#and the answer my friend is that i have worked two ten hour days within the last week and i am very tired | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

woniechronicles · 1 year ago

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mystery boy

context: the same man always shows up at your job during the week. comes at the same time, leaves right before closing. he doesn’t speak much, not until your one closing shift, that is.

pairings: shy student, figure skater! sunghoon x g.n. reader

word count: 3.3k

a/n: not proofread

every thursday to sunday night was the same: doing school work behind the counter of your minimum wage job at your local ice skating rink. people came and went, some regulars, some school field trips, some who come in every now and then to hang out with their friends. but there was one man who came in, supposedly, everyday to practice his skills. on your shifts, he would come in every day at the same time: 5PM. then he would leave at closing time and come back the very next day at the same time and do it all over again. every so often he would bring a friend or two but very rarely would he do so- maybe once or twice a month at most.

every so often you would peek through the glass and scan the ice rink. he always stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the families and younger crowd, even those who you assumed were his age. the way he moved so elegantly across the ice looked effortless to him, but when you imagined yourself even attempting to pull off a move such as one of his you knew you would fall flat on your ass within a matter of seconds. but you never lingered for long, your attention moving back to your school work or one of the other customers.

according to your coworkers, he doesn’t say much. everyone’s curiosity is strong with him in particular, especially the younger women who attempt to send him flirty eyes his way but are met with blank stares. even your manager elli, who co-owns the rink with her husband, has tried sparking up conversations with him before. but from what you’ve been told, he just answers in one word or short sentences with dead ends. half of the staff think of him as an asshole while some think of him as just shy or mysterious. you, on the other hand, didn’t care much to ponder about him.

during the last hour of work, elli comes in from the manager's office in a hurry with her purse and a worried look on her face that starts to match yours. “my granddaughter is in the hospital, i have to leave for the night.” she says in a rush, quickly looking around to make sure shes gathered all her items.

“will she be okay?” you ask, eyes widened with concern.

she nods, getting out from behind the counter and standing in front of you as she rummages through her purse for her car keys. “she’s fine, just a broken arm. but i’m still worried.” finally finding her keys, she turns to look at you. “would you mind closing up for the night?”

you shake your head, motioning for her to leave. “not at all, i got it covered. now go, i got everything covered, don't worry.” you smile at her reassuringly as she mouths a ‘thank you’, rushing out the door and leaving to her duties as a grandmother.

the next hour was slow, people were leaving and no new customers came within the last hour. every so often people would come to the counter next to for free hot chocolate as they left and said goodnight, but that was about it. five minutes before closing, you noticed the mystery skater still trying to nail a spin he’s been attempting for the past thirty minutes. normally he would be getting ready to leave by now, but he was still stuck on the move. being the only two in the rink, you decide to start locking the doors of the lobby and putting away any skates laying around as you allow him the extra time. by the time you finish cleaning up the lobby, it’s ten minutes after closing and he’s still going at it.

you quickly move into the manager's office and turn off the music to signal him it’s time to wrap up. once the music stops, he snaps back into reality and realizes that it’s probably closing time. walking off the rink, he moves towards the lobby and his eyes catch the time. he looks over at you with an apologetic look, rushing to take everything off so as to not inconvenience you.

chuckling, you start to pack your items up as you speak to him. “it’s okay, you don’t have to hurry.” you glance up at him, realizing he was already putting his sneakers on. “i gave you extra time since you looked like you needed some. it’s okay.”

you hear him mumble a quick ‘thank you’ before grabbing his bag and walking towards the door. before you could warn him that the doors were locked, you see him walk straight into the door as they don’t open for him. quickly covering your hand with your mouth with a gasp, you begin to walk towards him.

“are you okay?” you ask concerned, his head tilted downwards in embarrassment. “i was going to warn you but you walk really fast.”

he nods as he rubs his forehead. “i’m okay, sorry about that.”

shaking your head, you rush to grab your bag from the counter and the keys to lock up. “it’s fine, don’t apologize. as long as you’re okay that’s what matters.” you unlock the door and motion for him to walk out, following behind him as he does so.

as you lock up the doors you expect to hear him walk away, but in the corner of your eye you can see him standing still. as you finish locking every door, you turn around and see him looking at you blankly.

quickly realizing how creepy he was seeming, he speaks up for him. “sorry, i just realized it’s dark out and since it seems to be only you i didn’t want you to walk through the parking lot by yourself.”

you nod, smiling politely at him as you make your way towards your car. sure this man seemed harmless, just an awkward person, but you also were cautious. looking around the lot, you notice only one car in the lot. “where’s your car?”

he points at the bus stop across the lot, then realized you probably couldn’t see him motion towards it and mentally slapped himself. “i take the bus. my car is in the shop right now.” noticing his bus in the distance, he starts jogging to catch it but not before yelling to get some safe.

you watch as he gets on the bus, taking a seat in the back near the window. he takes his headphones out of his bag and slips them on, turning to his phone as the bus pulls off. from inside your car, you start to wonder about the awkward guy more.

xxxx

the next day is the same. you arrive at three, clock in, and begin doing your everyday tasks before sitting behind the counter and checking people in in between your class work. at five is when a taller figure approaches the counter, the voice deep and familiar.

“sorry again about yesterday.” he says, his deep voice causing your head to shoot up.

it’s him again, like clockwork. you shake your head in disagreement, taking the money that he slid on the counter and getting ready to give him his change back. “don’t apologize, you have nothing to be sorry for.” taking the change from the drawer, you start to count it over to make sure it’s the right amount. “i’m just glad you’re okay. and thank you for walking me to my car, i appreciate it.”

he holds out his hand for the change, taking it as you place the quarters and dimes in his rather large hands. you notice a shy smile on his face as he says ‘anytime’, a dimple popping out as he makes his way towards his signature locker and slips on his skates. you didn’t notice, but as you continued on with your work he kept glancing at you. he was curious about you, more than you were curious about him.

throughout the night, you would glance the mystery man’s way at times to see him practicing the same move as last night. occasionally he would move onto a different one, but not spending more than a couple of minutes on it and then going back to the previous one. as the last hour closed in, almost everyone seemed to leave except for him. just like the previous night, you allowed him to stay past time. you allowed him to finish up his move until you cleaned everything up, then turning off the music at fifteen minutes past closing to signal him it’s time to leave.

you see him let out a sigh, walking off of the ice and to the lobby to change back into his sneakers. as you shove your books into your bag, he goes to grab the lobby door until he realizes it’s locked again. looking up at the clock, he realizes the time and looks at you as you close everything up.

“you didn’t have to do that again, i-“

“feel bad?” you interrupt, turning around from locking up the skates to unlock the lobby door and let him through. “it’s fine, really. you get extra time to practice and i’m able to clean up everything. it’s a win-win situation.”

as he steps out, he sees his bus pull away and lets out a sigh. looking in his direction, you see a bus pull away and look at him. “was that your bus?” you question. when he nods, you automatically feel terrible. “i’m so sorry, i can give you a ride home? if you’d like? or does that make you uncomfortable? i’m so sorry that wasn’t my intention-“

he lets out laughter as he runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “it’s okay, i don’t want to make you uncomfortable. i can just call an uber or something-“

“no no! let me drive you, it’s okay. just don’t kill me or anything and there won’t be an issue.” locking up the doors, you make sure it’s all secure and grab your car keys. as you look up at him apologetically, you start to plead more. “i’m so sorry i swear i was just trying-“

“it’s okay, it’s okay. if i accept your ride offer will you feel better?” seeing you nod, he smiles and agrees to the ride. the smile on your face makes his heart flutter, following beside you to your car.

the walk to the car is quiet as you rush to open the doors. you don’t know if he has a curfew or if his parents are expecting him so you don’t want to be the reason he gets in trouble. or if he even had plans and he could be missing or be late to them- that was your main worry. he notices you became quiet but says nothing, just slips into the passenger side and puts on the seatbelt as you begin to pull away.

as you wait for your turn onto the street, you ask him where he lives. “i’ll guide you.�� is all he says as he tells you where and when to turn. the entire time you’re praying he doesn't take you to some creepy road with a malicious plan but as you turn down a road with large houses accompanied by even bigger pools with waterfalls, that negative cloud dissipates. when he says “here”, you pull into an empty driveway of a large home. it wasn’t a mansion, but it was definitely bigger than the studio apartment you were renting and even bigger than your childhood home. through the metal fence you can see a pool and a hot tub, both empty but very obvious.

noticing your awe expression, he chuckles and unbuckles his seatbelt. “thanks for the ride- i’m sorry i don’t know your name, i feel like i should.”

breaking out of your curiosity daze, you turn to him. “y/n. what’s yours, rich boy?” you tease, the smile on your lips playful.

his nose scrunches as he smiles, opening the door as he throws his legs over the door frame. “sunghoon. it’s nice to officially meet.”

xxxx

for the next week, a routine builds up between you two. he comes in at five, stays till after closing, and you drive him home. gradually you begin to learn more of each other. you learn how he’s practicing to become a professional figure skater while also taking a few college courses at the university across town to earn a degree in radiology. although still soft spoken, you can tell he’s opened his shell to you a bit.

during the week you can’t help but wonder how he is. while in classes, your mind wanders on how his classes are and if he’s learned this new spin he recently told you he wanted to learn. once thursday finally arrives again, you happily wait around for 5PM and smile up at sunghoon as he enters with his one friend you see every so often.

“long time, no see.” he speaks first, smiling at you as his friend just watches the interaction.

you greet his friend as well with a smile, taking his payment and giving him the remainder of the change. “you don’t need a ride tonight?”

he shakes his head as he puts the change in his wallet, telling his friend to start getting ready with his skates. “not tonight. but hey,” he looks around as he builds up courage for his next sentence. “i got my car back from the shop the other day and wanted to offer you a ride home tomorrow, if you’re okay with that. just, as a thank you for the past week.”

you nod, your smile widening. “sure, i don’t mind. thanks, sunghoon.”

throughout the night, whenever you looked over at sunghoon he was already looking over at you. when your eyes locked, he’d look away with a shy smile before following his friend around the rink. at the end of the night, sunghoon and his friend left right as elli was closing for the night and he waved goodbye to you.

when elli locked the doors, she turned to you with a curious grin. “what?” you said, holding back a smile from her. you knew where she was headed, but you didn’t want to give her the details just yet.

“are you seeing the mystery boy?” she asks in a teasing tone as she cleans up the empty cups and sprawled about napkins off the floor.

you shake your head, stuffing your items in your bag quickly before doing your closing routine. “not really. i’ve just been giving him rides and we’ve been bonding, i guess. just friendly stuff.”

she scoffs, making you turn your head to her direction. “not with the way he looks at you.” you raise a brow at her, motioning for her to continue her sentence. “the way he smiles at you from across the rink is telling enough. take it from me, i would know.”

you take her word for it but don’t ponder on it until your drive home. does he really look at you a certain way? does he really smile a lot around you? regardless, you try to not think too much about it but can’t help but imagine his face when you close your eyes. as you’re drifting to sleep, you can’t help but look forward to tomorrow.

xxxx

today you even finished your coursework early, meaning all you did was study and occasionally procrastinate. when five o’clock rolled around, in strolled sunghoon with his skates by himself this time. his face lit up upon seeing you, his nose scrunching up in this adorable way that causes his dimples to pop out at you. you would be lying if you said it didn’t cause a butterfly to flutter around in your stomach, especially after your conversation with elli last night.

“hey stranger.” you say, returning his smile. “fancy meeting you here.”

he hands you his money, chuckling at your greeting. “yeah the outside caught my attention so figured why not.” as you hand him his change, you lock eyes for a few moments before he continues. “the cutie behind the counter drew me in a bit, too.”

the blush spreading across your cheeks catch his attention, mentally making a note to flirt with you more. “just a bit?” you retort, catching him off guard.

“more than a bit, actually.” is the last thing he says before walking over to his locker and getting ready for the evening.

as the night comes to a close, elli leaves early again to attend to her granddaughter again since she is still healing from her injury. five minutes before closing and everyone is gone except you two, so you close up the lobby again and begin cleaning. but before you can turn off the music, sunghoon walks in and begins helping you clean up the empty cups and trash around the waste bin. when you notice this, you begin to protest but he shoo’s you away, insisting he helps you since you help him. you let him continue because at the end of the day, who are you to object to extra help? you both take your time cleaning, just talking with one another.

“how’s your routine coming along?” you ask as you clean up the last of the lobby, putting away the skates as sunghoon finally changes out of his own. “from what i saw it looks like it’s coming along great.”

“you’re watching me skate while at work?” he asks, making you glance at him with a grin. “how creepy.”

you laugh, throwing an empty paper cup at him as you come out from behind the counter with your bag on your shoulder. “and you stare too much.”

leaning against the counter, you watch as he grabs his bag and starts walking towards you. “it’s not my fault you’re so pretty.” he comments, making you roll your eyes with a tint of blush appearing on your cheeks.

you both are just mere inches apart, eyes staring into one another’s as the silence drowns out the world around you. his hand brushes against yours for a moment, sending a shiver up your spine as his eyes gaze from your eyes to your lips then back to eyes once more. taking this into notice, you do the same as to reciprocate his feelings. and luckily enough, he understands. bringing his hand up to your cheek, he cups it with a shy grin and leans his forehead against yours. bodies pressed together, he snakes his arm around your waist to pull you closer. for a few seconds you stay like this, waiting for someone to make the first move as your arm rests on his bicep and the other on his neck.

“so can you kiss me already?” you break the silence, laughter filling the room before his lips meets yours.

and once they do, you can feel those previous butterflies erupt into a zoo. it’s not long before you both are smiling into the kiss, lips molding perfectly together as they move in unison. as the kids deepens, you glide your tongue across his bottom lip for access and he happily allows you in. sunghoon tastes just like vanilla, making you want more of him. it isn’t until you momentarily snap back into reality when you realize where you are: at your job.

you pull away from sunghoon’s lips, both of you attempting to catch your breath as his thumb grazes the apples of your cheek. once you pull away from his forehead to take a look at him, you smile at the sight. his lips are plump, saliva at the corners of his mouth. you swipe away at them, cleaning it up with your thumb with a genuine smile. he watches you intently, catching you off guard by pecking your lips before grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the exit.

you stop him in his tracks, making him turn around to face you. “so are we dating now?” you ask, taking a step forward.

he chuckles, pulling you towards him to press a small kiss to your forehead. “let me treat you to dinner first and then we can make it official.”

#☀︎ woniechronicles works #enhypen #enhyphen fluff #sunghoon #park sunghoon #park sunghoon fluff #enha #enha fluff #enha imagines #enhypen fluff #sunghoon fluff

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baelpenrose · 4 months ago

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Nihilus Rex 39: Wash Away the Blood

Nils attempts to assuage his guilt and desperately attempts to get in contact with Lash following the events of the massacre. co-written by @canyouhearthelight. Pay attention to Nils and Lash's dynamic from here on out. We had a lot of fun figuring it out.

Nils

“Oh, Nils, you aren’t actually, really, solving anything. You aren’t really smarter than everyone else. If this was fixable, someone would have found the answer by now.” I mocked the noises that stupid people made as I bounced the trail of money around the world. It was funny - there were around a dozen shell companies that much, much wealthier people than I used for money laundering, and it was easy to move the money through them once you figured out their passwords.

And I helped myself to some of their money as I rolled mine through. Or, you know. “Mine.”

A million ways to complain about the ways that the rich got away with their bullshit; but, boy, if it didn’t make it easier for me to rob them for my own purposes. And it also let me find out just a few things here and there.

There was a techie in India I was familiar with, and an orphanage in El Salvador. Both of them got cash that I could bounce around. Tens of thousands of US dollars went much, much further in the Global South than they went in America.

I’d tried texting Lash a few hours ago to see if she was alright after the incident. I wasn’t totally fine myself. But ultimately, we hadn’t had any better options, and finishing our goals was going to mean blood on our hands before the thing was done. I was trying to steel myself against that inevitability, and trying to follow Bishop’s advice: try to minimize collateral damage by setting as many people up to survive as I could.

So, that orphanage in El Salvador. I had the money I could use, but you didn’t just drop money into anywhere in El Salvador - not these days. The CIA well and truly fucked that up back in the 80s. You gave people assets, and the problem with that was that I didn’t speak Spanish, and Google Translate was, to put it mildly, unreliable. Yeah, an actual Spanish-English dictionary would work, but the problem with that was that I’d need to trust that the orphanage had digitized their inventory, which was a HUGE ‘if.’

So, no.

Which meant, to my great and lasting frustration, I was going to be doing my least favorite thing. Talking to a priest who wasn’t Rivera.

I called the orphanage, and when the phone was picked up and spoken into by what was very obviously a child, I said one of the very few actual Spanish phrases I knew.

“Puedo hablo con el sacerdote?” Can I talk to the priest?

The child on the other end answered in the affirmative, I heard a shout. An older voice picked up the phone, and began speaking to me in Spanish, and I quickly interjected, “Tu loquerisne Latine?” Do you speak Latin?

“Sic.” Yes.

Who says it’s a dead language? Any priest, anywhere on Earth.

“I want to make a donation to your orphanage - is there anything the children need?”

“Vaccines, if you can get them. Laundry detergent. Books - for the older children, especially. All Spanish.”

“Any necessities?”

“The Church can actually manage to provide most of the necessities. The things that keep the children happy are harder. If I may, Senor, how are you managing this?”

I felt myself smile. “The Lord provides. I have ways, and I want to help. No harm will come to you as a result of my donations. The supplies will be delivered to you by means of non-profits operated through the United States.”

“I see. Are you associated with the Church?”

“I have friends in it.” Sort of true, though I wondered, offhand, if Rivera would be pleased to know that a Catholic orphanage was now benefiting from me money laundering.

“Ah. Thank you, then. When should we expect them?”

“Within two months. Thank you for telling me what you need. Is there anything else?”

“Not at the moment. Is there somewhere I can contact you?”

“Reach out to Father Paolo Rivera of the Parish of Immaculate Conception, in Seattle, and say that a mysterious benefactor gave you supplies and that you need something more, and he will know who to reach.” He would at that. “You priests do have channels for how to reach each other, right?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Okay, great. You can reach me.”

They and I let each other go, and I started trying to reach out to my Indian friend - though first, I had to look at the text. Lash still hadn’t responded.

I texted her again. I was really starting to worry about her. I hadn’t slept since the thing happened, but it was okay. We were going to be fine.

The pills weren’t helping, probably. I needed to start going off the Adderall again. Okay, so I did know that that area mostly needed stuff for monsoon season, water purifiers, purification tabs or filters, mostly.

I wanted to call, though.

I dialed up Ayanti - really? that screen name? - fuck it, she was probably like 14 and God knew my screen name hadn’t always had style. “Hey, this is Nothing - uh…Nihilus. I’m calling about supplies. You said you needed some?”

“Yeah. Monsoon season. Filters. Purifying tabs, if they’ve got them. Also, because of a whole...thing. I know your reputation…”

That was never a great sign. “Yeah?”

“So, a few people I know have this problem where they have to do gold farming in MMORPGs, and…?

“You need some bot that you can run on a simpler rig and worse internet connection that allows you to do…less work during this process? So that you can just fire it and forget while you pretend to work and actually have a life during those hours?”

“That would be helpful. Do I owe you anything?”

“No. How and where should I deliver the filters?”

“Daravi.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

She paused, then abruptly burst out, “Hey, Nothing. Are you the Nihilus that works with the Phoenix Queen?”

I blinked. “Maybe. Why?”

“Can I join up with you both?”

“Real talk - you’re a teenager, aren’t you?”

“I’m old enough to be working full time, I should be old enough to do something that’s actually helpful. If I gotta work like an adult, I should get to choose like one.”

I wanted to argue with that. “I…for obvious reasons I need to actually speak to the Phoenix Queen about whether or not we’re allowing this.”

I texted Lash. Situation, situation. I need to talk to you.

I was actually getting annoyed at this point. We all had emotions, but here I was trying to do my job, actually dealing with them and doing what we were supposed to be doing, while she hid her head in the sand and had a breakdown.

“That said, you seem to be looking after your community, which is a good sign. Do you actually understand what our general…goals are?”

“I know you’re going to make the world less shitty.”

Accurate enough. “I mean. True. Ish. For you, at least.” Your boss, on the other hand…

“That sounded ominous.”

“Don’t worry.” If I wasn’t talking to a child I’d have been more of a dick. “Seriously though, anything else you need coming your way in convenient, clean crates from American non-profits?”

“Vaccines?”

“Done. I’m just assuming you want cholera vaccines, is there anything else I should put on the list?” Monsoons, plus it was India, a country known for…having that happen frequently.

“Malaria and MMR if you can do it.”

“Cool.”

Lash, seriously. Pick up. I texted her again. There’s someone who needs to talk to you.

Fuck’s sake. Where was she?

“So, what is it that drew you to us?”

“I just saw some of the stuff the Phoenix Queen has made, and I know some of the stuff you guys have done. The Phoenix Queen says you guys are on the side of the poor, the hated, the untouchables, and you say you are the King of those who can expect nothing.”

“I don’t say that, I call myself Nihilus Rex because I pathologically hate the idea of kings as a concept, but I see your point.”

“I’m a Dalit.”

I blinked. “Ah. So…”

“So. I want to talk to the person like me. And then if you guys are real, I want to join you.”

I dialed Lash. “Lash. I need you to pick up. This is real.”

Still no response.

“Okay. I’ll get her to contact you as soon as I can.”

“Got it.”

Why the fuck was she out of contact? This was important. Breakdowns could wait. Unless she’d really, really freaked out over all this.

Had the guilt gotten to her? Had I been too cynical and hard nosed about all this while Lash was hurting herself?

A sudden image popped into my head, Jessie and Lash interposed over each other, two people I had failed by not reaching out, not making sure they were okay. Taking care of my own bullshit first and ignoring what they needed. Not knowing them well enough, a treasonous voice reminded me.

I called Lash again. “Lash. Are you okay? I know it’s been rough for…” I checked the calendar. “A few days. I just…I really need to know that you’re alright. You’ve been out of contact since the incident at the theater - “ that made sense, people could believe something strange had happened at a movie theater - “And I want to make sure you’re okay.”

There was no response, and I called my mother. “Mom. Question. Lash has been out of contact for a while. Some stuff…happened…”

“Nils. What happened, specifically? Because you’re talking like you did something and you don’t want to say it?”

“We did something, actually. Together. Something that we both regretted. Not sex, not a fight. Just…we did something together, and I think it’s getting to her.”

“Give her space. She’ll either call you back in a few days, or she won’t. She doesn’t seem the kind to ghost you, so I’d give her a couple days to let you know if whatever it is ruined the relationship. I expect you to know what I expect if it’s the latter.”

“Yeah, no, her breaking up with me is fine.” It wasn’t, but it was the kind of not-fine I’d get over, where Lash hurting herself very much was not. I pondered telling my mother that, but I realized if I did, she’d ask what the hell we’d done that that was a concern and that was not a question I could answer. She was one of two people who’d ever figured out how to consistently tell when I was lying, and the other had been buried the day I met Lash.

“Then give her time. She’ll get back in contact.”

“She hasn’t yet and it’s been a few days.”

“A couple days? As in two? A few days? As in three? Several days, as in more than that but less than a week?”

“Uh…a few. Specifically.” Goddamnit my mother the lawyer.

“Give her. A couple. More. Specifically. A couple. THEN. Call again. Oh, and Nils? Myself and Sahar are going out for tea tomorrow night and discuss the case. I’m going to call her to confirm details. I’ll drop a question about how things are going with Lash.” There was an unspoken threat there - my mother would be exceedingly unhappy if I’d gotten Lash into trouble or mistreated her.

I’d done the former, possibly.

#original fiction #Nihilus Rex #original writing #writeblr #miys prequel #arcadian inquisition prequel #afterverse #traumatized characters #modern dystopia #cyberpunk

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ciaossu-imagines · 1 year ago

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hey, it's nix! thanks for this wonderful event! for day 20, can you do number 30 from prompt 11? ⋆｡ʚ🍓ɞ˚

also, while i’m at it, i just wanna chat for a bit. i did mention to you before about being shy when it comes to public performances, but yesterday, i was assigned to work at a psychiatric institution for our related learning experience as a student nurse, and a patient & i bonded over our love for “don’t look back in anger” by oasis. she had asked me to play it on the piano in the main hall, and we ended up singing together. surprisingly, everyone, even other patients, joined in listening. i’m not sure how i feel about my clinical instructor and classmates discovering my musical ability 😂 (because i initially wanted keep a low profile and stay out of the spotlight), but playing for that patient helped me get more comfortable performing. now, every time i listen to that song, i think of her. it’s a small step, but i’m hoping to improve even more. i just know that sho-chan would be proud! haha

Hey Nix! It’s so nice to hear from you (especially since I needed to reach out to you anyway about an ask you sent in, just to clarify I don’t keep anyone’s match-up send in after it’s done, so I would really appreciate you resending that in, please and thank you!!) But onto the ask! I’m so, so glad that you and the others seemed to enjoy the event this time! The response I got for asks was amazing and it makes me really happy! Also, I loved hearing about your experience at the learning experience! You are right, Sho-chan would be so very, very proud of you! Heck, I (and I am sure the other readers) are very proud of you too! That’s an amazing thing you did, both overcoming a slight fear of public performances and making that patient’s day, as I am sure you did. Just as you think about her now listening to the song, I’m sure she’s always going to remember you when she hears the song now. As someone else who doesn’t really like to draw attention to themselves, I personally find what you did very inspiring 😊 Anyway, I’ll move onto answering the question you asked and again, thank you for sending in a question and for sharing such a lovely experience with me and the other readers!

What is your favourite thing to do?

As with everything else, I really do struggle to pick favourites. It’s hard to say ‘this one thing is better than anything else’ for me, because there’s so many things that bring me joy. Some of the things that really make me happy doing them are:

Of course, writing ranks pretty high up on this list. It’s therapeutic and fun to get out of my life for a bit and fall into characters and other worlds and on top of that, because of the nature of this particular blog, there’s a really pleasant social aspect to it that helps me feel like I’ve found my people, even if just online.

The library is my safe place and I visit it at least once a week. I love just browsing the stacks, taking the time to pick my ten books for the month, as well as talking and catching up with the librarian’s and their lives, plus any cool events the library is hosting in the upcoming weeks. On top of that, my library is really cool in that they do up mystery bags they sell where you get several used books in a particular genre, and I treat myself to one of those and some discounted coffee from a local coffee company when I go! I also love reading manga and books I already own. Again, falling into another world for a little bit – it’s the most wonderful escape.

I love crafting. I do diamond art and I sew, embroider, and cross-stitch. I recently got news that a friend is pregnant, so I’m working on a cross-stitched baby blanket top that I’ll quilt up for the couple and I enjoy zoning out and doing it.

I’m a house (architecture and interior design) nerd, I admit it. I love looking at the online listings and I have a couple of dorky friends who get together with me and we go to open houses within an hour or two of us. It’s fun to scope out houses and we have fun discussing how we’d change, fix up, and decorate the places after we act like nosey Nellies.

I also love getting outside. I’m a pretty big hiker and throwing on some music or a podcast and even just getting out for a couple hours on the nature trails is lovely.

#admin chatter

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inamanicpixiedream · 1 year ago

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2023

I've answered these questions on various platforms for over ten years now, I think? That's wild. There's better questions out there but tradition is tradition.

1. What did you do this year that you’d never done before?

Put on a mother-fucking Fringe show. Bought a Lego advent calendar. Got divorced lol.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions?

I don't really make them any more, but I feel like I set out what I wanted to do.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Yeah, a few of my good friends from work.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No.

5. What cities/states/countries did you visit?

My partner finally moved here from Brisbane, but I did a couple of final trips there and we went back for a wedding. I did a whirlwind trip to Melbourne and while it was fun I found out I am not the kind of person who thrives on flying somewhere for less than 24 hours.

6. What would you like to have next year that you lacked this year?

Money. God, I hate this is the answer, but my rent got super jacked up and my partner hasn't found a job here yet and everything is find but it's tight as fuck and I hate working so goddamn hard and feeling like I have nothing to show for it.

7. What date(s) from this year will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

February my show was performed. April my partner moved here. Two of the biggest days of my life honestly.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

The show was huge. I wrote and performed something I had written, with my own financial backing and organisation and steam, and it's something I have always wanted to do. And I just did it. I then started making more and more moves to make this my life, like asking to go part-time at work and starting my podcast again and putting together a Patreon.

9. What was your biggest failure?

I actually can't think of anything which is kind of wild. After leaving my husband last year I really grabbed a hold of my agency in my life. It's been pretty incredible.

10. What other hardships did you face?

I had a lot to grieve and process about the separation and I am very thankful to my therapist for all the work she did there.

My current relationship is wonderful but being two adults coming together is going to have more baggage and things to work through. It's so absolutely worth it.

11. Did you suffer illness or injury?

In July I was diagnosed with polycystic-ovary syndrome, which is yet another nail in the coffin of my ever being able to have children.

Along with that came a further investigation into my blood sugar and I was told I had pre-diabetes. This scared the shit out of me, cause I was really fucking close. I was also terrified about doing the work to try and reverse it, because I didn't want to get back into disordered eating territory. But I had incredible help from a dietician and I read really tempered, reasonable information, and I managed to make small, sustainable changes and turn that entire shit around. Within six months my levels were completely back to normal and all my other negative health markers were reversed. Honestly, this was another huge achievement.

12. What was the best thing you bought?

I just bought a new guitar that has become a huge joy in my life. I also got into beading when I went to see the Eras tour movie to make bracelets and I've kept it up and I absolutely love it as a hobby. Otherwise, I didn't really make a lot of big purchases. Contributing financially to helping my boyfriend move was pretty great to get him here.

13. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

I am often resisting the urge to come on here and write a very gushy post about my boyfriend, but god he is great. I wrote last year that I highly recommend falling in love in your thirties. My mum commented at Christmas that it's clear how happy he makes me, but it's beyond happy - he makes me calm. Even when things are hard and messy he is such a solid presence in my life, and he is so, so bloody nice to me, and I keep waiting for it to stop feeling like a crush and exciting every time I see him but it's been almost two years and that just has never gone away. He is so ridiculously supportive of me and has worked so hard on himself and I'm so proud of him.

14. Whose behaviour made you appalled?

No names, but a few people at work made me feel like I was banging my head against the wall.

Also, fuck everyone who has been supporting Israel's attack on Palestine.

15. Where did most of your money go?

Rent and household expenses is the very boring but realistic answer.

16. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

My show. My boyfriend finally moving here. Seeing Barbie.

17. What song will always remind you of this year?

I was so terrible at listening to new music this year. The songs that were written for my show, I guess. I listened to Peach Prc and Tessa Violet a lot, but I don't know if those songs will remind me of the year. Maybe Kitchen Song.

18. Compared to this time last year, are you:

i. Happier or sadder? Happier, happier, happier!

ii. Thinner or fatter? No comment!

iii. Richer or poorer? Poorer. But I have complete control of my finances and can still cover everything and then some. Have to remind myself I'll be okay.

19. What do you wish you’d done more of? Reading! This is something I have to work on.

20. What do you wish you’d done less of? Last year I said sleeping, which is very funny to me. Mindless scrolling is the answer this year for sure.

21. How did you spend Christmas? My extended family did out potluck on the Saturday before which was lovely, and my boyfriend was nervous cause he hadn't met half of them before, and he'd never been to a big Christmas before, but it was really great. My granny is pretty far gone with her Alzheimer's though which was a cloud that hung over everything

My boyfriend's mum then flew down on Christmas Eve, and we had lunch on the day with just us and our mums, cause we're both only children of single parents, and I was a bit concerned it'd be awkward, but it wasn't, it was really nice. We cooked an amazing meal together and both our mums bought the dogs presents. and we watched Fantasia and it was great.

22. Did you fall in love this year?

I did not know it was possible to be in love the way we are. I sold myself short for years. It feels like a waste of time, but god, I cannot believe how lucky I am to have it now.

This is what I wrote last year, at the end of a much more extended answer, since 2022 was pretty big for us. But this is still absolutely true, and I can't get over it still.

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? I don’t think so.

24. What was your favorite show? God, I didn't watch much that was new, but we rewatched 30 Rock because my boyfriend had never seen it and that was great.

25. What was the best book you read? The Bookbinder of Jericho by Pip Williams. Little Weirds by Jenny Slate. What You Are Looking for is in the Library by Michiko Aoyama.

26. What was your greatest musical discovery of the year? I went to see Stop Making Sense and it got me very into The Talking Heads. Loved finding corook's music as well.

27. What was your favorite film?

Films that came out this year - Barbie, Oppenheimer, Across the Spiderverse,

Films I watched for the first time - Amadeus, Stop Making Sense, Best In Show, The Great Escape, Glass Onion.

I also went to a cinema event where we marathoned all five Twilight movies in a row, and that ruled.

28. What was your favorite meal?

We've been doing a roast chicken every Sunday together which has been great.

It's what we did on Christmas too and I made a kickass pavlova. Think that's definitely been the best meal of the year.

29. What did you want and get?

For my partner to move here.

30. What did you want and not get?

To win the fucking lottery.

31. What did you do on your birthday and how old did you turn?

I turned 35. I had a work event that night so did nothing special. That was fine.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Said it before, but having more financial stability and freedom sure would be nice.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept of the year?

Comfortable. Embracing my body. Showing my tattoos. As sustainable as possible.

Wrote this last year. Stand by it.

34. What kept you sane?

My dogs. My friends. My boyfriend. Writing. Podcasts. Taylor Swift's music. Going to the movies.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you admire the most?

Caroline Klidonas is an actor I follow on TikTok whose work I just adore. I also love Pip Williams' writing so much, especially after seeing the play of A Dictionary of Lost Words.

36. What political issue stirred you the most? The genocide in Gaza.

37. Who did you miss? Sometimes I miss the family I lost in the divorce.

But mostly not.

38. Who was the best new person you met?

I honestly don't feel like I've met many new people? Which is weird.

39. What valuable life lesson did you learn this year?

Go after what you want.

40. What is a quote or song lyric that sums up your year?

On the way home I wrote a poem You say, "What a mind" This happens all the time

'Cause they said the end is coming Everyone's up to something I find myself running home to your sweet nothings Outside, they're push and shoving You're in the kitchen humming All that you ever wanted from me was nothing

- Sweet Nothing, Taylor Swift

We live in hope--that life will get better, and more importantly that it will go on, that love will survive even though we will not. As Emily Dickinson put it, hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all. And we are here because we’re here because we’re here because we’re here. Sing it with me, wherever you are. Think of those across the broad and roaring seas, and sing with me. You won’t be more offtune than I am. We’re here because we’re here because we’re here because we’re here. We’re here because we’re here because we’re here because we’re here.

- The Anthropocene Reviewed, John Green

#year in review

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penny00dreadful · 2 years ago

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First Impressions - Chapter 7

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 AO3

Steve had made himself scarce once more. In the weeks after whatever the fuck happened in his kitchen, it was like he’d never even been around again in the first place.

Which was wonderful.

Great, even.

Because Eddie was damn pissed.

He hadn’t told Chrissy yet, he didn’t think it would do any good to know those attempts to get back in touch with Robin after her coming out to herself had been cut off at the knees by Robin’s fucking bodyguard.

Nancy’s publishers had loved his story but were cautious. They wanted to do a trial run first, within their own storefront in the city and see how that did before they committed to a full release. Eddie understood, they needed to protect their profits or whatever, make sure anyone actually gave a shit about his story, but it did nothing to settle his nerves.

It was one particularly nerve-wracking day for him, he’d woken up convinced that this whole thing was going to become one big embarrassing fiasco. He’d sell maybe one or two copies then the publishers would have to come back to him and inform him that actually it was shit and no one wanted to read it, so sorry? Go back to bartending or whatever it is he had as a day job.

He’d spent the last hour with his fists in his hair or chewing on his thumb or staring off into space. He wished he could just jump forward in time a few weeks to get those sales numbers so he wouldn’t have to slog through and wait for news like some peasant.

Which was why he was completely unprepared to hear frantic knocking at the door and find Steve Harrington standing in his doorway nearly a full month after he’d last seen him.

He looked much the same as he did back then, harried and vaguely irritated with mussed up hair like he’d been tugging at it, bottom lip raw and inflamed, and a wild, intense look in his eye.

The appearance caught Eddie so much by surprise that he completely froze up. He had half a mind to kick the man out of the apartment building, out of Hawkins if he had to but Steve spoke before he could jumpstart his brain back into action.

“We wouldn’t work together.”

Eddie blinked, confusion momentarily superseding anything else he was feeling.

“What?”

“We wouldn’t work together. We shouldn’t work together. We’re too different.”

He closed and opened his mouth before answering, “Okay…?”

“I’ve tried Eddie.” Steve ran his hand through his hair again, looking every bit like a man on the edge. “I have really, honestly tried but it’s not going away and I don’t know if I can take it anymore.”

“Dude, I have no idea-”

“You’re weird! You’re so weird and bitchy and constantly up in arms about conformity and ‘the status quo’. You’re so possessive over the things you love, your music, your writing, your friends… Whenever I’m expecting you to go left, you go right.” Steve was ranting now, waving his arms around and getting louder.

“You refuse to back down from your opinions on things even when there’s evidence to the contrary and you’re messy. You’re so fucking messy and chaotic with everything you do, it’s a god damn nightmare to watch. You’re loud and abrasive and a damn nuisance to my psyche.” Eddie had backed away from the door now, completely stunned and a little mesmeried but letting Steve inside anyway to get him out of the fucking hallway. He didn’t need another noise complaint from the prick down the hall. Steve followed him through like he was being pulled by a magnet, still raving.

“You can barely go ten minutes without drawing attention to yourself and what’s worse is I don’t think you even realise you’re doing it! Every time you walk into a room, everyone pays attention because you’re just so much with the hair and the chains and the leather and those fucking tattoos. Those fucking tattoos that will be the death of me, I swear.” Steve was pacing now, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“I don’t understand half the things you’re talking about but you talk about them with so much passion I can’t help but keep listening and it’s all so fucking nerdy. You’re nerdy and cringey and weird and I can’t stop-” He huffed interrupting himself and glaring at Eddie.

“Did you come here just to insult me?” Eddie cocked an eyebrow. He couldn’t lie to himself. The sight of Steve losing his mind over whatever this was was just too entertaining. He used all that malice and hate swirling up in him to try and drown out the beating of his hideous heart.

Steve’s eyes went wide and he stepped closer. “No! No, that’s not what I…” He turned, almost in a full circle, tugging at his hair and looking around as if the answer was going to pop out of nowhere. “I… I can’t…” He sighed in frustration again and Eddie could feel it across his face, suddenly aware of how criminally close they were. Their chests met with every inhale and from this close he could feel the heat radiating off of Steve even though his coat was drenched from the weather.

Eddie was rooted to the spot, he couldn’t move, almost mesmerised by what was in front of him. Steve’s hand was warm and firm against his shoulder, his fingers just barely touching the vertebrae at the back of his neck and Eddie was pretty sure his thumping pulse was visible under his skin.

There was so much adrenaline running through him with nowhere for it to go because he still couldn’t move and Steve was just standing there with his moles and his irritated, puffy, rosy lips.

He looked back up to meet Steve’s honey brown eyes and again found them travelling around his face, looking for a sign of something or some kind of invitation. There was a strand of hair falling across his forehead and he looked both tormented and resigned at the same time.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” Steve breathed, almost into his mouth and Eddie couldn’t help the way his own breath caught in his throat. Steve’s hand tightened momentarily on the back of his neck before loosening and pulling him that scant amount of space closer.

Full chapter on AO3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

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sonic-blue-moon · 7 months ago

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Sonic: Blue Moon - Chapter 4 {Far From Home}

“And that was it,” Nic said, after explaining a great deal of how his life was. Having to deal with the deaths he feels he has caused. “After losing him like that, it was like I didn’t know who I was anymore. So I just ran away; like I always do.”

Sally looked at the hedgehog she used to know as a friend with the same regard she’d give a faceless passerby; with no warmth and joy at all. She just looked at Nic’s now hazel eyes; no doubt they are some form of contact he has to put in every day.

“Gaia…” she said softly like she heard a person close to her had died. And to be fair, Sally has.

Sonic, the hyperactive blue hedgehog with eyes gleaming like two sparking, joyous emeralds. His iconic, cherry red shoes with buckles as golden as the rays of the sun, now replaced with Nic…a shade of that same hedgehog. His black gloves and dark-shaded eyes no longer inspire joy and positivity; but quite the opposite.

“I’m sorry,” Nic said, stepping close to Sally. “I did not mean to just…unload that all onto you, and all within, like, an hour of us running into each other after decades of not seeing each other. You aren’t my therapist; but a friend. Forgive me.”

Nic apologized, looking down and to the side. His ears droop, showing his emotions visibly to his old friend. Sally looks up at the used-to-be positive hedgehog warmly, smiling equally as warmly.

“It’s okay. You usually are so sure and independent. But such a loss like that could wreck anybody. So forgive me for stereotyping you like that.” Sally said, trying to comfort Nic’s woes that have plagued him for so long, even if only for a small while. Noticing her efforts to do so, Nic smiles back at her, looking at her with his now dark, hazel eyes.

“So…” Sally steps away from him, leaning on the cheap, rusted-out metal railing of the apartment building Nic has lived in for so long. “What’s new with you? What have you been doing with all this time?”

“Well I had a job a while ago, but I got fired. Funnily enough, it was for being late too often.” Nic said with a wry chuckle. Sally laughed a bit too, finding humor in the ironic situation. “But now,” Nic says, “I am trying to find a job and get rent so I can live in my apartment for another month. I still think I can do it, but…I’m not sure.”

“That place?” Sally pointed at the door that was behind them both. “You lived in that hovel for ten years??”

“Hey, I had no other option. Besides, I never exactly had a home or actual money to worry about. That stuff’s still fairly new to me. And I needed a place to blend in to, so…I had to get a place.” Nic said, looking a bit blue as he reminisced in his head about the entire process he went through to get to this point; getting a home, bank account, even changing his name.

At first, the blue hedgehog felt sad for just abandoning the rest of his friends and coming clean with them. But in the present, he’d gotten used to the situation he had.

“I gotta admit, Sally.” Nic piped up, looking a bit hesitant. His hazel contacts looking at the squirrel before him. “I actually have been so bullheaded about wanting to live here is…it is all I can do. I was working at job; a fast food place to keep this place to myself. At first, I was just trying to survive and try to live with the guilt of what I’d done.”

This last sentence piques Sally’s interest, a brow on her face raises slightly. “Guilt? What could you be guilty of?”

The thought of answering such a question was hard for the previously speedy hedgehog. The words stick and cling into the inside of his mouth, like a kind of gum or syrup.

“Sally,” Nic gestured to a nearby bench, “You may want to sit down for this.”

Still having trust in the friend she now knows as “Nic”, goes to sit down.

The hedgehog sits next to the squirrel princess. He exhales a breath, before going to commit to face the past he tried to leave behind for so very long. His face the look of having every single non-motivational emotion and yet has no emotion at all. Like a blank canvas.

He turns to look at Sally.

“Ten years ago, Miles was getting a celebration for saving a place known as Station Square. My other friends were there; a lot of them you don’t know. Anyways, Eggman attacked us. And I thought it would be like usual: beat up some robots, confront Eggman, blow up his ship and come back to cheering and screaming. But…it turned out Metal Sonic; the robot he built to be like me in every way, went haywire when—as a joke—I uploaded a stupid video into his system as a virus.”

Nic takes a breath, still a bit calm as he recalls what happened.

“A bunch of my friends fended off the bots crashing the celebration. Tails, an echidna named Knuckles, and I hopped on Tail’s plane and we three went to confront him. Except…the inside was all torn up and broken. Robots rendered to rubble, floors and floors of scrap metal and parts. I met Eggman, who was beaten to a near death state.”

Sally gasped at that. Shocked at such a thing happened.

“No way…” Sally mumbled under breath, shocked that her old friend had to see all of that.

“Then Eggman told me it was Metal Sonic that got to him. He had his robots try and destroy him, but that didn’t work out. Realizing I left my teammates while a crazed, robot was in a ship…I rushed away from Eggman. Only to see Knuckles, in a room; slumped down near a wall. He… was killed.”

Sally’s eyes widened at that.

“Then I rushed to see…Miles…innocently waiting for me. Wanting to protect his trust in me, I lied and said Knuckles was doing something else. I got dropped off at the main fight in Station Square, and helped out the others. After that, Tails was nowhere to be seen. Amy, a hedgehog who I saved from Eggman long ago, came with me.”

That was when Nic started to breathe a bit more heavily.

“Metal Sonic held Tai—Miles hostage. He knocked him out. I can’t remember why, but…he hurt my best friend. He broke one of tails and flung him into the ocean that was near us. I destroyed Metal and tried to reach my friend…”

Nic…broke down. Sobbing the tears he wanted to all those years ago. Sally pieced the end of the story together and was horrified what she came up with and just hugged the hedgehog beside her.

“I’m sorry for your loss. Truly, such genius and bravery were lost that day. The world will never know what it had.” Sally said, rubbing Nic’s back in an attempt to comfort him.

“Compared to what you had to go through, my troubles seem small now.”

That broke Nic out of his torpor of teary torment. As he looked at the princess with confusion.

“‘Troubles’? I thought the Acorn Empire was fine after I stopped Eggman years ago as a kid? What’s going on?” Nic inquired.

“Oh, nothing. I…just moved a long way out from the Empire to my own place. I hoped to become my own squirrel, and not just ‘King Max’s and Queen Alicia’s heir’.” Sally answered. “It’s just…living away from all I know is hard. The comforts of the castle were all I knew and I wanted to try living on my own.”

That gave Nic pause. Guess he wasn’t the only one wanting to get away from a previous life.

“My rent is gonna be up in a day or two. I’m gonna be out on the streets.” Nic said in a quiet tone.

Sally immediately replied to this. “You could live with me, if you want. Would make my home a bit more lively to…be in.”

“You would take me in?! But why? Why help me when you just me again in…years?”Nic asked, shocked and confused at Sally’s sudden kindness. To which Sally shrugged and answered. “Do I need a reason to want to help out a friend?”

To which…Nic broke down at that. He recalled a time when he said that to a…certain friend of his.

While wiping away his tears, he accidentally wiped out the color contacts in his eyes that made his eyes looked hazel. For the time again in ten years, Sonic’s emerald green eyes were seeing the world.

“Thank you.” he replied, happy to finally get some kindness back in life again.

Both Nic and Sally talked about more lighter subjects after knowing they would be under the same roof.

In the early hours of dawn, Mr. Tredway entered his office. Only for minutes later to see Princess Sally Acorn. In shock, he asked: “Princess Sally?! Why are you here?”

Sally holds out a sheet of paper with Nic’s apartment info. “Render this contract with the one you call Nic null and void. They will be living with me now.”

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lelua-quotes · 11 months ago

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It might well be depression but it might be depression associated with what you are choosing to study. When I was an undergrad, I studied psychology and philosophy because I loved them both. However, like many young guys, I still believed all that brainwashing Capitalism provides that money is important.

A few years after graduating I was still floundering in my life. I had a friend who had just graduated law school. He was convinced I could be a good law student so I took an LSAT practice exam, scored high and decided I might as well go to law school. I did extremely well. Two years in I was number two in a class of 270 students, but there was one little problem. I realized I hated it. So much so that the first semester of my third year I could not bring myself to study. At the time I was a visiting student at Univ. of Michigan’s law school. Fortunately, they allow students to opt for pass/no pass up to the minute prior to exams. I got by and my final semester was an internship and independent study. So I graduated magma cum laude, despite not studying at all the last year.

Unfortunately, I was a lawyer. Something similar happened after two years of practice. I could hardly bring myself to work and was doing everything under the gun at the last minute. I loathed the justice system in its inanity, but hey this is what I went to law school for, right. How do I do that well in law school, then walk away? And I was making money…

I took nearly a year off to try and do something different with my life but nothing came to me. I still love psychology and my love for philosophy was coming back but how would I make money. Lawyering….again. Lots of misery and unhappiness. I spent all that I made trying to create enough excitement and pleasure to counter my misery. I drank like a fish, killing copious brain cells and stunning my mind into a kind of docility. Nothing worked. The depression just accumulated slowly in the background.

Finally, I got sick. Not deathly sick but sick enough to lay me up for a week. I couldn’t go to work. I couldn’t drink, or party. My mind cleared. I am still convinced my unconscious intentionally got me sick to clean out my system and bring my mind into balance. I realized shortly after, what I wanted to do was think, write, and read - in that order. I realized in that moment, I no longer cared one bit about money or the things money brings. It took a little time but within six months I was living out of my camper, thinking, writing, and reading. And I was happier than I had been since I was a child.

It’s been ten years and I am still spending several hours every day thinking, writing, and reading. I have a son now, an amazing boy, so I gave up the camper but I will never go back to that life.

Depression is not a virus I just caught. It was not disconnected from my life and how I was living. Stress was the first sign, hair loss was another, wrinkles, but still I wouldn’t listen. So the stress became depression. I was looking to eliminate the symptoms, with crazy sex and lots of alcohol but none of that worked. None of it would have ever worked. What I needed to do was slow down and listen to what the symptoms were telling me about me, about my genuine passions in life, and the life I was leading. Then begin using those signs to unravel the silly webs I had created to deceive myself about me and my unique suffering - suffering I was creating for myself."

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meg-moira · 4 years ago

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The Witch Who Spoke to the Wind

Sequel to Eindred and the Witch

In which Severin, the golden eyed witch, learns that his greatest enemy and truest love is fated to kill him.

Dealing in prophecies is a dubious work. Anyone who knows anything will tell you as much.

“Think of all of time as a grand tapestry,” his great-grandmother had said, elbow deep in scalding water. Her hands were tomato red, and Severin watched with wide golden eyes as she kneaded and stretched pale curds in the basin. “You might be so privileged to understand a single weave, but unless you go following all surrounding threads, and the threads around those threads, and so on - which, mind you, no human can do - you’ll never understand the picture.”

Severin, who was ten years old and had never seen a grand tapestry, looked at the cheese in the basin and asked if his great-grandmother could make the analogy about that instead.

“No,” she replied. “Time is a tapestry. Cheese is just cheese.”

And that was that.

By fifteen, Severin who was all arms, legs, and untamable black hair, decided he hated prophecies more than anything in the world. He occupied himself instead with long walks atop the white bluffs well beyond his family’s home. Outside, he could look at birds, and talk to the wind, and not think about the terrible prophecy which followed him like a shadow.

His second eldest sister had revealed it - accidentally, of course. Severin lived in a warm and bustling house with his great-grandmother, grandmother, mother, two aunts, and three sisters. All of whom were generously gifted in the art of foretelling (a messy business, each would say if asked), and every one of them had seen Severin’s same bleak thread.

He would die. Willingly stabbed through the heart by his greatest enemy and truest love.

Willingly. That was the worst part, he thought.

Severin, who had no talent in the way of prophecies, but plenty of talent in the realm of wind and sky, marched along the well-worn trail, static sparking around his fingertips as the brackish sea breeze nipped consolingly at his face and hair.

I will protect you if you ask me to, it blustered, and Severin was comforted.

He didn’t care who this foretold stranger was. When this enemy-lover appeared, Severin would ask the wind to pick them up and take them far, far away. Far enough that they could never harm him. The wind whistled in agreement. And so it was settled.

At seventeen, he was still all arms and legs, though his eldest sister had managed to tame his hair with a respectably sharp pair of shears. The wind, who had delighted in playing with his wild, tangled locks, did not thank her for it. Severin did thank her; in fact, he’d asked her to do it. He was of the opinion that his newly shorn hair made him look older - more sophisticated. And he left his family home with a new cloak draping his shoulders and a knotted wooden walking stick in hand, thinking himself very nearly a man. He was far from it, of course. But there was no telling him that.

He set out on a clear, cool morning to find his own way in the world, and was prepared to thoroughly deal with anyone who so much as dared to act ever so slightly in the manner of enemy or lover.

He discovered, soon enough, that this was not a practical attitude to take when venturing into the world. Severin spent his first months away from home making little in the way of friends and plenty in the way of thoroughly baffled enemies.

When you meet his gaze, you’ll know, the wind chided as it whisked in and out of his hood.

“His?” Severin said aloud, lifting a single dark brow. “Do you know something I don’t?”

The wind whistled noncommittally in answer.

The wind did know something, as it turned out. At twenty, Severin stood on the warm, sun-loved planks of a dock. As gulls cried overhead, he pressed his fingers to his lips. The young sailor had touched his lips to Severin’s in a swift, carefree kiss before departing on the sea. And though the feeling was pleasant enough, Severin knew that his enemy-lover was not on the great ship cleaving a path through the cerulean waves.

“When I meet his gaze, I’ll know,” Severin said, golden eyes sweeping the horizon. The seaward breeze blustered in such agreement that the gulls overhead cried out in alarm.

What will you do? The wind asked, delighting in whipping the gulls into a proper frenzy.

“Get rid of him, of course,” Severin replied.

What if you don’t want to?

Severin thought that was the stupidest question he’d ever heard. “He’s going to stab me through the heart. Why in the world wouldn’t I want to get rid of him?”

People are foolish, the wind answered, shrugging the nearby sails.

“Not me.” Severin leaned on his stick and looked out at the sea. “I won’t let anyone get away with stabbing my heart.”

When he was twenty-two, Severin knelt at the bedside of a withered, wilting woman. She was a stranger, but the town’s herb witch was away, and Severin happened to be passing through. Though his true strength would always remain with the wind and the sky, the youngest of Severin’s two aunts had a special way with plants, and she’d taught him a fair bit about the many healing properties of the region’s hardy, windblown flora.

He boiled water, adding the few herbs he carried to make a rejuvenating tea. He helped the woman drink, his hand supporting her head and fingers tangling in her sweat drenched hair. After, he pressed a cool cloth to her head, and in the half dark room, she murmured, sharing delirious fears that she would accidentally speak cruel dying words and lay a curse upon him.

Kindly stroking her forehead, Severin assured her that he was not afraid of curses. Even uttered by the dying, a true curse was rarer than the superstitious soldier’s and barbarians liked to believe. Besides, she wasn’t going to die. Severin, who’d seen just enough of the world to have a taste of wisdom, was certain he could save her.

She died within the day.

Whether her condition had been beyond help, or Severin lacked the skills to twist the herbs to his bidding, he would never know. The wind rustled reassurances through the sparsely-leaved trees, but Severin was beyond consolation. Clouds gathered on the horizon, and by nightfall, great branches of lightning crackled across the sky.

He spent the next year and a half in the wilds. Beneath the jubilant light of the sun, he collected plants, acquainting himself with the earth. And beneath the soft, watchful light of the moon, he whispered to the wind and dared to wonder at the shape of his enemy-lover’s face. He could never seem to summon the slightest picture in his mind. Though it really didn’t matter, he supposed. Their eyes would meet, and Severin would know. And then he’d use all of the power at his disposal to send his enemy-lover away.

During this time, Severin sometimes saw bands of barbaric warriors crossing the plains. He kept his distance, but he doubted any of them were interested in either recruiting or killing a scrawny young man in a worn woolen cloak. Few he encountered ever suspected he had any great abilities, and Severin certainly didn’t go out of his way to advertise the fact that he could command the wind and sky when he wished. The barbaric companies had their eyes on more obviously lucrative targets, anyway. A handful of city states which spread across the great peninsula were openly at war with the barbaric tribes from the north.

It was when Severin was returning from his self-imposed isolation that he had his first real encounter with war. He held his sturdy walking stick in hand and carried a bursting bag of herbs, poultices, and leather-bound journals over his shoulder. Severin was so surprised by the sudden, brutal clash of metal and the primal cries that erupted nearby that he halted where he stood. His curiosity both outweighed and outlasted his fear, and after a minute or two of tense consideration, he pressed cautiously onward in the direction of the noise.

By the time he arrived, the battle was done.

It had surely been an ugly, bloody affair, if the splayed out bodies of the city soldiers and barbaric warriors were anything to judge it by. Holding a hand over his mouth, Severin gingerly navigated the carnage and valiantly resisted the impulse to be sick right there in the field. He was nearly on the other side of it when movement caught his eye. Squinting, almost afraid to look, he glanced from the corners of his eyes, sure that it was some grotesque remnant of warfare which awaited him.

Instead, it was a man.

Just a man.

The movement Severin had spotted was the rise and fall of his chest.

Only after turning a careful look around the terrible and silent battlefield did Severin approach the fallen man.

The barbarian’s eyes were closed and his pale brows drew together, as if reflecting pain. His face would probably have been handsome in a rough, simple sort of way if it weren’t smeared in dirt and blood. His light hair, braided and pulled away from his face, was bloodied as well, and Severin frowned at the sorry state of him. After a second wary look around, he knelt with a sigh.

The barbarian’s leather vest was cut, and his thick, scarred arms had earned several new slices as well. Severin, who had more than enough herbs and poultices on hand, reluctantly tore his only spare shirt into bandages. Within the hour the stranger was fully bandaged and muttering in fever addled sleep.

“Don’t worry,” Severin murmured, knotting the last makeshift bandage. “I’ve learned enough from the plants and trees to save you from both fever and infection.”

Behind closed lids, the barbarian’s eyes flitted anxiously to and fro and he mumbled something that sounded like no. Nose wrinkling, Severin leaned in. He heard the sleeping barbarian say, his voice low and cracking, “The curses will take me.”

Severin frowned down at him, unimpressed. “No they won’t,” he snapped, and yanked the bandage tighter.

The barbarian silenced then, and Severin stared at him a moment longer, pursing his lips in consternation. It wasn’t that he minded using his supplies to heal a stranger. But a part of him worried that healing a warrior made Severin responsible for whatever slaughter he resumed when he rose.

Severin abhorred warfare. It was such a terrible waste. But he supposed there was no helping what he’d already done. The barbarian was already on his way to recovery, and Severin certainly wasn’t going to murder him in his sleep. He reached out, intending to test the temperature at the man’s temple, but no sooner had Severin’s fingers touched his overheated skin than the world bled around him. In its place: a vision.

Shock echoed through him, because he was not like the women in his family, able to see phantoms in time. He’d always simply played with the air. The vision dancing before his gaze, however, didn’t seem to care.

Like droplets of ink spreading in water, a prism of colors twisted, threading together into nearly tangible shapes. From the chaos, rose a blond child holding a knit sheep. He was ruddy cheeked and pouting up at his mother. Then ink and water swirled and the images collapsed and shifted. Hulking shadows loomed over the child. The mother wailed her grief. The formless ink shivered, morphing from one scene to the next, nearly too quickly to follow, and Severin was swallowed up in it, overrun and overwhelmed by violence, blood, and pain. Beneath his fingers, Severin felt the movement of shifting, slipping thread.

Just as abruptly as it had started, the vision ceased. Severin’s knees ached where they pressed against the dirt and the barbarian’s skin beneath his hand was no longer overheated. How long had he been within the vision’s grasp, he wondered?

As Severin shifted back, the barbarian groaned. Severin watched as the man’s eyelids fluttered - and at once, the air turned heavy, as if the wind had drawn and held an anticipatory breath.

Dread flooded Severin and he rushed to stand. The barbarian had not yet opened his eyes, and Severin knew with a terrible nameless certainty that he must not be here when this man awoke. Severin could still feel those elusive, unknowable threads beneath his fingers, and his hands shook as he rose. Awakened by his urgency, the wind roared, lending him speed as he fled the clearing.

By the time the barbarian cracked open a single, world weary eye, Severin was long gone, heart still safely beating in his chest.

Severin endeavored to forget about the barbarian. He convinced himself that the vision had been the hallucination of an overexerted body, and that the sensation of inexorably moving threads beneath his fingers was nothing more than a flight of fancy. Severin did not think about how the threads had felt - certain and unyielding - beneath his fragile, very mortal hands. If he did, he feared he might ask the wind to whisk him away from the world altogether, and that, surely, was no way to live.

In a deep, secret place, however, Severin suspected the reason he was granted such a vision was because the stranger’s thread was woven perilously close to his own. Because of this, he set upon an easterly road, endeavoring to put a healthy distance between himself and the pale barbarian.

After nearly a month of travel, he arrived in a small village which sat nestled in foothills, tucked beneath the shadows of great mountains which stood like sentinels above. Severin hadn’t intended to stay, but when it was discovered he had some skill with plants and medicine, the villagers eagerly led him to a hut some distance from the village. It was empty, they explained, and had been for some years. A healing woman had occupied it, some years back, before she’d passed on. The villagers had been saving it, hoping the space would be enough to entice a new healer to make their isolated village a home.

Severin had nowhere else to go, and he supposed a distant, mountain village was as good a place as any to avoid a blade to the heart.

Two years passed, and Severin settled into his little hut. He spent his mornings taking long walks around the surrounding lands, collecting herbs and specimens. Returning home, he’d throw open the windows to allow his friend the wind a brief but wild rampage through the hut. With the air freshened, Severin spread plants across his square dining table and sorted them into jars to be sealed, dried, or preserved in vinegar. His neighbors in the village visited frequently, just as often for his company as for his medicines, and Severin delighted in visiting the town on market days and making the streamers dance in the wind for the children. Evenings were spent in his rocking chair, with a book in his lap and his feet pressed near to the low fire in the hearth.

He was happy, and hardly thought of the barbarian he’d found bleeding in the dirt. That is, until fate caught up with him.

One day, when he was foraging for moss on the hillside behind his hut, Severin felt the whisper-soft touch of thread against his palm. He sat upright at once, and turning and craning his neck, he absently rubbed his palms against his robes.

A company marched into the village. From up on Severin’s hill, they appeared a swarm of ants overtaking the miniature thatched roof homes. The slipping, shivering feeling beneath Severin’s palm intensified, and he stood. His heart drummed a frantic beat against his ribs, and Severin felt with a terrible certainty that fate, like a hunting hound on the scent, had sniffed him out at last.

When Severin called out, begging the wind’s help, it rushed to him, howling atop the hill.

I am here. I am here.

Cradled in the gale, he begged the wind to take him and hide him away, so that the tapestry’s relentless threads might cease dragging him toward the one he never wished to meet.

So be it, the wind said. If that is truly what you wish, I will take you and hide you away forever.

In that moment, nearly caught as he was, Severin was willing to do anything to avoid meeting this man who would kill him - until the screams rose from the pastures in the valley beneath his hut. Severin’s heartbeat was in his throat, on his very tongue, as he held up a hand to stay the wind.

“Just a moment,” he murmured, and turned bright, pained eyes toward the village. The terrified screams of his neighbors pierced him as surely as any blade, and with a mournful twist of his fingers, he bade the wind disperse.

By the time he reached in the pastures, the shepherd, the blacksmith, and Helvia’s two sons lay dead. At the sight of his friend’s bodies, grief and rage stirred within Severin, and the wind, always nearby to him, trembled in sympathy. Gaze sweeping the warriors, he marked the five whose weapons were stained red. Severin was not violent by nature, but if he was to die this day, he resolved to remove from the earth at least these five men, who with bloodied blades, uncaringly spoke of feasting upon the village’s few precious sheep.

When the warriors turned and finally noticed Severin, he lifted his chin and prayed his voice did not betray his fear. “These are simple people. They have little in way of money or goods. It wasn’t for nothing that the shepherd, blacksmith, and teenagers died. They need these sheep. And I cannot allow you to take them.”

The men glanced at one another, eyes filling with a cruel sort of mirth. They laughed at him, and Severin steeled himself for what must come next. He was friends with the wind, but to call down the heavens was an entirely more serious matter. And he’d never done it. At least, not like this.

Severin turned his palms up and glared at the heavens, daring them to refuse him now when he needed them most.

For a long, terrible moment, nothing happened.

And then, the skies erupted.

He had never felt pure, visceral power in such a way, and as it whined and crackled, Severin, with splayed fingers, used all of his strength to tear the lightning from its home in the sky. It rained upon the warriors, screaming in wild, untamable fury. Severin watched the men cry out in agony, and he felt horror and satisfaction in equal measure.

When a single figure broke from the group, agile enough to evade the lightning and charge across the field, Severin could only look on in exhausted realization. It was the pale barbarian. The man from the battlefield. The child in the vision.

The barbarian charged like a beast, his thickly braided hair bouncing. His brows were drawn down in focus and his lips poised on the precipice of a snarl. It was with a hopeless sense of finality that Severin met the stranger’s gaze.

He met eyes of icy gray, the color of hazy, snow capped mountains in winter, and Severin knew, he knew with a certainty that was sunken into his bones and twisted in his marrow, that this barbarian was the shadow which had haunted him. And he knew, more than anything, the crude blade in the man’s scarred-knuckle hand was fate’s exclamation point at the end of Severin’s ephemeral existence.

Watching as the barbarian pivoted, drawing back his blade, Severin only wished he understood why the women in his family had persisted in calling this man Severin’s truest love. If this was love, the man had a spectacularly terrible way of showing it.

Time slowed to a crawl, and sunlight flashed, reflecting off the blade. As the jagged edge touched the fabric of Severin’s robe, the wind whispered at his ear. Let me show you a piece of the picture.

The wind around him froze, and so too did the world.

Look up, said the wind, a rustle within his ear.

Severin did.

The complexly woven image was shaped by currents in the air - all but invisible to any whose eyes are untrained to look for them. But Severin had a born understanding of the wind and sky, and when he looked up, he saw bits and pieces of an impossibly complex tapestry.

He saw scarred knuckles gently shaping wood. A small child that sat upon broad shoulders. Rocking chairs placed side by side before a glowing fire. Warm hands enveloping his own. Safety. Home.

It was...everything, and Severin’s heart ached with a strange and complex longing for a future that surely could never be.

It’s not impossible, the wind whispered. But the threads will have to tangle and untangle just perfectly so.

“How?” Severin asked, and wondered if he was a fool to feel so desperate a pull towards this life glimpsed in impressions and half images.

The warrior must weep and repent. And a curse must come to fruition.

“And if these things do not happen?”

Then your soul will fade from the earth.

Severin felt torn in two.

The blade has not yet struck your heart, the wind murmured, kind and conspiratorial. There is time still for me to secret you away. I could pull your thread from the tapestry altogether.

“But there would be no hope for that life,” Severin said with a last wistful glance at the scattered mosaic above.

No, none, the wind agreed.

“Okay,” Severin whispered, “okay.” And it felt terrifyingly like surrender.

The wind stirred, and a breeze like a kiss tousled his dark hair.

The blade struck.

It was an intense pressure and then swift, vibrantly blooming pain. Severin wavered on his feet, and looked up. For the second time, he met the warrior’s gaze. And Severin saw and understood that there was no malice in those wintry eyes. Not even frustration or anger. But, instead, an exhaustion deeper than Severin could conceive.

When Severin toppled backward, it was concerning to realize he could no longer feel the grass beneath his body. The man knelt down, and Severin blinked tiredly up at him.

It seemed as though the man were waiting for something. Severin’s slipping mind struggled to think of what - until he recalled the dying woman and her talk of curses. And hadn’t the barbarian said something about curses when he was fever addled and hurt? What had the wind said? Severin was struggling to remember. As his life trickled away in red rivulets which stained the grass and soil, he thought of the boy in the vision - lost and afraid. And he thought of the man he’d become, kneeling stonily over him.

And Severin knew exactly which words should be his last.

Swallowing, he mustered the strength to whisper, “-my hut…it’s just past…the next hill over. In it, I keep medicines and herbs. For the villagers. And travelers who pass.”

For the barbarian would have to stay if he were ever to show remorse. He couldn’t very well continue going about fighting and murdering his way across the peninsula. Which brought Severin to his final words. It took all of his remaining strength to lift his hand. When he reached out, the barbarian startled, as though he expected more lightning to spring forth from Severin’s fingers. But Severin merely tapped his chest and smiled. “May you live a life of safety and peace.”

It was a fitting curse, he thought, feeling particularly clever. And there, on the field, surrounded by sheep, Severin’s heart stuttered and stopped.

It was an abrupt, slipping sensation, like losing your footing on iced over earth. Raw existence rushed around Severin, and he was battered and blown about, like a banner torn loose in the storm. This continued for a dizzying moment, or perhaps a dizzying eternity - Severin really had no way of knowing which. But it stopped when a familiar presence surged around him, blowing and blustering until the wild chaos of existence was forced to let him be.

The wind could not protect him forever, Severin knew, and so he focused his energies until, like a wind sprite, he swirled about the hillside. Below him, he saw the barbarian, his great head bent. Severin, as incorporeal as a breeze, could not resist blustering over the barbarian’s shoulder and observing himself, limp and pitiful in death. Whipping around, he beheld the barbarian - because surely this sight would bring him at least to the verge of tears.

The barbarian frowned down at Severin’s body and rubbed a scarred hand over the patches of stubble on his chin. And then he rose with a great sigh and set off down the hillside, away from Severin and the village.

Severin, who was nothing more than wind and spirit, watched him and despaired. He could do nothing more than whip and howl through the hills as his murderer left him without a backward glance.

Months passed.

Severin did not follow after the barbarian. What good would it do? In this form, it wasn’t as though Severin could speak to him. And if he was doomed to fade and dissolve from existence, he would much rather do so here in the hills he loved than in some strange land trailing after an even stranger man. The wind kept him company, at least, and Severin spent his days whistling through the black, porous stones at the base of the mountains and blowing bits of dandelions across wild tufts of grass.

One day, long after Severin had begun to feel more spread out and thin than was entirely comfortable, the wind rushed to him, carrying with it the scent of dust and dirt and faraway lands.

The barbarian had returned.

Severin was an icy breeze that whipped around the edges of town, and he watched with cool distrust as the man trudged through the streets. His shoulders were slumped and his blond head was turned down. He looked utterly defeated, and any sympathy Severin might have felt was eclipsed by petty spite. He didn’t hold any of the pettiness against himself, though. He was dead, and therefore felt he’d earned at least a little pettiness.

When the barbarian crossed the field, stopping to stand before the place where Severin had fallen, Severin swirled around him, newly curious. The man didn’t look grief stricken, but his face was difficult to read. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and lines of exhaustion around his mouth. Mostly, Severin thought he just looked tired.

When the man approached Severin’s home after having ignored the invitation for months, Severin had a second moment of pettiness and whipped the wind up on the other side of the door, sealing it closed as the barbarian tried to open it. Only when the man shoved it with his great, muscled shoulder did Severin retreat, allowing the door to swing open.

It was with a strange sort of melancholy that he watched the barbarian’s silver gaze sweep over the room. The man looked first at the damp, unkempt hearth before slowly making his way across the room. He glanced from Severin’s well-loved walking stick to the bookshelf built into the wall. He fumblingly ran the backs of his fingers along the spines of the books, as if he was unlearned in the ways of a gentle touch.

Severin was still very much put out about the whole being dead business, but as he watched the barbarian’s almost reverent inspection, he unthinkingly twisted the air in the room, drawing out the cold and pulling in a bit of sun warmed breeze.

By the second day, the man was sitting in Severin’s chair. Severin stewed, swatting at floating dust by the window as his killer rocked to and fro in Severin’s favorite seat. Later, the barbarian stood, stretching his strong arms overhead and twisted his back experimentally. Brows lifting in pleasant surprise, he gave the chair an appreciative pat.

By the third day, Severin had no more dust to swat about. The barbarian had rolled up his ragged sleeves and set about scrubbing every inch of Severin’s little hut. When the hulking man worked open the stiff windows, the wind rushed in, delighting in whipping about the space once more.

He’s done a better job of cleaning than you ever did, the wind sang, slipping once more outside.

He was dead and that meant the wind had to be nice, and Severin told it as much. It’s reply was a soft rustling of chimes that hung from the house’s eaves, and the sound was almost like laughter.

Days passed, and the man began reading Severin’s books. This was probably the most surprising development yet, in Severin’s opinion. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought the large, scarred warrior capable of reading, just - well, he hadn’t thought the large, scarred warrior capable of reading particularly well. But the man seemed to be doing just fine, and sat in Severin’s rocking chair, putting a far greater strain on the sturdy wood than Severin ever had, as he thumbed carefully through the book’s smooth pages.

When little Mykela took ill, Severin knew it well before anyone else. He’d taken a spin through town and as he rode the wintry wind past where she played in the yard, he’d felt the rattle of air in her lungs. But at this point, Severin was little more than a memory on the breeze, and though his worry was agony, he could do absolutely nothing. He spent the rest of the day roaring about the mountain peaks, sending snow flurries spilling down the far side of the cliffs.

Two days later, Severin was idly observing the barbarian, watching the crease between his brows twitch as he slept, when a great pounding broke out against the door. The barbarian rose at once, and Severin watched him cast a brief glance at the walking stick before turning instead to the candle on a nearby shelf. With warm light cupped in his palm, the barbarian approached the door.

When Dormund, Mykela’s father, entered the hut, carrying a limp mound of blankets, Severin felt a spike of icy terror. As the barbarian poked and prodded the fire, Severin carefully stirred the wind to better feed the flames. Severin would have shouted instructions, had he lungs to shout, but the barbarian already had two jars in hand. He held them up, looking a little lost, before he hurried to the bookshelf and selected a thick book. Muttering under his breath, he flipped hurriedly through pages until he found what he was looking for. And then he was kneeling before the pot of water he’d set over the fire, and Severin watched as he scooped careful measurements of Severin’s dried herbs into the roiling water.

Mykela was saved, and as the barbarian sent the girl and her father off with a bag of herbs, it occurred to Severin that he wished to know the barbarian’s name. He wouldn’t learn it until two days later, when Old Cara arrived at the hut, seeking the barbarian’s help for her arthritic knee. After supplying her with the appropriate poultice, the barbarian helped her to the door, and looking up, she patted his shoulder and asked him his name.

Eindred, was his answer.

Eindred.

Severin wished he had lips to test the shape of the name.

Months passed, and was easier now to watch Eindred move about Severin’s hut. In fact, Severin had even begun to enjoy riding the soft breeze from the windows as it wafted around Eindred’s shoulders, curiously observing whatever small thing he happened to, at any given time, be doing with his hands. One day, Severin was surprised to find Eindred’s hands at work, deliberately whittling the curved back of a rocking chair. When the chair was done, Eindred set it carefully, almost reverently beside the first. At the sight, Severin had a bright, nearly overwhelming flash of recognition, and he thought of the image the wind had shown him - of the rocking chairs before a warm, crackling fire.

Severin was fading, he could feel it. To hope was to court a greater disappointment than Severin could rightly comprehend, and yet - he watched Eindred set out with Severin’s walking stick to join the festival, and saw when Mykela took his hand. The barbarian’s stony expression softened, then melted as the girl tugged him after her.

It was the strangest of sensations, because while Severin didn’t strictly have a heart these days, watching the great Eindred meekly follow little Mykela made something in Severin’s incorporeal being ache with unexpected warmth.

Whatsmore, Eindred had been reading Severin’s journals and he would sometimes stop and stare about the hut, as if trying to picture the ghost of Severin’s life there. Once, Eindred draped a thick blanket over the back of one of the rocking chairs and ran his rough hands over it as he frowned contemplatively into the fire.

Summer had come and gone and Severin feared that parts of his soul had already begun to slip into that other-place. And so, with a tender sort of weariness, he drifted on the sunbeams cutting through the clean window glass, and watched with only mild annoyance as Eindred carefully tore a blank page from one of Severin’s journals.

Lips pressing together in focus, Eindred wrote in with small, precise letters, what appeared to be a list.

Confused, Severin drifted closer.

May your every loved one die screaming in pain.

I hope you die with your eyes stabbed out and your heart in your hands.

You will never know happiness.

Your existence will be suffering.

It was a list of curses, Severin realized. Morbid curses, by the looks of it. The last two, however, caught his attention.

May your greatest enemy rise from the grave and never leave you alone.

And,

May you live a life of safety and peace.

And Severin understood.

When Eindred set out from the hut, looking drawn but resolved, Severin began at once to gather his energy. It had been nearly a year since his death, and he feared that there might not be enough of him left to make a return. The second to last curse would help things along, but Severin knew it would be a mistake to rely on it.

And so, as Eindred entered the village, Severin stretched upward and out, calling wind and storm clouds with reckless, hopeful abandon. For his entire life, Severin had lived, certain in the knowledge that love and happiness were not meant for one such as he. How could they be? When a blade was foretold to make a home in his heart?

But Eindred had changed. And the patchwork pieces of tapestry were there, a life Severin had never dared to dream of, right there - if he could only summon the strength to reach out and grasp it.

Below, Eindred bowed his head before the townsfolk, confessing his part in the tragedy which played out on their soil. Above, Severin swallowed the skies and became the storm.

Severin felt it, distantly below, when the people in the village forgave Eindred. And he felt when Eindred’s bittersweet tears tickled the earth. He felt Eindred return to the hut, and then after pacing restlessly about, return at last to the pastures where it had all begun.

And then came Eindred’s pained voice, calling out from the fields below. “Severin!”

Eindred had never said his name before, and Severin, who was the clouds and the wind and the rain and the sky, rumbled his joy at the sound of it.

“It was my hand which ended your life,” Eindred continued. His deep voice was shaking. “And with your dying breath you gifted what I thought was a nightmare. Did you know that it would turn out to be a dream? I think you did.”

Just wait, Severin wanted to tell him, because he’d seen a future better still. The only question that remained was whether he had strength enough to reach it.

Rugged face upturned, Eindred called to Severin and the sky, which were one and the same. “Though it’s a dream, I’ll never know peace. How can I? When I live in the home of the one I so coldly murdered? I would leave, but the villagers have my heart - as they had yours. In this state, I don’t think I’ll ever truly know true rest or true peace - despite the great power of your curse.”

You will, Severin said, and lightning streaked across the sky. I will.

“Even now,” Eindred said, through wind and rain, “I’m not sure if you are my greatest enemy or ally.”

There it was.

His greatest enemy.

Severin, with every ounce of power he possessed, claimed the title. For he was the greatest enemy the old Eindred, warrior and killer, had faced. With his parting curse, Severin had forced the old Eindred to do the one thing he’d feared most of all: to live and face all he’d done.

Severin felt a rushing, coursing energy thrumming within and without and he knew that he must catch it and hold it, though he wasn’t sure how.

The tapestry threads, the wind whispered. Severin had spread so thin, his old friend was nearly a part of him now.

Severin listened, and felt for that thread which had teased and tickled his palm. And when he was sure he felt it, he wrapped himself around it and pulled. The sky around him screamed as he dragged himself forward toward something - something -

White light was all around him, and then it wasn’t. The air was cool and damp, and the evening sang with the wind’s gleeful gusts and the soft patter of rain on grass. Severin lifted a hand, and looked it over in tentatively blooming relief. Pressing the hand over his heart which beat with a strong, steady rhythm, Severin breathed a relieved, ragged sigh.

Eindred stood in the field, turned away from him. Drawing in a breath, Severin delighted in the sound of his own voice. “May your greatest enemy rise from the grave, Eindred, and never leave you alone.” He smiled as he spoke, and very nearly pressed his fingers to his lips to feel the shape they took when saying Eindred’s name.

Eindred turned. “So you are my greatest enemy then?” He sounded wary.

“I don’t think it’s so simple as that. Do you?”

Eindred’s expression shifted and he shook his head. When he next spoke, it was soft and fumbling, as if he still hadn’t fully adjusted to a world which was kind. “I made a chair,” he blurted out. “A few actually,” he added, rubbing a hand over the back of his head.

Severin wanted to say, I know. I saw. But that would require more explanation than he cared to give at the moment, so instead, he replied, “Do I get the new rocking chair or my old one?”

“Any,” Eindred stammered, “Either. Both?” He looked at Severin, and the earnest weight of his gaze held the promise of all the chairs Severin could want and anything else Eindred could possibly make with his scarred hands.

The fondness that bubbled up within Severin was so abrupt and filled him so thoroughly that he wanted to laugh with it. “Lucky for you, I only need one chair. You can keep the old one if you like it. I trust your craftsmanship.”

Severin turned then, because it was cold and every part of him felt so entirely bright and buoyant that he thought he might die if he didn’t move. However, when he realized Eindred was not following, he stopped. “Well? Are you coming?”

Eindred looked up, as if he’d been startled. “Where?” he called.

Standing there, sodden in the field, Eindred looked after Severin, as if he was afraid to hope - as Severin once had been afraid to do. And it occurred to Severin that Eindred would need to hear it said aloud.

“Home, of course. Where else?”

“Home,” Eindred repeated, as if confirming it to himself.

And when Severin turned again towards home, Eindred followed.

By the time they reached the hut, both were shivering from the cold, and as they crossed the threshold into the warm space, Severin swayed on his feet. He’d almost forgotten the immense power he’d used, and now the harsh ringing in his ears was a stark reminder. Warm, rough hands steadied him and when Severin tilted his head up, he saw that Eindred wore an expression of poorly concealed terror.

“I’m not going to die all over again,” Severin assured him. “I just used a lot of magic.” As he said it, he swayed once more, this time falling forward.

Eindred caught Severin again, one arm wrapped around his back and his other hand braced against his chest. Beneath where Eindred’s palm pressed, Severin’s heart thrummed. And Severin watched, curious, as Eindred’s expression twisted. He no longer claimed the title of warrior, Severin knew, but it was nonetheless with a warrior’s gravity that Eindred met Severin’s gaze.

“These hands will never again harm you. I swear it.”

“I know,” Severin replied, and pressed a hand over the back of Eindred’s rough knuckles. “Help me to a chair?”

Eindred did, and helped to remove Severin’s thick outer robe before Severin sank gratefully in front of the fire. Eindred left him a moment, and Severin closed his eyes.

He intended to just rest them for a second - maybe two, but when Severin next opened his eyes, the room was darker and he was draped and bundled in blankets, softer and thicker than any he recalled owning. The fire was still crackling, and the warm light made soothing shadows dance across the hut’s wooden floor. The other chair was occupied, Severin realized, and he watched as the hearth’s orange light played across Eindred’s sleeping features. Compared to Severin’s mountain of blankets, he had just one draped over his lap, though he didn’t seem cold. Nonetheless, Severin shifted a bit, and peeled a soft fleece blanket off his own pile to toss it onto him. The blanket fell short, and with a quick whispered word, the wind slipped under the door and flipped the offending blanket up onto Eindred’s chest.

“That’s better,” Severin said.

The wind played a little with the fire before tousling Severin’s hair and departing with a sibilant, save your strength foolish human. You’re still recovering, and slipped out the way it had come.

When Severin turned back to Eindred, he saw the large man was sitting up and his eyes were now open. Blinking, Eindred rubbed a hand over his face and then, stiffening in sudden shock, he whipped to look at Severin. Heaving a great sigh, he rocked back in the chair. “Still breathing,” he said.

“I don’t plan on stopping.”

Something almost like a smile twitched at Eindred’s lips and Severin was enchanted by it.

“You were dead and now you’re alive. Forgive me. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

“You’re the one who believes in silly curses.”

Eindred’s brows rose. “Silly? Says the one who was brought back from the dead by one.”

Severin waved a dismissive hand. “The curse might have set the stage, but I was director, crew, and cast.”

And there was another smile, like a glimpse of sun between clouds. Severin was beginning to fear there might be no practical limit to the lengths he’d be willing to go to see another smile.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Eindred replied. “I get the feeling you know a great deal more about the world and magics than I.”

“Well Eindred,” Severin said, scooting his chair a little closer to both Eindred and the fire. “What do you know of grand tapestries?”

Eindred, looking more than a little lost, shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen one.”

“Well,” Severin said, and grinned. “What do you know of cheese?”

EDIT: A novel based on Eindred and the Witch and The Witch Who Spoke to the Wind is in progress! I will post news about it on my Tumblr and my Patreon as news becomes available :)

#my writing #original writing #my story #Eindred and the Witch #original story #fantasy #fantasy story #love story #eindred the warrior #severin the witch #writing #writeblr #short story #long short story #7000+ words #fantasy short story #amwriting #story

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kjs-s · 2 years ago

Text

A familiar stranger

Pairing: Marc Spector x reader platonic

Steve Grant x reader platonic

Summary: The reader meets Marc again after years but he acts strange

Word Count: 2130

Warnings: none I can think of

Prompt: “Are we still friends?”

A/N This is my third and last entry for @caplanbuckybarnes's foreverwriting challenge. This is set after the show that's why I had Steven work in a different museum.

A/N Special thanks to @girl-next-door-writes who inspired the reader's job with this great post with the cutect HC i have ever read. Gif is mine

''Does everyone remember the rules we talked about yesterday?'' You heard your best friend Jessica who was also the teacher of the class ask the kids. She had spent the whole week previous to that day planning the field trip to the Petrie Museum of Egyptian archaeology. And being the teaching assistant you had made sure everything was set. You would accompany the class to the museum and hap planned some of the activities the kids would take part in during the field trip.

The school was within a walking distance from the museum so you pitched the idea of just walking there and not taking a bus. Jessica led the way and you walked behind the kids to make sure nobody will stay behind. Field trips were always fun for you and you loved them more now considering you could hear hilarious conversations among the kids. Some of them were wondering whether the things in the museum would be asleep or able to talk to them. Another kid had asked you to keep his lunchbox safe while you were in the museum so he wouldn't lose it. He pointed out that not only it was his favorite lunchbox but that his mom had put in his favorite sandwich as well. Reassuring him that his lunch would be safe in an empty museum was not the right thing to say. It triggered a million questions about why would the museum be empty. Gladly Jessica explained to the kids that the reason was for them to have as much fun as possible.

You made it there just five minutes before ten o'clock and you were immediately let inside. A polite elderly man approached you and introduced himself as Joseph, your tour guide. He led everyone to the lockers so you could put your things away for safekeeping and because food wasn't allowed in the museum.

''We won't eat our lunch here?'' The same kid from earlier asked you while close to whining.

''Not inside the museum. We have set some tables in our garden at the back for you to have lunch after the tour.'' Joseph explained and questioned if everyone was ready to begin the tour.

After half an hour of looking at the exhibits, you were led to the last part of the museum tour. Joseph quizzed the group on a few things and answered all the questions the kids had. One of the girls came to you for help with tying her shoelaces when you heard Joseph say something about one of his coworkers.

''I can ask Steven over there for verification on everything I just told you. He is brilliant and knows a lot about Egypt. Almost as much as I do. I am about to train him to become my replacement for when I want to work less.''

That's when all the kids turned to look at Steven. He noticed them and felt embarrassed about interrupting the tour. He didn't want to get reprimanded for leaving the gift shop to hear the tour. That's why he turned around to leave just as you finished helping the girl. That resulted in you only seeing the back of his head. However, you couldn't place the faint feeling of him being vaguely familiar. You were sure it would come to you on the off chance you would see him again. But the thing that didn't cross your mind was that the person you almost saw was one that you used to call your best friend some years ago.

After the tour, you and Jessica took the kids to the area in which the staff had provided you with activities. It was cute to see every child excited about drawing and playing games. They were given two drawing sheets, a true or false quiz, and an activity with Egyptian gods and goddesses. Everyone had fun during those and afterward, the kids got a little tired. So you and Jessica asked them if they wanted to do the scavenger hunt that was the last activity before lunch. Of course, they loved the idea and formed groups of three to look around the museum for the exhibition they were assigned to search. During the hunt, you took the chance to visit the gift shop in order to buy a souvenir for the classroom.

You looked around for a moment before a soft-spoken voice sounded behind you.

''Do you need assistance with anything?''

You turned to look at the person hoping he would help you choose something appropriate for a classroom. However, before you could muster a word you froze. You stared at the man in front of you with wide eyes and your mouth stayed open for a few seconds. You snapped out of your daze and whispered the first thing that came to your mind.

''Marc is it really you?''

Steven looked at you with narrow eyes and tilted his head. He had no idea who you were and how you apparently knew Marc. You took a step toward him and you noticed a slight change in his demeanor before he took off. You went after him but couldn't see where he went. Not wanting to leave Jessica alone with the kids any longer you purchased a small statue of Tawaret and returned to the class.

You ran into one of the groups of kids still looking around for the exhibit they had been assigned. It was a bronze statue of a cat sitting upright. The exhibit was near the stairs and since you remembered having seen it earlier you helped them finish the hunt. But you couldn't get Marc out of your mind and why he looked so confused when he saw you.

After all the activities were over, you all took your things out of the lockers and went to the garden to have your lunch before returning to school. There you spotted Joseph and approached him to thank him for the tour.

''I hope our kids didn't tire you too much.''

''Not at all. I enjoy it when people ask me questions. And kids always are so eager to learn new things. Their excitement made me happy to do this job, they were lovely.''

''Could I ask you something? When I was at the gift shop I saw someone I recognized. I think his name was Marc. Good looking guy around this height.'' You showed him Marc's height with your hand.

''We don't have anyone with that name working here. Although your description sounds like you're talking about Steven who works at the gift shop.''

''I must have been mistaken then. Thank you again and sorry to bother you.'' You went back to your class hoping Steven would still be at the gift shop when you were to return to the museum later so you could talk to him.

And that's exactly what you did after the field trip was over. You went back to the museum looking for Steven.

You were certain he was your friend and that he had changed his name after being discharged from the military. Your superiors hadn't offered any explanations for Marc's discharge but you only cared about what happened to him after that. Or if he had changed at all during those years.

You found him at the gift shop and approached him slowly hoping he wouldn't flee again.

''Excuse me, can I talk to you? Please Marc don't leave again. I just want to ask you one question considering you remember who I am. Are we still friends?''

He looked down and asked his supervisor if he could step away for a moment. She noticed the time and that they would close in twenty minutes. So she let him leave early to have a word with you.

You left the museum and took a seat on a bench on Gordon Square Part to talk.

''So apparently you are or were friends with Marc. I am not Marc, my name is Steven.''

''I'm (Y/N). I was in the marines with Marc. Are you two twins? I don't recall him mentioning anything about having a brother. And a British one at that.''

''We are not twins. How much information do you know about the reason Marc left the marines?''

''Nothing at all. The higher-ups told us nothing afterward. They shot down any questions we had about the subject. I was devastated about him leaving. You see he was my mentor. I quit almost a month after he left due to the pressure and not having him there to help and support me. I even looked for him after I left but it was like he disappeared.'' You started tearing up and Steven begged Marc to take his place to explain everything to you. Marc refused due to feeling guilty about what had happened to you.

''I am sorry (Y/N). The reason Marc was discharged what that he has DID. I am his other personality. And if it makes you feel a little bit better he feels awful you had to go through all of this because of him.''

''He can hear me?'' Steve nodded at you and you pointed out that you still wanted your earlier question about whether you were still friends answered. Also, you mentioned that you didn't want Marc to feel bad about what had happened to you since it wasn't his fault.

''He says yes if you want to. You seem like a nice person so I wouldn't mind getting to know you better as well.''

You smiled at him and then took moment to study Steven. His demeanor looked nothing like the way you remembered Marc. Marc was always more serious and not so open about his feelings. The person in front of you seemed more introverted than that, sweet and cute. You felt like he was someone you would like to know more about.

Steven noticed your silence and got worried about what he had said.

''I don't mean that in a creepy way. I just felt like we could talk about things. Maybe about how the kids liked the tour today. Or something else.''

''They loved it. And the statue I bought of Tawaret. The one you didn't help me pick since you ran away. She took her place on the desk to watch over the kids.'' Steven laughed a little at the comment since he was surprised Marc had run away from you.

''I am sure Layla would love t hear that.''

''Who's Layla, if I'm allowed to ask.''

''Right you don't know her. She is Marc's wife.''

''Marc is married?'' You raised your voice due to how surprised you were. When the two of you were in the marines Marc was adamant he would never get married and you were happily surprised to hear how much he had changed on the topic.

''Yes, he is. And Layla is great. I enjoy talking to her about Egypt since it's her home and she is also able to read hieroglyphics.''

''She sounds perfect. If Marc is ok with it I would love to meet her. And I am really happy I met you, Steven, I am sure we will become friends. I just hope Marc will decide to speak to me soon as well. We used to enjoy talking about our hobbies and I was trying to get back into drawing. Maybe I can convince one of you or maybe Layla to model for me in the future.''

Steven looked a little flustered at the thought so you decided to save him from the embarrassment.

''You don't have to say yes if you don't want to. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.''

''Thank you and I promise to tell Layla about you soon so we will arrange for you two to meet.''

''Sounds great. I just hope I'm not imposing on you. I only wanted to see Marc again. I have missed him for such a long time. But I get it if he doesn't want to. At least I got my answers about what happened to him.'' You checked your phone because you received a notification about an errand you had totally forgotten about. ''He wants you to be friends again. And I want that too. It will be good for him to have someone that knew him for as long as you have beside me. I will let you go to your appointment.''

You thanked him for his kind words and you exchanged numbers promising to contact each other soon.

You left feeling happy about not only finding Marc again but also meeting Steven.

Steven on the other hand stayed there a little more wondering if you would react that calmly to finding out about all the adventures they had been on.

#cappysforeverchallenge #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #marvel fic #moon knight fic #my writing

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hollandorks · 2 years ago

Text

saved

matt murdock x original female character

chapter ten

Summary: Fleeing from an abusive relationship, Grace St. James goes to the only place she still has a friend: Hell’s Kitchen. She’s forced to live in her car and beg for a job from the law firm Nelson, Murdock, and Page all the while making sure her past doesn’t catch up to her. Enter Matt Murdock: cocky, handsome, and willing to let her live with him for free until she can afford to get a place of her own. Grace is drawn to Matt in a way she’s never been drawn to anyone, causing sparks to fly as they inevitably grow closer and closer.

a/n: Oh look some actual plot in this chapter! (P.S. how does this fic have so many words already??)

Series Masterlist

word count: 3657

Grace’s heart pounded as she realized that Daredevil might be the solution she needed.

Grace’s POV

The problem was that Grace had no idea how to contact Daredevil short of attempting to get herself attacked again. While she entertained the thought briefly, she knew that she couldn’t count on him saving her at the last moment like before.

Saturday night she waited until after midnight to creep out of the apartment and onto the roof. Matt was already asleep on the couch so she used the outer door to the roof so as not to wake him. If he asked where she’d gone, she’d make up some story about needing emergency tampons or something, she decided.

It was cold up on the roof, but she’d brought a throw blanket with her. She leaned against the cold bricks and scanned the rooftops for even a hint of a moving shadow.

Maybe she could leave a note?

Grace started pacing as time ticked by. He’d stopped once when he’d seen her on the roof, so maybe he’d do it again. The rooftops are kind of my thing, he’d said.

She scanned the rooftops as she paced the small space and shivered. Autumn had started to sink into the bones of the city, erasing summer’s heat slowly but surely.

An hour went by.

Okay, maybe she’d leave a note.

Grace went back inside, tiptoeing past Matt, and dug out a notebook from her bag. She scrawled a note and took it back up to the roof, using a brick to weigh it down. There wasn’t any rain on the forecast, but she would check each night and rewrite it if she had to.

As she finally settled into bed, she thought maybe she was going a little crazy.

But she couldn’t just sit with what she knew, couldn’t sit back and do nothing. She had done nothing for too long, and all it had gotten her was more bruises and a few broken bones. She might as well get hurt trying to do something.

Grace idly wondered what had gotten into herself as she fell asleep. When had she stopped being content with how things were and started aching to change them?

–

“What are you working so hard on?” Matt asked as Grace typed on her laptop at the kitchen table. She had one foot balanced on the chair and the other on the floor, her elbow resting on her knee as she leaned over her keyboard.

She blinked. “Uh–just a personal project.”

She’d been compiling everything she knew and things she thought she might be able to prove in a document. Then she’d searched news headlines and things about Dean and his company and was methodically adding them together into the lists of can prove, might be able to prove, and absolutely no way in hell anyone will believe me. So far the first list was empty, a couple of items were in the second, and the third was getting longer the more she worked.

Matt seemed to be waiting for more of an answer. Grace rubbed at her eyes. She had no idea how long she’d been at it, but it was now approaching evening and she was pretty sure she’d missed lunch. Matt had been gone most of the day–or at least, she thought he had.

“I’m also apartment hunting,” she said, which was partially true. That morning she’d heard back about touring two of the most promising listings. “I actually found a couple of places to look at. Only two, though.” She was constrained by both her limited budget and the need to stay within walking distance to work. She’d already figured she’d need to sell her car to get any kind of furniture she needed, along with paying security deposits and the first month of rent.

“Anything promising?” Matt asked, but there was an odd note to his voice.

“Maybe.” She chewed her lip. “I’ve got an appointment to look tomorrow after work. I’m not holding my breath though. My luck hasn’t been the greatest lately.”

Though, now that she was thinking about it, her luck had been…good, actually. She’d found a perfect job, a place to stay for free, and three incredibly kind people to surround herself with, to become friends with.

“Want me to come with you?”

A wave of anxiety rose within her. She didn’t want Matt to see just how inexperienced she was with, well, life. “No, that’s okay. It shouldn’t take too long.”

Matt bobbed his head in a nod.

Grace’s laptop pinged with a search alert and her attention was immediately diverted back to her research. She barely noticed as Matt walked away. She was sucked right back into her lists and the world around her ceased to exist.

Matt placed a pizza in front of her later and she ate without hardly looking up to thank him. He ate too, content to sit in silence, and then was gone again.

“I’m headed to the gym,” Matt said an indeterminate amount of time later. Grace blinked and realized her entire body had gone stiff.

Sure enough, Matt was in a tight t-shirt and sweats, duffel bag in one hand and cane in the other. It was dark outside now, the trash from the pizza cleared away without her having noticed.

Grace stretched. Several joints popped from disuse.

“Sorry,” she said. “Thanks again for the pizza.”

Matt smiled softly. “You’re welcome. See you later.”

“Bye,” she said. It was probably time to take a break anyway, she decided. She would shower and get ready for bed, then continue her research somewhere more comfortable than the kitchen table.

And then it would be time to see if the devil had decided to meet with her, if he’d seen her note.

Matt’s POV

Matt had taken to using the gym as an excuse to leave and take his suit with him. It had been Foggy’s idea when Matt had bemoaned the difficulty in keeping his nighttime activities secret with someone else in the apartment. The gym was somewhere he did go frequently, and the suit fit perfectly into his gym bag.

Sometimes he did use Fogwell’s to warm up. Most of the time he simply went up to a rooftop–his own or one that was blocks away, depending on the night–and changed in the dark before stowing the bag. He always listened to make sure Grace was asleep before coming back, or to change and come back inside the front door of the apartment as if everything were normal.

That night, he had been itching to go out, to follow a few leads in a string of recent disappearances.

Impatient as he was, he snuck up to the roof using the door outside his apartment instead of the one inside. No one was around, and Grace was still immersed in her mysterious project.

Immediately he scented Grace on the air, likely from the night before. He cocked his head and tried to focus. When had she come up? He’d had an early night the night before, asleep on the couch much sooner than usual because he’d been exhausted beyond belief. Two nights in a row he’d been out close to dawn and it had caught up with him.

There was something else, too. Matt stalked forward slowly, letting his senses ghost over his surroundings. A brick out of place and–a paper?

Matt moved the brick and picked up the paper. He ran his fingers over it. Grace’s scent was all over it. She’d written it and left it up there. Why?

Her hand had been quick and light as she’d written, the indentations too soft for him to make out most of the letters with his fingertips.

He grit his teeth in frustration.

Should he ask Foggy what it said? What if it was something…personal? Grace might now want them both to know what was on the paper.

Matt started to place the note back under the brick but his curiosity got the better of him. With a soft growl of irritation, he changed quickly and stowed the duffel bag with his gym clothes in a hidden alcove the next building over.

Then he called Foggy.

“Is Marci home?” he asked without preamble. The note was practically burning a hole in the pocket of his suit.

He could almost hear Foggy narrowing his eyes. “No, why?”

“I just–need you to read something for me,” he said. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay?” Foggy said, but he was used to Matt by now and didn’t question it any further.

Matt hung up and took off at a run.

Not too much later, he dropped onto the fire escape that led to Foggy and Marci’s bedroom. He took a moment to focus his hearing on the apartment within to make sure Foggy was in fact alone. Then he knocked lightly on the window.

“Should’ve known you wouldn’t use the door like a normal person,” Foggy grumbled at him as he came to open the window. It gave a slight screech of protest as it was shoved open, making Matt wince.

“Hey, Fog,” Matt said as if he weren’t dressed like the devil and hanging out on the fire escape. “I…found this. Can you read it for me?” He held out the note.

“Found where?” Foggy asked as the paper rustled when he unfolded it.

“My roof.”

“You–huh.” More rustling. Foggy hummed.

Matt bit back his impatience. “What’s it say?” He snapped the words more harshly than he meant to, but Foggy paid him no mind.

“It’s from Grace,” Foggy said instead of answering. Matt wanted to grab him and shake him.

“I gathered that much.”

“How–Nevermind. It says, Dear Daredevil. You might remember saving me from three attackers a couple of weeks ago, for which I’m still really thankful. We also met briefly up here one night. You seem like a busy man, so I’ll get straight to the point. I need your help again, and there’s no one else I can ask. If you even see this and if you can help me, I’ll wait up here at twelve-thirty each night for thirty minutes for the next week. Unless you’d rather leave me your phone number, because now that I’m writing it, it seems kind of weird to wait on a roof every night. But I’m out of options and I need help. Your friend, Grace.”

They both paused.

Foggy was the first to break the silence. “What does she need help with, you think?”

Matt was still as he considered it. There’s no one else I can ask.

“I don’t know,” he said softly. He leaned one hand against the building as the wind picked up and threatened to make him unsteady where he crouched.

Foggy’s heart picked up unexpectedly. “What if she knows?” he said.

“There’s no way,” Matt said, but then he wasn’t so sure. He had been lying pretty obviously when he’d told her about sleepwalking. But then again, she’d had a pretty high fever at that point. Though maybe she’d realized she recognized his voice from the two times she’d met him as Daredevil. They did live together, after all, and she was becoming familiar with him whether he liked it or not. “I don’t…think so, at least.”

“Maybe if you don’t show up for a week she’ll leave you another note,” Foggy said helpfully. The paper crinkled more as he held it back out to Matt. He took it and pocketed it again. “Oh! Or you could leave her the phone number for your burner phone. Duh.”

Matt made a face. “I can’t read it if she texts me, either.”

“Yeah but if she calls you…”

“And what if she calls and hears it when I’m Matt in front of her? Or if I forget it in the suit, and she calls and hears it in the closet?” Matt’s mind conjured a thousand other possibilities of ways things could go wrong even after he stopped speaking.

Foggy sighed and leaned against the wall beside the window. Matt cast his awareness outward out of habit to make sure no one was watching them converse and tying Foggy to him. The coast was clear, at least for the moment. But Matt needed to hurry the conversation up.

“What if she recognizes your voice if she sees you in person?” Foggy countered. “Or your face? You do have a very unmistakable jawline, my friend.”

Matt scoffed a laugh. “At least in person I can stick to the shadows. And I need to know if she’s lying about anything, which I can only do in person.”

Foggy hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, okay. Good point. Well, it’s only ten thirty right now so you’ve got two hours to decide if you want to meet her.”

Matt almost sighed. Two hours wasn’t quite long enough to chase down the leads like he’d been hoping but…maybe, for once, he’d get lucky and Grace would somehow be able to shed light on his current investigation. He doubted it, though. He was never that lucky.

“I’ll see you later,” Matt said, then darted away and up the fire escape.

“Hey!” Foggy called after him–too quietly for others to hear, but it might as well have been a shout to Matt’s ears. “Are you meeting her or what?”

The problem was that Matt hadn’t decided yet. He’d tell Foggy about it if he did meet her. But he’d already stayed too long at his friend’s window. Just because he hadn’t noticed anyone noticing them didn’t mean they hadn’t. He always tried to err on the side of caution, especially where his friends were concerned.

Two hours later, Matt found himself a block away from his apartment listening for the rooftop door to open.

Within a minute, the familiar creak of the door into his apartment reached his ears. It had a different, quieter sound than the one into the building’s hallway.

Even from a block away he knew it was Grace. He’d become completely tuned into her in the past few weeks. He could pick her heartbeat out of a crowd, recognize her breathing from long distances, could detect even a trace of her scent.

He started moving closer as silently as possible, crossing from roof to roof easily. He was at the next building over as she started pacing for a moment, no doubt looking for him.

Then a scrape as she lifted the brick the note had been under. He heard her heart pick up speed and a rustle as she started to look around. The wind blew her soft, feminine scent right towards him.

He crept closer and dropped down on silent feet behind her. From the angle of the nearest lights, he was pretty sure he was in the darkest shadows on the rooftop, but just in case, he would keep his head angled down and away.

Grace sighed when she didn’t catch sight of him.

Then she turned. Her heart took off like a rocket in her chest.

“Fuck!” she said, halfway to a shriek. She took a deep breath as soon as she noticed it was him and her heart rate almost immediately started to calm. Matt wanted to frown. He’d noticed that, like Foggy, she seemed almost exceptionally good at calming herself. Except for Foggy it was because his default was carefree, happy. He calmed himself because he hated being agitated and because he was just naturally happy. For Grace, he wasn’t sure what it meant.

“You got my note,” she said softly, a thrill of something in her words. Excitement? Worry? He didn’t scent the telltale smells of adrenaline and cortisol that would tell him that she was afraid, that her body was debating fight versus flight. She wasn’t scared of him, even though he’d startled her.

He inclined his head in a nod but said nothing else. He was suddenly incredibly worried that she either had recognized him already or would after this conversation. He had to be careful, more so than usual.

“Sorry if it’s…weird,” she said uncertainly. A scrape as she shifted from foot to foot. He could feel the rise in temperature as she blushed, could scent it on her skin. “I just…I know something, but I can’t prove it, and I need help.”

“What is it?” he asked, pitching his voice a little lower than usual.

“There’s a warehouse,” she said. “Not in Hell’s Kitchen. I think it’s where Harry Spencer was killed.”

Matt froze. He’d heard that name–a body found in the Hudson. Mahoney had even asked him about it when their paths had crossed last. Another in a string of disappearances, though this one seemed unrelated to the rest.

“Where?” The demand was a growl as adrenaline surged in his veins.

She gave him an address. So far, she hadn’t lied.

“How do you know this?” he asked, more demanding that he probably should have been. He wanted to protect Grace, to be kind to her. But that was for Matt Murdock, not the devil of Hell’s Kitchen. His kindness might be what gave him away.

“I can’t tell you.” She shivered a little and–there. There was the fear. She wasn’t lying though, as far as he could tell. “I really, really can’t. But if you…maybe if you took a look around, you could prove that’s where he died? Then I might be able to…help more.” The fear was almost tangible in the air. Matt could taste it heavy on his tongue as he breathed.

Something about this man’s death had her utterly terrified.

His heart and mind raced in tandem. How did she know about a man’s death? Why?

Maybe that was why she’d left her life behind, he thought suddenly.

A lot of things started to make sense the longer he thought about it.

The reason she hadn’t wanted them to tell her job references where they were calling from. The payphone call to her mother. The hints to starting over, to leaving her old life behind, the fear and nervousness he heard in her sometimes. Even the nightmares.

He’d been quiet for too long. Grace hurried to say, “I just–I can’t prove anything. I don’t want to cause trouble for myself over nothing. But I can’t just sit by.” A note of steel in her voice that he recognized.

Matt remembered more of the story he’d heard about the man she’d named. His body had been found a couple weeks before. He’d been missing for six months, but his family hadn’t reported it. And Grace–Grace had said someone she had known had died. He remembered that day, the way she’d reacted to something on her phone so sharply he’d had to ask about it.

“Why now?” he finally asked.

Grace blew out a breath and started pacing in front of him. “Because I can’t do nothing. Not anymore.”

That wasn’t a lie either. In fact, it rang more true than anything else she’d said thus far.

“I’ll look into it,” he said. And without another word, he leapt to the next rooftop and into the shadows.

“How do I contact you?” she called after him, but he didn’t look back. He would figure it out if her lead panned out.

But the longer he was near her, the more chances he had to give himself away.

He decided to go ahead and check out the warehouse. It was still early in the night yet, and it might lead to more information on the other disappearances.

It was a bit far for his liking–outside of Hell’s Kitchen though not by much.

As he made his way closer, he thought about Grace. Something had scared her–something that had led to the death of Harry Spencer. Something that had likely led to her leaving an entire life behind. Something that had scared her into living in her car.

Instead of assuming she was lying, that she was bad like he normally would have, Matt instead felt a surge of protectiveness. It was plain that Grace was deathly afraid of something. And she was seeking help the only way she knew how–through him.

When Matt got to the warehouse…it was empty.

He paused on the closest rooftop.

Had Grace lied to him? Led him astray with a half-truth?

He focused on the building, mapping it out, listening for any signs of life.

There was nothing inside, not even equipment or goods of any kind.

Matt dropped to the ground.

It was easy enough to get past the locked doors–one of the window locks was broken, allowing him to let himself into the first floor through what must have been an officer. There was a desk in the room but nothing else.

Matt hesitated with his hand on the doorknob before stepping into the large open space.

Still no one. Not even electricity. Everything was dark, empty, and silent.

Something in Matt’s gut prickled with alarm.

He swept the place methodically. Nothing.

But there was very little dust. It was almost too clean.

He made his way up to the second floor and–

He jerked to a stop.

Blood–lots of it. Old and covered up by bleach, likely without proof the normal eye could see. But it was there. Lots of blood. There were rooms on the second floor, all empty, but there was the scent of blood in each.

What was this place used for?

He wasn’t sure he could prove Harry Spencer had died in the building, but someone had lost a lot of blood there. Likely several someones.

Though Matt went over every inch of the place, he couldn’t find anything else other than the scent of blood that someone had gone to great lengths to cover up.

He left with more questions than answers.

He needed to find out who owned that building and where they had gone and when they might come back.

And he had to find out what their connection to Grace was.

Next Chapter

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tastesoftamriel · 2 years ago

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Need your work edited and proofread? Can't seem to break out of those nasty writing habits? Just looking to add some oomph to that pesky fanfic that's been sitting in your drafts for two years? I'm here to help! Message me for more information and let's make 2023 the year you hit all your writing goals! ~Tal

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-Depending on the project, I tend to work at about six to ten pages per hour, as I go through meticulously and tidy up spelling and grammatical errors, suggest rewrites, and even do backup research. My rates will therefore vary from project to project; for example, a 60 page novella ranges from £300-400, shorter stories from £120, and academic essays from £180-250. Of course, I negotiate all my prices with my clients beforehand, to make sure that this is something that they can afford. On request, I'm also happy to negotiate payment plans to something more affordable and suited to my clients' needs.

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Over the editing period, I will make detailed timestamped comments with explanations. Every day, I will make a new document copied from the previous one to track my progress. Once I'm done, I will send through a final copy that the client can download and edit freely, and accept the final payment. I am available for further advice and questions after this final payment at no additional cost.

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

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Hey Angel - Harry Styles

a/n: since i had so much time on my hand at work lately (not anymore unfortunately) i used it wisely and cooked up this PA themed fic bc i absolutely love this trope. it’s lengthy and kinda emotional? kinda, lol. hope you’ll like it and as always, feedback is much appreciated!!

warning: sexual content

word count: 11.5k

masterlist

Harry likes to pretend he is tall enough to comfortably rest his chin on the top of your head when he stands behind you, but that’s not true. He has to push himself a little to his tippy toes and push you down at the same time to fit his chin above you, his arms weighing down on your shoulders. You stopped arguing him that you need to push your hips forward when he does this so you don’t carry his whole weight.

“Tha’s rude, you do not have to do tha’!” he defended himself every time you brought up, so you just stopped.

Now as you watch the game of air hockey unfold in front of you, a half empty pint in your hand, you don’t even budge when you feel a chiseled chin resting on the top of your head, you push your hips forward without a second thought to shorten your height. You catch a glimpse of a tattooed forearm on your shoulder, Harry’s chest presses against your back gently.

He doesn’t stay in this position too long, it’s making it hard to drink so soon enough, he wraps his left arm around your shoulders, coming to stand next to you, sipping on his tequila on the rocks.

“Hey you,” you smile at him as he gives you a side look, a boyish smirk tugging on his pink lips. “Everything alright?”

“Everything is fine.”

“You need something? How much have you had to drink?” you ask furrowing your eyebrows, looking down at his glass that was certainly full when you last saw him about ten minutes ago.

“Shush, stop pretending like you’re working,” he waves at your face, his words melting together, definitely thanks to the alcohol he has consumed tonight.

“I know I’m not working, I’m just tryna’ be your friend and look out for you.” Bringing your own drink up to your lips, you give him a look, but he just smirks at you playfully.

“Uh-huh, whatever. Don’t worry about me.”

“I always worry about you, H,” you sigh dramatically and it makes him laugh with his head falling back.

“Is this the part where you tell me I’m some spoiled brat celebrity you ‘ave to babysit for your living? And that I always do ridiculous shit so you ‘ave to keep an eye on me at all times?”

You can’t push your smile down at how far this statement is from reality. You just like to tease him about being a typical, asshole rockstar when he is literally your favorite person in the world without a doubt.

“Oh Angel, you can’t fool me,” he cackles, squeezing you to his side before taking another sip from his drink.

“Wouldn’t even try to,” you mumble with an amused smile. “Havin’ fun, birthday boy?” you ask, leaning into his side. You would never admit, but you love how touchy Harry can get sometimes, not really caring about physical boundaries, especially when he drinks. The hugs, the squeezes, the touches, they always make your heart flutter even after knowing him for years.

“I’m havin’ a blast. What about you?”

“What about me? It’s not my birthday,” you chuckle shortly.

“So what? I can’t make sure you’re enjoying your night?” he frowns at you dramatically that just makes you laugh.

“I’m having a great night. It’s just that my boss keeps coming after me even though I’m supposed to be off the clock.”

You peek up at him to see the grin on his face at your teasing. The dynamic between the two of you has been like this since day one. The constant bickering and teasing is what really brought the two of you close, you are so similar, it’s like you can see a male version of yourself when you look at him.

“Tell the dude to fuck off,” he mumbles into his drink and you bump your hip against him, but he just holds you tight to his side as an answer.

Soon enough, Harry joins the game and you watch him play from the side, obviously cheering on his opponent to annoy him, earning some pretty dirty looks from him whenever they score against him and you let out a “woho!” in victory.

“Y’know, it’s not too nice to cheer against the birthday boy, is it?” he calls you out when the table is taken by someone else and he joins you at the side again.

“Am I not allowed to choose who I want to cheer to?” you ask with a faked puzzled look and he presses his lips into a thin line, glaring down at you intently.

“Don’t test me, Angel,” he grumbles into your ear before walking off to join his friends who came out to celebrate with him today.

It’s a pretty lowkey celebration, since he is still in the middle of filming Don’t Worry Darling, so he couldn’t really travel far from the set, but some of his dearest friends were able to come here and celebrate with him and his cast members.

You stand at the bar and your eyes find him every time you scan the place, not able to keep your gaze away from him for too long, he just demands the attention. Or at least yours.

You’ve never met anyone like him. When you got the chance to be his personal assistant four years ago at the very beginning of his solo career, you never thought how he’ll move right into your heart and never leave it. Whether you look at him as your boss or your friend, you can’t deny that he changed your life and you’ve learned so much from him, you can only hope he thinks of you somewhat the same. However you always tell yourself: what could you possibly give for The Harry Styles? He has everything in the whole wide world.

Harry catches you staring and he arches a brow at you, abandoning the conversation he has been in for the past minutes, mouthing you “what’s up, Angel”, his accent thick even without hearing his voice.

He’s been calling you Angel for longer than you can remember. When you asked him why the nickname, he said it’s because One Direction’s song Hey Angel was written about you. It was a fat lie, you haven’t met him when the song was written, but his words still tightened your chest, playing with the thought of Harry writing a song about you.

As cheesy and cliché as it is, you fell for him faster than you’d like to admit. You tried to fight it for a while, convince yourself it’s just a silly crush, but you soon had to realize you outgrew that after the first few weeks working with him. How could you not fall for him? He is everything any woman could wish for and he has you wrapped around his fingers, just like he has half the female population, probably.

You shake your head in his way, not sure how to tell him you just got lost in your thoughts about him. In fact, he occupies your mind pretty much all the time, but he doesn’t have to know about that.

He excuses himself from the table and walks up to you, a slow breath leaving your nose as you watch him approach you.

“Tired?” he asks, stopping in front of you, placing his empty glass to the counter.

“Kinda,” you nod.

“Want to head home soon?”

“Don’t worry about me. I can just call a taxi and go home, you don’t have to come.”

“Don’t be silly, we go to the same place, obviously we’re gonna go home together.”

Since filming has started, Harry and you’ve been sharing a nice apartment near the set. It was his idea to rent a place for the two of you, rather than to stay at a hotel. At first you didn’t think it would be a good idea, but of course, he convinced you to live with him for the months while the movie is being filmed. So now you basically live with Harry, share pretty much all your living space with him, except your bedroom.

“But it’s your birthday, stay as long as you want,” you tell him, not wanting to snatch him away from his friends on his big day.

“We’re filming in the afternoon tomorrow, can’t drag the night too long either way,” he shrugs, trying to make you believe it’s really nothing.

No matter how badly you try to convince him to stay, he doesn’t bulge and starts saying goodbye within an hour, calling the two of you a car to take you home. He is clearly tipsy, but not drunk. Once you’re in the car, Harry’s hand finds yours and he pulls you closer in the backseat until your thighs are pressed together. He curls an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight to his side, sinking down in the seat. You let your head rest on his shoulder, enjoying the closeness of his body, pressing down any worrying thought that usually makes its way to your mind every time Harry gets a little cozier than the usual.

The rational side of your brain knows you should be keeping some distance from him for the sake of your own sanity and emotional health, but you just can’t. Denying these little moments from yourself would be like pure torture and your heart can’t take that for sure.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” he murmurs, his nose nuzzling into your hair and you just shrug your shoulders.

“Nothing,” you mumble your lie.

“Liar, I can hear the gears turning in that pretty head of yours,” he grins down at you as your eyes lock for a moment. Thank God for the darkness in the car, because you can feel your cheeks heating up. The last thing you need is for Harry to see how nervous he can make you feel with just a simple compliment.

“Stop being nosy, you don’t have to know everything all the time.” You poke his side with your elbow, it makes him jump a little before he snuggles back to your side.

“That’s not true, you know I’m entitled to hold every knowledge in the world.” He tries to hide his smirk, but he fails miserably and you just laugh at him with your head falling back to his shoulder.

“Harry Styles, you are something else,” you sigh shaking your head at him.

Arriving home Harry keeps an arm around you as you walk up to the front door, fishing your keys out of your bag since you’d bet Harry didn’t bring his. There’s a chance he hasn’t even used his copy since you’ve been here, he knows you always have yours and you haven’t really left without each other so far, always staying around the other.

“Want to shower first?” he hums, walking inside, his arm leaving your shoulders and though you feel lighter without the extra weight, you wish it was still there.

“Go for it, I’m gonna clean up the mess I made when I got ready earlier,” you tell him, heading into your bedroom where the floor is littered with half your wardrobe from earlier, when you were trying to figure out what to wear for the little outing.

Harry disappears in the shared bathroom and a moment later you hear the water running. You go around your room, picking up the dresses you voted against, placing them back into the wardrobe and then you put away your makeup you left on your bed in your hurry.

“Bathroom is yours!” Harry calls out just when you finish, you hear his bedroom door open and close so you grab a clean oversized t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts before occupying the bathroom.

The warm shower feels nice, it’s been a long day since you started on set, Harry had a few scenes to film before you could leave in the afternoon. You wash away the day, scrub your makeup off and then take off the rest with your wipes once you’re out. You brush your hair and use some lotion for your dry skin before getting dressed and leaving the steamy bathroom.

Padding down the short hallway you hear nothing coming from Harry’s bedroom and you wonder if he’s already asleep, but once you step inside your room you see that he is cozied up on your bed, your covers pulled up to his naked chest, a pillow tucked under his head as he scrolls through his phone so shamelessly, as if it was his own room.

“Did you take the wrong turn in the hallway?” you ask with an arched eyebrow as you throw your dirty clothes to your temporary hamper, which is basically your emptied out suitcase.

“Nope,” he grins smugly, you have to roll your eyes at him. He locks his phone, dropping it to the side table, watching you move around, getting ready for bed and his eyes on your figure feel like they’re burning down on your skin.

“You know, it’s rude to stare,” you comment not even looking at him, but you just know he is still staring at you. Grabbing a hairtie from the little dresses in the corner of your room you reach back to loosely braid your hair, but his voice stops you.

“Wait,” he pleads and you furrow your eyebrows at him. “Can I do it?”

You give him a confused look as he pushes himself up into a sitting position, his green eyes are glimmering from the tiredness and the alcohol he has consumed tonight.

“You want to braid my hair?”

“Yeah,” he nods. You hesitate for a moment but join him on the bed at last, turning your back against him, giving him full control over your hair.

A shiver runs down your spine when you feel his fingers raking through your strands. He is so gentle and careful as you feel him section your hair off to three parts.

“Didn’t know you can braid,” you tell him, eyes fixated on the sheets in front of you.

“Gemma taught me, but I’m not the best at it.”

“So I’ll look atrocious?” you tease him smiling to yourself. He pokes the back of your neck with his fingers before continuing his work.

“You could never look atrocious, even if you tried.”

“And you are such a flirt,” you sigh. Over the years you’ve gotten used to his flirty act, it’s just who he is and though in the beginning your breath always got caught in your throat when he said something cheesy, now you just brush it off, only thinking about his words when you are alone in the night, struggling to fall asleep because you’re once again, thinking about him.

“M’telling the truth. Have I told you how beautiful you looked tonight?”

“Mmm,” you hum. He has told you that you looked pretty when the two of you left and he saw you walk out of your room in your black skinny jeans and flowy sheer top on, your hair loosely curled, but you didn’t really know what to say, so you just smiled at him and it’s the same now. You’re not the best at taking compliments.

“You really did. You always are.”

“And once again, you are such a flirt.”

“Complimenting a pretty woman is being a flirt?” he asks pretending to be offended as he carefully works on your hair and you wish you could see his focused face as he is trying to keep track of the sections between his fingers. At a lack of a witty comeback, you just shrug your shoulders, fumbling with your fingers on your lap.

You both fall silent as he concentrates on your hair and you manage to stop thinking, just focus on how his fingers keep brushing against your back every time he crosses two sections over each other.

“Hairtie, please,” he asks, his hand appearing next to you with his palm upwards. You place it in his hand and he finishes up his masterpiece. “There, it didn’t turn out as bad as I thought,” he comments once he is done. Reaching back you run your fingers over the braid and it feels good, he did a great job.

“Thanks,” you smile at him shyly, turning around. He leans back, making himself comfortable once again and you arch an eyebrow at him. “Need me to walk you back to your room, sir?”

“No, I’m perfectly fine here,” he grins smugly, tugging his arm behind his head as he takes up the right side of the bed.

“You’re planning to sleep here?”

“Please, don’t make me sleep alone on my birthday!” he pouts, giving you those damned puppy eyes. How could you ever say no to him?

“You better not push me off the bed in your sleep,” you mumble before getting under the covers.

You turn off the bedside lamp and the two of you start moving around, finding a comfortable pose to sleep in and you end up facing each other on your sides, Harry’s face squished into the pillow as his eyes are roaming over the hand you have laid between your faces.

His fingers start to inch towards yours until he hooks his pinky with yours, the touch sending a warm feeling down your spine.

“I hate sleeping alone,” he mumbles into the semi-darkness.

“Why?”

“Don’t you like it when there’s someone next to you? When you wake up and you’re not alone?”

“I like it, but I don’t hate sleeping alone either,” you tell him as your eyes fall to your linked pinky fingers. “Why do you hate it? You have the bed all to yourself, and there’s no chance of waking up to someone snoring or talking in their sleep.”

He huffs out a laugh as he buries his head deeper into the pillow.

“It makes me feel lonely. Which is ridiculous, because I’m never alone.”

“But lonely and alone are not the same, so it’s not ridiculous. You can feel lonely when you’re not alone.”

“I know,” he nods, his eyes watching your linked fingers intently, before he moves his hand so it’s now covering yours, his warm palm wrapping around your much smaller hand. “I’m never lonely with you, though.”

“So… you are only lonely when you’re sleeping or in the bathroom, because we basically spend every moment of the day together.” You smirk at him and see his dimple form in his cheek as he smiles at you nodding.

“That’s right. We are like glued together.”

“How aren’t we sick of each other already?”

“That’s never gonna happen.”

“You sure about that?” You raise your eyebrows at him with an amused smile, he is too sure about that answer.

“One hundred percent. You’re my favorite person.”

“Is that what you tell everyone?”

He gives you a look, but you just chuckle, sinking further into your pillow. His fingers start playing with your hand as he draws a deep breath.

“I only tell this to m’ mum and Gemma. No one else.”

Your heart starts racing at the thought of him seeing you on the same level as his closest family. You know how much his mum and sister mean to him, but you never thought you are anywhere near them in his eyes.

“You’re my favorite person too,” you whisper as your eyes meet over your joined hands. He smiles at you warmly, his floppy curls falling into his forehead and you want to run your fingers through them, feel how soft they are under your touch. Harry scoots closer, your faces only a few inches away from each other as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

For a moment you just watch him, thinking how good it feels to have him in your bed. How amazing it is to end the day with him so close to you. You wish all days would end like this, you wouldn’t have another bad day with him next to you.

Lying there and watching him slowly fall asleep, his hand still on yours, the bitter thought eats itself into your mind that he is only here because he feels lonely and wanted to be close to someone, not you particularly. And though you’re glad it’s you he ended up next to, you try not to get too accustomed to the feeling, because you’re just a temporary fix to his loneliness.

The door to Harry’s trailer opens and he walks in wearing his blue dress pants and crispy white dress shirt, fumbling with the top buttons to undo them. You glance up at him from your laptop where you’ve been working on his schedule for the upcoming weeks while he was filming.

“Hey, how did it go?” you ask as he places his water bottle to the vanity and then sits in the chair he spends his mornings in while his hair is being styled and tattoos are covered.

“Good. Messed up only a few times. Whacha’ working on?”

“Just your schedule, I’ll email it to you when I’m done, though you never check it.”

“Hey, I do check it! I like your color coding. I just suck at using it and you’re always here to remind me of the important stuff.”

You roll your eyes, continuing to type away on your keyboard as he moves around, having a snack and texting back people.

“Florence is coming over for a little after we’re done. We can order something,” he speaks up grabbing your attention again.

“Cool,” you nod with a small smile. “Is she staying the night?”

“No, we just thought it would be nice to hang out a little without dressed like this,” he chuckles looking down at himself.

“What’s wrong with Jack’s clothes? You look neat.”

“Do I?” he cocks an eyebrow cheekily, placing his hands to his hips as he looks down at you.

“Yeah. It’s a nice change after all the grandpa clothes,” you tease him and he gasps pretending to be offended at your words, though you both know you have nothing against his style. In fact, you love how he just wears whatever he wants, not caring what others would think.

“Watch your mouth or you can’t wear my bode jacket again,” he warns you holding up his pointing finger, shaking it at you, but you just chuckle at him, finishing up what you’ve been working on before shutting the laptop down.

“How long until you’re done?”

“Just a few more scenes. I think we can leave in about two hours.”

“Alright.”

“You done working?”

“Mhm, for now.”

“Come and watch the filming. You’re always so hidden in here.”

“Because I always have work to do,” you point out, putting the laptop to the side from your lap.

“Yeah, but you’re done now, so come out and watch me be the next Leonardo DiCaprio,” he smugly tells you, and it makes you roll your eyes at him.

“You’re so humble, H. Is something that comes with the age?” you tease him standing up from the small sofa, grabbing your phone from the table.

“You’ll find out in a year,” he smirks back as you follow him out of the trailer, back to the set.

Later that day you, Florence and Harry are chilling back at your apartment, munching on the pizza you ordered, watching some documentary on Netflix, just enjoying a lazy evening. You’ve become quite close with Florence, her personality is a lot like yours so you got along well from the beginning, the three of you often do things together outside of set.

You and Harry are sharing the couch while Florence is curled up on the loveseat. The temperature at the apartment is always nice, but you often catch yourself feeling a little cold in the evening, but it has more to do with the tiredness rather than with the heating of the place. When you pull your legs underneath you to warm your feet, Harry notices the action and knows right away that you’re starting to feel cold as always. Reaching down he grabs a blanket from the basket next to the couch and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer to him.

“Come ‘ere,” he mumbles, draping the blanket over the two of you. You shuffle closer to him, making yourself comfortable at his side as he makes sure you’re fully tugged in. Then he leaves an arm around you, his fingers gently grazing your shoulder as he turns his attention back at the movie.

Glancing over at Florence you see the puzzled look on her, but you ignore it biting into your bottom lip, turning back to watch the movie though you’re having a hard time focusing. All you can think about is Harry’s touch on you.

It’s almost midnight when Florence calls herself a taxi. Harry picks up the glasses you used and volunteers to wash them, leaving you and Florence alone in the living room.

“So, what’s up with you and Harry?” she questions right away without beating around the bush.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you two has always been close, but now… it seems all too… couple-like.” She narrows her eyes at you, hands on her hips, looking like a mother questioning her daughter.

“Don’t be silly.”

“I’m not,” she scoffs. Then you pretend to be busy with folding the blanket, but you can feel her intent stare on you before she speaks up again. “You like him, don’t you?”

“What?” you huff with a not too Oscar-worthy expression on your face that was supposed to hide the panic in you. “Well of course I like him, he is my friend and boss.”

“But not just like that. You like like him.”

“Florence,” you sigh, just when Harry walks out of the kitchen, oblivious to the conversation that he just interrupted.

“You sure you don’t want to spend the night?” he politely asks her, but she just shakes her head.

“I’m not really up for spending the night on the couch.”

“You wouldn’t have to, you can sleep in my bed,” he simply offers and something is telling you he shouldn’t open his mouth again.

“You’re not taking the couch because of me.”

“I wouldn’t, I usually sleep at Y/N’s,” he states as if it was nothing, but you instantly freeze.

Yes, ever since his birthday he has spent way more nights in your bed than in his own, always raving to you how well he can sleep when you’re next to him and you couldn’t bear the thought of him feeling lonely, so you’ve been letting him occupy half of your bed through the nights. He usually holds your hand falling asleep and then you wake up tangled together, sometimes he is cuddling you from behind, other times you’re the one curled up to his side. He treats it so casually, like it really is nothing, he just always goes on his day when you wake up so you decided to not make it into a big deal either.

Florence gives you a wide eyed look that you try hard to ignore, while Harry is so oblivious to what he just caused with his statement.

“I uhh—thanks but I’m fine going home. Besides, I think my car is already here. See you guys on set tomorrow. Y/N?” she calls out walking towards the front door.

“Hm?”

“We’ll talk later,” she tells you and it’s a strong message that she won’t just leave it at that.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you nod awkwardly, waving her goodbye.

You and Harry clean up together and as always, he is the first one to use the bathroom and by the time you’re done, he is in your bed, waiting for you to join him. You don’t comment on his presence anymore, part of you afraid he would stop spending the night in your bed and you definitely don’t want that. Not much is left from filming, meaning that soon you are forced to go home where you and Harry do not live at the same place so you’re gonna have to sleep alone, like you did before. Only now you are way too hooked on the feeling of having him in your bed, even if it’s not in the way you truly want, it’s better than nothing.

The moment you get under the sheets, Harry reaches out and pulls you to his side. He hasn’t done this often when you went to sleep, only sneaking some small touches, but you don’t mind him being a little extra clingy.

“Filming is almost over,” you mumble into his chest, your hand lazily resting where his ribcage ends in his chest.

“Mhm.” There’s a short silence before he speaks up again. “What about it, Angel?”

“It’s just that it’s going to be weird going home. I got used to living here.” It’s your way saying that you’re gonna miss having him around all the time, but you’re not sure if he understands the hint. It doesn’t really matter anyway.

“You like cramped together with me?” he chuckles lowly.

“Was kinda nice,” you smile.

“Remember how you threatened me to throw my shit out if I leave my dirty clothes on the floor?”

“I do,” you smirk, thinking back to the conversation where you agreed to live with him while he is filming. “Didn’t find any clothes on the floor, so you get an A for that.”

“Wow, was this… a compliment?”

“Shut up, I always compliment you!” you laugh smacking his chest gently.

“Oh, no. You don’t compliment, you just tell me when I managed not to fuck something up,” he corrects you and your cheeks are heating up about how well he knows you.

“Those are compliments in my book, don’t be greedy.”

“M’not. I love how grounded you keep me with treating me like this.”

“Like what?” you ask furrowing your eyebrows.

“Like a normal person. With you, I don’t have to be afraid that I earn something because of who I am. You give no shit about my name, you always keep me in check and I appreciate that.”

“Can’t let you have a too big of a head,” you smirk, closing your eyes. He laughs with you, squeezing you a little before you both fall into silence, drifting off to sleep in each other’s arms.

You’ve managed to avoid Florence in the past few days. Her burning look has been making you way too nervous, you know she wants to know more about what’s going on between you and Harry, but truth to be told, you have no idea what to tell her.

Yeah, I’m definitely in love with him and we’ve been sharing a bed for a few weeks because he feels lonely alone at night, so he uses me to ease the feeling while I just let him because as I said, I’m in love with the man.

No, you can’t tell her that.

Now there’s only two days left from filming, meaning that only two more nights to spend with Harry and it’s making you a nervous wreck to think about sleeping alone in your bedroom.

You round the corner in the maze of the trailers after a phone call you had with Jeff when you run out of luck and bump right into Florence.

“I’ve been looking for you, Y/N. Come have lunch with me in my trailer,” she smiles sweetly, grabbing you by your hand so you can’t escape her this time.

“Oh I wanted to call—“

“Do it later,” she simply cuts you off.

Soon, you find yourself in her trailer as she eats her burger while she eyes you with suspicion.

“So, you and Harry sleep together?”

“Well, not like that. We really just sleep in the same bed.”

“Oh, makes perfect sense, sleeping in the same bed as your boss. Very casual.”

“Don’t make it sound so weird,” you frown at her words. You definitely don’t see Harry as your boss. You do work for him, but it never felt like he stands anywhere above you, the two of you have always been equal even before you became close friends.

“You gotta admit it’s pretty unusual,” she points out and you just look away from her. “So let’s talk about how you’re in love with him.”

“What? I never said that!” you protest, but she just gives you a look that says ‘cut the crap, girl’ and you know there’s no use to try to trick her, she sees right through you. “Don’t fucking look at me like that, I have enough shit on my plate without your judgment.”

“Oh, I’m not judging you. I’m just wondering why you two are not together already.”

You practically snort at her statement, finding it quite absurd and ridiculous.

“What? You two are perfect for each other and I’m pretty sure Harry loves you too.”

“Yeah, as a friend.”

“That’s not how friends act, Y/N. He wouldn’t beg himself into your bed every night if he was just your friend.”

“He is just lonely. He doesn’t need me, just someone to be with him.”

“That’s bullshit,” she scoffs. “You two are just being idiots.” Just as you are about to answer, your phone starts ringing. Harry’s smiley face appears on the screen, making you extremely nervous because of the conversation you are having with Florence.

“Hey,” you breathe out answering the call.

“Hey, where are you?”

“Just, talking with Florence. What’s up?”

“I got an email from Jeff and I have some questions.”

“I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Thank you Angel,” he hums before ending the call.

“I gotta go. Please don’t… bring any of this up for Harry,” you ask Florence, heading to the exit.

“You’ve gotta sort your shit out. This is not ideal, Y/N.”

“I know it,” you growl under your breath, leaving the trailer. You chew on your bottom lip nervously as you march back to Harry’s trailer. You feel so confused and anxious about this whole situation and the worst thing is that you have no idea what to do about it. Telling him how you feel seems like a stupid idea, but mostly because you’re terrified of rejection. What if it all meant nothing to him? If you were right and he is just lonely and uses you to help himself, it has nothing to do with you. You wouldn’t survive the heartbreak it would give you if he told you he doesn’t see you more than just a friend.

As you walk into his trailer he is sitting on the sofa with his phone in his hands. He glances up at you, a warm smile tugging on his lips as you take a deep breath, feeling very much out of place suddenly. Unfortunately, he immediately senses your discomfort.

“Everything alright, Angel?”

Angel. This nickname could make your knees go weak in a heartbeat and you hate how much effect it has on you. Especially in this state of mind you’re currently in.

“I just…” You shake your head shutting your eyes. “Why do you keep calling me that?” you ask, sounding way more desperate than you intended to. Harry puts his phone aside, looking a little puzzled at your sudden weird act, but he seems more worried for you.

“I, uhh—“

“And don’t tell me it’s because Hey Angel is about me. We didn’t know each other back then.”

You have no idea where this is coming from or why you even questioned him about it all of a sudden, but Florence just totally threw you off with what she just said. Harry stares back at you, probably vigorously looking for the reason why you are acting up now, but luckily, he doesn’t try to turn it into a joke as always.

“I call you Angel, because you remind me of the song. It wasn’t written about you, but the lyrics match up with… you.”

“What?” you ask in confusion.

“I wish I could be more like you, do you wish you could be more like me?” he quotes the song, not singing the words, simply just talking them as he stares back at you. “I see you at the bar, at the edge of my bed, backseat of my car, in the back of my head,” he continues and you feel your throat doing dry just from the way he softly speaks, standing only a few feet away from you. “I come alive when I hear your voice, it’s a beautiful sound, it’s a beautiful noise.”

You never really gave it another thought, but now that he has told you this, it hit you hard in the chest. You weren’t expecting, especially because those lines are rather meaningful, to you at least.

“I thought of it once not long after we first met and thought calling you Angel would suit you. Do you mind it? I can just… stop calling you that if you don’t like it.”

You shake your head. You never want him to stop calling you that even if it’s not that meaningful for him. If it’s just some game. It’s great to know that something reminded him of you.

“No, it’s… it’s alright.” Your voice is small, barely more than just a whisper. It’s a little too much at once. Florence’s words are still stuck in your head, and what he just said has felt like he just gripped your heart even if he doesn’t know.

You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to come back from this hazy state of mind.

“So, what about that email?”

“You alright?” Reaching forward he takes your hand and you try not to flinch at his touch, just smile at him nodding.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He squeezes your hand before dropping it and he luckily doesn’t ask any more questions.

You stay oddly quiet for the rest of the day and Harry surely knows something is wrong, but he respects you enough not to bug you about it any longer. He just stays close to you as much as he can, trying his best to take your mind off of whatever keeps you occupied.

On the way home you and Harry drop by a supermarket, buy some quick dinner, not wanting to stack the fridge when you’re leaving so soon. Then you sit in the living room, eating and watching some random movie that’s on TV. You snuggle to his side on the couch naturally, he doesn’t even have to pull you close this time. The thought of having left only one more night in the apartment makes you want to sue every little moment you have left in this bubble.

Harry makes you have a shower first tonight and when you come out from the bathroom, your bed is already nicely made, inviting you warmly. He is quick to finish with his shower and joins you in bed barely five minutes later. You move towards each other instantly, his arms curling around your form soothingly as you make yourself comfortable, melted into his embrace. You feel his lips pressing against your forehead and you almost start crying at the small action.

“Angel, I don’t know what has upset you, but I’m here for you, alright? You’re not alone,” he murmurs softly.

“I know,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. I would do anything for you, just like you do so much for me. You’ve got me.”

I wish, you think to yourself. You have him, but not the way you’ve been desiring. His hand moves to cup your face as he lifts your head so you are looking into his eyes in the darkened room, but there’s enough light coming through the window that you see his features. He runs his thumb across your cheek, gently caressing your skin and everywhere he touches you, it feels like your body is in flames. This something has been building up inside you and now you’re not sure how long you’ll be able to control yourself. And just as you think about how you really should put some distance between the two of you so you won’t regret it later, the unexpected happens.

Harry pulls you up just enough so when he moves his head he is able to place his lips on yours, kissing you out of the blue. His lips feel so soft, so fitting on your mouth, you let out a whimper when he goes further than just a gentle kiss, taking your bottom lip between his properly. It’s an out of world experience, you’ve imagined it so many times, but you never thought it would actually happen and now that it is very much happening, your whole mind goes blank and for a split second… everything feels right. You kiss him back with fever and with each passing moment the kiss grows more passionate and way hungrier than how it started. Harry��s arm tightens around you, almost pulling you on top of him and you can’t make yourself stop, not that you want to.

With a little force, Harry pushes the two of you around so now you’re lying on the mattress and he holds himself up above you, his lips never disconnecting from yours. He licks into your mouth, pulling and tugging on your lips, making your whole body go weak just for him.

But then, as if reality hit you in the head, you realize what’s happening.

“Harry,” you gasp pulling back, gasping for air. “This—We…”

“Angel, let me take care of you. Please,” he begs out of breath.

“What…”

“I want to make you feel good. I want to take care of you, please let me.” He sounds so desperate, like he would do anything for this and you are not strong enough to deny it from him.

It’s just his pity. He’s been using you for his needs, now he wants to give some back, it’s nothing more, you think to yourself. It can’t be more.

You lack the willpower to make a rational decision, so as you stare up into his eyes that appear so dark due to the lack of proper lighting, you just nod before he leans down and kisses you again.

He holds himself up on one arm while his free hand wanders down your body, touching you at places you have never felt him before. He palms your left breast, squeezing it gently and it makes you moan into his mouth before his hand moves down the curve of your waist until it reaches your sleeping shorts. Your body is burning for him and you can’t stop it from reacting to everything he does. You buckle your hips up when you feel his fingers gently graze along your pubic bone, even though you’re still fully clothed.

“What do you want me to do, Angel? I’ll do anything you want me to,” he pants between kisses as his hand moves to cup your heated core, making you moan again from the sensation of his touch there.

“I need you,” is all you manage to get out.

“I’m right here. You got me. What do you want me to do? Please, tell me, Angel,” he whines, forehead pressed against yours and his hips fall, pressing against your thigh, making you realize how excited he has gotten. His erection is hard under the fabric of his boxers, almost aching to be freed. There’s no way you can take any teasing or a long foreplay. You need him inside you now before you burst.

“Harry, I need you inside me. Please,” you whimper, almost cry, before he kisses you again, hard and demanding as he simply pushes your shorts down, revealing your naked sex since you don’t wear any underwear to bed. You grab the waistband of his boxers too and push it down until he can wiggle his legs out of them, leaving him completely naked in your bed while you still have a top covering your upper body, however he is quick to change that. He grabs the hem and starts pulling it off, your hands helping him so a few moments later you’re completely naked underneath him.

“Fuck, Angel,” he breathes out, his perfect, pink lips attacking the side of your throat, kissing and nibbling on the skin, going down to your breasts, giving the same amount of attention to both while you turn into jelly under his touch. lacing your fingers through his hair you cry out his name as you can feel him leaving a mark on your left breast, his tongue swirling against the spot he just completely destroyed before he brings himself back up so he can kiss you again and again with so much hunger, it’s hard to tell where you end and where he starts. Everything melts together and you’re such a mess in every possible way.

His hand gently reaches down between your legs and parts your shaking thighs before he cups you drenched pussy, his middle finger sliding between your folds, a shameless moan slipping from your mouth, right into his as your lips are still attached.

“So wet, I can’t wait to make you feel good, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

“Harry, just… please,” you pant, surely feeling yourself lose the last bits of your nerves.

“D’you have a condom?” he asks, head lifting up a bit so he can look into your eyes.

“I-In my, um, the makeup bag,” you try to explain gesturing towards your dresser where your makeup bag sits on top, two condoms somewhere inside it. Harry pecks your lips before pulling away from you, the lack of his weight on top of you making you shiver.

He digs into the bag until he finds what he’s been looking for, tearing the packaging open with his teeth and he rolls it on while he walks back, not wasting another moment. You cling onto him like a koala bear once he is back in bed, his massive body covering you again.

“Just tell me how you like it, I’ll do anything,” he mumbles against your shivering lips as he pushes the head in first, stopping for a second before the rest of his cock buries inside you, completely taking your breath away. He is bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with, filling up every inch of you, your walls stretching around him as he stills once he is all the way inside you.

This is it. This is the moment you’ve imagined oh so many times, feeling him the closest possible, his cock buried inside you, his cheek pressed against yours as he holds himself up on top of you. Years of yearning and endless nights when you imagined your hand was his… and now it’s your reality. And though you know it’s gonna change everything, you can’t tell yourself to stop.

Harry lifts his head, pecking your lips gently, calling you Angel over and over again as he starts moving, the friction between your legs growing with each thrust. He fits inside you so well, you won’t be able to enjoy sex with anyone else now that you’ve experienced it with Harry. All of a sudden, he has become the epitome of your whole life.

“Tell me what you want, Angel. Do you want me to go slow or fast? Tell me how to make you feel good.” His lips brush against yours with each word while you’re just trying to catch your breath, fingers digging into his back, the euphoria building up inside you gradually.

“A little faster,” you breathe out, speaking feels like a hard task at the moment. Harry picks his pace up, finding just the right rhythm that makes you wrap your legs around his waist so he can go even deeper with each thrust he makes.

“Look at me, Angel. Let me see your eyes,” he begs, his hand cupping your cheek. He runs his thumb along the line of your lower lip before he takes it between his lips, tugging on it gently, kissing you like you’re his last breath on Earth. He is devouring you, body melts together with yours, all your senses are strictly focused on him. He is all you see, hear, feel and taste.

Your gaze meets his and the way he looks at you, like you’re his whole entire world, it makes your eyes tear up. You want it to be true, you want it to be reality, you want it to be more than just about needs and satisfaction, but it’s not and your consciousness is not letting you believe otherwise.

“Oh Angel,” he softly hums, wiping away a tear that escaped the corner of your eye and ran down the side of your face. Keeping up his rhythm he kisses along your jawline, your cheek, your lips, the side of your face, the bridge of your nose, everywhere he can before returning to your lips with a hungry, passion filled kiss.

“Harry…” you whimper, holding your thighs tighter around his waist as you feel yourself nearing the edge.

“Let it go for me, Angel. I wanna see you feel good, cum for me,” he tells you, eyes never leaving yours as you are ready to burst underneath him.

“Harry, I-I need you!” The words fall from your lips as a desperate beg, arms wrapping around his torso tight, as if he could disappear from your embrace any moment.

“I’m right here, Angel. Right here,” he soothes you, kissing your lips sweetly as proof that he is not just a trick your mind is playing on you. “Are you close, baby? Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Yes!” you pant, losing control over your body and all your senses. It’s gonna be intense, you can tell and it hasn’t even started yet, you just know it’ll shake you to the core.

“Good girl. Let me make you feel good.” “So good,” you breathe out before Harry occupies your lips with his once again.

It doesn’t take long. He keeps thrusting in the perfect angle and it throws you right over the edge. Harry demands you look him in the eyes when your orgasm wash you over and the intensity of it all almost makes you cry again. You burst, lose yourself under him, screaming his name as if you were praying to all higher forces. In a way, you are, because for a moment you really think you completely vanish from this world.

Harry follows you just a few more thrusts later, falling out of his rhythm as he grunts and moans your name, face buried into the crook of your neck while you tug on his hair, the feeling of his soft locks between your fingers is like pure heaven.

He stills, but stays inside you as he looks up, his eyes filled with satisfaction and contentment as he cups your face again, kissing you long, taking his time with you.

As you come off your high and the clouds of euphoria clears off, reality sets in more painfully than ever. Your limbs are paralyzed and you feel like you are outside your own body, just watching everything happen as if you were a third person in the room. Harry rolls to the side, chest heaving wildly as he is trying to regulate himself. Once he is able to breathe without panting, he pecks your shoulder gently and makes a quick round to the bathroom. You hear water running and then his feet padding on the floor, but you can’t bring yourself to move, you just lie there, completely drained out. It doesn’t change even when Harry gently cleans you off with a damp washing cloth, throwing it to the side to take care of it in the morning. He pulls the covers over the two of you and scoops you into his arms. You manage to bring your arm up to his chest as your head rests on his shoulder. His fingers are dancing up and down your arm, his steady breathing keeping your overcrowded head grounded. And then… he starts singing so softly, it’s almost just a whisper.

“Hey Angel, oh, I wish I could be more like you. Do you wish you could be more like me?”

Your eyes shut close, the damn tears flooding again, but you keep your sobs drowned in your throat. Instead you force yourself to sleep and hope you live to see the morning, because you feel like your heart is about to give up on you.

When you wake up, you genuinely feel like you’ve drunk through last night and now have the worst hangover. It’s like you’ve been hit on the head with a chair. You slowly come to your senses and realize that you’re completely naked in bed and there’s a body curled to your side, equally naked.

The shock sets in first because you realize, once again, that what happened last night wasn’t just a fever dream, it actually happened. And then you basically jump out of bed when you look at the small digital clock on the bedside and see that the two of you have ten minutes to leave if you don’t want to be late to the last day of filming.

“Harry! Harry get up!” you smack him, kicking the covers off and grabbing your top and shorts from the floor, quickly putting them on. The man in talk growls, just rolling to his back without even opening his eyes. “Harry damn it! We have ten minutes or you’ll be late!” you snap at him and it somewhat wakes him up. With furrowed eyebrows at puckered lips, he lifts his head up and looks around.

Those lips were kissing you last night.

“What?” he mumbles in confusion.

“We overslept, get up. We have… eight minutes left.”

“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath, finally getting out of bed, reaching for his boxers.

It’s a shitshow as the two of you try to get ready on time and though you are running just a few minutes late, the driver of the taxi manages to speed down the streets fast enough that you arrive to set just in time.

During the whole ride, you feel Harry’s burning eyes on you, but thank God, you get a call from Jeffrey the moment you get into the car and it lasts the whole ride so you don’t have to talk with him about what happened last night.

“Y/N,” he tries when you’re still on the phone and he is already done with hair and makeup, heading to set to start filming.

“What?” you mouth at him.

“Can we talk later?”

“I’m busy. Go, I’m sure they are waiting for you,” you whisper to him and he looks so disappointed, but he nods and walks away. Your heart breaks as you lower the phone. You have been out of the call for some time, just didn’t want to talk to him.

Quite frankly, you’re not ready to talk to him about what happened last night. You don’t want to hear him say that he was just trying to help you out last night, that it wasn’t anything serious, just some messing around. It was just two people trying not to feel lonely.

Walking back into his trailer you can feel your chest tightening, a sharp pain shooting right into your heart the more you think about him. It was a mistake, you shouldn’t have done it because you are the one with the feelings and now you are the one struggling with the consequences of your little get together.

The more you think about it, the worse it gets and you feel like you’re about to suffocate. You need to get out of here, there’s no way you can face him now.

It all happens so fast. Before you can even second guess your decision, you’re on your way back to the apartment to pack all your stuff and get on the first flight back home. You need to put distance between you and him, spending one more night in the same apartment would make you go nuts. So while Harry is filming, completely oblivious to what you’re doing, you pack up your room as fast as possible and head to the airport to hop on the plane that leaves at four pm.

With a racing heart you check all your baggage in and make it through security when Harry first calls you. At first, you want to ignore it, but then you find yourself swiping your thumb across the screen.

“Hey,” you shortly greet him.

“Hey, where are you? Have been looking for you everywhere.” “I um… I’m at the airport,” you answer and the silence on the other end is deafening for a moment.

“You are at the what?” he then snaps.

“I had a, um, kind of emergency, so I’m heading back home now. Sorry, I would have called you, but didn’t know when you’d be off set.”

“You fucking packed and left already? You’re really at the airport?” He is fuming, Raging. You can tell he is pacing in the trailer, vigorously running his fingers through his hair, ruining it without a care. You almost feel guilty, but then again, you just know facing him now would break you. You’ll get back to him when you’ve pulled your shit together.

“I am, calm down, alright? Not a big deal.” “You just left on our last day here without a fucking word! And when am I seeing you again?”

“I, uhh—I need to be home for a while, but you’ll be fine. I’ll stay in touch with you in email and text.”

“Fucking text? Email?” he is barking now. Good thing you are not there because it would be a disaster. “Y/N, you can’t be serious. We-we were supposed to talk. You can’t just fucking disappear like this.”

“We’ll talk, alright?”

“When?”

“Later,” you simply tell him at a loss for a better answer. Hopefully, never, you think to yourself, but don’t say it out loud.

“Okay, you’re not doing this. Don’t you dare get on a plane, I’m going to the airport right now. You’re not leaving.”

“Well, I am and you’re not coming here,” you clap back, but you can already hear him moving around, probably gathering his stuff so he can leave right away.

“Swear to God if you get on that plane, I’m—“ He cuts himself off, no idea what to really say and you just sigh, closing your eyes. People rush by you and as you glance at the big screen you see that your plane is boarding.

“Harry, just… it’ll be better like this, alright? You’ll be fine, I’ll see you… when I see you. Have fun on your last day on set.”

You end the call before he could get another word out and put it on airplane mode right away as you grab your backpack and head to your gate.

Using your time on the plane wisely, you put together a very detailed schedule for Harry so he knows everything about his next few weeks and you can minimize your contact with him. You even set up a bunch of reminders in his calendar so he won’t miss his appointments.

When you set feet on the ground again, you expect the distance between you and Harry to feel comforting and freeing, but it’s the opposite. An ache in your chest is getting heavier as you get yourself a taxi and head home, feeling more alone than ever in your life.

Your home doesn’t feel like a home. Not without that one person who could make any place your home, but you can’t see him right now, not until you learn how to exist around him without the urge to faint.

Going to bed alone is pure torture. Every moment you are waiting to hear Harry shuffling around in the apartment, you miss his little snorts when he is watching the TV, his singing coming from the shower, but most importantly, you miss having him so close to you in bed. Now that you’re lying on your own, your bed feels so cold, it brings you tears as reality sets in. You miss him. You miss him more than anything and you can’t imagine a time when it won’t hurt anymore.

The crying pushes you into a shallow slumber sometime in the middle of the night, however, you’re rudely shaken back to consciousness when you hear someone banging on your door like crazy, pushing the doorbell constantly.

“Jesus fuck,” you mumble with a grimace, pulling a hoodie on as you make your way to the door hazily, probably still half asleep because you open the door without checking who it is through the peephole and you end up staring up at none other than Harry. “What the—What are you doing here?” you breathe out, panic sets in fast and your hands start shaking at the sight of him.

Harry steps inside without invitation and closes the door behind him, a stern expression on his handsome face.

“Y/N, what the fuck were you thinking when you left like that?”

“I-I told you, it was an emergency.”

“What kind of emergency? Because I called your mom and sisters, they all said nothing happened in the family, so what could possibly happen that needed you here immediately?”

“I don’t have to explain shit to you.” Shaking your head you try to step back to put some distance between the two of you, but he doesn’t let you, taking a step forward at the same time.

“Well I think we have a lot to talk about after last night, don’t you think?”

“I don’t want to talk,” you shake your head biting into your bottom lip. This wasn’t supposed to happen, why couldn’t he just stay where he was? “How did you even get here so fast?”

“Left as soon as we wrapped.”

“Where are all your stuff?”

“Left everything there, I’ll just go back and pack it up, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that for a girl who genuinely hates any form of working out, you ran pretty fast from you today.”

Any other day you would have laughed at his comparison, but not today. You just stand there, chewing on the inside of your cheeks as you try to figure out what to do or say. You were not ready to face him so soon.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask desperately, throwing your hands into the air.

“Tell me what it meant for you,” he calmly answers and you want to shake him. How is he so peaceful?

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m not doing this to myself, okay? I need time, Harry.”

“For what?”

“So I can get myself over this, alright? I need time, I—fuck this,” you growl, feeling the tears flooding your eyes again. Damn it!

“Why the fuck do you want to get yourself over it?”

“Because it obviously didn’t mean the same thing to me as it meant to you!” you snap at him and he raises his eyebrows at you in a way that tells you “you’re stupid”.

“What do you think it meant to me?”

“Probably nothing,” you scoff rolling your eyes, but the anger that bursts from him quickly washes your attitude away.

“Fucking nothing? You think I would get on a fucking plane first thing after filming for ten hours straight just to come after you? You think I spent all my nights with you these past weeks because you mean nothing to me? You know, for a smart girl, you can be pretty dumb sometimes.”

You blink at him in utter confusion, his words knocked you off your feet. He exhales sharply, long fingers running through his messy curls as he tries his best to calm himself down. When he is finally breathing somewhat normally his wildly vibrant green eyes meet your widened stare.

“Y/N, I thought we were on the same page. What did you think it was all about?” he softly asks, seeing how shook you still are.

“I, uhh—I thought this was all just some kind of distraction. You said you were feeling lonely, I thought you were just… kind of using me. And then last night was you returning the favor.”

“Hell no,” he breathes out shaking his head as he steps closer and this time you don’t back away from him. You let his hands run down your arms until they find your hands. “I thought this was clear, but I’m gonna say it then. I’m in love with you, Y/N, have been for a long time, I was just being a pussy and didn’t know how you’d take it. But then, when you didn’t kick me out of your bed the first night we slept together, it got me hoping and it was all heading just the right direction. Then last night happened and I was so damn sure this would be our turning point but then…” He breathes out shakily again, as if the thought still upsets him. “When I called you and you said you were at the airport… I love you, Angel, but I was ready to murder you.”

You let out a faint chuckle, feeling the tears bubbling in your eyes.

“Why did you run away instead of talking to me? Did you not trust me?” he asks softly, a hand coming up to cup your jaw gently.

“I didn’t trust myself,” you admit weakly.

“Oh Angel…” Leaning down he kisses your forehead tenderly, his lips feel like soft feathers against your hot skin. “Do you need me to tell you again how in love I am with you or are you gonna believe me? You’re not planning to run away again, are you?” he teases you making you chuckle as you shake your head.

“I’m not gonna run away, but I would love to hear you say you love me again.”

“I love you. I love you so fucking much, Angel, don’t you ever think otherwise for a moment, okay?”

You nod, lips curling into your mouth as your teary eyes meet his green orbs.

“I love you too, Harry.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” he chuckles breathing out in relief and it makes you smile. “I would never just use you. Love you way too much for that, Angel. You are everything to me.”

“Wish I knew that earlier,” you mumble with a bitter chuckle. It would have saved you a lot of tears.

“I will never stop saying it to you.” His forehead rests against yours, noses touching as his arms curl around your frame, pulling you close to him until you’re pressed up against his hard chest. “Just out of curiosity, what were you thinking when I told you, you reminded me of Hey Angel? Because I think it pretty much gave me away, but apparently, I was wrong,” he chuckles lowly, pulling back a little so he can look you in the eyes.

“I honestly have no idea,” you admit with an awkward chuckle. “I just had a conversation with Florence before that where she called me out about my feelings for you and I was still kind of in shock. Probably took it as just your usual flirty behavior.”

“I’ll admit I do flirt some, but haven’t you realized it’s different with you?”

“I guess not.” “Angel, you are… something else,” he chuckles in disbelief before leaning down he finally presses his lips against yours. You giggle into his lips, arms wrapping around his neck as he lifts you up from the ground, twirling you around, a squeal slipping from your mouth.

“So, now you have to go back to pack your stuff?” you question, still wrapped into his arms completely and you don’t want to exist any other way. This is where you belong.

“Yeah. Had to chase down this Angel who thought she could run away from me.”

“So how are you planning to get to New York by four tomorrow when you’re still here and have to go back to pack? Have you checked the schedule I sent you? You’re not gonna make it.” You cock your head to the side with an arched brow.

“Did you just go back to full assistant mode right after we confessed our love for each other?”

“Someone has to be responsible and we both know it’s always me.”

“I’ll just hire someone to do it for me, I’ll leave to New York from here. Happy?” he grins at you as you nod.

“Very. Because this means you can stay the night here.”

“Seeing the fact that I literally have nowhere else to go, because even my house keys are in the suitcase I left back… I very much need to stay here for the night,” he points out.

“Good. Come on, my bed felt empty without you,” you giggle, pulling him towards your bedroom and he follows you eagerly.

“I can definitely help that.”

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

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