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myosotisa · 5 months

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Chasm - e.m.

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

‖ summary: You're a researcher working at one of the fault lines throughout Hawkins, studying the closed and dormant gates to an alternate dimension. While you're alone on site, one of the gates wakes up again.

‖ tags: horror. i cannot stress this enough. this is unsettling and creepy and angsty with slight sexual tension. in line with the content in the show. post season 4, canon compliant. emetophobia warning. dubcon kissing. forced consumption (writing it made me gag just warning you. but im also kind of a baby so). no y/n, she/her pronouns used. flayed!eddie infects you. open ended ending. also steve is there sometimes. there's a ton of background lore that is only vaguely explained lol

‖ word count: 8.3k ‖ read on AO3 ‖ the song ‖

None of the rifts have shown any activity in over a year. Months and months of dead readings and no signals. Just waiting.

So what's a girl supposed to do when your EMF meter spikes alone on site? Sit around and wait for a crew to suit up and march their way over to the fault you were at? No fucking way. No chance.

You report in about the sudden spike in gamma radiation and tell them you're going to find the source. The project lead tells you to stay put and wait for assistance, as expected.

Your radiation gear was already halfway on. Oops, sorry boss, didn't hear you.

Handheld voltage meter in one hand, audio recorder in the other, and a pocket full of glow sticks, you push out past the plastic tarps and into the humid night air of Indiana summer.

The readings bring you west, toward the condemned trailer park and the "start" of your fault line. You crack a glow stick and drop it every few feet, marking your path. When the reading jumps up, you make a '+' sign with two at the spot before continuing forward. It was hard to say without exact measurements, but it seemed to be increasing at equal intervals. Like frozen waves on the surface of water.

"I'm approaching the Forest Hills sign," you say into the receiver, your own voice the only sound in the night air. "Current readings are…" You bring the meter up, using the light hanging from your neck to read the display. "Approaching 70 mv/m of high frequency radiation, roughly 31016 Hz. The next… 'Layer', for lack of a better term, will most likely breach Safe EMF levels, not considering the potential protection of the suit."

Lowering the meter again when it gives a beep of warning, you tuck it under your arm and crack another glow stick, leaving a '+' at the boundary to the trailer park. "I'll probably need treatment when I get back to base – as long as I grab a reading from the source and get out quickly, there won't be lasting damage. You hear that, Dr. Pierce?" You say through an over-confident huff, readjusting your arms to keep moving forward. "I'm well aware of the risks and take responsibility for my own actions."

The park itself looks like a bad dream at night – trailers abandoned hastily with doors still hung open and belongings scattered along the ground. Between the sudden fault opening and the bureau rushing in, the existing residents had been given very little time and grace to move into temporary housing across town. And it looked every bit like an entire community of people had just up and disappeared.

The suit you were in didn’t exactly help coordination, so you moved slowly and carefully over and around discarded objects along the dirt. Clothing, kitchen utensils, a quilt, a stack of newspapers, a child's toy. All left untouched for over a year.

Clearing the corner of one of the empty trailers, you catch sight of something strange.

“The fault itself has looked normal up to this point, no activity. But I can see the source now. It’s… It appears to be glowing red, fading in and out in a constant cycle.” Approaching even slower than before, you watch intently as the glow grows and then retreats again. Like waves on the shore.

The meter gives another shrill alarm – making you jump nearly out of your skin as you swat at it with the recorder. “Jesus Christ!” It quiets with a sinking pitch in your hand.

Before checking the reading, you quickly make another ‘+’ with glow sticks, digging them into the dirt a bit in an attempt to keep them from moving. Still down on one knee, you bring the meter up to your flashlight again.

“The meter is now reading 110 mv/m, same frequency. I’m roughly… 12 feet out from the source now. There’s a, uh, humming sound. Not sure if the recording is picking it up. And feeling pressure on my eardrums,” you explain into the device, eyes locked on the glow ahead. “I’ll continue to approach – see if I can get a closer reading. If it jumps above 150, I’ll fall back.”

Pushing to your feet again with a huff, you readjust your full load and press forward slowly. The closer you get to the source, you can see that the fault rapidly grows in size. The space between the edges looks large enough to fit a car as it rounds out at the end – a red pond in the ground.

“I can see the source clearer now. The glow is coming from within – there’s a…" You take a few steps closer, squinting to get a better look. "It appears to be an opaque membrane covering the space between. The glow is coming from behind it. Still cycling at an even rate, no change.”

The meter in your hand gives its shrillest warning yet, scaring you badly enough that it goes flying out of your hand; it hits the ground and flips closer to the edge. “Shit, fuck!”

You shuffle forward and drop down onto your shaky knees, grabbing for the meter as it continues to let out that grating alarm into the night air. Smacking it once more, the sound cuts off abruptly, giving you a chance to breathe.

Bringing it up to your flashlight, your eyes go wide as you lift the recorder again with your other trembling hand. “I’m nearly at the edge now, only a foot or so away – EMF reading 187 mv/m. Rapid increase from the last point.”

Movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention, your head snapping toward it.

“There’s… What the fuck?" You pause, tempted to rub your eyes to make sure you're really seeing what you're seeing.

"There’s movement below the membrane. It… It’s just a shadow, I can’t tell what it is, but the movement is rapid and the… The humming is getting louder.” Your heart is pounding now, a cold sweat breaking out across your skin beneath the suit.

“Going to retreat back to base,” you say, mostly attempting to reassure yourself as you slowly back away from the edge. “Final reading was 189 mv/m at 31016 Hz.”

There’s a crackle of static right before a thumb presses the pause button roughly, silencing the recorder in the center of the table.

“Is that all?” General Richard Highland asks, sounding impatient as he leans back in his conference chair. “That doesn’t tell us anything about what happened to her.”

“No, sir, there’s more.” Private Steve Harrington insists, inclining his head toward the dirty recorder he had delivered. He’s standing by the edge of the table at attention, hands clasped in front of him. “The recording keeps going.”

Dr. Pierce leans forward from his seat, giving the General a stiff look as he presses the play button again.

There’s a few more moments of static before the woman’s voice fades back in, layered beneath the hum of attempted interference.

“I’m definitely gonna need that rad treatment, Dr. Pierce. My badge is that warning color, even beneath the suit,” she continues with a shaky laugh, the sound of plastic shuffling behind it. “Hopefully I don’t lose my hair or something, but that’s… What?”

The table of scientists and military personnel sits in tense silence as her voice cuts out again. Half of them are on the edge of their seats, the others showing off a measured calm or disinterest. The general looks particularly annoyed and impatient, while Dr. Pierce looks almost like he wants to throw up.

“There’s… Something’s happening – I don’t–”

An abrasive crackle echoes out into the room, loud enough to send nearly everyone into a wince, before the recording cuts back in with the sound of screaming.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING?! SHIT – I’ve gotta get–" A burst of interference sounds, followed by a metallic grating, like a ship groaning beneath the weight of the ocean.

Her panicked voice comes through, sounding further away than before. "FUCK! It – It’s got my ankle. Let go, you fucking piece of –! SHI–”

The recording cuts out to a buzzing hum.

No one moves for a few moments. Not until Private Harrington steps up to silence the recorder. “We found this recording, a lab issue EMF meter, and a broken flashlight at the edge of the fault." He explains, producing the other two items from the pack resting at his feet. "It was dormant when we got there – solid again.”

“So it just…” One of the other scientists starts, looking at Dr. Pierce uneasily.

“Dragged her through and went back to sleep.” Dr. Pierce confirms solemnly, his gaze locked on the dirty recorder.

“It’s never done this before?” A 2nd scientist, new to the project, asks. The others shake their heads. “So what do we do?”

All eyes turn to Dr. Pierce, who looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“We wait for it to wake up again.”

Wake up.

Come on, little lamb.

Wake up now.

Looks so peaceful.

But you’ve got to wake up.

…

WAKE UP.

There’s something wet on your face.

Feeling is slowly returning to your body, your eyes closed and too heavy to open. But there’s something dripping on your cheek – droplets running down toward your mouth. Sticking to your dry lips for a moment or two before falling off. You’re on the ground on your stomach, your cheek squished against something that feels like mud.

Your brain has yet to kick on fully as it tries to regain consciousness through a pounding ache, resonating with the throb of your left leg. It feels like you’re still wearing the rad suit, but the head piece is gone and it might be ripped in places – mud seeping in to touch your skin.

It’s almost like you’re sinking.

Eyelids fluttering open and you’re faced with a desaturated swamp. Like someone came through and sucked half the color out of it.

Lifting one arm is difficult, suctioned into the mud you’re laying in. Once you’ve freed it enough, you’re able to push off the sticky, wet sludge beneath you enough to roll over onto your back.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?”

You sit up with a start, your abdomen screaming in protest as your brain swims. Blinking through the blur in your eyes, you struggle to see anything at all in the dark – only momentarily granted sight by the flashes of red lightning overhead.

“Who’s there?” You call out into the dark, an attempt to sound brave, but your voice trembles as your eyes rapidly flit back and forth.

“Over here.”

The lightning flashes once more as you whip your head toward the voice – showing the silhouette of a man standing a few feet away. From what little you see, he’s tall and slender, head tilted to the side like he’s curious. There’s no chance you can see his face or anything else about him.

Until he’s in your face, crouched down right beside you – crossing the space and appearing in the span of a blink. It gives you a start, attempting to back up but getting caught up in the mud still suctioned to your lower half.

Your fear seems to bring a small smile to his face, plump lips tilting up at the corner. He looks so familiar… Long curly hair draped wetly over his shoulders, the sparse bangs across his forehead, and the soft turn of his nose. Curiosity gets the better of you as you lean in again slightly, squinting your eyes a bit more in the dark to see him better.

“I know you…” You insist softly, causing his eyebrows to raise slightly in surprise. “How do I know you?”

“No clue, because I’ve never met you in my life.” He replies, lips parting in a grin. “And I’m good with faces – ‘specially pretty ones.”

His response catches you off guard as your brain continues reeling and struggling to intake information, which is normally your forte. There’s a million questions on the tip of your tongue and you have no idea where to start.

“You’ll probably need to lose the suit if you want to get out of that shit,” he continues when you don’t respond, motioning to your stationary legs with a wave of his hand. And he’s probably right, with the way the mud beneath you is stuck tight to the shiny plastic. Your best hope is to try to use the suit as a stepping off point to get to stable ground.

“Where should I step once I pull out?” You ask, hoping he’ll understand your goal.

A blink and he’s gone again – another flash of red light placing his silhouette off to your left. “Think you can make it to here?” He responds, voice raised slightly and sounding like he’s teasing you or challenging you. It makes your competitive side flare up on instinct – a frustrated huff leaving your nose as you plan your escape.

Opening the front of the suit, you slip both arms out and let the upper half fall flat behind you. Pulling out both of your legs next, your butt sinks deeper into the ground, nearly sending you off balance as you quickly shift your weight forward onto your knees, using the suit as a stepping stone. It starts to sink, mud coming up over the edge and inching toward your knees, so you have to move fast.

Pushing to your feet makes it sink faster, wet sludge touching the side of your ankle just as you push off in a jump toward where the man was standing.

You land on the ankle that had been grasped by the tentacle, not realizing the throbbing meant it’d been twisted. It makes you cry out in pain and fall forward, directly into the man’s chest.

“Woah there!” He says in surprise, grasping onto your elbows to keep you sort of upright. Between the aching pain and the tears pressing at your eyes, you just barely manage to notice how cold and clammy he is – especially where his hands grip your bare biceps.

Rocketing back, you press your weight onto your good leg and put some distance between the two of you again, your dirty arms crossing over your tank top and smearing it with mud. “Sorry, my, uh, ankle…” You offer awkwardly, still not even sure who you’re talking to.

“Don’t worry about it, angel. You good?”

He actually sounds like he cares. Like he’s concerned for you. Who is he?

“I’ll be fine,” you insist stubbornly, swallowing down the lump of tears in your throat. Free from your precarious situation, at least partially, you struggle to figure out what to address first. “How are you doing that? Like… Teleporting? Or are you just moving really fast?”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “What–,” he disappears in a blink and then you feel a burst of air on the back of your neck, making your hair stand on end, “this?”

You lurch forward before turning around to level him a glare. “Yes, that – don’t do that.”

His hands tuck into the front pockets of the leather jacket he’s wearing as he shrugs, looking quite pleased with himself. “Sorry, angel, didn’t mean to spook you.”

Then silence falls, both of you eyeing each other – you suspiciously and him curiously. The extended pause makes you think you aren’t going to be told how anytime soon.

A breeze kicks up, rustling the branches of the trees in the surrounding swampland and sending a shiver down your spine. Suit lost, you’re down to a tank top, jeans, and a pair of no slip shoes (which were required for people working in the field for some reason). You were dressed for the humid interior of the field site tent in summer and it appears that you have landed yourself in a place where that is not enough.

Taking advantage of the silence, you try to remember everything you can about your studies into the ‘gates’ from when they were open. Very little was known beside second hand accounts and old data – some of which may not even be accurate anymore given the nature of the fault lines. If there was anywhere to start, it would be trying to find the gate you’d been dragged through.

With any luck, you could go right back to your dimension.

But that didn’t account for him. The pale, wet, unsettling-yet-somehow-charming guy that was still staring right at you.

“How long have you been here? Do you know?” You question cautiously, not wanting to upset him in any way.

“That depends, what year is it?”

Your heart drops into your stomach, completely at odds with the continued grin on his face. It looks almost manic now – like every time he sets you off balance brings him great joy. Deciding you’d actually rather not know how long he’s been in here, you move on.

“Have you been alone this whole time? Or are there other people here?”

His grin spreads, like he’s in on a joke you’re not aware of. “I haven’t been alone, no.”

This piques your curiosity again, adjusting your weight on your good leg. “Do you have a community here? How many of you are there?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” He suggests, taking a step or two away from you, his hands still tucked into his pockets.

The idea is tempting, if only to learn more about what is going on here, but there’s something nagging at the back of your mind. Something you should be remembering. Something you’re missing. Plus, for all you know, this man does not have your best interests at heart.

“I should probably try to find the gate that brought me here,” you say, slightly regretfully. “See if I can cross back over.”

“Oh, right,” he responds, tapping his forehead with his palm like it should’ve been obvious. “Yeah, I can show you the way.”

This surprises you again, slight concern causing you to stand up straighter. “You can?”

“Sure thing, the closest one isn’t far,” he motions behind him with a tilt of his chin, taking another step back. “Come on.”

So you follow the strange man into the dark, limping after him on your twisted ankle. The mud starts to dry on your skin, hair, and clothing – crusting over and hardening in places. You pick at pieces as you walk, letting the chunks and flakes fall to the ground behind you. From what little you can see, there are vines everywhere along the ground, weaving between tree trunks and layering over each other in place. The man seems to step over them – and you can’t tell if it’s on purpose or a coincidence – but you make a habit of not touching the vines just in case.

It’s unsettlingly quiet here. Every once in a while you’ll hear what sounds like an animal – a howl, a chittering, the thump of feet on the earth. But they are few and far between, leaving mostly just the rush of wind through the trees and a sort of muffled silence, pressure on your ears.

Your paranoia kicks up as the quiet continues, suspiciously eyeing the back of your escort as he leads you forward. For all you knew, he wasn’t leading you anywhere near the gate. You have no reason to trust him beyond the fact that he helped you get out of the sludge you woke up in. He was in this dimension after all, clearly familiar with it. That had to be a red flag if anything, given what little you actually knew about it.

So much was classified beyond your reach – the bureau was very specific with what you were allowed to read and know and what you weren’t. Given the dormant nature of the fault lines, it hadn’t been necessary for you to learn too much about the dimension on the other side. Most of what you studied and knew was about the gates themselves.

Even with the bureau being as paranoid and obsessive as it was – a lowly field researcher getting dragged to the other side and needing to survive hadn’t seemed to be on their radar.

The pessimistic part of you not-so-helpfully supplies that was probably just because they weren't very interested in your survival at all. They’d probably prefer it if you died here. If anything, your exposure to the other side made you more of a liability.

Maybe one they could experiment on, if you got lucky and survived.

This train of thinking isn’t helping anything. You could worry about what your life would become if you made it out.

Walking up to the lifeless and solid gate turns that into a very tentative if.

“Looks like the door’s shut tight,” Eddie offers vaguely, rocking back and forth on his heels as you circle the hole in the ground, like seeing a new angle will change something about it.

The opening looks largely the same as the other side, in the center of the abandoned trailer park with the forest surrounding. Your arms are covered in goosebumps as the breeze hits harder in the open field, no longer buffered by trees on all sides. On the bright side, it is slightly better lit here and you can see your companion a bit clearer now.

“Do you know how these things work? Like how and why it opens and shuts?” You ask desperately, looking at him from the other side of the crevice.

The corner of his mouth tilts up minutely, his shoulders shrugging. “Yes and no.”

The scowl returns to your face, frustration mounting as another shiver of cold racks your body. “Are you intentionally being unhelpful? Or are you just an idiot?”

His lips part in a surprised ‘o’, his eyebrows raising like he’s impressed. “That hurts, angel. I’m no idiot, and I think I’ve been plenty helpful. After all… I could’ve just left you to drown out there. Or maybe led you into a trap. Or left you for the dogs.” He taunts, returning to a toothy grin. The question of if he has your well being in mind gets more and more clear with a resounding no.

A fearful jolt runs down your spine as you stare him down, trying not to let your fear show. Grappling tightly to your anger, you taunt back, “Oh yeah? Then why didn’t you?”

A blink and he’s gone.

Your entire body goes on alert, tensing for attack as your heart starts to pound against your ribs. Eyes searching the immediate area in front of you come up empty. He’s either behind you or far enough you can’t see him in the low light. You never got an answer as to whether he’s moving quickly or teleporting or exactly how far he can get in the time you blinked.

He’s either long gone or… Trying to surprise you.

As soon as you have the thought, the hair on the back of your neck stands up – like some kind of unconscious sense of danger.

You turn in a quick 180 and he’s right there. Only a foot away from you with a sadistic sort of smile on his face. Your breath catches in your chest as it feels like a fist grabs tightly to your heart, suddenly much more terrified of the man in front of you.

That appears to be the way he prefers it.

“I think we can help each other.”

You blink at him, muscles pulled taut and ready to bolt as you try to figure out what the fuck he’s doing and what the fuck he wants. “What?” You question, your voice coming out a bit breathy and scared.

“I said, I think we can help each other,” he repeats calmly. “You help me, and I can help you get back home.”

“Why– What– H–how could I possibly help you?” You sputter, trying not to sound as terrified and confused as you feel.

His grin turns cheeky again, slightly less unsettling than it was a moment ago. “It won’t take much, angel, scout’s honor.” He says as he lays a hand over his chest. “You help me, then you’re free to crawl right back over to the other side and continue your life.”

Disbelief and uncertainty nags at you as you fidget in your spot, wanting desperately to put some more distance between the two of you but nervous to offend him. “So you can open the gate? You just want something in return?”

He shakes his head emphatically, appearing to be genuine in his denial. “I can’t but I know who can. They opened it before you were brought over.”

“And they would open it again? Just because you asked?” You question suspiciously, studying his facial expression for a sign that he’s pulling your leg again.

“Let’s just say that me and them have similar goals and leave it at that.”

There are 100 more questions on the tip of your tongue, but with the potential of getting back to your own dimension on the table, you’re reluctant to press too hard. He seems to recognize the battle you’re fighting with yourself as he laughs to himself. “You know what they say about curiosity, angel.”

An annoyed exhale punches out of your nose. “And I assume in this case that I’m the cat.”

“Bingo!” He says happily, tapping the end of his nose with his index finger. “So what do you say?”

There is so much you want to say. So many questions you want to ask. So much more info you need. But beggars can’t be choosers, you suppose.

“What would I need to do?”

His smile goes sharp again. “So glad you asked. I’d just need a kiss.”

A beat of silence. Then your expression drops in disbelief and disappointment. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Dead serious,” he insists, laying his hand on his chest again as he regards you intently. “And it’s gotta be real – gotta kiss me like you mean it. None of those little pecks you give on the cheek.”

A strange swirl of intrigue and revulsion mixes together in your gut as you continue waiting for the punchline. The ‘just kidding, your face was priceless’. But it doesn’t come.

“Is this some kind of sick joke? Been so lonely out here that you have to twist the arm of a desperate girl just to get some–”

“Hey.” He interrupts, his tone intense and cold. It shuts you up immediately, though you can’t say why. “Don’t be mean, angel. This isn’t just me trying to take advantage of you. It has a real purpose.”

The dubious look you give him makes him crack another small smile. “Cross my heart and hope to die, I’m telling you the truth.”

“And am I allowed to know what this purpose is?”

He shakes his head again, displacing the curls draped over his shoulders that still appear to have not dried at all. “I’ll tell you when it’s done, how about that?” He offers, using your curiosity against you to try to sweeten the deal.

Really, it’s a no brainer. Sure, he’s a strange person that lives in an alternate dimension that has some strange abilities. Sure, you know next to nothing about him despite that itch in the back of your head telling you that you know him somehow. And sure, this could be a huge mistake. But having to kiss this admittedly-attractive dude just to get out of this nightmare dimension and get back home? The choice is simple.

Which only makes you more certain there’s a catch you aren’t seeing.

“Fine. If you swear I’ll be able to go home, then I’ll do it.”

His expression brightens excitedly, a sort of childlike joy appearing on his face. It’s different from any of the expressions you’ve seen on him so far – like genuine surprise. “You will?”

“Yeah, sure.” You reply, trying to brush it off as nothing. “Not like I have a lot of other options here.”

His excitement fades slightly, though he still looks pleased with the outcome. “Glad you made the right decision.”

An unsettling silence falls as the two of you study each other once more, now much closer than the last time. Fear and anticipation builds steadily as you find yourself glancing down at his lips – realizing you’re about to know what they feel like on your own.

“Do we, uh,” you pause to clear your throat as you awkwardly break the silence. “Do we do it now? Or… What?”

He takes a step closer, entering your personal space. His voice is lower, stickier, and richer when he responds. “Do you wanna do it now, angel?”

You suddenly feel like a fly stuck in a honey trap – eyes widening as you struggle between wanting to further close the distance and to run away from him. “Now’s as good a time as any, I suppose?” Though you meant it to be nonchalant, it comes out as a nervous question.

The uncertainty in your voice only seems to make the man crack another amused smile. “I suppose so,” he replies softly, gently teasing you as he gets even just a little bit closer. You can feel your heart pounding in your neck, constantly flipping back and forth between fear, interest, nerves, and embarrassment. Looking at you through slightly lowered eyelids, he leans in toward you. Close enough you can feel the exhale of his breath on your face.

“Kiss me like you mean it, angel.” He reminds you quietly, the tip of his nose nudging against yours as your eyelids flutter closed instinctively. “Don’t forget.”

Then his lips are pressing to yours. You make a small noise of surprise, both in that you weren’t sure if he was actually going to do it and because he’s so cold. But his lips are plush and soft as he places your lower lip between his own. As promised, you kiss him back, trying not to think about how strange it feels that he’s cold and the situation you’re in – focusing on the gentle pressure of him as he steps even closer and brings his hand up to cradle your jaw.

It’s gentle and sweet as you find yourself starting to forget the reality of it all. Your hands find the edges of his leather jacket, tugging him closer as he hums happily. His other hand finds your waist – cold through the thin fabric of your tank top.

Teeth nip lightly at your lower lip and you make another small noise of surprise, a flash of heat through your chest at the pleasant feeling. It distracts you further – not even questioning the adventurous flick of his tongue against your mouth. You part your lips on instinct; his hand flexing happily against your jaw as he tests the waters to run his tongue along yours.

You return the gesture, encouraging the touch as you breathe heavily through your nose. You’re running low on air and will need to part to breathe soon. You’re surprised to find that you aren’t really sure that you want to stop to do so.

He seems to recognize the impending need too; his lips pressing against yours more insistently, like he’s getting what he can before it ends. His tongue ventures past your lips one more time, pressing further than he had before. Is… Is his tongue longer than normal?

In the same moment that he pulls away from you, the hand on your jaw claps over your mouth to keep it shut. And there’s something in your mouth.

There’s something moving in your mouth.

You make a high pitched noise of panic as your eyes double in size, looking at him in terror while he holds you tightly to his front and keeps his hand firmly over your mouth. “Ah, ah, angel. You gotta swallow it.” He coos, his palm clammy and cold against your slick lips.

You shake your head as well as you can with his grip, making noises of protest as you struggle to keep the smooth, wiggling object from sliding down your throat. Your hands grab at his wrist and forearm, trying to pull him off, but his grip is too strong. Begging him with your eyes, sharp and stuttered breaths coming out of your nose as you hyperventilate, he just gives you a sad smile. “It’s not that bad, I promise. Just gotta swallow and it’ll be over – don’t make me plug your nose.”

Painful tears poke out of your eyes and start to descend down your cheeks, nails digging into his skin to try and get him off. It seems not to affect him at all, his other hand giving your waist a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, baby. It’s gonna be okay. This is it – you won’t have to do anything else. Come on, angel. You can do it. Just swallow for me.”

His words of encouragement make your head spin in confusion, panic mounting as the outcome seems inevitable. More tears pour down your cheeks as you choke on a sob, inadvertently allowing the object to slide down your throat.

“There we go,” he sighs in relief, grip on your face loosening, “Good girl.”

Somehow he knew that you’d swallowed it because he releases you right as you start to cough roughly, stumbling away from him and bending forward. You can still feel the strange coating from the creature on your tongue and down your esophagus – thick and wrong as you cough and gag.

Get it out, get it out, get it out, GET IT OUT, GET IT OUT!!

“What was– How do I– I’ve gotta–” You stammer, stumbling over your words as you tremble wildly and gag, your body responding to your panic by wanting to reject the new contents of your stomach.

He appears right beside you again, gripping both of your wrists with his hands as he forces you upright. “Don’t throw it up.” His voice is a command, his expression intense. “If you throw it up, I’ll have to force feed you another one. And trust me, it’s way less fun the 2nd time.”

Tears continue to pour from your eyes as you rapidly shake your head. “What was– What is– Why are you doing this? What was that thing?”

“Calm down, angel, please calm down,” he begs, starting to look distressed himself. “It’s gonna be okay, I swear, it’s gonna be fine. You’re a part of something bigger now. It’s all going to be okay.”

You try to pull out of his grip on your wrists, alternating between yanking back and rushing forward to push him away. “What the fuck does that mean?! What have you done to me?!” You shout through your tears, white hot panic spreading through your body. “It’s not too late – I can still, I can still throw it up, I can…”

He drags you in, wrapping you up in a tight bear hug with your arms trapped between the two of you. He shushes you, standing steady against your weakening struggling against him. “Shhh, shh, it’s alright, angel. It’s okay. You’re gonna get to go home, okay? We’re gonna get to go home.”

“Sir, we’ve got activity.”

Dr. Pierce pushes out of his desk chair fast enough to make his head spin – lack of sleep and too much coffee weakening him beyond measure. He’s barely left the main building since you went missing.

Since you were dragged through.

There have been constant patrols of the fault line you disappeared into, hoping for any sign of it waking up again. It was on his order and against the wishes of General Highland. She’s a level 1 researcher. She knew the risks. It’s not worth the cost.

But you didn’t know the risks, not really. Pierce knows he didn’t do enough to prepare you, to warn you. He didn’t do enough to protect you.

This is his fault.

He’s not the only one buzzing with anticipation as he exits his darkened office; several other scientists and field agents are reacting to the news of activity with a rush. Not everyone will be allowed to go to the site, as it would be a madhouse, but several live cameras and other surveillance equipment have been set up in the area. At least a quarter of the bureau across the country will be intently watching whatever happens next.

Pierce says nothing as he makes his way for the garage and the people he passes know better than to approach him now. He can still feel their eyes – judgemental, curious, concerned. He’s felt their eyes for days.

There are several SUVs already prepared by the time he arrives, most already full of people who were approved to be on site in the case of reactivation. He recognizes the soldier standing by waiting for him as Private Steve Harrington, the same man who brought in the recorder originally. He’s one of the few people at the bureau with prior knowledge of the other dimension despite his low rank.

“Sir,” he greets with a respectful head dip, opening the backdoor of the SUV for Pierce as he approaches. Pierce returns the gesture before climbing into the backseat, sliding across the bench to the opposite side. Steve gets in after him, his bulky gear forcing him to sit far forward on the bucket seat as he slams the door closed behind him.

It only takes another minute or so before the caravan lurches and begins to move, following after the identical black SUV in front of it.

The walkie-talkie on Steve’s shoulder kicks to life quietly, a short and concise signal coming through that Pierce doesn’t understand. The exhausted scientist looks over curiously as Steve murmurs an, “Affirmative,” into the device before clicking it off.

“Any news from the fault?”

Steve glances over, surprised to be addressed, before he turns back to look out the front windshield. “Nothing yet, sir.”

Pierce keeps an eye on the soldier as they travel – watching with intrigue as the man continuously searches the vehicle’s surroundings, like he’s expecting an attack.

“You seem on edge, Steve.” He straightens in response, looking even more uncomfortable at being referred to by his first name. “Is it because the gate is active?”

A muscle in his jaw rolling with tension, Steve keeps his gaze firmly forward as he responds. “It doesn’t supply a good feeling, that’s for sure.”

“And yet you still volunteered for the theoretical strike team to go through?” Pierce wonders aloud, phrasing it like a question.

There’s a tense moment of silence before the private answers. “At least I already know what to expect on the other side.”

The two don’t interact again for the reminder of the drive.

The SUVs all pull into the vacant field beside the field tent in a line, the leader of the patrol team coming out to meet the first vehicle. Pierce watches General Highland step out of it and start to converse with the uniformed woman. By the time he makes it way over, he seems to be catching the tail end of the conversation.

“We have each unit spread out in even intervals along the fault; so far there has been no change since it first activated.”

“And they all have their protective equipment on, I presume?” Dr. Pierce cuts in, surprising the patrol leader and earning an annoyed look from General Highland.

“Yes sir,” she responds with a head nod. “I was just telling the general that they’re all outfitted with gear to protect them from the worst of the radiation, but it would still do good to regularly swap out the unit in the center, where the worst of it is.”

Pierce agrees with a stiff nod, not waiting to hear the general disagree before he turns to look back. As he expected, Private Harrington trailed him over, waiting a respectful distance away as to not eavesdrop. “Harrington.”

Steve turns at the call, jogging over to Pierce. “Sir.”

“Suit up. You’re coming with me to the source.”

“Yes sir.”

The pair of them push into the field tent, currently staffed with 15 more people than usual. There are researchers and scientists bent over displays and documenting readings, soldiers standing by with weapons, field agents watching over the researchers shoulders. Pierce walks past all of them, parting the way as he does, and starts to strip off his lab coat while pulling a radiation suit off the rack. Steve follows suit, removing a majority of his gear to reequip on top of the plastic suit.

The buzz of excited chatter is nearly grating on Pierce’s ears as he goes through the annoying process of putting on the PPE. But he misses it when it suddenly cuts off, directly after one of the researchers announces, “We’ve got a spike in activity!”

Pierce looks over at Steve, who is still clipping things to his belt again. “We’ve gotta move.”

“Yes sir,” Steve repeats once more, gathering the bare necessities in his arms to try to equip as they move. The pair of them push out the other side of the tent and set into a jog towards what used to be Forest Hills Trailer Park.

They pass a few pairs of outfitted people as they move – soldiers patrolling and scientists maintaining the monitoring equipment placed along the fault. None of them interact as the pair jogs past, heading for the end of the fault line. They can see a small group ahead – presumably gathered closer to where the spike in activity happened.

“Make some room!” Steve barks out as they approach, the gathered group moving further away from the fault line in response. Some look back to see who is coming while others keep their eyes locked on the glowing source beyond.

“Keep at least 10 feet back from the fault at all times,” Pierce orders the group as they pass. “Stay in pairs, don’t go off on your own. We have very little idea what we’re dealing with here, but we have reason to believe there are things that will try to drag you through the gate. If something comes out, fall back and call out. Don’t let your partner get grabbed.”

There is some murmuring in response, but no one openly disregards the order, starting to pair off as a few people move further back along the fault line. Pierce approaches a pair hunched over a meter near the source, keeping his eyes on the glowing red below. “What are we looking at?”

“It’s fluctuating slightly; was 116 mv/m at 31016 Hz at peak.” The researcher responds, keeping a close eye on the EMF before them. “Nothing close to the reported 189 mv/m. We might not be looking at full activation. Or maybe it’s building up, it’s hard to say.”

“Wait,” Steve cuts in, holding a hand out for the researcher to pause. “Do you hear that?”

They all fall silent, listening closely.

Then Pierce hears it – the hum from the recording. The one you were talking about hearing.

The scientist gives him a nod of agreement before looking back to the researcher. “Any sign of movement from the other side?”

“Not that we can tell from here,” the field agent answers for them. “We’ve been following the guidelines to stay back so it’s hard to catch anything from here.”

“Radio? Portable EMF?” Dr. Pierce asks, and the field agent presents both. He takes them and then looks back at Steve. “We’re moving up.”

Even behind the protection of the face shield, Pierce can see the tension in his expression. Regardless, the private still answers with a confident, “Yes sir.”

Keeping the meter within eyesight, the two push ahead, closer to the large opening at the source. Pierce watches it tick up with each step closer, crossing the 150 mark as they get within 5 feet of the edge. Looking out across the opening, the glowing membrane pulses and hums with energy, louder and louder as they approach.

There’s very little movement on the other side, but every once in a while Pierce catches a glimpse of a dark shadow moving beyond.

“Never gets any less unsettling to look at,” Steve murmurs beside him, shifting his weight between his feet as he keeps his eyes locked on the unbroken membrane.

“Dr. Pierce, we’ve got another spike!” The researcher calls from behind, voice sounding a bit concerned. “We’re edging 170 now.”

The humming increases steadily along with a slight vibration in the ground beneath their feet. Steve steps up beside Pierce, a hand out like he’s ready to drag him back from the edge, as Pierce stares into the membrane intensely.

Come on. Come on. Come back through. Just be alive. Come on. Please be alive.

A more defined shadow moves along the edge closest to the trailer and doesn’t pull back. “We’ve got movement!” Steve calls back, alerting the nearby units as Pierce’s hand flies out to hush him. They both watch with a certain level of horrified fascination as the shadow grows defined enough to make that section of the membrane appear black before it begins to tear.

A bare hand extends out of the membrane, blindly grasping for the nearby edge. Steve twitches forward, like he wants to go and help them, but Pierce holds him back wordlessly, leaving them both standing perfectly still as another hand appears and grabs onto the edge.

The person uses the grip on the edge to pull themselves through – a woman in a filthy tank top and jeans struggling to pull herself onto the flat ground. As soon as she is through, she quickly turns around on her knees and reaches back through the membrane.

You’re… You’re actually alive.

Several soldiers approach slowly with their rifles out, aiming at you as you take hold of someone else’s hand and start to pull them through. A pale man with long, messy hair appears from the other side, holding on tightly to you as you help him reorient to the change in perspective. “No way…” Steve whispers, standing frozen as he watches them start to sit up and look around.

“Dr. Pierce!” You call happily once you spot him, waving at him like you’re excited to see him. There’s a huge smile on your face, a stark contrast to your utterly disheveled appearance. “I made it! I’m back!”

The soldiers continue to keep their weapons trained on the newcomers, watching for some sign of aggression. You slowly get to your feet, offering your hand to your companion and helping him up too. Steve takes a few mindless steps towards them, Dr. Pierce no longer stopping him. “Eddie?” He calls uncertainly, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “Eddie, is that you?”

The man’s head perks up, looking in Steve’s direction. “Harrington?” He replies, sounding just as uncertain and confused. “Is that you in there?”

“Eddie, as in Eddie Munson?” Dr. Pierce asks Steve, still unmoving as he stares at you, seemingly unharmed.

“Yeah…” Steve breathes out, still looking stunned. “And he doesn’t look like he’s aged a day.”

You and Eddie start to walk over when a soldier barks at you to stay back, both of you nervously putting your hands up as you look between the armed soldiers, Steve, and Pierce.

“It’s me, Dr. Pierce. It’s really me.” You insist, looking at him pleadingly. “And this is Eddie, he helped me find my way back. He saved me.” You add, motioning to the man beside you. The two of you are close together; you stand slightly in front of Eddie, like you’re protecting him. Eddie just offers a sheepish smile and a shrug, like it was no big deal.

“Sir? What do we do?” One of the soldiers asks, glancing in Dr. Pierce’s direction.

The two of you look exhausted, dirty, hungry, but… Harmless. No worse for wear despite the time spent on the other side.

“Bring them in.” Pierce orders. “No excessive force. They’ve been through a lot.”

The soldiers nod, lowering their weapons and urging you both to come forward. You look particularly relieved, while Eddie appears mostly unphased by all of it.

“Thank god, I need a shower so badly.” You announce with a happy laugh, walking toward them as you shake your head and make a disgusted face. “No one smell me, I’m begging you.”

If anyone finds your behavior unsettling or strange, they don’t say so. Everyone mostly looks relieved it didn’t turn into some kind of fight. While there is something off about how you’re acting, Dr. Pierce can’t find it in himself to feel anything besides relief at your return.

Steve stands motionless and tense as Eddie approaches, looking every bit like he’s seen a ghost. There is no excitement, no relief, no… Trust. Like this is all a bad dream and he just wants to wake up.

Just before you and Eddie pass the two of them, you flash another excited smile. “And not a moment too soon – I’m so thirsty.” You look over at Eddie, who nods in agreement, before you continue walking toward the field tent in the distance, flanked on either side by armed soldiers.

Eddie stops by Steve, giving him a tilted smile. “Hey Harrington, didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same to you,” Steve replies, his tone apprehensive and flat. If Eddie catches on, he doesn’t show it, just continuing to show that same smile – like he knows something you don’t.

“What can I say?” He offers with a shrug and a wink before he continues to trail after you and toward the growing crowd beyond. “It’s good to be back.”

thanks for reading, please let me know if you liked it!!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson oneshot #flayed!eddie munson #kas!eddie #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #posting a oneshot that barely explains an entire fic universe you've never told anyone about :)#myos ideas #myo4munson

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cieloclercs · 8 months

Text

what would you say (if i told you i love you)? — charles leclerc

PART: 5/? (read part 4 here)

summary. in which childhood best friends blur the lines between what they’ve always known, and something more

pairing. charles leclerc x artsy!reader

warnings. it’s GROVELLING time !! sad charles, sad reader, swearing, everyone still kind of hates charles (as they should) angst but not quite as angsty as the last part

face claim. tara michelle

author’s note. i hope this is enough suffering for you guys 😭 i’m weak tho so there’s a tinyyy bit of progress at the end 👀 i feel like this one’s a bit messy so i’m sorry about that?? it’s also kind of just setting up the next part but oh well 😭 anyways, LAST PART COMING UP NEXT ☹️ i’m gonna miss this series :’(

NOW PLAYING | Singapore 2023 post-FP1 interview: Charles Leclerc

COMMENTS 32k

username i’m still charles’ number 1 hater rn but he looked so sad at the end… ☹️

username girl no we need to be strong! don’t fall for the sad puppy dog eyes (i know he’s cute but srsly don’t) 🫠

username you’re right, you’re right 😔 haters until the end 🫡

username sir don’t try and blame your shitty mistakes on y/n 😭😭

username HE LOOKS SO SAD I CANT 🥲

username i really hope y/n sees this and realises he’s actually sorry

username no way that’s too easy. charles needs to apologise properly !!

username oh my GOD the way he started smiling when he said y/n is his ‘lucky charm’ AND THEN THE WAY IT DROPPED WHEN HE REMEMBERED THEY’RE NOT FRIENDS ANYMORE IM GONNA SCREAM 😭😭😭💔💔💔

username charles do you see what you’re doing to us charlesy/n stans?? PLEASE JUST TELL HER HOW YOU FEEL FFS 😫

username i swear if these two don’t pull their heads out of their asses soon I WILL COMMIT MURDER

username so real bestie 😔

username it’s such an invasion of privacy to ask about this though 😭

username fr the press don’t know when to keep out of it 😒

username i think he knows he’s in love with her now, he’s just not sure how to fix things ☹️

username i’m scared this feels like right person wrong time you know? 😃

username don’t say that 🫣 i’m just praying y/n forgives him. as soon as he apologises properly ofc, can’t make it too easy for him mwahahah

username i want to keep hating him but i’ve never seen him look that sad 🥲

username CHARLES YOU DONT GET TO ACT LIKE THE VICTIM WHEN YOU’RE THE ONE THAT’S CAUSED THIS

username so true. he needs to stop feeling sorry for himself and apologise 🙄

liked by yourfriend and 47,837 others

yourusername always on my mind ☁️💫

view all comments…

username SHE’S BACK IN MONACO GUYS EVERYBODY STAY CALM

username MOTHER HAS RETURNED !!!

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username charles podium as well 😩😩

username it’s like he knew she was watching 🥹

username i hate how quickly everyone’s switching up on the charles situation just because of that interview but at the same time i can’t deal with my parents fighting anymore i need them to make up 😫

leclerc_pascale Bienvenue à la maison, ma fille ❤️ / welcome home, my girl

yourusername 🥰

arthur_leclerc YOU’RE BACK

yourusername did you forget? i literally saw you twenty minutes ago 😭

username the caption 🤔

username we can all agree she’s talking about charles, right?

yourfriend ma femme 🤩 / my wife

yourusername mon amour 😘

username she is everything.

username forget her art SHE IS THE ART RIGHT THERE

charles_leclerc belle / beautiful

username EXCUSE ME??

username SIR WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE PHAHAHA

username charles get tf out of here 😭

username i love how y/n’s just straight up ignoring him 😭

username CHARLES IS HERE GUYS HOW ARE WE FEELING

username i’m so conflicted rn

username like i want them to make up but at the same time he needs to SUFFER like he made y/n suffer

username fr, make him squirm a little 😌

username idk guys, if charles leclerc commented ‘belle’ on MY instagram, i’d be on my knees in an instant 🫣

username girl please 😭

username charles babe please go away you’re ruining the vibes x

username i swear to god if he’s here just to fuck with y/n’s head again i’ll fucking kill him

username he wouldn’t do that

username @charles_leclerc if you want to win her back this is NOT the way to do it

arthur_leclerc @charles_leclerc what did i tell you? 👀

username HAHAHA ARTHUR STOP

joris_trouche @charles_leclerc you should listen to our advice mate 😃

yourfriend @arthur_leclerc @joris_trouche shut up both of you 😒

joris_trouche yes ma’am 🫡

username they’re all ganging up on him 😭

liked by formula1updates and 9,736 others

f1gossip Charles Leclerc and Y/N Y/L/N spotted at the same night club in Monaco 👀

view all comments…

username OH MY GOD IS IT HAPPENING??

username there’s no way this is coincidence charles is boutta beg for forgiveness i’m calling it

username y/n’s actually smiling tho 😭 charles please don’t ruin it x

username we need y/f/n to scare him off before he can ruin her night 🤞

username AHAHAHA YES

username what i’d give to be in that club rn 😔

username fr y/n better be roasting him 😭

➜ part 6

taglist: @cxcewg @incoherenciass @formula1mount @allywthsr @meabhcavanagh @driveswiftly13 @zzblooda @gaslysainz @be-your-coffee-pot @siovhanroy

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serverusslaype · 6 months

Text

Special

just a random short angsty, sort of fluffy one-shot, Severus Snape x professor!reader

i just wrote this right now because im in an angsty sort of mood, and i wanted to post something. i miss you guys, and i am now currently writing part 14 to shameless!! woo!! that break did my brain well. i feel refreshed hehe. <3 thank you for giving me some tips on how to get rid of that godforsaken writer's block, good lord. i hated it. but i'm free now, until next time ;)

this is a drabble/one-shot so it's sort of vague-ish, so yeah, if there's any mistakes or anything i'm sorry. ;(

(i also didn't put the taglist since it isn't part of the shameless fic! just in case you wondered!)

warnings: mentions of cheating

"If it makes you stop crying," Snape began hesitantly as he stared at your tear-stained face, frowning with a scrunched nose of what seemed like disgust. "We can go back to my office, and I'll make you some tea." He said, shoulders rising and falling slowly as he sighed. Watching you be so sad and cry wasn't something Snape was fond of, and it was effecting him - more than he wanted to admit. He just hoped you'd accept his request of making you some tea, then perhaps he could figure out what was making you so upset, and punish the culprits. Snape had always had a little soft-spot for you ever since you'd joined Hogwarts as a professor a year or so ago. Usually he didn't feel such a way towards younger, new professors, however, your kind and sweet aura had him unexpectedly mesmerised the moment you'd introduced yourself to him. The Potions Master wasn't exactly sure why he felt this way towards you so soon, but he knew it couldn't be good - the last time he felt something like this was back when he was a child.

You looked up, still sobbing quietly, managing to slip a confused frown upon your face. "Tea?" You repeated quietly with a sniffle, pausing for a moment to ponder on Snape's offer. "...Tea would be nice."

You hadn't expected to bump into your usually gloomy, rude colleague whilst having what you thought was going to be a private breakdown after learning that your partner had cheated on you with your best friend. Almost two years down the drain, just like that. Snape had accidentally walked in on you hunched over your desk, crying hopelessly. He was about to walk away when you'd heard a deep sigh, startling you. And here you were. Being offered tea by him.

"Let's go then." Snape said with a flat tone, looking away from your sad eyes, unable to withstand the pain that was gathering in his chest.

You were at least two or three cups of tea down when you'd finally explained everything to Snape. From the start of your relationship to the unexpected demise. It dug up old, painful memories, and you were crying again.

"What's wrong with me?" You sobbed, taking another sip of the tea that Snape had made you; hot tears soaking your cheeks and dripping into the cup. Another deep, frustrated sigh slipped from Snape again as he watched you from his desk with a sad frown upon his pale features. "I don't get it," you sniffled, gripping the handle of the tea cup with white knuckles, "did I do something wrong?"

No, you couldn't do anything wrong, Snape wanted to say. He wanted to tell you how wrong you were, and how perfectly good you truly were. But he knew you wouldn't listen, and so he kept quiet, only muttering in disagreement.

"I doubt that, Y/N." Snape mumbled, though you didn't give him much time to say anything else before you stumbled into a self-deprecating rant.

"Maybe I wasn't worth it, I mean, it's not like I'm anything... special," you laughed dryly, avoiding Snape's cold eyes, "maybe I'm just the girl that everyone dates before they find their true love. I'm the girl that they use to find the one, I don't have any good qualities, I'm a pushover, and-"

Snape inhaled sharply, "Stop it, Y/N!" He bellowed, slamming a hand down on the desk that the two of you were sat at. Instantly, you went silent, your mouth hanging open in shock as your heartbeat suddenly sped into an incredibly fast pace. You glanced up at Snape with wet and wide eyes, startled by his unusual outburst.

"Severus-"

"No, Y/N," he held up a hand, silencing you, "you're wrong about yourself. You are special." Snape sighed, moving his hand to massage his temples. You couldn't believe what was coming out of this man's mouth. "You're more than enough. Your ex was clearly a fool to do such a thing to you. In fact, I can't fathom why they would choose your friend over you." Snape said with a stern tone, clearly distressed. Your mouth still hung open as you stared at him, flabbergasted. "You're kind, sweet, considerate, and your heart is twice the size than it should be."

"I..." You uttered quietly, staring at Snape, evidently speechless. He shut his eyes momentarily, suddenly realising what he'd just said. Yet another deep sigh slipped from his heaving chest, rendering you silent.

"You..." Snape stumbled, avoiding your eyes. There was no way he could look at you right now. He'd just opened the floodgates on what he truly thought of you. He probably looks like a right blithering idiot.

The room went quiet, and the two of you sat there in what felt like a somewhat-comfortable silence, taking the moment to acknowledge what had just happened.

You stared at the man opposite you, a sudden and unusual warmth blooming in your chest. For the first time since you'd met him, you took the opportunity to truly look at him. Snape's black eyes glittered in the low, soft amber light from his candles as he reluctantly glanced up at you, pressing his lips into an awkward thin and flat line. His shoulders rose a tad, tensing as he inhaled, and he shifted his gaze to the desk again. Clearly, he was unsure on how to navigate this current moment.

A tiny smile picked at the corners of your lips as you looked at him. "Thank you." You whispered, glancing down at his splayed out hands. Taking a chance, you reached out your own hand and placed it atop of one of his, feeling it flinch. Snape's eyes darted up to yours, and he returned your smile, though it seemed a little awkward.

Snape didn't say anything to you, he only nodded gently before pulling his hand back to himself after a few long moments, clearing his throat.

"Well, since you've stopped crying," he began, sitting up straight in his chair, "we can assume I've done a good job." A little chuckle escaped you, and it caused a loose, genuine smile to erupt on Snape's face. You noticed it, but chose not to say anything, instead silently admiring how well it suited him.

"Now I know who to come to when I'm sad." You joked lightly, and as quickly as the smile had arrived on his lips, it disappeared. You laughed, feeling a tad lighter. Though the awful situation still sat within you like a dead weight, waiting to be dealt with, it felt good to smile and laugh, especially with a man you thought to be devoid of such emotions.

"I don't think-"

"Thanks, Severus." You cut him off with a bright smile, making his heart flutter. Perhaps he would wander past your classroom a little more often than before.

Masterpost

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spctrsgf · 1 year

Text

a confession

summary: dreaming about losing the one person you couldn’t was bad enough, but now you can’t look at him without seeing that very image. and your counterpart isn’t gonna take that lightly.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: language, descriptions of blood and death, nightmares, PTSD of a sort?, angsty and then fluffy, friends to lovers cus im a sucker for it hehehe

a/n: i sincerely apologize for all the old (as in i initially wrote them a while ago) fics i've been posting, i've been working on this one oscar fic but i'm so demotivated to write it since i haven't seen scenes of a marriage and i need to a bit to write it :/

but enjoy din in honor of season three!

The kid tugged on your shirt, reaching for the piece of meat you were dangling over his head, garbling angrily. You laughed at his antics, lowering the treat and letting him eat it ferociously. Your gaze drifted to the hull door again, worry gnawing in your stomach in the wake of Din’s absence.

As if thinking of the man summoned him, the hatch creaked to life, lowering to reveal your companion. Your shoulders slumped and a smile caressed your lips at the sight of him in all his glory. You rushed over, taking the quarry in a hurry to have him to yourself. The quarry grumbled as you yanked her by the arm, shoving her in the carbonite chamber with no hesitation.

You slammed a hand on the button to your left, sealing her in. You turned around then, bouncing on your toes in excitement to spend time with your favorite person in the universe. You expected to see him standing near his armory, disposing himself of a few of his weapons. But instead you found him crumpled and on the floor, frantically fidgeting with his chest plate. “Din?!” You scrambled over, helping him pull off the offending piece of armor.

You worked diligently to get off the rest of his armor, growing increasingly worried at his labored breathing and shaky hands. You pulled off his shirt, bracing yourself for the damage-

No.

No amount of preparation could brace you for this.

A bullet wound punctured through his paling skin, gnarly and red. “Din, oh my god-“ you shot up to grab the bacta, huffing at the mere seconds you lost from getting up and grabbing it. You fell to your knees, tears falling freely from your eyes as you willed yourself to move as quickly as possible. “You’ll be okay.” You murmured.

“I-“ Din tried to gasp out words, but was cut off by a sharp inhale of pain.

“Don’t speak, please.” Your voice was hitched with alarm as sprayed him with bacta.

“Y/n.” He was barely breathing now.

“No,” you shook your head and sprayed more bacta. “You are going to be okay. I won’t let you die out on me-“

“Cy- cyare.”

“No, Din, do not give up on me!” Your hands cradled the beskar helmet. “I can't do this without you-“

“I’m s-“ his chest barely lifted and his grip on your hand was loosening. “Sorry.”

“Din Djarin, don’t you dare-“ your eyes fell to his chest, watching it inflate one last, shaky time before settling down to a stop. His hand dropped from yours, lifeless.

“No,” you gathered his hand in yours again. “No no no no-“ you dug through the med kit, looking for anything that could bring him back to life. Your fingers shook and your vision blurred and your heart pounded in your ears, but you still came up empty handed. You cradled his body in your arms, sobbing hysterically at the loss of the man you loved.

“Din, you stupid oblivious idiot, I loved you. I still do, and I always will.”

You shot up abruptly from your makeshift bed, nearly screaming at the sudden change of scenery. Your face was soaked with tears and your body with sweat as you regained your bearings. Your previously tense shoulders fell in relief when you couldn’t find your beskar covered companion covered in blood on the floor.

You stood up from the floor, running a hand through your tousled hair. The fresher was a few steps away, and you walked in to come face to face with yourself in the mirror. You could see the bags hugging the bottoms of your eyes, as well as the small sheen of sweat and your red eyes from crying. Your hands shook slightly as you attempted to tame your appearance.

Your hands.

You whipped them down and into your line of sight, flipping them this way and that to check if there was any blood. When you found none, you deemed yourself presentable enough to leave the room.

You ventured back into the hull and through your daily chores, falling into mindless motions. You hummed a tune, hoping it would erase your previous nightmares.

It was so real. You could feel the brush of his gloved fingers, smooth and worn, smell the mix of the woods and metallic blood, see every flash of the hull lights on his beskar. You could hear his labored breathing loud and clear, even though you weren’t dreaming anymore. You could hear the nickname he’d never called you in real life but the one you’d found out was a word in Mando’a.

You shouldn’t be dreaming about this, it was crazy. You and Din weren’t- he didn’t feel the same. Din was quiet, but he was assertive. If he felt something, he would tell you. Right? Had the years of solitude caught up to him? He was never nervous, he caught people for a living. There was no way he would be worried about this. You were delusional, you decided. This was crazy and he didn’t feel the same.

You realized at that moment that you hadn’t seen Din all morning. Your breath caught again as you shoved down your fear, telling yourself it was for the better. You didn’t know what would spur from you after seeing his helmet, whether it would be waves of relief or crushing pain.

The sound of a garble echoed from your right side, following the sound of the hull door opening. You could hear the heavy footsteps of the very man that had been occupying your thoughts all morning.

Speak of the devil.

Your hands tightened around the sheet you’d been folding, holding your breath for the words he’d never say. You held still in the exact same position, the only part of your body moving being the rise and fall of your chest. Din’s movements slowed to a stop, and you could feel his gaze on you. “Sorry we’ve been gone,” he started, causing you to jump in surprise. “I went to take the kid for a walk.”

Your jaw tightened, but you managed out an “it’s alright.”

He paused again. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, forcing your hands to work again at folding the sheet.

You expected him to let it go. He always did: never pushed and prodded, just let you mellow out until your feelings subsided. But instead he came up beside you, grabbing one edge of the sheet and folding it in towards yourself. You swallowed sharply and drilled your eyes into the sheets, only nodding in thanks.

He huffed. “Y/n.”

“Din.” You responded in the same even tone.

“You're gonna tell me what’s going on? Or am I gonna have to pry?”

You grabbed his end of the sheet, finishing the fold. “Leave it be.”

“You’re not looking at me.”

You turned to place the sheet down at the edge of the bed. “Astute observation.”

He scoffed. “That’s not normal. You always look me in the eye.”

“Din,” you paused facing away from him, hands starting to shake. ”please.”

The next moments were a blur. One second he was behind you, the next he was in front of you, merely two inches away. You didn’t react quick enough, weren’t able to tear your gaze away from him. Your eyes met the thin strip of his visor, and oh boy-

The blood, running along the rim.

The way his head fell backwards in pain.

The shallow breaths, accentuated by the modulator.

“I’m- I’m sorry.”

You tore your eyes away with a startled gasp, turning and sprinting down the open hatch door. You had to get out, you had to get away from it. Everything about him was too much like a nightmare, it was too real. The image had to be imprinted onto the back of your eyes, it was so vivid.

You willed your breath to slow and calm as you walked, but even the thought of that was hard. You ventured a little ways away from the Razor Crest, finding a nice rock expertly placed between two trees. You settled against it with a rattled sigh, gazing out into the forest. If you squinted, you could see the ocean from here: it’s shimmery sheen and the deep cobalt blue that filled it.

The thought was calming. Seeing the wilderness in a way you hadn’t before, learning to appreciate the little things you’d been lucky enough to see and experience on this never ending ride with Din.

Din.

Shit. The calm left you as soon as it came, swept away by gnawing guilt and unsaid feelings. All those things he would have been able to experience, all of the things you needed to tell him but never quite could. It was too late.

You shot up abruptly, sending a sharp pain to your head and tunneling your vision. You shook your head with a groan, deciding to venture away from the spot that now reminded you of him. Of what you could have shown him-

No. You scolded yourself for going down that track, focusing on putting on foot in front of the other. You met the silver metal of the Razor Crest some five minutes after, leaning against it in hopes to take some of its cold for yourself. The feeling also calmed you, but you were sure it’d be gone as soon as it came. This was Din’s-

The crunching of boots cuts your thoughts short.

You considered running. It would be fruitless, though, even if he couldn’t see your legs right now; he was undoubtedly faster than you. You considered yelling at him to stay away as well, but did you really want him to? You compromised, turning and giving him your back. You curled into yourself, hunched over slightly as he rounded the corner.

To say Din was confused was an understatement. You’d been acting weird all morning, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done something to upset you. Even now, when he passed the last of the ship obscuring his view, you hid from his gaze. What did he do? What should he do? He didn’t like this, the cold shoulder, not one bit. He had to fix this.

You could feel it on your back, his inquisitive gaze. You knew what the silent look meant. You sighed quietly as you waited for his evaluation, knowing he’d nail it on the dot. You waited for the quick sentence, the sounds of his footsteps squelching receding into the distance.

But he didn’t do that this time.

This time was different. He knew it, you knew it. You both knew that this wasn’t just a dream about losing your family or having to run away from your home or the kid, it was deeper, the pain was deeper. You knew from the sharp intake of his breath that he wasn’t going anywhere unless he got a real answer from you, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to give it yet.

His hand landed on your shoulder in the midst of your thoughts, causing you to jump. “Maker, Din-“ you started your sentence, but were abruptly cut off by him spinning you around. You kept your eyes firmly at his feet, not wanting to spark another burst of panic. “Y/n.” His voice was surprisingly soft compared to his normal brisk tone.

You nodded.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s really nothing you need to concern yourself with, Din, I’ll be fine.”

He paused, and you wondered if he was going to take your sentence and leave you be. “Bullshit.”

Your eyes widened, and you nearly threw your head up to meet his visor. Din had sworn before, but never at you. “What?”

“You heard me.” His voice was hard.

“I’m telling the truth.” You were not.

He chuckled, actually chuckled. “You’re a really bad liar, you know.”

“I know. I used to be really good.” You deflated.

Din squeezed your shoulder. “You gotta talk about it, y/n, trust me. Solitude and nightmares are not a good combo.”

“You’re not gonna like it, Din.”

“Try me.”

Your hands clasped together so you could fidget with the ring on your finger. “It was- the kid and I were waiting for you after a mission. You were taking a while, I remember, and we were starting to get antsy. And then you came back and I was so excited to see you and I grabbed the quarry-“

“I wouldn’t let you do that.”

You huffed.

He sighed. “Sorry, go on.”

“I grabbed the quarry and put him in the carbonite chamber that you think I don’t know how to use but I do, and then I turned around,” your breaths became shaky. “You were on- on the floor. You were bleeding and you were barely breathing and you were struggling and you kept trying to talk and I was telling you to shut the fuck up because I was trying to save you and I tried and tried but I- I couldn’t. You were dead. You were gone and I couldn’t do anything and I tried everything in that stupid first aid kit, I tried the bacta and the gauze but you were- you weren’t with me and I swear my heart was ripped right out of my chest.”

Your shoulders slumped in shame but also in relief, in letting go of that burden you’d been carrying for less than four hours but had ripped through every fiber of your being. Your declaration hung heavily in the misty air, Din not moving a single muscle. You assumed he was processing your words, but right now those very words were gnawing at your brain.

You waited patiently as he contemplated, or at least you thought he was. The slight incline of his helmet was leading you to think that, but he was slightly hard to read at the moment. You began to kick the ground as you stood rather awkwardly, not making full eye contact and rather looking over his shoulder.

The shake of his helmet in your peripheral told you he was in fact alive and awake, easing some pressure you hadn’t even noticed was on your chest. His hand still rested on your shoulder, which twitched as if he wanted to move it but decided otherwise. “Wow.” He said finally.

Your eyes went wide in fear. “You don’t have to say anything, we can go inside and pretend this never happened. I can do that.”

“No, no, it’s alright,” his helmet tilted up and away from your face. “That was just a lot.”

You smiled sadly, your eyes meeting the leafy ground. “Yeah.”

You two simmered in the silence for a while longer, him surely going back to thinking in his head. You didn’t know what to expect at this point: Din had surprised you so many times in the past ten minutes that you weren’t sure any of your old rules applied anymore. And frankly, that was making you very nervous.

You were trying to train yourself for the unexpected when Din made his next move. His hand left your shoulder to cup your jaw, tilting it upwards to meet his visor. Your eyes automatically went left to trace the reflective surface of the Razor Crest, eliciting a huff. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“Because if I do, all I can see is your lifeless body and the smear of blood from where I grabbed your face.”

“Um, okay,” He frowned in defeat and then in confusion. “Wait, why are you so scared of losing me?”

You huffed. “Are you serious? Because I care about you, Din. More than I should, probably. You gave me a home, and you treated me as somebody. How could I not care, how could I not worry about losing you?”

Silence, and then-

“So you’re in love with me?” His voice was aloof, but you could hear the nervousness seeping in.

Your head rotated to meet his visor, calculating the tilt and his stance. Your brain reeled and tried to shove your nightmares into your head, but you pushed them away from the foreground. “I am, got a problem with that?” You willed to match his tone with your own.

He drew back slightly, and you fretted, but you held your ground and waited. You weren’t going to run away from your feelings this time. He held your stare, stepping towards you. “Not at all.”

You swallowed. “Alright, I guess that’s settled.”

“Mhm.”

“So..”

“Yes?”

Oh, so he was gonna make you say it? “Din. C’mon, don’t be this way.”

“Be what way?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“No, care to enlighten me?” You could hear the smile.

You gritted your teeth. “Fine, never mind. I’m going to check on the kid.” If he didn’t want to say it, then it wasn’t coming out.

You shook his hand from your jaw and pushed past him, making sure to bump his shoulder on the way out. Your breaths were heavy after the confessions and the lack of his own, fueling into anger as you stormed into the ship. The Child sat in his hammock, staring right at you. His pearly black eyes felt like they stared through you and relayed everything that had happened out in front of him.

You sighed, venturing over to him and sitting on the edge of Din’s cot. “What did I just do, Kid?”

He garbled eagerly.

“Yeah yeah,” you leaned against the frame. “I know.”

He garbled again.

“Jeez, you don’t have to be rude about it! I know I fucked up.” Your eyes were shut in frustration.

The kid was silent.

“Kid?”

The sound of the hatch door closing was the only response, and you opened your eyes to see the Mandalorian staring right at you.

Blood dripping down his-

No. Stop.

You shook your head to clear the nightmares, but it wasn’t working as well as you were hoping it would. You opted to tilting your head back again, closing your eyes. The silence ensued, and you could feel the heat of his gaze. “You gonna say something?” You asked, not moving.

“Yeah, I was.”

“Was?” You tilted your head.

“You look tired. Maybe later.”

You opened your eyes. “I’m listening.”

He sighed, and you could see him fidget with his gloves out of the corner of your eyes. “Do you know what you just declared to me?”

“That I loved you, yes.” It was out in the open now, no reason avoiding it.

“And if I say I love you too, you know what that means?”

“That we’ve got a romantic bond?” The Kid peeked over the edge of the hammock to stare at Din.

“No,” you scoffed and he glared at you. “Well, yes, obviously, but what I meant is that you’re committing to me, and vice versa. We’re bonded. For life.”

You nodded, looking at his visor, which was turned upwards. “Okay, yeah. What about it?”

“That means seeing-“ he met your gaze. “Seeing my face.”

Your eyes widened. “Your face?”

He nodded.

“No way,” You stood up and walked over to him, the shock tinting your vision. “Are you joking? Cus it’s not funny.”

“No, I’m not.” His voice sounded confused by your actions.

You pondered the hesitance in his voice with a fine toothed comb. “Do you not want to?”

“No, I want to, it’s just-“

You nodded. “No one has seen you without it.”

“No one in a very long time.” He confirmed.

“Whenever you’re ready,” you grabbed his hand. “You can tell me you love me if you do, you can take off your mask and show me that beautiful face of yours. Whenever you want, okay? I’ll be here, I’m not going anywhere.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.” You smiled up at him, going to turn around, but then his hand was gripping your hip and halting you.

“I love you.”

Your head tilted in confusion. “But what about what you said-“

“Yeah. That’s right now.”

You full on grinned. “Really? Um, okay.”

“Are you ready?” His hands rested on the edge of his helmet.

“Never been more ready.”

And then you heard a whooshing sound, hardly audible over your pounding heart. Your hands twisted together as you waited in anticipation, excited and nervous. The prospect of putting a face to his voice and his name was thrilling, and the fact that you were the first to see his face in years? That left you with a fuzzy warmth in your stomach.

You couldn’t pull your eyes away as the beskar was pulled upwards, revealing his face. Your gaze followed the path of the helmet as you saw his sharp jawline, the little speckles of his two day aftershave, the mustache that he seemed to be keeping in well order, the contour of his nose, his deep brown eyes, the mop of hair that was unruly but had been matted down by his helmet.

You met his eyes again, finding them on you wearily, his lip caught between his teeth as he gauged your reaction. Your breath caught at the real eye contact and the way he couldn’t conceal his feelings. You could see the nervousness in his face, even in his stance. Everything about him seemed so clear now, and you broke into a wide smile.

“You’re beautiful.”

#i need to write for din more often #also this is so dramatic lol i apologize #the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #din djarin fluff #um idk what other tags to use lol

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sofs16 · 6 months

Text

us first

thank you for this request:)))

++ added hate to reader because ………..

(after writing this i realized it’s kinda angsty oops im sorry lmk if u want me to redo this 😓)

with busy days apart and the media digging into you, sometimes there were more downs than ups in a week. charles had been off racing and being a singer, it isn’t easy to always attend.

there was a particular struggle for a while at the passionate tifosi who worshipped charles. of course you understood them, but it got to a point your faith in whether you were good enough for charles was wavering.

charles was amazing on and off camera and track. he made sure to take the relationship at a pace well for both of you. he always defended you against such comments even when he wasn’t asked to, often his pr team even scolded him for being too aggressive.

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, and 6,799,696 others

yn nd that’s the end of our life support tour 🥹🫀🌠 thank you for being lovely, monaco!

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sharl55 🤮🤮🤮 Horrible wag. You never show up at races and are never there for Charles. He deserves better.

⤷ charles_leclerc Please stop commenting horrible things about Yn. She does support me and likewise, I support her music. I don’t deserve her.

⤷ yn i love you charlie 😭

it’s nights like these where you and charles get to see each other not through face time. your schedules aligned finally when you got to spend nights under the same comforter.

with the monaco gp this week, and the tour ending today, these were nights where you and charles stayed in.

you bought face masks and food on your way home while charles bought some wine and ingredients for baking and cooking.

you set your keys down on the table when you made it into yours and charles’ shared apartment.

“baby?” you heard from the kitchen “hey charlie” you slipped behind him and kissed his neck as he smiled, shaking his head. “you’re late” he scolded lightly.

“i know, i know! but- i was deciding if we were goijg for strawberry or cucumber face masks” you held the bag up. “you got both, didn’t you” he raised a brow “..yeah” you laughed and made a beeline to the bedroom “‘m gonna change and we can start!” “take your time!” he replied

you giggled, changing into charles’ pajamas since they were always so comfortable. you ran to the kitchen and helped charles in making the ravioli you both wanted

“that comment was so infuriating like- did you see that? the one under your post today?” he asked, stirring the pasta in the pot while you hopped on the counter top, something he always scolded you for.

“yeah… it’s okay. you didn’t have to reply but i appreciate it” you looked at your slippers as you swung them around. he sighed and walked over to you, holding your chin lightly.

“do not listen to them, okay mon amour?” he looks into your eyes “mhm” you smile, getting lost in them.

“besides…” he walks back to the pasta “they are not the ones who get to taste my amazing pasta” he holds it up proudly and you laugh, shaking your head as he puts it in your plates.

you go to the bedroom and move the blankets over to the living room as you light the candles and turn the television on. charles sets the plates on the table and you sit on the couch, waiting for him already holding your plate.

he comes back with two glasses of wine and you put on harry potter on the tv but it’s playing at a volume less than 10.

you both face each other and laugh, talking about random things going on. he talks about his nerves for the gp, especially that it’s his hometown, but he’s glad you’re coming because you haven’t been able to go to the last 4 races. charles brought ninetnedos and you both raced each other at some point.

you both eventually fall asleep on top of one another on the couch.

charles.jpg

liked by pierregasly, and 73 others

charles.jpg i love my girlfriend

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carlossainz55 sending this to yn

⤷ charles.jpg No! This is so I can obsess over her quietly.

liked by charles_leclerc, and 11,191,201 others

yn a weekend well spent with myyyy loveeee 💌

view all 2,696,606 comments

charles_leclerc That last video was not necessary😊

charles_leclerc

liked by yn, and 10,579,708 others

charles_leclerc Ma belle! My talented and beautiful girlfriend 😘

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charles_leclerc Send her hate and I will send you 10000 photos of her and you will love her and you will stop.

yn my scrumptious, handsome, cutesey, fatherly, talented, fast, racer, amazing, cool, chill bf who helped me fulfill my grumpy x sunshine trope dream. loveu

⤷ charles_leclerc So much to unravel but I am NOT grumpy. ⤷ landonorris yes you are

ynchar YN AT THE PADDOCK. WE WON!

liked by charles_leclerc, and 20,282,585 others yn bet that person who called me a bad wag has never attended a gp like me 😉

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charles_leclerc You should talk like this more.

⤷ yn anyone comes for my man I WILL FIGHT. I CAN FIGHT.

stcharles I love how Charles comments in every post of yn 🥹 ynsbabe petty yn is so iconic😭😭😭😭

0ferrari0_ love my queen

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagines #formula 1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #social media au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc 16 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot

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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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esmedelacroix · 4 months

Text

13 days til' Christmas

christmas party with exhusband!toji fushiguro ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

cw: very suggestive(got carried away/honestly its smutty idk what's wrong with me), shower sex, unprotected p in v, angsty

a/n: y'all im so sorry this was supposed to be a fluffy little christmas post i swear...

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

Christmas was just around the corner. It was supposed to be a time of meeting family, gift-giving, and togetherness. Instead, you were stuck going through paperwork. Divorce paperwork.

You and your husband had agreed to divorce three months ago but the media still wouldn't know about it until you finished the last of the legal work.

You didn't know why but you couldn’t bring yourself to sign the final paper. It was so stupid that you were the one that suggested divorce and you couldn’t even stand to sign your own papers.

Toji probably already signed his and your lawyer(and his) were nagging the two of you about the papers.

It didn't help that you and Toji were in the same line of work. On top of that, you were both acting in the same romantic comedy show as love interests. The cherry on top was that the two of you got an invite to a Christmas party. It was only the most lavish Christmas party in all of Hollywood.

The two of you decided to go together because you were added to the guest list far before you divorced. It would be your last date. The two of you would have to make a huge effort to not argue in the middle of the party.

Your thoughts were beginning to tire you so you took one last look at the papers, unsigned again, like every other night for the past three months. You sighed as you picked up the book you had started when you and Toji were still sharing the bed you were now sitting in alone.

He had taken the liberty to move out a month after the divorce, leaving you your estate. You were in this big ass house with no one to share it with.

It was still the same house. The only difference was that Toji was gone and you were tucked into his side of the bed. It wasn't because you missed him or anything you were just there because you missed his scent and his warmth. But you didn't miss him, you were happy he was gone. Right? This is everything you wanted. Right?

You weren't wearing one of the button-ups that he had left on accident because you missed him. It just conveniently fits as a comfy oversized shirt for you.

You most certainly were not playing the old jazz songs that he liked to play when he forced you to slow dance with him because you missed him. You just never liked to admit to him that you kind of liked the songs that he played to his face.

As you slept, thoughts of him consumed, and for the first time you wondered, was this all a big mistake?

. . .

Weeks flew by as you found new crazy ways to keep your mind busy while your heart got heavier. As soon as you knew it, the day of the Christmas party arrived and you could finally call him without needing a stupid excuse.

You heard the line ring hoping and praying that he would answer so that you could hear his voice again after weeks of being starved of that beautiful sound.

"Hello?" he answered.

You sighed in relief as the vibrations of his voice entered your ears like water in a land of drought.

"Hey Toji, how much time do I have to get ready?" you asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

He took some time to answer but soon replied, "I'll be there in three hours,"

"Okay, I'll be ready by then," you replied as you fiddled with the necklace that he gifted you for your first Christmas together as a married couple.

. . .

"I don't know what to get you, I know you'll like anything I give you but I want it to mean something," he said after asking you for the millionth time what you wanted for Christmas.

"I already told you I wouldn't be so upset if my gift was you[oiled up on the bed with whipped cream and fruit roll-ups in hand]," you replied.

"Please just give me one item to give you and I'll leave you alone,” he pleaded.

You took some time to think before saying, "Get me a necklace, any necklace and I promise you I'll wear it every single day, even if for some crazy reason were not together,"

"We’ll never not be together, I'll never let you go,” he promised.

. . .

"Alright I'll see you then," he said.

I miss you...

"Okay, bye-bye,"

I miss you more...

Just like that, you went back to feeling like you were living in a world with no sound worth hearing.

You got up from your bed to get ready. You wanted to blow him away, you took a steamy everything shower, and did a face mask, and applied some light makeup.

You scavenged through your closet looking for the perfect dress to wear. Then you realized, you didn't have to wear a dress. You decided to wear a festive red suit with nothing under the vest. You were displaying a mouth-watering plunging cleavage. Not many people had seen your sternum tattoo but you didn't care to hide it.

You finished off the outfit with a killer pair of Louboutins. Everything that you were wearing were things that he had bought you thinking you would look good in them.

The only issue is that you were too scared to wear them because of your image. You let the increased amount of fame you were receiving get to your head. Maybe that was part of the reason why the arguments started.

You slicked your hair back and kept it down. It was a new look for you but it was a vibe you wanted to experiment with. It was so you. You were hidden behind bright pastels and fairy-like dresses all the time, it would be your first red carpet dressed in clothes you liked.

You were lost in the moment of getting ready with music blasting and putting your earrings on you didn't hear the front door open or the footsteps up the stairs.

You fidgeted with the necklace as you admired yourself in the mirror. You never embraced the more sensual side of yourself until now. It was weird but it felt right.

Even so, you couldn't help but feel self-conscious. Were you showing too much skin? Did you just look like a little kid playing dress-up?

"You look incredible," Toji assured as if he could read your every thought, He admired you through the mirror with a small smile on his face.

Your body jumped at the sudden intrusion. "Oh I didn't realize you were there," you said, crossing your arms feeling almost naked in front of him.

He walked up to you and uncrossed your arms placing his hands on your shoulders afterwards. He eyed you from your hair to your face down to your cleavage. His eyes stayed there for a while. She’s still wearing it. He thought to himself looking at the necklace he gifted you.

"You look perfect baby," he said and for a moment everything felt right. It felt like you weren't divorced. It felt like you were a married couple in love again.

You hugged him burying your face in his chest. "Thank you," you mumbled. You thought you would have the self-control to hold back but you didn't. Being in his arms was addictive and his scent intoxicating.

You quickly scurried away to get your clutch and the two of you went down into the car. He opened the door for you as always and he gave you aux as usual. It was like nothing had changed at all. You weren't married on paper but the two of you didn't act like it at all. It was as if you never got divorced. Kind of.

The two of you drove to his new house where the limo was waiting. There was a red carpet for this holiday party. The two of you were in the middle of a long line of limousines. You could see the celebrities on the red carpet taking photos together.

As you got closer and closer to the entrance of the event, you started to bounce your leg. Your nerves were starting to get to you and you began overthinking about what everyone else would think of you.

Just then you felt a large warm hand on your thigh. You looked down to see Toji's hand. He gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze. You looked up at him, he was looking away but you appreciated the gesture. You could almost sense the shy smile and the blush that were most likely gracing his face.

If just for a moment you could just pretend that August never happened. Like you never got into that one argument that unpacked too many emotions at once. If you could pretend that everything was okay and normal, you would rest your head heavy with your thoughts, on his broad shoulder.

And so you did. You held on to his muscular arm and snuggled into his side. You could feel yourself calm down in his presence alone. He took your hand in his and looked down at you admiring your beauty. The time felt right, his perfume filled your head and the clicks of cameras started to die down. "I've missed you Toji, every single day that we were apart, I've missed you," you revealed. To him and to yourself you admitted that you missed him and regret consumed you whole.

Toji turned to you, shock painted across his face. He crouched his head down so she could look into your eyes. "I've missed you t-," Toji started before their limousine door opened suddenly.

The world around the two of you began to fill with the clicks of cameras and the chatter of reporters and celebrities. You flashed Toji a nervous look and he gave your hand a squeeze before stepping out of the limousine before you and helping you out.

Gasps followed with your stunning entrance. Your look was unique to what the media was used to seeing you. It was also far fetched from the image that your entertainment company wanted you to maintain.

Toji kept your hand in his the entire time. His touch comforted you. You felt confident enough to pose with him and by your lonesome. You looked over at Toji who was already watching you after you were done posing.

The two of you waved to the press and entered the venue. "You looked amazing out there," Toji said, looking away from you with a light blush adorning his cheeks.

"Thank you, you didn't look too shabby yourself," you quipped.

He chuckled and shook his head at you. Everything felt right. You weren't alone anymore.

. . .

Dinner went on without a hitch. You and Toji allowed yourselves to have fun and let loose. After the party, you and Toji got into the limo and you told the driver your address.

You and Toji sat in the car in a comfortable silence recharging your social batteries. The two of you were holding hands, you were snuggled into his side taking in his scent. He was running his hands through your hair. The ride was far too short, and as soon as you knew it, you had arrived at your house. But you would have to leave home behind in that limo.

"Look, I know our situation but, do you want to come in tonight? Just for today please I don't want to be alone tonight," you practically begged.

"Sure, okay," he agreed as he looked you in the eyes sympathetically.

The two of you thanked and tipped your driver before entering the house together. Toji led you up to your room and ran to the shower telling you that you could join him if you wanted. You waited and thought for a while before getting up and deciding to take him up on his offer.

You stripped completely naked before entering the bathroom. You could only make out his figure through the steamy glass of the shower. You opened the shower door and joined him.

The two of you were completely silent helping get each other's backs and helping with shampoo. It felt just like the times before except there was this lingering feeling of tension and uneasiness you just wanted to shake off.

You hugged Toji from behind. Your naked body against his, water trickling down both of you. He turned around, running his hand through your hair and raking it away from your face. Staring into your eyes longingly before crashing his lips against yours.

Your eyes were squeezed tightly shut. Were you scared? in pain? No. You were sorry. So so sorry. In between heated wet kisses, all you could get out was apology after apology.

. . .

"I don't know Baby, I just feel like you aren't very authentic, like you're acting like someone different, even around me now," Toji said.

"Well, the company said that it would be best if I acted this way, they said I would be taken more seriously," you explained.

"Baby, you’re going to lose yourself in this role, because you're just acting, this isn't you," he said.

"How do you know if it's me or not? Maybe this how I act, how do you know?" you asked.

"How do I know? I’m your husband. I am your husband," he said sternly.

. . .

You hadn't even realized that you were crying. It all looked like water anyway.

Toji's hand traveled from the sides of your face all the way down to your waist pulling you into him. You could feel his hot length twitch and harden against your thigh.

You moaned into the kiss thrusting your hips against his, your body seemed to have a mind of its own.

. . .

"I don't understand why you're acting like this. It feels like I don't know you and I'd like my wife back," Toji said as he entered the break room.

You had acted like an airheaded bimbo during the interview because your management told you that it would clean up your image.

"Well maybe you really don't know me," you rebutted.

"Why would you want to act stupid for approval from the internet instead of wanting to be recognized as one of the few outspoken actresses out there," he retorted.

. . .

Toji left hot kisses on your jawline that translated to hickeys on your neck. As he kissed down to your cleavage he kissed the pendant of the necklace that he gifted you that you still wore all the time.

You moaned his name loudly in pleasure, crying tears of regret, sadness, and euphoric joy.

I'm sorry

so very sorry

. . .

"Don't you like me more now?! Why don't you like me more now?" you questioned after Toji refused to have sex with you unless you stopped this act.

Everything was different kissing you felt different, sex you felt different. It felt wrong because he felt like he was cheating on you with a completely different woman.

"Are we even married anymore? Do you even want to be married anymore?" you questioned.

"Babe, honestly I don't even know anymore,”

"I want a divorce. Let's get a divorce. Now," you said, waiting for him to fight with you, to fight for you to say anything.

He simply shook his head raising his hands in defeat before burying his head in them. That night he left and the only times you saw him again were for legal issues.

. . .

Your back was flush against the glass wall of the shower. Your legs were dangling in the air as Toji thrust into you holding your legs up and wrapping them around his waist.

Your fingers were clawing at his back as his length almost split you in half.

You forget what it felt like to be so full. "Missed this pussy, missed it so much," Toji mumbled with his head buried in the crook of your neck as he tried with all his might not to go ahead and just explode inside of you.

You were milking him, unable to stop your walls from clamping down on his cock. You were uncontrollably creaming on his cock making a mess of him and his thighs.

"Ahn, I'm so close, I'm close Daddy can I please cum?" you asked, barely making sense.

"Yeah, c'mon baby show me how good I make you feel," he urged.

You needed no other words you immediately started squirting as Toji fucked you through your high chasing his own.

You felt his hot cum shoot up into you as his tip kissed your cervix. You never felt so full until then. You let out one last apology before leaning against his chest.

"All is forgiven baby, I'm just happy to have my wife back," Toji admitted.

"I've missed you like a fish stranded on the surface missed the feeling of water pumping through its gills. You're a daily need and I've been so deprived of you for so long," Toji said as he helped you shower again after making a mess of you.

It would've been my greatest regret to let you go...

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

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