keyhole cringed. "Right, right, sorry." 8 Ball muttered something disparaging about Keyhole's intellect, right before blowing him up for the second time.

Paci-Fire asked, "And say we were to move to a dimension with more moons. What would we do when the authorities follow us home after another successful slaughter?" A side-effect of growing up in the Henchmaniacs was that Paci-Fire regarded The Authorities as a nebulous bogeyman that was personally out to get him and all his family and friends. "Are we to lock the door and cower from them like—like cowards? Or constantly flee from one dimension to the next? No, Mother. I do not wish to live like a pariah in the dark corners of—" his lower mouth sneered around his pacifier, "civilized dimensions. There is nowhere safer for us than the Nightmare Realm."

"Sweetie, you don't have to be afraid of the authorities in other dimensions—"

"Mother! I know no fear." Paci-Fire's eyes flared a bright, dangerous red.

Pyronica playfully tugged one of his horn. "We can find a dimension as primitive as 46'\ without any interstellar cops. Like—which dimension were you from, Teeth, it doesn't even have any organized space authorities, does it?"

"Oh, yeah, pretty much every world in my galaxy was still ground bound when Bill recruited me." Teeth stepped on a column, slid off, and shuffled around it, trying to remember which side doubled as a walkway to the kitchen. "I don't really mind staying here, though. I mean yeah, we don't have a roof, or consistent walls, and the wiring's a mess. But the rent's really reasonable for a place this size in this part of the Nightmare Realm."

Hectorgon processed that. "Hold on." He lay on a wall and slid up it until he was mouth level with Teeth. "You've been paying rent?"

Teeth paused mid-column. "Wh—yeah? What's that supposed to mean?"

Pyronica bit her lip to keep from laughing, elbowed Paci-Fire, and hissed, "I thought Bill was joking about charging Teeth rent!"

Paci-Fire murmured, "Bill Cipher was always a most droll prankster."

"Who are you paying it to?" Hectorgon asked.

"I mean—I was paying it to Bill. But I dunno who took that over, so I guess, kinda... no one?"

With a mildly offended tone, Hectorgon lied, "You were supposed to give it to me now."

"Oh." Teeth shifted awkwardly. "Uh... sorry, Hect, no one told me. I don't think I've got enough on hand to cover all the..."

"It's fine, everything's been topsy-turvy since... the last few months. Just give me what you have and pay back the rest as soon as you can, okay?"

"Sure, sure, no problem. Thanks, man."

Pyronica bit her lip to keep from laughing. "All right, so Teeth is stupid enough to stay here."

"Hey!"

"But I don't see why the rest of us should be." She looked up at the trio playing games below her, then tried to remember which stupid paradox staircase led to that level. She hesitantly headed up one that looked promising. "Moving out would be worth it just to be somewhere with consistent physics!"

"I am contented with the inconsistent physics," Paci-Fire said.

"It took you fifty years longer than most kids to learn how to walk," Pyronica said. "I know you're my little genius! It's this dimension that's holding you down!"

"Boo," Paci-Fire said sulkily.

"Paci, you don't even like the Quadrangle. Nobody does."

Amorphous Shape let out a chorus of sharp gasps. They slid around a corner and reappeared sliding from the underside of the staircase to the top, laying zigzag atop the steps to glare at Pyronica. "Excuse us."

"I'll step on you, Morph," Pyronica threatened. Amorphous Shape grudgingly slid over for her to pass. "Fine, Bill's stupid 2D groupies like the Quadrangle. But the rest of us don't."

"What's wrong with it?" Morph demanded.

"What's—?!" Pyronica gestured upward at the floor below them. "You don't see the problem with this?!"

"It's supposed to be like that. It's a shortcut."

"It's a—!" Pyronica covered her face and suppressed a scream. "It's giving me vertigo!"

"It doesn't give us vertigo," Morph said defensively. They partially peeled off the steps to look at Hectorgon. "Does it give you vertigo?"

"No, I'm fine."

"What about you, Kryptos?"

There was no answer.

"Krypt?" Morph reluctantly peeled off the stairs entirely and hovered in the air to try to get a better view.

"He probably got sucked into The Void," Keyhole muttered, "it was vibrating this morning."

8 Ball sighed. "Why do we even have that Void?"

"Man, I dunno."

Pyronica ascended to the bottom of the stairs, sat on the arm of the gamers' couch, and said, "The point is—none of us need this place. I got by fine before joining Bill, most of you guys did too, and we can get by just fine now without squatting in his weird architecture project."

She leaned behind Keyhole and 8 Ball to poke Zanthar's arm. "Big Z, you still have worshippers in your home dimension, right? Aren't you still getting offerings?"

Zanthar shrugged noncommittally.

"They've still got legends of you, you can whip them back into shape in no time. Keyhole, you've got family—"

Without looking away from the screen, where he was losing hideously, Keyhole muttered, "I'm not moving back in with my mom."

"I'm not talking about your mom, stupid, what about your sisters?"

Keyhole winced, though it was hard to tell whether it was from Pyronica's question or from getting killed for the third and final time. "I don't know... Bill and I were talking about them once, and I realized they're as bad as Mom was. Bill said probably the only reason they didn't treat me as bad is because they never got the opportunity—"

"Who cares what Bill said," Pyronica snapped. "Bill's dead! We don't have to listen to him anymore!"

"Hear hear," 8 Ball muttered; but he couldn't throw in anything else, lest Zanthar blow him up and win the match.

Pyronica said, "Face it: the only reason the rest of us didn't leave the Nightmare Realm millennia ago is because Bill couldn't leave."

Morph drifted through the kitchen—reaching around Teeth to grab a drink out of the fridge as they passed—and unfolded questioningly around a corner. "There you are."

Kryptos was in the rec room, lounging on Bill's stupid tacky optical illusion throne with the fabric of reality upholstery, staring out a window (or skylight, depending on your point of perspective). He grunted at Morph.

Morph said, "Bill's gonna be furious you're using his throne."

"Whatever. Z's already spilled time punch on the armrest." Kryptos pointed at the patch of reality on the armrest that was out of chronological synch with the rest of the throne.

"He's not gonna be furious," Pyronica said, shouting through the doorway that inexplicably connected to the rec room. "He's not gonna be anything because he's dead. He died. D-E-A-D."

"He's not." And suddenly Morph were in Pyronica's face, all of their polygons and lines and piercing slitted eyes circling her head like angry moons. Keyhole leaned toward 8 Ball to see the screen around them, and 8 Ball elbowed him back over. Morph said, "He can't be. If Bill was dead, the Nightmare Realm would be falling apart even faster—"

"So let's bail while we can—"

"—but it's not," they said. "If anything, its degradation is slowing down. That would be impossible if he were dead, he's instrumental to holding the Nightmare Realm together—"

"Unless he lied about that, and he was actually making everything worse," Pyronica said.

"Bill's not a liar! We have the data to prove it, we've been measuring the degradation for billennia—"

"I'm sick of your stupid measurements! It was your 'measurements' that said 46'\ was perfect to take over! Was that stupid barrier part of your measurements?!"

"That barrier was extremely localized, there's no way we could have detected—"

"The portal was right in the middle of it! How did you idiots miss it?!"

8 Ball groaned as Zanthar whittled away the last of his HP. Zanthar let out a gentle hum like the sound of an apocalyptic vacuum cleaner as the game declared him the winner.

8 Ball tossed his controller at the TV. The TV squealed in fear. "If Bill is alive, that's just another reason to get out of the Nightmare Realm! Leave before he gets back! He can play king in this dump by himself."

Paci-Fire said, "Surely, you do not mean that. Were Bill still around..."

"No! No, I do mean it! The only reason we've stayed so long is because everyone's too starstruck or too scared to ditch him! Not anymore! If his flat-brained cultists wanna wait for him, fine! But why do we all gotta stay?"

"Hey!" Hectorgon rushed in from the kitchen to snarl at 8 Ball. "Who're you calling flat, cue tip—?"

Kryptos tuned out the argument downstairs/next door as 8 Ball and Hectorgon started brawling. Who were they kidding? Nobody was leaving. Maybe 8 Ball, he'd tried to split four or five times before crawling back, but Kryptos didn't care about him anyway. Bill had always been right about him: he was too selfish to care about the rest of the gang but too stupid to make it on his own. They'd taken in losers like that before and it had never been a big loss when they left. But no one else would leave. Where would they go?

Where could they go?

Kryptos didn't care about the outerplanar Henchmaniacs' reasons for joining Bill; but the shapes were here because Bill had promised to make them a new home. He was the only one in all of reality who could do it. Kryptos was as desperate to hear from Bill as Morph and Hect were. They'd held fast to Bill's promise for a trillion years—so how could they let go of whatever thin thread of that hope remained? Who would they be if they lost it?

But in his heart, Kryptos didn't really believe Bill was out there. He'd been gone too long. And Kryptos couldn't imagine anything less catastrophic than Bill's destruction could have reversed Weirdmageddon.

Yet he was still here, and still waiting, because he didn't know what else to do. He'd stay in the Quadrangle until the whole realm finally fell apart, just in case Bill casually floated back in one day. He'd do anything they could think of to find him and bring him back.

And then Kryptos got a call from Earth.

He sighed heavily.

Calls from Earth weren't unusual. Perks of having helped found the Fishmasons: Kryptos was occasionally summoned by the Fishermen high-ranked enough to be told their organization really did know an interdimensional alien who was their de facto secret leader and presided over their most important rituals. Assuming "de facto secret leader" meant "living equivalent of a beloved sports team mascot," and "presided over" meant "got free invitations to," and "most important rituals" meant "most fun parties." But the humans liked to pretend that their little group was a lot more important and cloak-and-dagger than the social club it really was; and all the wink-wink-nudge-nudge pretending-Kryptos-was-in-charge, while silly, was also kind of flattering. You didn't get many chances to be the star of the show when you lived around a supernova like Bill.

So, Kryptos got calls from Earth from time to time—at least a handful a year—typically from a middle-aged man in a business suit trying to pretend he wasn't giddy about being the guy who'd gotten permission to pull out the candles and contact The Alien.

Kryptos was not in the mood to talk to humans. Humans were why they were in this mess. Humanity could go jump in a lake.

But it wasn't every human's fault that a handful had somehow taken out Bill. And maybe they were calling for a party. Maybe it would cheer him up.

So he sighed again, half heartedly shouted, "Guys—guys, shut up a second, I'm getting a call," and opened up a window to Earth.

His vision was filled with a brown-skinned golden-haired haunted-eyed human who, at the sight of Kryptos, gave him a relieved, face-splitting smile. "H—"

Kryptos hung up.

To reiterate: he took calls from middle-aged men in business suits. That was a naked woman crouched on the floor like an animal.

"Who was it?" Hectorgon asked.

"No one. Some woo-woo witchy type who probably dug up a leaked Fishmason ritual online."

Hectorgon laughed. "I bet it thought it could ask a 'demon' for lottery numbers."

"Sorry, sister, but that's Bill's schtick," Kryptos said. "My number is unlisted for a reason."

Kryptos wondered about Bill's human pals. Well—"pals" was a bit of a stretch—devotees and students. How often did he get calls? And now they couldn't reach him.

Stinks for them. Must be awful, reaching out to someone in another dimension for help and getting nothing back.

####

An ethereal, sourceless voice whispered in Bill's ear, "The all-knowing dream demon you're trying to reach is currently unavailable for visions and prophecies. If this is an emergency, wake up and call your nearest Masonic lodge. Otherwise, please leave your prayers or petitions after the beep." Beep.

Bill stared, jaw dropped, at the empty patch of air where Kryptos had been projecting just a moment ago. After several seconds of mute outrage, Bill said, "Kr... Kryptos. You... I swear, if you don't get back here this SECOND—"

The sheer force of his anger woke him up. His eyes fluttered open to the world of color and humidity and pattering water. He grabbed every towel he could reach, wadded them up, and screamed into them. "KRYPTOS YOU SON OF A— I KNOW YOU NEVER CHECK YOUR VOICEMAIL! AND WERE YOU ON MY THRONE, WERE YOU SITTING ON MY SPECIAL THRONE—!"

He shrieked until his lungs were empty.

####

At sixty minutes exactly, Ford knocked and opened the bathroom door. Bill stood scowling behind it.

Dryly, Ford asked, "Have a pleasant shower?"

Wet hair hanging in tangles, face flushed red, eyes even redder, Bill snapped, "Yeah. Refreshing."

####

"Mabel?"

Mabel glanced down from the stepladder at Bill, then pointedly looked away and continued taping Summerween decorations to the hallway wallpaper. "What."

"Mabel," Bill tried again, a touch more pleading. "O great Shooting Star. My hero. My one and only friend in this hostile universe. Last person who hasn't utterly forsaken me." He leaned on the wall, the back of his hand pressed to his forehead. "The sole illumination in the dark night of my accursed postmortem existence—"

Mabel grudgingly looked at Bill again. "What do you want?"

"Listen: I know I upset you at the mall, and I still need to make it up to you—I do, I do, I just haven't had a chance yet—and you're still a little mad at me, okay—buuut... can you help me make a costume." He pressed his hands together. "Please. I'll owe you one. I'll be in your debt. Just let me dress up for Summerween."

Mabel frowned at him. She frowned a little more. She said, frowning, "You're so lucky I love costumes."

####

(Next week: Summerween part 2!! Thanks for reading, if you enjoyed I'd love to hear from y'all what you think! I've been waiting to get to the Henchmaniacs for a long time. Mainly in the hopes y'all will yell at me for putting Bill through heck again.)

#human bill cipher #bill cipher #kryptos #henchmaniacs #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #my writing #my art #fanart #bill goldilocks cipher

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wrongplacerighttime · 5 months

Text

right where you left me

hi!! this one was…..a lot. it’s heartbreaking and angsty and sad…however (!!!) has a happy ending and i had the BEST time writing it. i think i went through 8,000 emotions in the process.

tw: smut!!!, mentions of alcohol use, sad harry, sad fmc, post-break up, mentions death of parent(s), the very taboo subject of cheating (please if this is not something you're comfortable with don't read this. i write for me and others who like these things, however I apologize if it makes you uncomfortable, but i enjoyed writing this and I hope others do too!!), (as always lemme know if i missed any)

wc: ………..13k.......IM SORRY. I thought about splitting it up into two or three parts but couldn't find a good place to split it up. so instead you just get one loonnnngggg fic lmaooo

this is my first time attempting to write something from third person POV. please let me know what you think and if you read this entire self indulgent story then i love youuuu so much. 🩷

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 𖥸· ─────── · ·

BRYAR

The silence of the apartment rings through Bryar’s ears. She wipes the tears staining her cheeks and stands from the bed, padding through the hallway to the bathroom. Flicking on the light, squinting as she does, her gaze travels to meet her own eyes in the mirror. Her eyes are sensitive from laying in the dark, and the crying she's been doing for the past four days doesn't help her appearance either. Sighing, her breath feeling heavy in her lungs, she tosses around the idea of finally taking a shower while staring at her disheveled hair.

The memory of checking the time is already gone from her mind but she remembers that it’s late. She looks at herself in the mirror for a moment longer. Eyes trailing from the circles under them up to her messy hair on top of her head. Part of her mind is contemplating whether or not she should’ve left the only man she’s ever loved. The other part of her mind knows she needed to because he never changed, nothing ever changed like he promised it would. However, she knew she would never love anyone that intensely ever again. Her eyes meet her own once more, and she lets her mind wander to the moment it all came to its tumultuous end

—

Bryar is standing in the middle of Harry’s apartment, her bag packed and hanging from her shoulder. She was dressed in the same outfit she waited all night for him in, the one she had carefully planned out for this day, the day he promised that he would be entirely hers, no interruptions. It was her birthday, after all. They were supposed to go to dinner. She waited all day for him at his place. He never showed. Never texted. Never called. She knew it would happen. It happened a lot recently. Things used to be so different. It never used to be this way. She never had to beg him for his attention before.

She knew he’d be coming home any second. It was late… a few minutes after midnight, the usual time he would come home from the bar he went to with his friends. The reservation they had at a restaurant in town was long forgotten. She called to cancel it after he didn’t come home. She didn’t move from her spot in front of the door. Not even when she heard the keys jingling in the lock. He swung the door open, his phone to his ear and laughing loudly at whoever he was speaking to on the other end. He was looking towards the floor, but when he noticed her there, with the bag hanging from her shoulder and the animosity behind her eyes, he stopped talking. Stopped everything. He didn’t even say goodbye to his friend, just hung up and put his phone away into his pocket.

“Bry, what are you doing?” He asked, confused. She scoffs, shaking her head and looking away from him into the apartment she knew she would be seeing for the last time.

“You forgot. Again.” she crosses her arms over her chest, biting the inside of her lip to keep herself from crying. Her chest was moving up and down rapidly. He looks at her for a moment…taking in her appearance, the way she was dressed…then he realizes. His eyes grow wide and he shakes his head slightly.

“Baby…I am so sorry. We were supposed to go out tonight. It must have slipped my mind, I’ve been so—” She cuts him off.

“You’ve been so busy. Yeah, I know. That’s what you say every fucking time, Harry.” She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I can’t keep doing this. I’m sorry. I just need to leave.” She puts her hands out in front of her, not wanting him to come closer to her.

“Okay…I understand." He says, not necessarily wanting to let her go when she feels this way. However, he understands that she's upset and doesn't want to be around him. "Do you want to do something tomorrow instead, it’s Saturday and—” Again, she doesn’t let him finish.

“No, Harry. I’m leaving you.” She sneers and he visibly flinches at her words. He shakes his head again.

“W-what?” He stutters, his eyes growing wider as he takes a step towards her. She ducks around him to the door, and he grabs her arm, forcing her to spin around and face him. Her eyes are angry and filled with tears, hating how her body betrays her like this when she’s upset.

“I can’t keep doing this. It’s been this way for a while, H. We make plans and you forget. I don’t know what’s more important than me but—” It’s his turn to interrupt her now.

“Nothing is more important to me than you.” His tone was firm, and he meant it. To him, he was telling nothing but the truth. He looks down at her, searching her eyes. He grabs her chin between his thumb and index finger and she jerks away from his touch. A look of hurt crosses his features as she steps back, putting distance between them. He had never intended for this to happen. He doesn’t even know how he allowed something this important to slip his mind. She had never shied away from him like this, never dodged his touch like it would burn her if he got too close.

“It doesn’t seem like it.” she whispers. “It’s my birthday, and you forgot.” Her voice trembles with the words.

“Bryar. Baby, please. Don’t do this. I’m sorry, so unbelievably sorry.” He falls to his knees in front of her, capturing her hands between his own. “Don’t leave. I know this is unforgivable, but please don’t leave.” he begs, literally on his knees for her, his voice quieter and full of more pain than she’s ever heard. She resists the urge to pull her hands away from him, wanting nothing more than for his touch to be comforting like it used to be, but now it just feels dirty.

“Harry…please.” She whispers, begging him to let her go. He looks up at her, his eyes flit around her face. He brings her hands to his mouth and kisses her knuckles, shaking his head once, eyes brimming with tears.

“I’ll change. I can change.” He stammers, and she shakes her head, swallowing the knot forming in her throat.

“I want to believe you…but I can’t sit around and wait for you to change anymore.” She gives him a somber look, the tears threatening to spill from her eyes as well. “I really wanted this to work. I just don’t think it’s going to.” She turns her back to him, walking towards the door of his apartment. She doesn’t look back. If she looks back she knows she’ll run to him and apologize for even thinking about leaving him.

Once in the hallway, she leans against the door, sobbing quietly into her hands, knowing this was for the best…but realizing that doesn’t make it hurt any less. On the other side of the door, Harry leans his forehead against the wood, his shoulders shaking from the sobs wracking his body. He stood from the floor and ran towards her as she left, but the door slamming in his face kept him from running after her. It all ended so quickly. He didn’t expect any of it, didn’t expect his entire future to collapse with the slam of the door.

—

Bryar shakes her head as if the memory will crumble and the pieces will become lost in the corners of her mind. She shoves it behind the metaphorical door, the one she reserved for the memories of him. She sniffles once and walks to the shower, turning the knob to a temperature that will hopefully wash away the bad memory. Standing under the shower head, she lets the water run over her face, closing her eyes and leaning against the wall. The amount of energy it sucks from her is tenfold. Quickly washing her hair and body, she rinses the suds away and steps out, wrapping the towel tightly as the cold air comes rushing in and creates goosebumps on her skin. She wishes that the memories of him could be washed away that easily, down the drain with the tears she shed for him.

Standing at the sink again, she glances up at the mirror. Her appearance is…better. Still, her cheeks are hollow and the bags under her eyes are a deep shade of purple. She brushes her hair, her teeth, and throws a t-shirt over her head, one that smells like him, making her way back to her room. The bed still has a lingering heat from her body, the sheets soft on her clean skin. She pulls the comforter up to her nose and pulls her knees to her chest. Sighing, her eyes feel heavy, and she drifts to sleep, knowing her dreams will be filled with the memory of him, the future she always imagined with Harry nothing more than a failed plan.

Hopefully tomorrow will be better, though she had a feeling this pain would last a lifetime.

—

Four Years Later

It’s been nearly four years. Bryar has moved on…or so she likes to believe. She never thought trying to forget him would be this hard. She tells herself she doesn’t think about Harry all that much anymore...but that’s the biggest lie of the century. She still sees his face on every passerby on the street, she’s convinced she smells his cologne everywhere. She plays pretend, pushing the memories of him away, locking them up behind a wall in her mind. If she continues to tell herself that she’s moved on, that she’s happy…maybe one day it’ll be the truth. The truth is that he fucked her up forever. Every corner of her apartment still reminds her of him, even after she tucked all the memories in a box and shoved it in the back of her closet.

“Baby, have you seen my tie?” Sam, her boyfriend, comes striding into the room. She sucks in a breath, his voice pulling her from her mind. She half smiles, and he pulls her to his chest in a tight hug. “You look stunning.” He whispers into her hair and she smiles. Sam has been there for her for the past two years, giving her a hope she didn’t realize she needed. They met at work, and from there the rest is really history.

“Sorry, no. I haven’t seen it.” She wraps her arms around his waist, squeezing and breathing in his cologne. She turns back towards the mirror, pushing an earring into her ear and smoothing her dress with her hands. “I’m pretty much ready though, I can help you look.” She leans her back against his chest, staring at him through the mirror as he runs his hands down her arms. They have an invitation to attend the wedding of a couple of Bryar’s friends. It’s been awhile, and she hadn’t seen Celia since right after Christmas a couple of years ago when she brought Derek home to meet her friends and family. Life got busy, Bryar got a new job, Celia moved across the country, and things just never seemed to work out when they came to town. Luckily, Derek agreed on a wedding close to Celia’s hometown, and when Bryar got the invitation she was over the moon.

Bryar walked out of the bedroom and through the hallway and to the living room, searching every surface in between for Sam’s tie, her eyebrows knitting together when she can’t find it, either. She swore she had seen it on the coffee table. She kneels on the floor, peeking under the couch. Perhaps it fell onto the floor and got kicked under there. She spots the shade of maroon that matches her dress, reaching under, saving it from the dust bunnies living under there. The light catches something when she moves the tie and she squints, only able to make out the shape of a square. She reaches under again, feeling around for the object and when her fingers graze the cool surface, she slides it out. The back of a polaroid picture stares back at her, and she’s not really sure where it came from.

She flips it over, her breath catching in her throat. Looking back at her from the little square, is Harry. He’s laughing and sticking his tongue out, and she is in the picture too. Laughing with her eyes squeezed shut, head leaned over on Harry’s shoulder. They looked so happy. She brings her hand to her mouth in surprise and she just stares at the picture. The memory of the night it was taken comes flooding back to her, hitting her like a sucker punch that steals the breath from her lungs.

—

SIX YEARS AGO

The cheap bottle of white wine on the table had just a sliver left in it. Bryar’s glass was nearing empty and Harry’s was still half full from the first pour. He had abandoned it about an hour ago for something stronger, he said.

They were sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, a vinyl spinning quietly on the record player across the room. Harry stands, making his way towards the shelf to switch it out for something different. Bryar watches as he crosses the room, bringing his glass to her lips and claiming it as hers.

“Why are we even sitting on the floor?” She asks, slightly slurring her words while a laugh escapes into her glass. She looks around, the room spinning slightly, effects of the entire bottle of wine she drank hitting her almost all at once. Harry looks at her over his shoulder, smirking.

“I don’t know. I think we were going to do a puzzle or something and then we started talking and forgot.” He mutters, looking through the old records to play trying to choose one he thought she would be in the mood to listen to. Bryar had pulled out an old photo album, the one that somehow survived the fire that her parents did not. She told him memories from her childhood, ones that were clear and the ones that were a bit fuzzy around the edges. She was beginning to forget the way her mother’s voice sounded and the way her dad’s hand felt in hers, his scars she would run her fingers over while her little brain would ask how he got them. Harry finally chooses a record and smiles to himself, carefully putting it on the turntable and setting the needle to the eighth song on the track list. He saw the longing in her eyes when she spoke of them, wishing he could take her pain and wrap it in barbed wire so it couldn’t escape and hurt her any longer. Bryar hears the opening notes of the song from the guitar playing through the speakers. She smiles at him and narrows her eyes.

“Really?” She asks as he saunters back over to her.

“What? Don’t wanna listen to Dan Fogelberg?” He teases and she shakes her head.

“Not that. Just funny that you picked this song.” She states as he sits down next to her again on the floor. She listens as the lyrics of the song Longer play through the speakers. He tilts his head, his eyes sparkling in the dim lighting of her apartment. He waits for her to tell him more. “It was my parents' wedding song, that’s all.” she shrugs and he pulls her into his side. She sighs, leaning over on his shoulder and he kisses the top of her head.

“Maybe it could be our wedding song one day, too.” He mumbles against her hair and she smiles. “I wish I could’ve met them.” He whispers to her.

“Maybe.” she whispers back. “I wish you could have met them, too.” She says, her mind beginning to go down the road of “what-ifs”.

Harry reaches forward, opening the drawer of the coffee table and rummaging through her things that have collected in the drawer over time, little trinkets and pens and post-it notes. Bryar giggles while watching him, and he reaches further into the drawer and pulls out her old polaroid camera.

“Wanna take a picture?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows and she laughs.

“I’d love to but that thing is probably dead and the film probably isn’t any good.” She grumbles. “I couldn’t tell you the last time I used it.”

“Well let’s see…” He mutters, flipping the switch on the top. The light turns green and he glances up at her, smirking. He brings it up to his face, looking through the viewfinder. “Smile.” He says in a singsong tone. Bryar gives him a cheesy smile, and the flash goes off with a click of the button. The camera spits out a square film and Harry pulls it out and sets it on the table. She leans her head on his shoulder again, sighing. He holds the camera out in front of them, and starts singing the lyrics to the song playing in a silky voice, trying to imitate Dan Fogelberg and this makes her laugh. She falls into a fit of giggles from his singing and the amount of alcohol she’s consumed, and he smiles, sticking his tongue out and snaps another picture, the moment they’re in right now permanently etched into time. Once her laughing subsides she looks up at him through her lashes. He brings his face down and touches his forehead to hers.

“I love you.” She whispers.

“I love you more.” He whispers back, kissing her softly.

—

“Bryar, did you find my tie?” Sam yells down the hall, pulling her from her memory. She wipes the single tear that fell down her cheek quickly before standing and tucking the picture into the coffee table drawer. She makes her way back to the bedroom, tie in hand. Sam is standing in front of the full length mirror, buttoning his white shirt. She holds it out, wiggling it in his face, his icy blue eyes narrow at her and he smirks.

“You’re amazing. Where was it?” He asks, plucking it from her hand and situating it around his neck.

“Under the couch. Must have fallen and gotten kicked under there.” She states while making her way to her closet to retrieve her shoes. Carrying them by the straps to the bed, she sits, crossing her leg to slip on the first and fasten it. She repeats the action with the other at the same moment Sam finishes tying his tie. She stands, walking across the room and grabbing his jacket. She stands behind him, holding it out for him to slide his arms in the sleeves. He smiles softly at her through the mirror.

“Ready?” he asks, spinning around on his heel and pulling her into him. She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling his face down to meet hers. He kisses her softly, lightly ghosting his lips over hers. She smiles against his mouth, her nose brushing against his. She nods, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the room before they don’t make it out the door.

The drive to the wedding venue isn’t long, but it’s not short either. She sits in the passenger seat of Sam’s car, his hand resting comfortably on her thigh that’s exposed from the slit in her dress. The radio is playing quietly, the silence between them comfortable. She watches the scenery out the window, thinking of her parents and admiring the beginning of the leaves changing colors. Autumn was always her mothers favorite season. Celia picked the perfect time to get married, like Bryar knew she would. Celia was a bit of a perfectionist, in the best way. Bryar was sure she must have researched when the trees would be at their peak vibrancy for the most perfect fall wedding, and autumn has had always held significance to Bryar since losing her mom, feeling her presence with her the most during this time of year.

“Bry?” Sam says her name while clearing his throat, pulling her from her thoughts for the second time today. She turns her head towards him, watching as he keeps his eyes on the road. Her heart squeezes a little every time he calls her by the same nickname that Harry always did. She never had the heart to ask him to call her anything else. It is just a nickname, after all. However, it never sounds quite right coming from between Sam’s lips.

“Hm?” She hums, grabbing his hand and squeezing. He squeezes her thigh in response.

“I love you.” He says, tilting his head towards her and glancing at her for a quick second. He smiles, and she smiles back, dropping her gaze to their hands together. She hadn’t told him about her parent’s yet, the timing never felt right. She makes a mental note to talk to him about it soon.

“I love you.” She says quietly, returning her gaze to the window. Does she? If she loved him her mind wouldn't keep drifting to her past and comparing him to Harry. She would open up to him more, right? It's not that she doesn't trust him, he just seems to brush her off sometimes. She feels guilty.

“Something on your mind? You’re awfully quiet.” He teases her, she shakes her head.

“No. Just admiring the view.” She reassures him.

The rest of the drive is quiet. They pull down a long gravel road towards the extravagant wedding venue. Bryar’s mouth drops open and her eyes widen when she realizes how big the building actually is. She looked up pictures, of course. However, the pictures didn’t do this place justice. The windows are tall, glass, floor-to-ceiling and framed in black. The bright white walls stand out against the red and orange and yellow trees surrounding it. It’s evening, the sun setting in the distance creating a perfect golden hue over the property. Sam pulls the car into a parking spot and quickly steps out, striding to Bryar’s side and opening her door for her. He reaches his hand down for her to take for balance as her heels meet the uneven gravel. She grabs it, swinging her legs out of the car and standing, smoothing the wrinkles of her dress down. They walk into the venue, arms linked together. The ceremony doesn’t start for another thirty minutes, but they’re serving champagne. Bryar and Sam make their way to the bar, grabbing two glasses, she looks upward taking in the high vaulted ceilings along the way. After they secure two glasses in their hands, she spots a group of people she knows across the room and they make their way over to them.

They mingle with her friends, ones she hasn’t seen in quite some time. She introduces Sam to them, and the men fall into conversations of sports teams and work while the women are talking about the books they’re reading recently or the shows they’ve been watching. Some talk of work, what the next fiscal year will bring their companies and how successful they were throughout this year. Bryar smiles, sipping from her glass while watching Sam get along with the people she used all to spend all of her time with.

Out of no where, the air in the room shifts, making Bryar feel uneasy. She’s not quite sure why this feeling suddenly hit her, maybe the open doors are bringing in a chill. She looks around, eyes flitting across the room at the groups of people mingling, spotting Celia’s mother and they lock eyes. Bryar gives her a smile and a small wave, making plans to go and speak to her. Glancing around again, she quickly catches what appears to be a head of brown curls that she’s all too familiar with and her stomach drops. Before she can confirm if it really is who she thinks it is, they disappear around a corner and are out of her sight.

It couldn’t be him, right? These were her friends, not his. He didn’t really know Celia that well, right? Celia wouldn't have invited him knowing Bryar's history with him, would she?

She feels a hand on the small of her back, snapping her from her panic. She turns her head to see Sam standing beside her. Her eyes soften and she forces a smile onto her face, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Two lines form between his eyebrows as he pulls them together, concerned.

“Hey, are you okay? You look pale, like you saw a ghost.” He asks, leaning down to whisper into her ear. She pulls back, looking him in the eyes again and nodding once.

“Yeah…I’m fine.” She lies. She would know Harry anywhere. Even out of all the people she’s mistaken for him on the street, she figured out quickly it was never him. But she knew that was him. She had memorized the way his hair laid on his head and the way he moved through a room ten times over. It was etched into her memory. Her eyes flit across the room once more, feeling the anxiety and dread creeping into the pit of her stomach. Sam’s voice pulls her back down to earth for the second time in less than five minutes. She has got to get it together.

“I think it’s time for us to find our seats.” Sam mutters under his breath and Bryar nods again, tipping her glass up and downing the rest of her champagne. Her eyes scan the crowd, looking for Harry again, just to be sure...but there’s so many people and she’s not any taller than Sam, who can see over most of the crowd himself. She chews on the inside of her lip, the metallic taste of her own blood touching her tongue. She mentally curses herself, tearing the skin from between her teeth and trying to remind herself to not do it again.

Sam finds a seat right in the middle of the row of chairs a little further back, they could see the altar from here and not have to worry about being in anyone’s way. Bryar’s heart beats quickly in her chest, feeling her body temperature rise as she searches the room.

It wasn’t this hot before, was it?

Her heart stops, her breathing stops, her vision goes blurry. It’s as if her chest has caved in on her. Because there, across the room with someone that’s the complete opposite of her, is Harry.

She can’t tear her gaze away. It's a cruel form of self sabotage, wanting to look away but forcing herself to watch the way he leans into her and whispers in her ear. The woman's head turns to look at him and she’s smiling, and it gives away the one thing she didn’t want to accept, because Bryar used to look at him exactly the same way. They aren’t just friends, he brought her with him as his date. Bryar tears her eyes from the unknown girl and her breath catches in her throat when she looks at Harry. He’s changed. His face is broader, more defined with a hint of stubble growing. He’s grinning down at his date, before planting a small kiss to her temple and Bryar feels her heart breaking. The room is too hot. She feels dizzy. She stands abruptly, looking down at Sam, who’s looking up at her with confusion for what feels like the hundredth time since they left the apartment.

She has to get out of here, preferably before her lunch ends up on the floor in front of her.

“I’m sorry. I have to…I need to…” She can’t seem to get the words out. “Bathroom.” Is all she successfully says. She doesn’t wait for him to reply. She steps around other people in the row, and when she’s free from the confines of the chairs, she practically breaks out into a sprint. She quickly covers her mouth, feeling the nausea setting in before she’s thrown into another memory of Harry.

—

SIX YEARS AGO

The streetlights cast shadows around the darkened room, the rain pattering on the window. Harry’s hand trails down Bryar’s exposed back, leaving goosebumps in its wake. She sighs with content, her eyes drifting closed. She would stay like this forever if she could…she’d give up everything to be here with him always. He was her forever. She knew that. He knew that, too. He never wanted to be anywhere else.

“Hey…” he whispers, trying to get her attention. Her eyes flutter open, the exhaustion showing on her face, but the good kind. She smiles tiredly at him. He brings his hand up, brushing the strands of auburn hair out of her face and running the backs of his fingers down her cheek. Her heart feels like it’s bursting with love for him and can’t hold any more than it already does. However, every day, he does something to prove that she somehow can love him more than the day before. He smiles, tracing over every feature of her face with his gaze. There was nothing that could make her stop loving him, she knows that.

“I really love you, you know?” She says, and his grin widens. Trailing his hand to the back of her neck, he pulls her closer to him, their bodies meshing together like they were made only for each other. He fists her hair at the nape of her neck, pulling slightly to tilt her head upwards to him. He captures her lips with his, kissing her in a way that makes her belly do somersaults, the butterflies feeling more like a stampede. She could never get used to the way he kisses her. Always like it’ll be the last. He pulls away and brings his forehead to hers, nudging his nose against hers.

“I love you.” He says, looking into her eyes the best he can being so close. “You’re it for me, Bry. You’ll always be.” She blushes, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. He turns his head slightly, kissing her temple with such gentleness it makes her heart flutter. “My sweet girl.” He mutters against her skin. His hand runs down her hair flowing behind her on the bed, twisting a strand around his finger before she feels herself slipping into sleep.

“Stay with me forever?” She whispers, so quietly she’s not even sure he heard, not even sure she spoke it...maybe she only thought it in her tired mind. Her consciousness drifting slowly, sleep threatening to pull her under.

And for a moment, he pauses. He wanted nothing more than to spend forever with her. He would cross every ocean if it meant he had her always. He feels her muscles relax, her breathing beginning to steady. He’s sure she’s asleep. He’s careful not to wake her. He closes his eyes, preparing to fall asleep as well as he squeezes her against him, trying somehow to get her closer. She feels him, all of him, his warmth consumes her. Somewhere in the distance she hears him, just barely.

“Forever.” he whispers back to her.

—

Bryar shoves her way into the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind her. She grasps the marble countertop, the cold surface stinging her hands and bringing her back to reality. Her breathing is sharp, stinging her lungs with every breath. She quickly makes her way into a stall, bracing against the wall for support, convinced she was going to empty her stomach contents in a matter of seconds. She still feels dizzy. It wasn’t Bryar beside him, and it never would be her again. She leans against the wall of the bathroom, the cool tile soothing her rising body temperature. She feels clammy, sweat forming at her hairline.

This was the worst possible outcome. She wasn’t expecting him to be here at all, not even a warning from Celia. She can’t go back out there. She can’t watch him dote on the girl he brought. Can’t watch him kiss her temple like he used to do with her, the one gesture he reserved for her and only her, the one that used to make her heart soar, the one smallest gesture just happened to be the one that Bryar has felt homesick for since the day she left. She only has a few minutes before the ceremony starts. She can’t miss Celia walking down the aisle or she’ll never forgive herself.

She straightens, taking in a long breath before drawing it back out. She goes back out to the mirror, staring at herself. Her chest is blotchy from the anxiety she’s feeling. The nervousness takes over, but she pushes through it. Her hands are shaky as she reaches for the door handle.

Bryar makes her way back to her seat by Sam. He cocks an eyebrow at her and she smiles nervously. As she sits he turns his body towards her.

“Seriously Bry, what is going on?” He asks, concern lacing his question. She waves her hand at him, dismissing him.

“Just the champagne hitting me I think.” She lies and Sam doesn’t believe her for a second. Something is going on, something he doesn’t know about. His eyes search the room but he doesn’t see anyone familiar. He watches her, she keeps her gaze towards the floor, picking nervously at her nails and his eyes narrow. She glances up and across the room. He discreetly follows her eyes, looking the same direction and seeing a man sitting with his girlfriend. He doesn’t recognize them, but it’s obvious to him that Bryar does. He makes a mental note to ask her about it later.

Bryar is having what can only be described as an existential crisis. But there’s no time for that. The large doors in front of the aisle open, and the wedding party starts to make their way to the front of the room. The chatter around the room dies down, withering to nothing as the music begins to play. Bryar turns her head to watch as they walk, thankful that she doesn’t have to look forward and watch Harry anymore.

—

HARRY

Harry and Xena make their way to find seats to watch the ceremony. He decided at the last minute to ask her to attend this wedding with him. They had only been on a few dates. They met at the bar he frequents with his friends. The same friends that encouraged him to ask her out. Encouraged him to finally move on. Bryar wasn’t coming back.

He and Xena have got on quite well so far. He enjoyed her company, more than he liked to admit. She wasn’t Bryar though, and he knows it’s unfair to compare them. She didn’t deserve that. So he tries his hardest to push Bryar to the back of his mind.

“I’m so nervous to meet your friends.” Xena leans in, whispering in his ear. He pulls back and smiles at her. She looks up at him through her lashes and it kills him, the way she looks at him like that. His grin grows wider and he wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

“You’ll do great.” He whispers encouraging words in her ear, pressing his lips to her temple as his eyes close. He does it out of habit, a small gesture to ease her nerves. For a brief moment, his mind flashes to her, his Bryar. His eyes open and he’s pulled right back into reality when he sees Xena’s blonde hair. A reality he’s forced to accept. He sighs, running his free hand down his own face.

After a few moments, he hears the doors open signaling that the bridal party would be making their way in any second. He turns his head to watch behind him as the wedding party makes their way to the altar. His eyes search around the room, eager to place familiar faces to introduce Xena to after the ceremony. He catches the movement of all too familiar auburn hair. He barely catches a look at the side of her face before he can’t see anything but the back of her head. His breath catches in his throat and he coughs under his breath.

He can’t believe she’s here. In the same room as him for the first time in four long years. Of course, in the back of his mind he knew she would be. Celia is one of her best friends. Harry’s eyes widen slightly when he realizes she’s not alone. Her head turns a little and he can see more of her face again. She perches her fingers under her chin, gazing at the man beside her and smiling. His heart drops to his stomach. He remembers that look all too well. She used to look at him that way. He tries to look away but he can’t, his memories catching up to him.

—

EIGHT YEARS AGO

Harry was nervous for a date, and this was the first time he ever recalled feeling this way. He had just met this girl, Bryar, at a coffee shop a couple of days ago and she was absolutely stunning and she captivated him with her words from the moment she spoke to him. He would’ve been a fool to not ask her out after the conversation they had. He was surprised she had even agreed. They exchanged numbers, and agreed to meet at a sushi restaurant downtown.

He admired the way she spoke. The way she got a little too excited about something in their short conversation, they way her cheeks flush in embarrassment when she realized she was rambling to a stranger. He asked her out right then. No way he was going to pass up the opportunity.

The walk to the restaurant is short, but it feels eternal because he’s so nervous. When the sign comes into view, he sees her standing there. Hugging her body for warmth in the cold winter air. He picks up his pace, speed walking towards her so she doesn't have to wait any longer for him. When he approaches, their eyes meet and she smiles widely.

“Hi!” She says almost like she didn’t believe he was standing in front of her.

“You didn’t have to wait outside for me.” He states, a small laugh escaping between his words. She shrugs.

“It’s okay. It’s just a little chilly.” She reassures and he smiles at her, walking towards the door side by side. He holds it open for her, and he hears her hum when the warm air inside envelopes them. They were seated and once the first date awkwardness subsided, they stayed there most of the night. Talking about anything they could think of.

He talked about his job, she talked about her dreams and ambitions, she was in her final year of college and how excited she was to be finished with her Master’s degree. What childhood pets they had. Where he was originally from (hence the accent) and why he moved to the States. They shared childhood stories of friends and siblings and parents. Everything laid out on the table, figuratively speaking. The more she spoke the more he admired her. She had her hand under her chin and watched him speak, a smile creeping up on her face at the way he articulated his words and thoughts.

The waiter approached the table and informed them the restaurant would be closing soon, and both of them looked at each other with wide eyes, Bryar bursting out into a fit of laughter. It was the most beautiful sound he had heard in such a long time.

“I don’t really want this to end.” She admitted, catching him by surprise with her honesty. He was thinking the same, too nervous to say it.

“It doesn’t have to.” He says, his eyes meeting hers. She tucked her lips into their mouth, suppressing a smile. He signed the check and they stood, walking towards the door.

He wasn’t expecting it, the way she grabbed his hand and laced her fingers between his. He hesitates for a moment before closing his hand around hers and he feels his heart already swelling for this girl. Bryar. He knew, in that moment, that she was going to fuck him up forever. Having just met, his heart already belonged to her, and that was dangerous...and for some reason, he didn’t care.

They were inseparable after that.

—

Harry feels a hand slide into his, snapping him out of his memory. Xena has her head tilted to the side, worried.

“Where did you go just now?” She whispers, and he shakes his head.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” He reassures her. But was he fine? Bryar was right there. He’d been dreaming for another chance to speak to her. His breathing picks up, and he turns away. He can’t keep looking in that direction because all he was doing was staring at her. He had to get out of here, fast. He fists the material of his dress pants, turning to face the front of the room instead. He couldn’t leave yet even though he wanted to. He couldn't run off and steal the moment away from Celia. The attention would be on him and the last thing he wanted was for Bryar to see him, if she hadn’t already.

So he faces the front, breathing rapidly through his nose. Hoping to not draw attention to himself. Xena places her hand on his knee, and he closes his eyes.

He was so fucked.

—

BRYAR

She looks over at Sam with adoration, trying to keep her breathing at an even pace. She knew if she glanced to the left she would see Harry, and that made her anxious. The flower girl was walking down the aisle shyly, and everyone was cooing and smiling at her. Bryar kept her eyes trained on the doors as they shut, preparing for Celia to walk through them for her grand entrance.

The doors open and everybody stands. There Celia stands with her dad by her side. She looks ethereal. Bryar feels tears brimming her eyes and she swipes at them before they can fall down her cheeks.

But now she has to turn and face him again and she’s not sure what will happen when she does. Her mind races, ultimately unable to avoid turning around. She looks up at where Derek stands, and sees that he’s swiping at his own eyes, seeing the love of his life walking towards him filling him with unspeakable emotion.

Bryar’s eyes flit over to Harry. His back is facing her, but his plus one is still turned to watch Celia. Bryar’s eyes meet hers for a brief moment and she holds her breath. Surely Harry has told her about Bryar, the girl who broke his world. His heart. The girl smiles at Bryar and Bryar forces herself to smile back, a passive smile. Of course, this girl never did anything to her. She didn’t even know who she was, never seeing her before this moment.

The officiant speaking causes their gaze to break, Bryar averting her eyes forward. She tried to focus on the words, but her mind is still racing. Sam rests his hand on her thigh, squeezing gently. She peeks over at him, and he leans in to whisper in her ear.

“I can’t wait for this to be us one day.” He says, nudging her once with his nose and kissing right beside her ear. She smiles, but her heart constricts behind her ribs. They had talked about their future together before, briefly. Bryar preferred to live in the moment after Harry. With Harry she was always looking forward instead of in moment, and she realizes that’s where most of her disappointments lie. In the future. The future is not predictable.

The ceremony lasts all of 30 minutes, and then the guests are dismissed to the ballroom for cocktail hour while the newlyweds and their wedding party take pictures together. Sam guides Bryar through the doors, a hand on her back so she knows he’s right behind her. The ballroom is decorated from floor to ceiling, flowers hanging out of vases and spilling into the table in beautiful arrangements. Bryar finds hers and Sam’s names at a table with the same friends they spoke to at the beginning of the evening. Sam leaves her to go to the bar and get drinks for the table.

Bryar engages in conversation as best as she can. They are talking about something that’s out of her realm and only adds when she feels it’s appropriate. Sam is walking towards them, carrying six drinks somehow and she finds herself giggling at how he’s able to carry three cups in one hand. He raises his eyebrows at her, blowing out a breath. He hands them out, holding them until the respective person takes it and then sits Bryar’s in front of her last.

“Thank you.” She says and he leans down, pecking her lips.

—

HARRY

Harry grabs Xena's hand, his fingers lacing with hers as they make their way into the ballroom, the lights from the ceiling twinkling and reflecting on the windows. They find their table, seated with a few people Harry knows and he pulls Xena’s chair out for her to sit.

“Drink?” He asks, running a hand through his hair and she nods.

“Just something light for now.” She requests and he nods, his hand lingering on her chair as he walks away. He waits in line behind a slightly taller man with dark black hair. The man turns to look over his shoulder and Harry recognizes him as the one that Bryar is here with. His eyes narrow, a bit of jealousy fueling his mind, but he shakes it away. Someone comes up behind Harry, navigating around him and getting the attention of the man in front of him.

“Sam! Hey man. I didn’t know you knew Celia and Derek.” The man takes Sam’s hand in his, shaking it, obviously someone he knew as an acquaintance. Sam smiles a little.

“Oh, I don’t really. I’m here with my girlfriend. They’re more her friends than mine.” Sam informs the stranger and he nods.

“Oh right, Bryar. Tell her I said hello.” The man responds and Sam nods. Harry looks down at the floor, kicking the toe of his shoe against the hardwood. He bites his cheek hearing her name. Sam and the unnamed man part ways after a bit of conversation, promising to catch up later in the evening after the ceremony. The line moves forward and Harry listens as Sam orders drinks for what seems to be his entire table.

“…and then I need vodka cranberry.” He finishes the order on Bryar’s drink. Harry would know, he’d ordered that for her at least a hundred times, the only other drink she enjoyed besides the cheap white wine from the grocery store. He looks to the side, his eyes narrowing, the jealousy bubbling up in his chest.

“Forgot to make it a double.” Harry mutters under his breath, and to his surprise Sam turns around. She never orders a single shot. Ever.

“What?” Sam asks, cocking his eyebrow and Harry looks over at him, shrugging.

“Didn’t say anything.” He shakes his head once, denying that he said anything. Sam looks at him for another moment, like he’s trying to place where he’s seen him before, before turning back around to the bartender. A second later, Sam is juggling all six drinks in his hand and nodding once at Harry before finding a path to his table. Harry orders for himself and then for Xena, dropping a tip in the jar and winding around chairs and tables back to her.

He slides into his chair, sipping on his beer and his mind slips into a memory.

—

SEVEN YEARS AGO

Bryar leans over the table, pool stick in hand and aiming at the cue ball directing it to the eight ball on the table. If she sinks it she wins. Harry stands behind her, a hand protectively resting on her back. Last thing he needs is someone looking at his girl with their drunken eyes trailing up her body. Not that he would blame them for looking, but his jealousy doesn’t let them get away with it if he catches them. Her hips shift slightly against his hand and he smirks.

Watching her intently, he admires the way her hair falls over her shoulder and tucked behind her ear, the tip of her tongue sticking out a little in concentration. She takes the shot, and sinks the eight ball, winning the game with ease. She straightens, jumping a little and turning to face him. The excitement in her eyes makes them twinkle and she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling his face down to hers to kiss him.

“I won.” She grins, giggling a little and he pecks her lips again.

“You won, baby.” He mutters against her lips, pulling her a little closer to him.

“Get a room, you two.” Celia groans beside them and Bryar snickers, turning her head to face Celia and sticking her tongue out. Her temple touches against Harry’s chin and he dips a little lower to plant a small kiss there.

“Want a drink?” Harry asks, lips still pressed lightly to her skin and she nods.

“Vodka cranberry, remember to make it a do—” She starts to say, but Harry cuts her off.

“A double. I know. How you always want it.” He smirks, backing away from her before he turns away and makes his way towards the bar. He orders, looking over his shoulder at her while the bartender prepares their drinks. She’s already taking on her next victim in a game of pool, probably going to wipe the floor with them like the last unfortunate soul. There’s only one thought in his mind as he watches her, bent over the table to break.

He would marry her one day.

—

“Right, Harry?” his friend, Zack, asks from across the table. Harry blinks once, Zack raises an eyebrow waiting for an answer.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t really paying attention. Something on my mind.” He mutters, looking anywhere but at anyone at the table.

“Um…okay.” Zack says, turning back to the conversation.

The reception starts and the speeches and toasts to the bride and groom are all a blur. Harry doesn’t even get up to eat. He hasn’t really spoken to Xena and she hasn’t prodded him for answers either. The only thoughts racing through his mind were of Bryar. He just wanted to speak to her, he’d give up everything right now to be able to talk to her.

—

BRYAR & HARRY

Bryar and Sam are standing at a cocktail table outside of the reception area. Sam has been talking to them all night and Bryar tunes most of the conversation out, standing with one arm crossed over her middle and holding a plastic cup to her lips, chewing on the lip of it lightly. She’s leaning her head against Sam, eyes growing tired.

She turns her head for a brief moment, glancing around the room. Her eyes find Harry across the room, and it’s just become a habit as the night goes on. Her heart develops an ache that is so strong, she can’t believe how much seeing him has affected her. She lets her eyes linger on him a moment longer…what a mistake that was.

His eyes shift towards her, and their eyes meet.

She sucks in a breath, and she sees him swallow. It’s as if the entire world stops, everything and everyone in the room fades into the background, and it’s as if the only two in the room are Bryar and Harry. She wants nothing more than to run to him, throw her arms around him and sob into his shoulder, apologizing for leaving, for hurting him the way she did…but her feet are cemented to the floor. She knows she can’t. She loves Sam, and Sam loves her. As fucked up as it sounds, she feels like it doesn’t even matter because the only person she wants to love is Harry.

Her heart longs for him. She craves the way he used to say her name, the way he used to kiss her temple to calm her and remind her that he was right at her side, always. He stays where he is, his arm wrapped loosely around Xena’s waist and it pulls at her heart, constricting it in her ribcage. Harry can’t tear his eyes away and neither can Bryar.

He just wants to storm over to her and kiss her in front of the entire room. He doesn’t care about the consequences. He wants to grab her and tell her he doesn’t blame her for any of it. He wants to tell her that she’s still it for him, and he doesn’t expect her to come running back and give him another chance but he’ll always be waiting for her anyway. Seeing her tonight has only reminded him how much he's longed for her. But for whatever reason, he can’t bring himself to take that first step..

—

Four Years Ago

“...I just don’t think it’s going to.” Bryar says, her voice trembling on the words, she turns to walk away, and Harry brings himself to his feet, preparing to stop her from walking out the door. He doesn’t make it in time though, the breeze from the door slamming blowing back in his face. He feels the pang in his chest, the closing of the door making him accept quickly that this was real and she was gone. He leans his head against the hard wood of the door, allowing the tears to flow freely down his cheeks. They don’t stop, not even when the sobs take over his body, shaking and unable to breathe.

He’s not sure how long he’s been there. He doesn’t remember what time he even came home. At some point he turned his back to the door and slid down to the floor, staring at nothing. He finally blinks, turning his head and catching the time on the clock in the kitchen. Five A.M.

She had to come back, right? They were good together, she didn’t mean it. She was just upset. He would let her cool off for a couple days, and then he would try to talk to her. He pushes his body off the floor, muscles aching and screaming from leaning against the door all night.

He trudged down the hallway to his bed. It's unnervingly cold, the source of its usual warmth not present. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept without her. How could he sleep if she wasn’t there running her fingers down the expanse of his back, bringing her body closer to him for him to hold.

He tries to sleep, tossing and turning relentlessly for over an hour. When he’s had enough, he rises from the bed and decides to make a cup of coffee. The pang in his chest never goes away. His eyes feel sandy and he can’t fully open them. He stirs a little bit of milk into the mug, his motions slow and lethargic.

He turns memories over in his mind, combing through them to find the moment when everything started going south. Obviously, missing Bryars birthday was the straw that broke the camel’s back, the final nail in the coffin. He didn’t realize that she’d been unhappy, it seems, for a while. She never gave him any hint, they hadn’t really had a fight in what feels like so long. But isn’t that when he should have noticed? Was she tired of fighting him? Fighting for him?

He needs to see her. Needs to apologize. He’ll never stop apologizing, if that’s what it takes. He throws on his jacket and grabs his keys, leaving his apartment without a second thought. He doesn’t think of anything but Bryar on the way over to hers. She’ll answer the door. She has to, right? She was just upset, maybe she’s having second thoughts this morning.

He pulls up, throwing the car in park and practically jumping out before it stops moving. He sprints to her door, bringing his fist up to knock, but he pauses. He doesn’t hear her moving around inside. It’s silent. Was her car even in the parking lot? He steps back, looking around the wall to the lot and spots her car in its usual spot. Was she still sleeping? He finally knocks, waiting a few seconds for the sound of her footsteps coming to the door, except they don’t. He has a key, he could just go in. He fumbles his keyring around, mindlessly searching for the familiar blue key she had made for him not long after they started seeing each other, but it's not there. He doesn’t remember removing it, but maybe he did. He knocks again.

“Bry, baby please open the door.” He says, not yelling but loud enough for her to hear. There’s no answer back. No sound of her coming to him. Not the familiar turn of the deadbolt.

Nothing.

They can’t be over.

He was supposed to marry her. She was supposed to be forever.

He didn’t think forever was supposed to end this way.

—

Bryar is sure that someone has noticed them staring at each other by now, whether it be his date or Sam, yet she can’t seem to pull her gaze away. He nods his head to the side once, and it feels almost as if her heart was pulling towards him, trying to break free from the confines of her chest. His eyes flit across the room, and her gaze follows. She notices a hallway in his direct line of sight. When she looks back at him, he’s looking at her. Waiting.

Now she has the biggest dilemma. Does she stay at Sam’s side or does she finally after four long years get to hear Harry’s voice again? She’s frozen in place. Harry watches her, his eyes pleading with her to go and he’ll meet her there. He sees her apprehension. He knows what this would mean for her if she chanced being caught with him in the hallway.

She turns to Sam, looking up at him as he’s deep in conversation and it’s hard to make out the topic when her heart is beating so loudly it fills her ears. She watches him for a moment, thinking of every moment he was there for her, pulling her out of the darkness and giving her light whenever he couldn’t. She loves him.

But not in the way she loves Harry. Harry’s the only person who sees her for her. She doesn’t have to pretend around him. She doesn’t have to be something that she’s not. Never had to conform to please him, and she felt alive with Harry. She looks back across the room at him, he hasn't moved, his expression is one of longing. Pleading.

“Please.” She sees him mouth the word so clearly, begging her to give him any of her time. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath for the first time this evening, the air filling her lungs.

That was all it took.

Everything that happens next is a blur. She excuses herself to the restroom, slinking further away from the group. Her heart is racing, the closer that she gets to the hallway her palms start to sweat from the fists she has them clenched in. Once she’s behind the cover of the walls, she runs. Her dress is flowing behind her as she sprints, but it feels like she’s moving in slow motion, like she can’t get to him quickly enough. She rounds the corner and there he is, standing at the end and her vision betrays her from the tears brimming her lashes.

She doesn’t stop running, not until she reaches him. She flings her arms around his neck, burying her face between his collar and jaw. His arms wrap tightly around her waist and she breathes him in, the scent that’s lingered in her dreams every night since the last, and his arms feel like she’s finally home. He’s there, every part of him taking over her senses and it’s like she can finally breathe after drowning for so long. He lifts her feet off the floor, pushing her into a darkened room and closing the door behind them. She pulls away, looking at him…really looking at him for what feels like the first time, and she’s unable to stop the tears from running down her cheeks. He grabs her face, his eyes searching hers. He’s so close and it almost feels like she’s dreaming. She feels weightless, the room around her spinning.

“Bry…” Harry whispers, and it sounds so beautiful coming from him. She doesn’t waste any time. She grips the lapels of his jacket, forcefully bringing his mouth to hers and she melts. His hands find their way to her hips, gripping and pulling her closer to him. His body melds into hers, pushing her against the wall. His tongue brushes against her bottom lip, begging to let him in and she does without pause. They need each other. He pulls away, their breaths ragged and shaking, from the kiss or from just being in the other’s presence. His forehead rests on hers, and he’s just taking her in. All of her.

“I’m not going to be able to leave without you after this.” He admits without remorse, kissing the tip of her nose delicately.

“I don’t want you to.” She says in a hushed tone. She pauses for a moment, looking up at him and studying his features. “But H, I think we need to have a serious conversation. It’s been so long, we never talked about anything and I take full responsibility for that. I left you, and I never intended to. Never. I’ve regretted it every day since.” Her voice trembles, admitting how vulnerable she’s been. Her gaze falls to the floor, shaking her head. "I didn't think you wanted me anymore."

“Baby, it’s not your fault. I promise. I will always want you. I said you were it for me, and I meant it.” He grabs her face again, forcing her to look up at him. “I am so sorry, I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you, if you’ll let me.” He cards his fingers through her hair, the tips of his fingers ghosting down her spine making her shiver. “I love you, Bry, I always have. I never stopped.” His eyes trace over every feature of her face, soaking in everything he’s been missing.

“I don’t deserve for you to forgive me so easily.” She whispers, and he shakes his head.

“No. None of that.” He kisses her again, unable to control the desire to feel her mouth on his. She sighs into the kiss, and he feels his heart pulling itself back together. “If anyone should be asking for forgiveness, it’s me. Whatever you want, it’s yours. I’ll give you anything…anything you ask for. Please just don’t make me leave without you.” He says against her lips. She grabs his wrists, bringing his hands to her mouth and kisses his knuckles.

“Take me home.” she whispers and he grins, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the room and down the hall, away from all of the people. Somehow Harry finds a backdoor and they sneak away into the night, laughing and running through the wet grass with their hands intertwined while Bryar’s shoes are in his other hand. Her head is spinning from adrenaline and nervousness. They find Harry’s car and she jumps into the passenger seat, Harry in the driver’s seat. He leans over the console and pulls her face to his once more, kissing her with everything he has. They drive away from the venue, her stomach in knots. Then she feels Harry’s hand snake over to her thigh, drawing small circles on her skin with his finger.

The drive to his apartment feels shorter than the drive to the wedding earlier in the day. They waste no time, practically sprinting into the building and up the stairs. He fumbles his keys and once the door is open, he pulls her inside. She doesn’t get a chance to take it in before he’s pushing her against the wall and kissing her again and again and again. The kiss is sloppy and wet, his tongue dancing with hers and teeth clashing together. He lifts her by her thighs, her legs instinctively wrapping around his torso. He forces himself away from the kiss, both of them breathing heavily and fast.

“Need you Bry.” He mumbles, dropping his lips to her collarbone and kissing lightly. “Always fucking need you.” Her eyes flutter closed and she hums. He knew how to make her melt with just his words, never forgetting what brings her to her knees.

“My girl. My sweet girl.” His lips travel to her shoulder, light touches leaving goosebumps on her skin, her body reacting like it’s never forgotten him. His tongue darts out, licking a stripe up to her ear and his breathing becomes heavy against her skin.

“Taste as sweet as I remember.” His voice drops an octave and Bryar audibly moans, forgetting that his words have always had such an effect on her. He pulls back, giving her a mischievous grin. His eyes have darkened and she down at him still holding her against the wall, her appetite for him becoming insatiable. She unhooks her legs, signaling for him to let her back down. Once her feet touch the floor she’s pushing his jacket off, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. Her movements are frantic and shaky, fingers slipping over the buttons struggling to open them.

“Fuck it.” She says, fisting his shirt and ripping it open, buttons scattering around the floor. Her mouth waters at the sight of him. She pushes him further into his apartment, he smirks down at her, walking backwards until his legs meet the edge of the couch and he sits. She climbs on top of him, knees straddling either side of his waist and her dress rides up and around her hips. His hands find her hips, grabbing and forcing her all the way down in his lap. She groans when she feels his hardened length pressed against her center. He moves her hips for her, creating a friction so sweet she can barely hold herself up.

“Been waiting so long for this.” He murmurs, running his hands from her thighs up the expanse of her body. He pulls at the string on the back of her dress, making it unravel and it falls off her shoulders exposing her breasts to him. He dips his head forward and flicks his tongue against her nipple, causing Bryar to throw her head back, a quiet whimper escaping her lips while grinding her hips against him still. She lifts her hips, dropping her hands to the button on his pants. He lifts his hips slightly, allowing her space to pull his pants down just enough. She palms him through the thin material still covering him and he drops his head back with a loud groan.

“Need you so bad Har.” She whines, and that sets him off. He wraps an arm around her, picking her up and standing in one swift motion, carrying her to his bedroom. He lays her down gently, climbing on the bed to hover over her, his knee spreading her legs apart.

“Where do you need me, sweet girl?” He teases her by running a hand lightly up her thigh, trailing it back down. She sighs, grabbing his hand and putting him right where she wants him.

“Right fucking here.” she says through gritted teeth. His smirk grows wider, knowing she didn’t want to be teased. She’d gone without his touch for so long she felt starved. He pushes the lace covering her to the side, his finger swirling around her hole and the arousal that was already pooled there. Her eyes flutter closed and he watches her, studying her face as he slides his finger up, tracing small circles on her clit. She gasps, mouth dropping open, he inserts his finger to the knuckle and has her writhing beneath him. He thrusts his finger, hooking and finding just the right spot with ease. Her hips thrust upwards and he pushes in another, stretching her out and making her squirm under him.

“Being such a good girl for me, Bry. Always my good girl.” His voice is deep and he’s practically drooling watching her come undone from something as simple as this.

“Need more.” she begs between breaths.

“More?” His voice is low and gravelly as he kneels down, but he never takes his eyes off her. His fingers work her open slowly, her hips moving at a rhythm that matches his thrusts. She whines and cries and begs for more. “He never touched you like this, did he? So needy for something so simple.” he teases her, but she doesn’t want to think about Sam. Not right now. Even though he’s right, Sam never made her feel this way and she knows it. Harry can tell, the way her body is reacting to him makes it obvious she’s needed this for quite some time. He takes his fingers away from her and her breath leaves her lungs. She feels empty and the burning in her belly only heightens. The emptiness doesn’t last long, he brings his tongue to her dripping hole and licking all the way to her clit, flicking when he gets there. Her fingers tangle in his hair and he works his tongue on her clit while he brings his fingers back into play, pushing them into her. She feels the coil in her belly tighten, knowing that she’s about to let go.

“Shit, H. If you don’t stop, I’m gonna—” she stutters out, her sentence breaking with a strained moan, and he works his fingers faster, lapping at her swollen bud. He shifts and stands over her, watching her unravel from just his fingers. He bends over, bringing his mouth to her ear and his warm breath tickling her skin.

“Cum for me. Wanna feel you on my fingers, sweet girl.” he coos in her ear, his soft words are all it takes for the coil to snap and she’s clenching around his fingers, the ecstasy flowing through her.

“So pretty.” he murmurs as he watches her face contort into an expression of pleasure from above her. He brings his fingers up to her mouth, instructing her to open, and she does without question, tasting herself on him. He strips the rest of his clothes off, her mouth drooling at the sight of his cock finally springing free. A sight she’s been so desperate to see. He positions himself over her, tugging himself a few times before lining up with her.

He drags the tip of his cock down her folds once, collecting her arousal before he finally pushes into her, and its bliss. His chin drops to meet his chest, watching the way she takes him before throwing his head back again as he slowly works his entire length into her.

“Fuck, Bryar. Missed this. Missed you so much.” He grunts as he bottoms out and she writhes under him, her mouth hanging open from the overwhelming pleasure taking over her body. “S’like you were fucking made for me.” He stills for a moment, lowering himself so he can kiss her. She whimpers and whines into his mouth, grabbing his face with her hands not allowing him to pull away from her. She grinds her hips up, pressing their bodies together to try and create some movement.

“Go, Har. Need you to move.” she begs against his mouth and he pecks her lips again, shaking his head.

“Wanna savor it. Wanna go slow, feel all of you, baby. Missed you so much. Need to remember this.” She throws her arm around the back of his neck, holding him close to her as he drops his mouth to her neck, biting and sucking and lapping at her skin. He pulls his cock all the way out to the tip before he slowly pushes back in, setting a slow, torturous pace. So slow that it’s almost cruel. Bryar stifles a needy moan trying not to make him rush, but she needs him. Needs the way he used to be with her. She wants it to feel like they never missed a beat.

“Harry, please.” she gasps out as his hips meet hers again. His lips brush against her ear.

“Thought you were my good girl?” He nipped at her ear, and she was growing frantic.

“A-am.” she stutters, tears pooling in her eyes. “Being so good, just missed you. Need you.” she says breathlessly. She feels herself finally slipping. Slipping into that headspace she had only ever been in with him, only one she ever felt comfortable enough with when she was with him. The tip of his nose runs against her jawline, too gentle with her. He knows what he’s doing, riling her up and making her needy. He knows what she wants…he wants it too, finding it hard to resist falling into the familiarity with her, like not a single second has passed since the last time.

“Har, this isn’t fair. You’re being mean.” she cries between shaky breaths, feeling the tears starting to run. He pulls back, looking at her face once and seeing her expression, hearing her say he was being unfair flips a switch in him. He takes her by surprise and slams his hips into hers, causing her vision to go white and her mouth falls open again. He’s going hard, harder than he ever has with her and her thighs tighten around his hips and he feels her clenching around him.

“This what you want? Huh?” He says through a snarl, his teeth clenched together behind his lips. “This fucking mean enough for you?” He curses under his breath, bringing his hands to her thighs and pushing her knees to her chest, creating a new angle that somehow gets him deeper. She moans and writhes and her thighs shake in his hands, but she hasn’t said another word.

“That’s what I thought.” he mutters, looking down and watching himself disappear inside her, his head tipped to the ceiling and his eyes rolling back. She wraps her hands around his biceps, digging her nails into his skin. He shifts his weight, bringing her thighs flush with his torso and her ankles by his head, he kisses her skin there, and his movements never falter.

“Look so pretty taking my cock like this, Bry.” He grunts, and she’s falling apart. She can’t hold in any longer and she comes undone, the pleasure pulsing through her veins. She goes limp under him and her legs falling from his shoulders, her body exhausted from being worked this way. Her arms fall over her eyes and quiet moans fall from her lips. Harry grabs her wrists, pulling her arms above her head and keeping them captive there. He holds them together in one hand as he bends to kiss her, snaking his other hand down her body that shakes beneath him. He just needs one more. Needs her to cum one more time. His fingers dance over her hip, tracing lightly to her sensitive clit. He pushes his thumb against it and her body jolts and she cries out.

“H-Harry, no. Can’t. Can’t do it. Hurts." She can barely get the words out as he draws small circles around the bud. She looks up at him with wide eyes, shaking her head and pleading with him.

“You can. Know you can.” he encourages her, feeling his resolve coming quickly. If he could just get one more from her, he’d let her be finished. He was just so desperate to feel her clenching around him one more time, he longed for the feeling for so long. He finally had her where he wants her and he’s not letting her be finished that easily. “You take me so well, just one more. Need to feel you one more time.” He kisses her temple as her head falls to the side…and her third comes not long after that, his fingers slowly petting over her clit makes it so easy and she cums hard. The moment he feels her tightening around him he lets go, his hips stuttering and her name falls from his lips over and over, his head dropping to her shoulder with heavy breaths.

They lay there like that for a moment, his weight on top of her as she lazily wraps her arms around the back of his neck. Their heartbeats are thundering in both of their chests, and he hums as her fingernails run over his shoulder. They’re both silent for what feels like too long, but finally Harry stands and he walks off to the bathroom, bringing back essentials to help her clean up. He goes to his closet, pulling out an old shirt for her to wear, one he’s seen her in countless times before. They settle in the bed, and he pulls her to his chest, breathing her in, and he feels complete. She feels at home. Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces.

Bryar’s phone rings incessantly until it dies, and she can’t find it in her heart to care. The adrenaline that was coursing through her veins for the past few hours was finally fading, growing sleepy while wrapped up in Harry’s arms, and that’s all she ever really wanted. It was fate, seeing him tonight, and maybe she always knew in the back of her mind that they would find their way back to each other. She lifts her tired eyes to his face, from his tousled hair to the stubble growing over his chin. Smiling, she brings her hand up to his cheek. He opens one eye, peeking at her. She smiles shyly at him, and he smirks back.

“Hi.” She whispers and the smile on her face grows.

“Hi.” He whispers back, trailing his hand down her arm. He moves closer, kissing her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then her lips. She closes her eyes, nuzzling closer to him and breathes out deep through her nose.

“I love you.” She mumbles.

“I love you, Bry.” He says into her hair, the familiar scent of strawberry filling his senses.

“Forever?” She asks for reassurance, even though she already knew the answer, her eyes falling closed, sleep consuming her mind.

“Forever.” She hears him say quietly before she falls asleep with his hand drawing shapes along her spine, the scene identical to ones they used to share countless times, many years ago. She feels comfort. She feels safe. And if you wanted to make the long story of their love short…for her, it was always going to be him, and for him, it would always be her.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 𖥸· ─────── · ·

taglist: @indierockgirrl (tagging you because you said you wanted to be tagged in everything and i just love you so much for that <3)

#harry styles #harry #styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x fmc #fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x oc #smut #right where you left me #wrongplacerighttime #exes to lovers #normal!harry #normal!fmc #harry fic #harry styles fic #harry styles au

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aonungyoufuck · 1 year

Text

Runaway {Part 4}

Masterlist

DNI/BYF

Synopsis: Ao'nung and you have a talk behind some rocks. And oh oh whats this? A baby??

It had been around a week or so. You had finally been healed enough that Ronal saw fit to train you a little. Finally being able to go home. You thanked your stars that all you had to do now was eat some stew here and there for the internal pain you still felt.

“Good. This is good'' Ronal complimented your craftsmanship on the basket you had weaved. You weren’t allowed to train in anything else. Tsireya was there for that. But she had asked you for a basket and a blanket. Aside from the proper paste that would dissolve the umbilical cord without hurting the babe or Ronal.

“Thank you!” You nodded, bowing your head. “I will like to make your babe another Blanket. If it is alright with you”

“That is fine.”

“I know you said i cant help deliver the babe. I do know how to if you ever need extra help.” You hadn’t really delivered a lot of babies. But Your mother and grandmother had allowed you and Kiri to train for the woman of your old clan.

“ I am aware, thank you. If you dont mind. Ill go make your food.” She stood up with your help as you handed her the basket. “You go on and get going. Remember no going until the water just yet”

You nodded bidding her goodbye as you watched her go.

Walking home you didnt expect much to happen. Didn’t expect to be stopped. But feeling the slightest of tugs on your hand you looked.

To Your Surprise it was Rotxo.

“Oh? Is there something you need?”

“Come with me”

With not much thought you followed after. You didnt know why, or perhaps you did. But you just knew this was because of Ao’nung.

In the time you been healing you had spend the most time with him. It was nice to have a friend in him too. And maybe your heart ached a little when you saw him. Whenever he was close to you.

You had gone crazy. You knew. All your life you had wanted nothing than to prove your spot to your family. But as of late all you could think about was a mate.

You were growing older. And soon if things work out correctly. You’ll be an adult in the eyes of the clan. You had hoped it was going to work. All you really had was to bond with a tulkun and Tame a skimwing. And had you not been shot close to your heart. Perhaps you wouldn’t have to stop your progress.

“Where are we going?”

“Ao’nung is wanting to meet you near the Reef. But away from prying eyes”

There it was. That hint that he would be there to see you. For what you weren’t sure.

“Sounds like he wants to kill me”

At that he let out a hefty laugh. And it was nice to finally hear it. You hadn’t realized it. But your near death had caused almost everyone to dim their light. “I think its more to help you train on taming a skimwing”

“Wow jumping to training already”

“He has good reason for it too”

You could only smile. The faintest of little hope you had lighting up. Warming your chest with a feeling you didn’t know of.

“He’s past that rock over there. I'm heading home. I still have an awful lot of chores to do.” Rotxo spoke as he started running back.

You watched him go. Before walking over the rocks and finally seeing the open sea. And there Ao’nung was.

“Tame a skimwing huh? Forgot i cant go into the water just yet?”

“Oh hush i thought you may appreciate some alone time from everyone”

“That would include you Genius”

He could only mock a laugh. Watching as you sat down beside him.Something about the past few days had changed everything about your dynamic. Things were different. The looks were passionate and other worldly. And all you two wanted and mutually understood is that you were better together alone.

“Ao’nung may i .. say something?”

“If its stupid no”

“Wow thanks” You muttered looking out to sea. “When..When our time comes to find mates Do you think we could still enjoy moments like this?”

“What?” you could barely make out what he said. A longing whisper in the wind.

“I Know your nearly done with your. Well you know. I have no doubt once you become an adult in the eyes of your people that. That you will have to find a mate some time soon” and a stinging pain deep in your core wanted to hiss. To think of it was something else. But you would have to learn to live with it. “I just hope that. That when that happens. That we would still be able to talk. And to have moments like this. Tho they are rare and often times distant”

“ And who says that i will have a mate?”

You could only chuckle at that. “Well it is to happen. You are nearly done with your Training. And im sure your mother would like to get started with the next Tsahik training you know?”

“Do you have any in mind?”

You looked at him. Eye to eye. It felt surreal to see him like this. Like it was only you two in the world. And it made your heart beat to a rhythm you knew all to well. You felt it once before. When a boy you fancied back home looked your way. But this was strange. It was stronger and truer than anything else.

“I do…but it cannot happen”

“Why is that? When you complete the last task you can chose of any man you want”

“But i cannot have him” You admitted.

And Ao’nung seem to understand. Somewhere in his heart he felt light. And like he could fly so high at the thought of you choosing him. You didn’t have to say it. You didnt need to say it with words for he already knew too.

“ I would run to you more than anyone else”

“What-”

“I would split the sea if you so much as asked. I would do anything and everything for you. And if you asked me for the farthest star in the universe i would do it too. What ever you so much as wish for at your beck and call i would do it” He spoke holding your hand in his.

Your heart sped. It continued at a pace you were sure was unhealthy. But hearing those sweet nothing made your head spin

“Without you all that’s joyous becomes like mud. Instead of rejoicing i shed tears. My spirit is never at joy if not around you.For in the world under Eywa. There is no woman born so lovable so dear to my heart, who loves me without feigning, with such a deep love” He continued to look at you. Looking into your soul, you felt light .

You couldn’t believe your ears as your cheeks burned with a want just as he. You wanted him You did but you just couldn’t you knew.

“What are you saying Ao’nung” you questioned. Entangling your hands together as you could only stare at him. Was he always this handsome? Did he always make your heart race this way?

“You alone are my love and longing. You are the sweet cooling of my mind that makes the days chores bearable. No joy for me anywhere without you here” Ao’nung didn’t know where this was coming from. Something in him just had to get it out. He just knew.

He knew that he should have waited. Given this more time. To bloom. But you two were so close. He only had one step to go and you two. And he wanted everything to be said now before you ever thought of someone else but him at your side.

He was crazy. But he already knew that. Ever since you had spend the most time with him and his family. He just knew. He knew he had to say what was so deeply rooted in his heart.

“Ao’nung… We can’t I am the outsider do you not remember? You are The Future Olo’eyktan. You are the son of a promising Clan. What would your people think if… If we did mate?”

“ I will take no other woman if you do not choose me. For no other one has made me feel like i can take on the world”

His hand now grabbed your wrist. Placing it on his chest. You could feel his heart. It beat so gently and you swore at the tune of your own.

You did want this. Wanted to feel this love blossom because you knew that you couldn’t go against what Eywa put in front of you. Perhaps you too had gone mad. “Ao’nung… i”

Feeling his breathe next to your lips. A gentle look as he saw deep into your eyes. “If you choose me. I'd be the happiest i could ever be”

“Ao’nung…”

“Y/n! There you are! Come hurry Mother’s about to go into labor” You heard Tsireya yell from across the rocks.

“Lets go. But whatever you decide please let me know as i will wait until you are ready” Ao’nung confessed. As he guided you back to the Clan.

But right now you had to think of something else instead of what your heart wanted. And cracked so hard for.

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

Taglist:

@simp-erformarvelwomen

@luvlykrispy

#ao'nung x reader #aonung x reader #ao’nung x reader #ao’nung x you #ao'nung #avatar the way of water #Atwow #atwow imagines #atwow x reader #ao'nung x y/n #avatar rotxo #atwow fluff

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talesofesther · 1 year

Text

sweet calamity | ch 5

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Series Summary: It was something people described as the sweetest pain, the feeling of when the soul that's destined to find yours is closer to you. Wednesday saw it as a curse, promised herself she would hate whoever was chosen for her; but it's easier said than done.

A/N: I think this might be my favorite chapter yet. Let me know what you think. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 4 here

The clock on your bedside table read 1:16 AM. It was a little late, but also the only time when, technically, everyone was asleep.

You snuck out — well not really, considering you're not leaving the school, only your dorm — with careful and calculated steps, you made your way down the dark stairs and to the quad.

The reason for that, is that a particular flower you want to add to the quad's flowerbed only blooms at night. And you need to make sure that its color fits in well with the rest of the plants already there. Maybe it was futile and maybe it was your perfectionist side speaking, but you genuinely wanted the place to look nice when you were done.

Or you were just taking any small excuse you could get to keep your mind busy.

You could use your abilities if you wanted to, make the flower bloom during the day so you could see it in its full glory, but it didn't sit well with your heart to disturb its natural cycle.

So here you were, in your pajamas, shivering because of course you forgot your jacket, sneaking out into the night only to watch a few flowers bloom. It reminded you of the times that you'd do the same thing when staying over at your grandparents when you were younger; a smaller you hugging a huge cardigan around your shoulders, your bare feet feeling the grass between your toes as you sat down on the lawn and just waited for it to slowly happen.

The moon was high in the sky when you reached the quad, almost full and casting a pleasant glow for you. The air was cold, much colder than it was during the day but there was a certain comfort to it, you realized.

You closed your eyes for a moment, tilting your head up and breathing in deeply.

Quiet moments like these have always been some of your favorites.

She would probably enjoy it too.

Your mind drifted. You opened your eyes only to see a blanket of stars above you; endless, timeless.

Maybe she would complain about the colors, but you'd gladly add a few black flowers to the mix if she asked you to.

You shook your head, scolding yourself for missing someone who wasn't even yours, to begin with.

Five days ago, Wednesday found out you are her soulmate, and you haven't spoken with her since. It could be wishful thinking, but sometimes you had the feeling that she wanted to speak with you, however, you didn't feel much ready for that. The changes were small, like finding a new partner for a few classes that you used to sit with her, taking the longer path to some of them so you wouldn't end up bumping into her; little things to postpone what was most likely inevitable — you live in the same place after all, it was bound to happen — but for now, you didn't know what else you could do, other than avoid her.

With a soft sigh, you sat down on the ground, eyes fixed on your flowers in the middle of the quad. You hugged your knees close to your chest… and waited.

The night was serene, you could hear the rustling of leaves in the distance, crickets singing, and music.

A beat passed, and you frowned.

Music?

The melody was a little distant, but not much, you could hear it pretty clearly; soft notes coming from the cords of a cello.

You couldn't put a name to the song even if you tried, but you could tell it wasn't a happy one. The melody was somber; not creepy though, closer to sorrowful. It comes from the tallest room in Ophelia Hall, echoing through Nevermore's corners and undoubtedly waking a few students from their slumber.

You know it's Wednesday. Enid has complained to you about her cello solos in the dead of night one too many times already.

If you close your eyes and focus hard enough, you can picture her fingers moving with the cords, shaping the notes of the song.

From your spot on the quad, you look up at what you can see of the half-colorful round window. You stay there until her song ends and a little bit after, part of you knows she's still out there too. In times like these it feels like the universe is fighting to keep you close to Wednesday; you wonder when it'll see reason and give up — though secretly, part of you doesn't want it to. Because you could pretend you shared this little moment with her, after all, it was just you and her who were awake and out at this hour.

The thought of somehow feeling connected to her made you smile.

—

Wednesday dragged out the end notes of her song, the tip of her fingers burning and stinging over the cords; a pleasant, grounding feeling.

Thing closed her sheet music book, gesturing softly at her after.

"That's a silly question," Wednesday told him, setting aside her cello, "considering I have nothing to be worried about."

The disembodied hand gestured again, causing Wednesday to narrow her eyes at him.

"Her childish behavior does not bother me, I'm not sure why you would even assume that." She huffed, looking away from him with a clenched jaw, "she's the one who chose to keep it from me in the first place, so if she wants to keep her distance now…"

Wednesday breathed in deeply, she got up from her chair, and walked over to the edge of the balcony to let the cold wind kiss her cheeks, "it's just less work for me," she finished then.

Wednesday feels stuck in limbo sometimes, she doesn't understand the weight on her chest whenever she thinks of you, can't decide on how to feel about you nor why she even cares at all. She detests not knowing things, yet when it comes to soul bonds and flower perfumes, she sees herself walking blindfolded on a tightrope.

Thing came to her side carefully, he tapped her elbow, waiting until Wednesday's dark eyes settled on him. He gestured gently, his fingertips tapping the back of her hand once he finished.

In a quick move, Wednesday pulled her hand back and took a step away from him. She shook her head, breathing in deeply. "That could never be true," she pointed a finger at him, "say it again and I'll pick out each of your nails."

Wednesday turned around and walked back inside, leaving Thing alone in the night; but she laid in bed wide awake, staring at her ceiling for hours on end until the first birds started singing, his words replaying over and over in her mind.

———

The tall doors of the fencing room creaked when Wednesday pushed them open, the sunlight coming from the huge windows reflected on the pristine white walls and made the clashing blades shine.

The Addams girl walked between her peers, helmet in hand and chin held high. She could see their teacher instructing Xavier on his poor stance, holding his own blade in the correct position so the boy could copy. Wednesday scoffed when he failed again. He should stick to the bow and arrow, she thought.

Wednesday's gaze still looked for you in the crowds — while the teacher was busy getting frustrated with Xavier, she found you adjusting your uniform in the far corner of the spacious room.

She stalked closer, closing the distance between you and her. Your eyes found hers just before you lowered your helmet on your head and Wednesday could almost see the way your breathing faltered. She had caught you off guard.

You make to take a step back but your boot hits the wall, and it's suddenly very familiar to a recent memory that has been plaguing Wednesday's nights. She should hate you for it, for making her care about something she promised she wouldn't; but oh, she can't.

It's okay if you like her, there's nothing wrong with that.

Thing's words still echo in her mind.

Wednesday is quick to reach beside you, grabbing a blade for herself from the support on the wall and turning around to give you your desired space, because the image of you running away from her makes her stomach turn unpleasantly.

"Ready?" Bianca's voice caught Wednesday's attention and she looked up, only to see that the siren wasn't speaking with her, but with you.

You walked in front of her slowly, blade in hand as you took your stance, "yeah, ready."

Wednesday's grip on the steel handle of her own blade tightened; who was the absolute moron who paired you up with Bianca?

You were awful at fencing and Bianca was, arguably, even more competitive than Wednesday; and as much as she didn't want to admit it, the siren was good.

Your blade clashed with Bianca's for the first time, and a foreign feeling took over Wednesday's body as she watched the sparring unfold. She was restless, chest tight as she anticipated your every move.

Her lungs had a distant ache, because she's been holding her breath. Bianca's blade grazed the side of your head and Wednesday didn't know where to focus her unblinking eyes. She took a step closer when you almost lost your footing.

What the hell was happening to her?

Bianca was fast, too fast for you to follow. She striked, and you ducked out of the way but the movement caused the tip of her blade to scratch the side of your free hand.

Droplets of crimson red were quick to fall on the floor, staining the polished wood. The sharp pain made you wince, dragging your attention to the blood slowly flowing from the recent cut.

It was a blink-of-an-eye kind of thing. Bianca didn't see your wound, and you didn't see her going for the next blow until it was too late to defend yourself.

All that was heard was the loud clashing of steel against steel.

Wednesday stood in front of you, her blade holding Bianca's in place, with a look in her eyes that could send the bravest man running for the hills.

"What the hell, Wednesday?" Bianca snapped, lowering her weapon.

"This fight is clearly over," Wednesday tilted her head towards your bleeding hand, she still had her blade pointing to Bianca, daring her to object.

Bianca shifted her attention to you, her eyes softening, "shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright," you cut her off with a wave of your hand and a small, reassuring smile, "I'm alright."

"Addams," the teacher called, walking over to where you stood, "you're not allowed to interfere when other students are sparring".

Only when Wednesday saw Bianca walking away, did she lower her weapon. "Then you should learn how to properly pair up your students," she bluntly stated, raising an eyebrow at him.

The older man huffed, turning his gaze to you, "go to the infirmary." Was all he said before walking away.

You angrily took off your helmet, messing up your hair. "I had it under control," a frustrated scoff escaped you as you threw your blade to the floor. You refused to look up and meet Wednesday's eyes.

"Obviously not," she countered, "given how she was about to impale you with her sword had I not stepped in."

"Whatever, it's not like I asked for your help," you argued back a little too loudly and felt warmth rush to your cheeks when it attracted a few curious glances.

Wednesday flinched at your sudden tone, blinking a couple of times. You never snapped like that. After a beat of silence, she tried reaching out, "let me see it."

Only for you to take a big step back, holding your bleeding hand close to your chest as if trying to protect it. This distance, this brick wall you were trying to build up between you and her; it got Wednesday striving to keep her face impassive, to pretend like it wasn't taking away her sleep.

"I don't need you pretending like you care, Wednesday," you told her quietly, turning around to walk to the door, and Wednesday watched you leave. Again.

Her classmates were anything but subtle with the way they watched the two of you, no doubt wondering what about you was so special that prompted Wednesday to do what she had just done. To be honest, she was wondering the same thing.

With each of your steps — morning sunlight bathing you aureate as you walked — Wednesday could feel the thudding beat of her heart against her ribs, trying to escape her, trying to go after you.

Wednesday closed her eyes, mumbling a thousand curses under her breath as she shot down her ego. Damn you. She discarded her blade and helmet, hurrying to fall into step beside you.

"You're mine even if I don't want you to be," she forced out, sparing a single annoyed glance at you; her hand took hold of yours in a strong grip as she pulled you along, "I'm not letting anything happen to you."

—

The cut on your hand wasn't big, but the antiseptic still stung like a bitch.

You sat on one of the hospital beds of the infirmary, swinging your feet back and forth as the nurse wrapped a small bandage around your hand.

Wednesday was leaning back against the wall to your right, you could feel the weight of her eyes on you, unmoving; you felt like a deer under a panther's gaze.

But that analogy didn't work, did it?

You dare to steal a glance at her; you catch her straightening her posture, clearly not expecting you to do what you just did. Her eyelashes kiss the corner of her cheeks as she looks down at her boots, her arms crossed over her chest. There's something about her that wasn't there before, you just can't put your finger on it yet.

I'm not letting anything happen to you.

Why? You thought to yourself as you looked back at your hand, the white gauze now slowly turning a soft shade of pink. Why did she have to say that?

"You can come back later to change it one more time if you want to, but you should be fine by tomorrow," the nurse gently told you.

"Thank you, I will," you smiled, flexing your hand to test if the pain was still there. It was.

The older woman smiled back, before turning around to attend to a vampire girl who's accidentally eaten garlic.

You didn't move, only pursed your lips and gripped the edge of the bed; you had a feeling of what would happen next.

And it did.

Wednesday pushed herself away from the wall, her steps slow as she came to stand in front of you. She stopped closer than you thought she would.

"Lemon and salt will help," Wednesday told you.

Your head instantly snapped up to look at her, you frowned, eyes a tad too wide. "It'll sting like hell."

There's a ghost of a smile on Wednesday's lips that she never intended for you to see. She reached a hand to you, slowly, carefully, half expecting you to reject her touch again.

You didn't, and you're not sure why. But you did hold your breath before she even touched you.

She took hold of your injured hand, her fingers holding yours with a gentleness even she didn't know she was capable of. Wednesday turns your hand around, and somehow she knows you're back in that moment too.

She gulped, her thumb brushing over the dried blood stain on your uniform; "for the stain," Wednesday simply said.

"Oh," is all you can breathe out, afraid to break the spell that's holding this moment.

You allow yourself to savor her touch just for a second more before pulling your hand back.

Wednesday didn't comment on it, she refused to acknowledge the effect you have on her. She sets her jaw tight before saying; "I've been meaning to apologize."

You raised an eyebrow at her.

"For what I said when we first met," she continued, and you closed your eyes, because you were done crying.

"Had I known it was you I'd-"

"You what?" You interrupted her. "You'd tell me I'm not a burden? Or maybe that I shouldn't grow attached to you because you hated me before even knowing me?"

Wednesday's lips parted yet no words came out. This is wrong, this is all so wrong. She decides. This is not how our story should go.

You pushed yourself off the bed, picking up your bag to leave the infirmary.

And Wednesday follows, because that's all she can do now.

"Listen, Wednesday," you started after a sigh, pushing open the door and being welcomed with the chatter of Nevermore's busy hallways, "we can be friends if that's what you want us to be."

The students walking around you caused Wednesday to move closer, her shoulder bumping into yours with each step.

"But right now… I need time. And I need space." You shrugged, a melancholic smile coming to your lips.

Wednesday can't decide on how to feel, the thought of it brought a sour taste to her mouth. She should be glad, but that doesn't sit right with her either. And she thinks she should probably say something anyway, but before she could, someone else called out your name.

Both you and Wednesday turned to see Andrew waving animatedly to you as he molded his way between the students until he could reach you.

"Hey you," he greeted with a smile, then turned to the girl beside you, "Wednesday." He gave her a nod, and when she didn't answer, he looked back at you, "ready to present our work?"

You breathed in deeply, you hated talking in front of the class. "As I'll ever be."

"Relax, I'll be by your side the whole time." He offered.

You glanced at Wednesday before following him, the glint in your eyes resembling something akin to longing; "I'll see you around, yeah?"

Affection isn't a word Wednesday uses much, but she thinks of it a lot when it comes to you.

"Okay," she uttered quietly, and as you walked off with the guy, Wednesday managed to catch on to little bits of your next conversation;

"Hey so, you know how the Rave'n party is less than two weeks away, right? I was wondering if you'd like to go with me?" The annoying boy asked.

"Uh, yeah sure, I- I'd love to," was the last of your words that Wednesday could hear.

And she felt the strange urge to grab your hand and drag you away with her all over again.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 6 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @simp4wanda26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @ladey @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x you #wednesdayedit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #wednesday addams fanfic #jenna ortega #wednesday x reader #my story

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imshymorph · 2 months

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HI LOVE!!!! 🥺

if ur taking requests, could you pls do husband!Price with a reader who has ADHD? I myself have ADHD and am extremely forgetful, and tend to feel emotions more intensely than others, which means I cry a lot and get told I’m over sensitive haha 🥺❤️❤️😭

Hi darling! My requests are open, I'm just loaded up with uni work. So sorry it took over a week for me to answer. (But if you don’t mind the wait, 100% send in requests!!). I hope I portrayed it properly, I kind of fall in the adhd spectrum myself but it can really vary from one person to another, so I hope it's relatable!

Anyway, here’s some soft!Price with ADHD!reader

I think he’d notice pretty early on, maybe not specifically labelling it as ADHD, but he’d pick up on the forgetfulness and how quick it could change to a hyperfixation. I think he’s observant enough that he’d kind of be able to pinpoint the moment in your thought process where you jump from the thing you just said you were going to do to whatever other task popped in your mind that pulls you away from it.- - - - -

He would grow used to it pretty quickly, used to sharing space with all kinds of people at base and adapting himself to better work with them. I also lowkey headcanon that Soap has ADHD so he’d already have an idea on how to work around it and some strategies in place to help you with it.

Although I think his main worry would be supporting you with the emotional side that comes with it. He’d be there for you at any time. It doesn’t matter what it is, he’ll dry your tears and talk with you about it. If you don’t want to talk or maybe it’s one of those days where you don’t even know why you’re crying, then he’ll just hold you close for a bit and help you get distracted when you feel better.

I think that even if he doesn’t fully understand it, he can get a grasp on how overwhelming it can get. He’d notice when you’re starting to get frustrated, when your brain just can’t find something that releases enough oxytocin to keep you entertained for long enough. He’d swipe in then, bringing up one of your special interests or one of the hobbies you gave up on a few months back, to see if it sparks some joy again. If it doesn’t he’ll find something new that you both can try together or somewhere to go and explore.

And don’t you dare apologise for any of it, he’d give you a full on scolding on how it’s not something to apologise for. (That’s who you are and who he loves, darling). He doesn’t care that you forgot to close the kitchen cupboard for the fifth time this week, nor that the clean dishes still sit on the dishwasher, nor the pile of folded clothes that still sit on top of the dresser. He’s happy to have you with him, to share space with you and he’d take a messy living room and arrive late to your reservations on date night every single time if it means he’s with you.

Also, he’d absolutely change things around the house and in his schedule if it means it makes things easier for you. He’ll change the organisation in all drawers and cupboards that need it so it’ll be easier for you to remember to put everything in its place. He’ll sit with you while you do work or chores, having casual conversation to keep you entertained and focused while you finish. Will sit there for hours if he has to, listening to you infodump about whatever thing your brain has last fixated on. And hold you for as long as you need when your emotions get too much and make you cry, one warm hand on your hip to hold you close while the other rubs your back.

And relating to the crying. Poor soul, the one who dares to call you oversensitive in his presence. He’d absolutely rip them a new one, ready to start a physical fight if it is necessary because (how dare you judge his love for something out of their control). As soon as he’s satisfied with the scolding the other person got, his full attention is back on you.

He’d pull you close, cup your cheeks and gently dry your tears with his thumbs. A small smile appearing on his lips, “don’t listen to them, love. You’re perfect just like this.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and lightly pinches your cheeks to get a smile from you. “Come on, let’s go home so you can tell me more about those books you have been reading.”

And the way your small pout and teary eyes change to a smile makes his heart soar. He throws an arm over your shoulders and holds you close as the both of you walk home, happily listening about the character arch of one of the main characters you tell him about. He’s already planning on wrapping you up on your favourite blanket on the couch while he gets ready some of your comfort food, how you’ll eat it together while you cuddle and watch one of your favourite shows or movies.

#cod x reader #x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #captain price cod #captain john price #captain price mw2 #captain price x reader #john price x reader #soft!price #cod price #john price #captain price #price x reader #task force 141 #gn!reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader

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solarpunkani · 5 months

Text

okay so pardon me as I wax poetic late at night about solarpunk again but like

and once again, I'm biased because I'm co-hosting the aesthetic week event, you know the drill, but

I feel like sharing our projects--big and small--are so important because they can inspire other people to do their own. And obviously this can be about sharing news about climate action, and scientific projects and progress and discoveries, but tonight I'm thinking about crocheting.

As we think about the future we want to create as solarpunks, we trade ideas. And oftentimes a lot of the ideas we trade are about futures with barter systems, where many many people do crafts like sewing and mending and knitting and the like. But--and I could easily be the only one but I feel like I'm not--I personally was too nervous to start many crafts myself. Because I didn't know what I'd do with the craft, if I was even capable of it, or if it was too big and complex for me. I'd been tossing around the idea of learning how to crochet for years, and my mom's been tossing the idea around just as long if not even longer for herself, but y'know what brought me over? You know what finally got me to give it a shot?

An online Solarpunk friend sharing pictures of a bag.

I saw that bag and I went 'huh maybe I could do something like that,' and within a few days I'd bought a bunch of yarns and hooks and was on a call (with a different online friend) learning how to do some basic stitches and knots to get started. By the end of the night, I was teaching myself how to make granny squares, with the help of a (different) online friend writing instructions to help me out as I got stuck.

And maybe I finish my bag, or my scarf, and I post a picture online--not even a professional, pinterest-ready photo, just a quick pic of it laid across my bed or something--and I inspire someone else to start crocheting. Hell, I've already inspired my mom to take a crack at it once the Christmas season is over.

But it doesn't even have to be me. It doesn't even have to be crocheting. Maybe someone posts a picture of a hat they just finished knitting, and someone else decides to pick up a loom or some knitting needles. Maybe someone crafts a birdhouse or a desk or a bench out of wood, and someone picks up a hammer for the first time. Maybe someone crafts something awesome out of clay and wire, and someone gets inspired for a new project. It can even be across artforms! Maybe someone sews an awesome dress, and someone else is inspired to write a short story by it. Maybe someone writes a short story, and someone else goes to paint a mural somewhere inspired by a scene in that story.

And in a sense I find it incredibly solarpunk. To inspire one another to learn and grow, develop new skills, to always find inspiration and hope to keep trying new stuff.

Some people laugh and scoff at the idea of posting ~aesthetique~ homemade clothes to the solarpunk tag, a handful think the whole aesthetic week event is pointless, but I find it the opposite. Solarpunk is about revolution, but it can't always be big revolutions. Sometimes its the small revolution of picking up a craft that changes your life, or creating an image that inspires others to fight for a better future. It can be about writing something that makes others question why things are the way they are, when they can be better. Sometimes the desire for a nice knit scarf can be the start of a mini barter system, or become part of the mutual aid we all dream of.

I feel like I had a point with this but I forgot. But uhm... yeah.

#out of queue #ani rambles #solarpunk #im probably not gonna put this in the aes week tag but yknow #anyways im gonna go work on this scarf while watching a video essay and maybe chill to the aes week playlist

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l0verb0t · 8 months

Text

jason todd × reader. | home sweet home.

SUMMARY: A familiar figure stared at you from the other side of a window, helmet covered in ash. He waved back at you. WARNINGs: implications of near panic attacks & descriptions of blood. WORD COUNT: 2000+ NOTEs: second person. this has some minor plot mentions, but this is mostly just a hurt/comfort oneshot. [no pronouns, and "babe" is used to refer to the insert/reader.]

It was a busy summer night. Off your own sweat, you lifted your head from a pillow. A ringing woke you up, irritating the headache that was swirling around in your mind and thudding against it like a hammer.

Your hand fell to your phone, grabbing it from a nightstand just for you to flash your own eyes with its bright light. With a swipe to answer its call, a certain voice spoke out from the other end. A welcomed change from the bellowing sirens outside your cracked walls.

It hadn't been too long since you last saw each other, but that didn't make it any better. Time seemed to come at a snail's pace when he was gone.

The worry never seemed to settle. You're well aware Jason is good at his job, taking pride in ridding Gotham of parasites, in his own words. You trusted him enough to get back on his own, yet it never helped.

He was late by a few more hours than he said he was going to be back, but you still had to reassure yourself that it was probably fine. Your hope was the only thing calming the scattered thoughts.

Don't worry about it. Just rest your pretty head.

For weeks at a time, he would be gone. Every now and then it happened, and sometimes he'd be late. Just to make sure whatever was on his to-do list was dealt with or, alternatively, to make sure no one followed him back. He couldn't risk it.

Yeah, I missed you too, baby.

A small apartment sitting on the edge of his home city. One of the places he never spoke a word about. One of the few places he still felt safe, even if it was only temporary.

You flicked through the channels that flashed across your television's cracked screen, careful not to trigger anything with the bright colors. Nothing caught your attention.

Listen, I can't talk for long. I don't think I brought enough quarters.

You missed his laughter.

Nausea was building up deep inside. Your head swayed from it, keeping you grounded against the couch. With your free hand resting atop your chest, the beats underneath kept an unsteady pace as your head lied against stiff cushions.

You would've slept to bide the time, calm the soreness in your eyes, and try to get a good night's rest for once, but it didn't work no matter how hard you tried. At the very least, you were able to welcome him back rather than have him shake you awake again.

A horror movie came onto the screen.

In the darkness, a masked man stood on the other side of a glass door, staring down a girl who seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack herself. Slowly, he took one of his gloved hands and knocked, leaving behind more blood with each knock.

I just need to do one last thing.

You switched the channel just as someone started laughing.

The light from the television only further irritated your eyes, yet without it, it was too quiet to be comfortable. You simply turned away.

The knocking returned. No matter how low you turned the volume, it kept its loud echo. It became clear that it just wasn't coming from it at all.

You sat up to turn your attention to the apartment's front door. When you arrived at its step and looked through the peep hole, you saw no one there.

The knocking continued, though, further away the second time.

Following the sound, you came to the windows in the living room. Apart from the blaring, bright billboards outside, only the TV gave light to who was there. Maybe you forgot to shut the curtains as you stared back at a familiar red helmet.

There, crouched down by the window, Jason gave you a quick wave before pointing down at the window's lock.

Why he insisted on only using the windows despite barely fitting through them was beyond you sometimes. They just counted as the back door to him at a certain point.

You were forced to notice it first, the smell of smoke and oil overwhelming you as soon as he stepped in.

The shine of his helmet was covered by ash. His gloves were as red as it usually was. Freshly sticking behind everything he touched, blood stuck to the wall inside.

Without a word, he raised his arms. Instead of going in for a hug, he stuck to where he was standing, looking over himself with a shake of the head.

"Sorry, honey. For the… mess." A scrambled gag rumbled through the space.

Jason's head rolled to the side, and he placed a hand on his neck as he stretched it back, groaning as his bones cracked.

"I feel like ass."

With a hum, you responded, "You smell like ass."

"You're so mean sometimes." He cooed, looking down at you as his hands wildly gestured around. "I'll remember to come back smelling like flowers next time."

Without another word, he pulled his helmet off, his hair sticking out from the sweat. His brows were stuck in a frown.

"At least you're back in one piece."

You ran your fingers down the side of his face, twirling the ends of his hair before sliding it back out of it. A quick kiss was placed on one of his scars. The expression from before continued to tug at his face, but he finally let out a breath you didn't know he was holding in.

He threw his helmet back at the couch.

Hands reached up to yours, maybe to push you away, but they stopped before then. The blood was still there, mixed with oil, on top of the leather gloves.

"Can't say the same about the other guys."

The words came out as low and raspy as they would with his modulator.

He hopped in place while tugging incessantly at one of his boots. After both were pulled off, the jacket was the next thing to go, nearly ripping the fabric before he threw it over into a hamper. The boots left prints where he stood.

"No offense, but you're making a mess."

The boots were thrown on top of the clothes without a care.

"I'll clean it tomorrow."

With the jacket gone, you finally got to see what he was wearing under it. It was a plain t-shirt, apart from Hello Kitty standing on the front of it. Why he was wearing the joke gift you gave him ages ago was something you saved to tease him with later.

He just didn't seem too in the mood for jokes.

As he looked down at you, you saw that his eyes carried bags similar to yours.

"What are you doing awake?"

Since the gunk-covered layers had been thrown aside, you placed a hand on his arm. Where he would usually stay for a moment or two to savor the touch, he immediately pulled away.

"I wanted to see you again."

"You didn't have to stay awake for me." Muffled chuckling came as he pulled off his shirt. "You should head back to bed; I'll be in when I'm finished."

"Nah."

"You're going to be tired by tomorrow."

"And you aren't?"

"I've been trained to go days without sleep," After he threw his shirt over with the rest of his clothes, he pointed at you and said, "You just have insomnia."

It came back at him in a copied, mock voice: "Well, it's worth it to see your pretty face."

A smile bloomed across his face, and a snort followed before he pushed away your face.

"Yeah, okay."

You took it as a chance to stand away from him, the odor still overwhelming.

"Mind telling me what happened?"

"With the mess I made, we'll probably be hearing about it in the news later." He gestured to himself, smiling at you. "Are you proud of me, babe? I'm gonna be on TV."

"It wouldn't be the first time."

"That's funny. Again, what happened?"

Hand in his hair, he began to tug at it, looking away from you. "It's fine. The lead led me to a warehouse around the Gotham River. It was just another rundown drug lab."

There wasn't a response for a bit after that, letting the room be filled with nothing but the sound of his heavy breathing and whoever was on the television's rambling. He crashed back into a chair to steady himself.

"Someone just pissed me off. I went a little overboard."

You gave him a chance to explain further, speaking softly.

"Is that it?"

"Yeah. That's it."

So he couldn't sulk in silence, you walked up behind him to pat him on the back. Standing there, he didn't bat an eye at you as you kept the quiet tone, saying, "You should go get cleaned. I'll be here when you get back."

The chair bent back with a creak as he leaned over to look up at you. It pressed against your front, almost on you, for support. His hand grabbed the back of your head, pressing you into a short kiss before he hopped off the chair with a groan.

"Alright."

You tried to help him into the bathroom. In typical Jason fashion, though, he made that harder, leaning his weight against your hands as you pushed him in.

He continued to mess with you, making loud kissing sounds as he tried to reach behind him. The door was shut in front of his face, and there was a groan from the other side as it did. The sound of running water followed soon after.

It didn't last long, but he didn't leave the bathroom. You sat outside the door with the assumption he actually took your advice for once, still washing up despite the silence.

To settle the nerves, you took a deep breath and got to work on taking care of everything else. Everything in the hamper was thrown into a washer. Numerous holes and rips ran across the clothing, the ends of his collar covered in so many that it could hardly count as one anymore.

You nearly threw the boots in as well. The only way they were going to get cleaned was if they were put under a hose.

You had to get off from your knees before you fell asleep.

Later into the night, you kicked at the door, your hands occupied by a pile of picked-out, clean clothes.

It took awhile before any reply came. He called out to you through the sound of splashing water.

His voice came through strained: "Yeah?"

"I got you some clothes."

"Alright. Get in here."

You opened the door to find him sitting in the bath. His arms were laid across the rims, tattoos covered in bubbles. The tub was still too small for him, and so his knees were folded inside, sticking out of the water.

Resting back against the wall, he turned his head back towards you. It was a little silly to see a guy who prided himself on looking scary looking up at you from a bubble bath.

The clothes were placed on the sink's counter.

"Are you having fun in there?"

"You know me," He hummed before splashing water in your direction. "It distracts from the pain, at least."

You crouched down beside him to lean against the tub. His hand ran over your arm, trailing soap up your skin.

"You're supposed to be getting clean, not getting me dirty."

Through a coughing fit, he laughed. His mouth opened for a second before he shut it just as quickly. Pushing deeper into the water, he crossed one leg over the other as he spoke, "I can multitask."

You matched his position, resting your own head against the wall as you looked back into his tired eyes.

"Can you tell me what happened tomorrow?"

A heavy sigh left him: "Yeah, sure. I just don't like bringing work back home."

"I know, but I still want you to talk about this stuff with me."

Jason sat up, pressing against the tub to rest his head against yours.

"I'll try to remember that."

The two of you were in there for awhile. It was the most you had talked to each other in weeks, making up for the quick calls that otherwise filled the radio silence. You tried not to fall asleep to his voice and were lucky enough not to. The floor was filthy.

#dc #jason todd x reader #jason todd x gn reader #written #jason todd #hurt/comfort

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loubouskz · 2 years

Text

I'm used to it

mafia!bang chan x vet!reader

description: you come home to see your best friend and roommate, felix, is not home yet. not unusual...til it hit 4am. your worries were answered when you heard banging coming from the front door. only open the door and have a lot change in a short amount of time.

warnings: mafia!skz, two gun fight scenes(one major & one minor), reader has and anxiety attack & passes out, wound & blood to one character, pet names(mainly sweeheart), smut, unprotected sex, oral(fem & male receiving), shower sex, out in the open during oral so slight exhibition, dirty talk

wc: 6,000+

a/n: i forgot i had this in my google docs. I finished writing this month's ago and remember thinking it wasn't that good. reading it back now, I think it's pretty good, plus it's the first fanfic that has 6,000 words. but this was my first time trying to write gun/mafia...those kind of things so it may not be so good in those areas.

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coming home to an empty apartment was a common occurrence due to lee felix, my best friend and roommate, having a busy schedule at work. I too, have a busy schedule that makes me come home from 11pm to 1am, depending on what’s happening. today I came home at 12am, exhausted from working with animals all day. but this time it was strange, he didn’t text me like he usually does so I don’t worry myself out. I just thought to myself, ‘he most likely just got caught up and forgot to text.’ it happens every now and then, but it was very rare. I changed out of my nurse clothes and put on my favorite hoodie and sweats. I grabbed a snack from the kitchen and watched a random movie that was on tv.

by the time it was over with an empty bowl next to me, it was pitch black and almost 4am. I opened my phone, hoping to see a text from him. nothing. he’s never been out this late before. I quickly being to dial his number and brought it up to my ear. hearing it ring, over and over and over again, but no answer. “come on, lix. answer the phone.” I said, trying it again. still no answer. I got up from the couch and pacing back and forth. it’s not like him to just let the phone ring, he’ll either send it to voicemail or send an automatic message that he can’t talk right now..

I tried to call felix for a 3rd time, by now the clock was reading 4:23am. I would go to his work to check on him, but we share the car, since we live so close to where I work- so I walk. bang chan, the man who is a one mean workaholic. I’ve met him a few times, along with some of felix’s other co-workers. he has a cold exterior, but warms up to certain people, especially the boys that work for him. I just think his a dick, making all of them work such long godforsaken hours. a really good looking, attractive dick. him and I only got along because of felix making us. sometimes I wish I could just smack him.

I shook my head as I remembered I had his number. ‘for real emergencies only, do not call me to talk. okay sweetheart.’ I heard his voice ring in my head. I rolled my eyes and hesitantly clicked the call button, hoping he would answer. it went straight to voicemail. “what the fuck!” I said, trying not to yell too loudly as the walls of my apartment are VERY thin. I tried felix once more, before going to my room. still no answer. I let out a frustrated sigh, trying to calm myself down. maybe I could walk to his job. yeah right, its on the other side of the fucking town. that would take all day to get there. I sat on my bed and tried to call felix for the nth time, but pounding from the front door stopped me. I shot up and ran to the door, hoping it when felix.

I opened the door to a horror scene you’d see in the movies. there was felix, looking half dead, bleeding from his side with his arm slung around chan, who was covered in blood as well but seemed fine. chan had a sheer look of pain on his face as he pushed his way through me into my apartment. I backed up, not saying anything out of pure shock.

“close the goddamn door, y/n!” chan yelled as he headed to felix’s bedroom. I jumped at his voice and closed the door quickly. I ran to them and stopped in the doorway of the bedroom, watching chan remove felix’s bedsheets then felix’s shirt. chan laid felix on the bed and turned to me. “don’t you have a med kit here, go get it.” chan demanded. I went to the bathroom closet and pulled out the med kit and ran back to chan. I entered the room and went over to felix, seeing the nasty open wound up close. “what happened to him?” I asked, looking at chan.

“not the time! just patch him up fast, we have to go!" chan said, pulling out a gun from his waistband. my eyes widened, flicking back and forth from him and the gun. “chris, he needs a doctor!” I said, raising my voice at him as he tried to leave the room. he stopped in the doorway, gave me a death look for saying his other name. "do not call me that right now y/n, I’m serious. you know how to stitch right?" he said all in a hushed voice. "yeah! on animals, i'm a vet!" I said back at him.

"just hurry, stitch and patch him up! we don't have much time right now!" chan said as he exited the room. I looked down at felix and pushed his hair out of his face. “lix, did he do this to you?” i asked quietly. he shook his head, “no, he didn’t. I promise. but right now, just listen to what he says okay?” he said weakly. I nodded my head as I opened the med kit and grabbing the gloves to put on. hopefully it won’t be to much different stitching up, I prayed. I began to work on felix as quickly and carefully as I could. “I’m gonna be okay y/n. it won’t be the first time.” felix laughed out, before coughing at bit. “shh, just stay silent for now lix.” I said, looking into his eyes for a brief moment.

chan entered the door again along with someone new, who also had a gun in his hand. “you almost done?” chan asked, coming up behind me. I nodded my head, not wanting to stop what I was doing. the new guy ran out of the room before quickly coming back. “chan, they can’t hold them off any longer. we have to go.” the guy said as I placed the patch on felix’s now closed up wound. I taped it down and sat back once I was done. “I’m finished.” I said, looking up at chan. chan looked over at the guy, “get him and take him to the car.” he said. the guy came over and picked felix up and quickly left the room.

chan was about to leave but noticed I was still sat on the floor. he grabbed my arm and pulled me with him. “come on. we gotta go, sweetheart.” he said as we rushed to the front door. he let go of my arm so I could slip back on my shoes. he opened the door and looked carefully outside and before exiting the apartment with the gun in his hands. he nodded his head for me to follow him. we went out the back staircase and down the back alley. “where are we going?” I asked, he didn’t answer me.

we were about to exit the alleyway, but as chan peeped around the corner and gunshot went off, making him jump back into me. I jumped and covered my ears with my eyes fully shut. oh, this has got to be a nightmare as I heard multiple shots start going off. I felt an arm go around my waist and pull me into them. “stay close to me.” chan whispered in my ear as he sandwiched me against the wall. wake up y/n, its all a bad dream. a very real dream. I felt my tears forming as I opened my eyes. chan carefully peeked his head out and shot his gun at whoever was shooting at us. he pulled back and looked at me, his hard stare softened as he noticed the state I was in.

“hey, you’re gonna be okay. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” he said softly. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest. “please get me out of here, I feel light-headed, gonna pass out.” I whispered as I felt numbness course through my body. “stay with me, y/n.” he said, as he held my body weight. “guys where are you?” chan asked into the air. I heard a slight voice coming over something, that’s when I noticed the ear piece. another round of shots started as a screeching sound of vehicle came to a stop. chan leaned out and shot a few more times, “come on, I got them!” I heard someone say, along with shots being fired. chan pulled back and looked at me, giving me a nod. like I knew what it meant. “we’re gonna run to the car, okay sweetheart.” he said, I nodded my head the best I could.

chan pulled us away from the wall, he moved me to the right side of him. I looked straight out and saw a big black van with a side door open, with one person out shooting and another holding out his hand. “ready?” chan said, still holding me by the waist. I nodded, wanting this to all be over. don’t pass out yet y/n, get to the van first. I watched as the guy waved their hand to come on and thats when we went. “duck!” chan called out as we ran out. it felt like time went in slow motion. bullets flying everywhere, I could barely hear. I felt chan pick me up slightly and throw me in the van. I fell on the floor of the van and stayed there, not moving, not because I wanted to but because I couldn’t. I felt my mind fog up and numbness, the last thing I remember was chan looking at me before he hopped in the van.

I woke up in a room I’d never seen before. I sat up carefully, not wanting to get light-headed again. the sun was fully out now, but I couldn’t tell what time it was. maybe it was all just a bad dream and I woke up from a one night stand, I said trying to convince myself. that was short lived as chan walked into the room. “oh you’re up.” he said, holding a glass of water and a plate of food. I didn’t say anything and just stared at him. chan sighed and looked down before making his way over to me. he sat the stuff on the end table, “this is for you, minho made it. you may or may not remember him, but you met him before.” he said, sitting on the side of the bed. he turned his head to me, “how you feelin’?” he asked. I didn’t give him an answer. “okay, what do you want to know?” he asked, looking at the ground. I scooted up so my back would be against the bed frame. “all that happened last night was real.” I stated, making chan nod. “what happened? why did it happen? why did everyone have guns? I thought everyone was working? why was there a shootout at my apartment?” I asked, all the questions that flooded my brain.

chan straightened his back a bit before answering. “well to start off, everything I’m about to tell you is true. not a joke, alright?” he said. “okay.” I answered, bringing my legs to my chest, “we were working. it went bad and felix got hurt. we are in an organization called stray kids, I know you’ve heard that name before and what it’s about.” chan said, looking at the wall, his eyes dancing along the frame of the paintings in the room. he’s right, almost every other week the news had something to say about them for the last couple of years. one word kept ringing through my head. mafia. they were apart of it. my best friend felix is apart of the mafia. I could feel the air leave my lungs. “we were in a meeting but it was all a ruse, they were planing on killing us. we got split up, felix got hurt and seungmin, our med guy, wasn’t with us. I was in a panic and thought of the next person I could go to, which was you.” he said. chan turned back to me, “which was so sutpid of me because now I put you in this dangerous world that me and the boys live in.” I didn’t know what to say, it was all so overwhelming. chan stood up and fully turned to me. “what do I do?” I asked, looking straight into his eyes. he sighed once more, “we have to stay here for a bit, till its safe enough for you to go back to work.” he answered, “you’ll be safe here in this house. I promised I’d keep you safe, right?” he said. I nodded at his question. “and that’s what I intend to do. now eat before your food gets to cold.” chan said before leaving the room.

I grabbed the water and chugged half of it down. I stared at the food before grabbing it. god, how long we will have to stay here, I wondered.

two months go by. a very long two months. the boys doing the busy work that they do. with nothing for me to do, I clean and help cook food, though they have stated over a hundred times that I don’t have to. “well, it helps past time.” I told hyunjin once. it started to feel like home almost, in a strange way. hanging out all together somewhere. playing games or laughing at funny stories of childhood.

today, most of the boys were out of the house. only felix, jeongin, chan and I were ‘home’. we were all in the living room but jeongin- probably in the bathroom or something. having a normal conversation about old memories. we had gotten to the topic of crushes and dating. I had brought up to chan that felix had a crush on one of our teachers growing up, making chan laugh.

“I mean he was pretty hot though!” felix said, making me push his shoulder. “felix, remember your talking about our 9th grade history teacher!” I said with a shocked face. “okay and..” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve never made sense of why some students had crushes on their teachers.” chan said, sipping the drink he had in his hand. “thank you!” I said, looking at him. I turned back to felix, giving him a look. “well at least I’ve actually dated people and not pretend that my giant stuff animal was the love of my life.” felix said with a smirk. “you fucking bitch, you said you’d never say that in front of people.” I said, swatting him on the back of the head. “at least I don’t have a crush on lil’ binnie.” I said, mocking felix who jaw dropped to the floor. “how the fuck do you know that?” he asked. “please, it so fucking obvious. following him around, cuddle up next to him, always being the first to help- even when he doesn’t need it.” I said. “yeah, it really is, felix.” chan stated with a big grin.

“ya know, to be honest when I first hung out with you two I thought you were dating.” chan said, making us look at him with wide mouths. I turned my head back to felix and we both started laughing. “I would never date her, I like guys more than girls. I wouldn’t even kiss her to save earth.” felix said, almost falling off the couch. I couldn’t even say anything because I was laughing so hard. “what don’t like guys, y/n?” chan asked. “no, she does. just doesn’t talk to people enough to date them.” felix said, wiping away his tears.

“yeah, most of the guys I’ve talked to, were just huge dicks so. eh.” I said, looking back at chan once I had calmed down enough. he raised his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side. “what chris?” I asked. he made a face and shook his head. “nothing.” he said. “oh what about you. who were your old crushes? have you even dated anyone mr. workaholic?” I sassed. chan narrowed his eyes at me as felix oo’ed at us. “she got you there chan.” felix said, chan looked at him to make him shut up. felix got up, “I’m just gonna go hang out with jeongin if I can find him. have fun.” felix said, winking at chan. felix knows something is up, that only him and chan knew. we watched as he left the room as the silence got loud.

“to answer your question. of course I’ve had crushes, only dated once back in school.” chan said. “aw, that’s cute.” I said, putting my hand up to my chin. “you can stop with the attitude.” chan said, sitting up as he placed his arms on his knees. “and what if I don’t, what will you do chris?” I challenged, making him laugh. “you don’t want to know.” he said. the air in the room thickened as we had a stare off. “sounds like a pussy move to me.” I said, giving him a smile before standing up. I tried to leave to the room to go calm myself down. it felt so hot because of him.

“and where do you think you’re going?” he said as he grabbed my arm and pulled me into his chest, which to my surprise he was standing now. he towered of me with a mean glint behind his eyes. I felt butterflies dance in my stomach. I looked up at him with wide eyes. “what? cat got your tongue sweetheart?” he asked as his other hand went on my back. “no, I can talk just fine.” I said, trying to push him away but failed. he chuckled and swayed us side to side, making my face feel warm. “you know, there is a reason why I let you call me by my other name.” chan said. yeah, he always got onto the boys for saying chris, but never towards me and I’ve always wondered why. I tilted my head to the side as he looked me. “and what’s the reason?” I asked, making him smirk and look away.

“what were you, me, and felix just talking about?” chan asked as he placed his hands on my waist. “about our crushes. and you still haven’t talked about yours sir.” I said, poking him the chest. he laughed once more with his head back, showing off those cute dimple of his. once he was done, he just looked at me. “because I’m already talking to her.” he said, scanning my face. I froze with a shocked look on my face, jaw dropped and wide eyes. “you like me?” I asked, to which he simply nodded to. “why? I didn’t think my body type was something you like.” I said, looking down that my thick thighs and tummy fat. “I don’t care about you weight, I just like you. why does anybody like anybody? but I’ve liked you since I’ve gotten to know you, especially since we’ve been here.” chan said, bringing his hand up to my cheek. somewhat I leaned into his touch and smiled. “well good thing I like you too.” I said, making him smile even more. he leaned in but stopped halfway. “can I kiss you?” he asked. “please do.” I said.

then his lips were on mine, instantly making me feel twists in my stomach. I could taste the bitterness of his drink on his lips- which had cracks but still were super soft. I pushed my hands to his neck and gripped his hair. chan moaned into my mouth at the feeling, pulling me as close to him as he could. I felt his tongue on my bottom lip, wanting to get in my mouth. when I didn’t let him, his hands slid down to my ass and gave it a firm squeeze. I gasped, making his tongue enter between my lips. his tongue exploring everywhere it could, while fighting my tongue for dominance. he pulled away, kissing the side of on left jaw, down to my neck.

“god, I’ve wanted to touch and taste you for so long now.” chan groaned out, sucking and biting harshly at my neck. “chris.” I moaned out quietly, bringing one hand down back to his chest to grip his shirt. he slowly brought his hands up, dragging my shirt with it. I shivered as his cold hands touched my warm back. he kissed my collarbone before bringing his now red lips back to mine. he pulled away and made eye contact with blown out eyes filled with lust. I leaned into his neck and started doing the same thing he did to me. “shit.” he said as he brought one hand to the back of my head.

after feeling up each other, I trailed my kisses back up to his lips. “I want you. so bad.” he said into the kiss. “have me then.” I whispered. he instantly grabbed the back of my thighs and laid me down on the couch. he hooked his fingers under my shirt and pushed my shirt above of boobs. he moaned, kissing down my chest to the hem on my pants. he quickly unbuttoned them and started to slowly pulled them down, along with my underwear. once they were off, he brought his hand to my core. rubbing firm slow circles around my clit, before dragging one finger down to my entrance. he pushed a finger into me, watching my reaction to make sure I liked it, slowly leaning his head down.

“please don’t go so slow, chris.” I said, pushing my hand through his hair and slightly pulling at it. he chuckled as his lips came in contact with my clit, while thrusting a second finger into me. I moaned as he picked up the pace, feeling him curl his fingers. I clenched around his fingers every time he brought his tongue to my clit. “fuck channie.” I moaned out. chan quickly gently slapped my inner thigh with his free hand, making it jiggle. “I only want to hear chris come out of your pretty lips, got it.” he said as he curled his fingers, finally finding my g-spot. “yes chris. fuck!” I moaned out loud as I gripped the side of the couch tightly, he smirked and continued his work on my body.

“I want you to cum for me sweetheart.” he said, leaving love bites on my inner thighs. I arched my back, feeling the pressure of my high getting closer and closer. “harder chris.” I said, pulling his head back to my clit. he laughed as he licked my clit again. I groaned as he put more pressure into his thrusts, keeping it at the same speed. “come on babygirl, I know you want to cum so bad. cum for me baby.” he said, dragging his tongue around my clit. i felt the knot brust hard and my mind go fuzzy as I chanted his name like a song. he slowly pulled his fingers out and pushed his tongue into me, making me clamp my big thighs around his head. chan just continued, lapping up all my juices as he hands came to my thighs to hold and caress them. “god, I love your cunt.” he said in a deep aussie accent. I whined as he licked up to my clit.

he climbed over me and kissed me again, making me taste myself. “do you think you can handle more?” he asked, as he held my hand that was close to him. I nodded, leaning up to kiss him even more. I knew I was never going to get enough of him.

he pulled away to pull off his shirt but was interrupted by his phone ringing in his back pocket. “shit.” he said, sitting up and pulling out his phone. he answered the call and watched his face turn cold fast. chan stood up and walked to the other side of the room so I wouldn’t hear the call. I sat up and watched him. either the boys who were out got into some trouble or something really bad happened…or about to happen. “okay.” chan said, before quickly ending the call. “get your pants on, go to my room, and do not leave unless me or one of the boys come get you.” chan said, pointing to me before going to the base of the stairs calling out to jeongin and felix.

I got up and pulled my pants back up around my legs.

“what’s going on?” felix asked as they ran down the stairs. I stood beside the three of them. “the rest were on their way back and noticed a car following them too late. they’ll be here in 2 minutes.” chan said, as they walked to the door. jeongin ran to the meeting room and grabbed the three of them guns. as I started up the stairs, I turned around. “what if something happens to me if I alone in the house?” I called out. chan had already opened the front door and was about to walk out. “go, I’ll be out there shortly.” he told the boys. chan jogged back to me as I started up the stairs again.

we entered his room, I stopped in the center of the room as he went to his dresser. he bent down and opened the bottom drawer. “come here.” he said as he pulled out two items. I walked over to him, watched as he showed me both. a knife and a gun. “keep both on you, you can use either one.” he said, putting the knife with its sheath on my body first. once it was clipped, he showed me the gun. “it should have three bullets in it, the safety is on.” he said, explaining quickly to me how to use it properly. “hopefully you won’t have to use either.” he said, standing up and handing me the gun. chan kissed my lips before leaving the room. “lock the door behind me and remember do not let anyone in unless it me or the boys.” he said as he closed the door. I ran over and locked th door and turned around to look at his room. then I heard the first round of shot go. I slid down the door and sighed, it’s going be a long late afternoon.

and I was right about my words. the sun was already fully down by the time the other gang had backed off. I stood up when the shooting had stopped and placed the gun and blade on the dresser. I walked over to chan’s bed and sat down. waiting for the boys to come in. I heard the door slam closed and chan’s loud voice letting them what to do.

“lee know. changbin. take him downstairs. everyone else check the area, keep sure their gone. once that is done, y’all can get cleaned up and do whatever.” I heard him say as he voiced got louder. I stood up and walked over to the door as chan knocked on the door. he entered the room and quickly started removing his shirt, throwing it in the corner.

“you okay?” I asked, watching him closely. he unbutton his pants, sliding them down his legs. “yeah, I’m fine,” he said, turning to me. I’m sure he could see the blush on my cheeks as I tried to look away so I won’t stare at him or his dick print. he walked over to me and wrapped his arms around me. bringing his face close to the right side of my face. “join me in the shower?” he asked right in my ear, smirking as he felt me shiver. I nodded as he squeezed my hips. he grabbed my hands and brought me along with him to the bathroom that was in his room.

the shower was running, fog surrounding the closed off room. we weren’t in the shower yet. chan has lifted me up and placed me on the counter, lips meeting mine. he hands going under my shirt, groaning at how soft my skin felt. the room just making us feel even hotter and more needy for each other. chan quickly pulled my shirt over my head, kissing down my chest. he tapped on my thighs, “lift your hips baby.” he said, wanting to pull off my pants and underwear. I grabbed the back of his neck and brought his lips back to mine.

I used my other hand to lightly scratch down his chest. down to his crotch, grabbing it firmly. “fuck baby. get on your knees, I want you to suck me off.” he said, pulling down his underwear. I hopped off the counter and sat right in front of his already half-hard cock. I would say he was a little above average in length and slender. I felt myself clench as I took him in my hand. he groaned as he threw his head back. I took him in my mouth, using as far as I could go. I hollowed out my cheeks as I bobbed my head, swirling my tongue each time I pulled back. “shit, who taught you to suck dick like a slut?” he asked, grabbing my hair. I moaned around him as he guided my head faster on his cock a few times before pulling me off.

he held out his hand and helped me off the ground. once I was standing with him, I turned around so he could take off my bra. his hands, slowly went up my hips. to my waist. my back straightened up as I felt his fingers. up and up before taking his time unhooking my bra. he kissed my shoulder before looking at me through the mirror. “let’s get in the shower babygirl.” he said.

I sighed as I felt the warm water hit my skin, feeling relaxed already. chan turned me to face him and leaned down to kiss me. “I need you.” he said, lips never leaving mine. I putting my arms around his neck as he lifted me up and pressed me to the cold shower wall. shivers went down my back. “put me down you’re going to hurt yourself trying to hold me.” I said as I wrapped my thighs around his hips. “no, I want you to take my cock like this.” he said, taking hold of his cock and pushing inside me.

we both moan at the feeling. “I know you can take my cock like a big girl.” chan groaned out and he started thrusting his hips ups. “oh chris!” I moaned out. the sound of skin slapping together, slicened by the water. chan groaned in my ear, kissing my neck. I leaned my head back, loving the feeling of how his cock was hitting deep inside me.

“fuck, you’re so tight around me.” he said, moving my body up and down to meet his thrusts. I cried out as I felt my high approaching. “talk to me baby, how good am I making you feel?” he asked, bringing his head to mine. I opened my eyes, that I didn’t know were closed until I met his. “you’re making me feel s’good chris. I love how deep you are. god, I’m gonna cum!” I said, clawing it his back. he hissed the the feeling, bringing his hand down to my clit. “be a good girl for me a cum.” he said. I felt my orgasm rip my body, he held on to me tightly as my legs unraveled.

he thrusted a few more times, before taking me off him and placing my feet on the ground. with an arm around my waist, he jerked himself off. cumming over my stomach and thighs. “shit.” he moaned. I leaned up and kissed him again, wanting to feel his lips. i pulled away a little bit, lips hovering of his.

“does this mean I stay here? with you and the boys? because I wouldn’t mind helping seungmin, being his assistant.” I said, he laughed. “you’re stuck with us baby.” he said with a smirk, kissing my lips once more. “I’m already used to it.” I mumbled, racking my hands up his chest.

“okay let’s hurry and get cleaned up.” chan whispered, as he felt the water turning cold.

after the shower, we took our time getting dressed. chan threw on a shirt and some sweats. I slipped on a shirt of his and a [aor of leggings. “let’s head downstairs.” chan said, walking to the door. I followed him out the door and made our way downstairs. all the boys were sitting around, watching a disney movie with a few of them holding beers in their hands. “oh wow, manly men watching a very manly movie.” I said, sitting next to felix. “yes, moana is a very manly disney movie y/n.” jisung said, rolling his eyes as everyone laughed. “where’s minho?” chan asked, looking around the room. “he’s making dinner.” seungmin said, pointing to the kitchen. “alright.” chan said as he made his way to sit next to jeongin.

felix leaned close to me and in a hushed voice, “so how’d it go?” felix asked. “how did what go lix?” I asked. “did chan not tell you?” felix asked, looking at chan then back to me. I wanted to laugh, but kept it in. “tell me what?” I said, tilting my head at him. “guys shush, my favorite song is coming on!” hyunjin whined as the song started to play. I glanced at chan, who was already looking at me and smiled before looking at the tv. tamatoa was singing shiny. I leaned back and enjoyed the rest of the movie.

“dinner is ready.” minho called out from the kitchen as the movie was ending. the boys cheered as we all got up and headed towards to delicious smelling food. “I’m so hungry.” jeongin said. the boys agreeing and being loud. chan waited for them to walk past and waited for me to catch up. chan gave me a wink then continued to walk the kitchen with me by his side. half the boys already sat down and quickly making plates. felix glanced at us before looking back at the food. he paused and snapped his head back to us and smiled brightly. “chan got something to tell us!” felix said, basically jumping in his seat. I made my way to an open chair and sat down with blush on my cheeks. everyone’s heads turned towards chan as he just laughed and shook his head. chan sat down next to changbin across the table and a few seats down from where I was.

dinner was passing with ease. drinking, eating, laughing. chan and I shared several looks to each other. “something’s going on between y/n and chan.” jeongin said out of no where and everyone stop what they were doing and look at the both of us. “I knew something happened!” felix said, putting down his chopsticks. “and why do you say that jeongin?” chan asked, not lifting his head from his food but eyes staring at jeongin. “because I saw you two in the living room. I came down to grab a bottle of water and saw something…happening.” jeongin said with a big smirk. my and everyone’s jaws dropped, but felix who jumped up from his seat. “you finally said your feeling to her!” he said excitedly. “alright, yes I did. now hush.” chan said, leaning back in his seat. “wow, chan’s got a girl now, didn’t think he would get one first.” hyunjin said. “congrats old man.” seungmin said, making everyone laugh. “okay I’m done with dinner.” chan said with a big smile. chan got up and started walking away. he stopped at the door and turned back to everyone and locked eyes with me. “you coming sweetheart?” chan asked. “yeah I am.” I answered, standing up and meeting him at the door. chan leaned down and kissed my lips, making the boys go wild again as we walked away laughing.

yeah, I’m already used to it.

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