#i go to sleep now. it is 11am and my sleep schedule is FUCKED mate

[whispers-of-masser]

Just Tonight (II)

✧ Nebarra x human!LDB ✧ Angst to comfort; 2k+ words ✧ Brief & very mild suggestive content, light swearing ♫ "My Blood" - Echos, "Mistake" - NF, "Stubborn" - Riell ✒ @candydreamer122, you asked to be notified when this dropped so here ya go!

Nebarra opened his eyes to the golden light of dawn, your head resting on his chest, bare legs intertwined with his. Your body pressed against his, warm and comforting, and when he glanced down at your face, he'd never seen it more peaceful. He reached up, brushing your cheek with his thumb, and even in your sleep, you leaned into his touch.

Gods, you took his breath away. But even as he lay there, admiring you in the soft morning light, a single, unpleasant thought wormed its way to the front.

He didn't deserve you.

It made him pause, something turning sour in the pit of his stomach. No... Please, no...

He didn't want the moment to end. Didn't want the thoughts he knew would turn his happiness to ash. But for years they had whispered in his mind, been his constant companions, bitter and selfish lovers that left him with nothing in return but pain and cynicism. They would not let him go so easily, relinquish the control he has given them long ago.

All the more reason he couldn't, shouldn't have you.

Because, really, what could he offer you? He had nothing but his past, his bitterness, his selfish nature. Even last night had been spurred on by his own selfish desires, exacerbated further still by drink. He was nothing but thorns, rough and crude, the blood of hundreds on his hands – and he felt no guilt over them.

...Most of them.

You didn't deserve someone like that. You could do so much better than him.

Why did you want him, at all?

And as he lay there, hand cupping your face, his eyes drinking in every curve and contour – your own slowly fluttered open.

His breath caught. Sunlight danced across your irises, and he could see himself reflected in your gaze. For a few moments, you simply blinked at him, and he could see every minute shift in your expression. Emptiness, confusion, sudden realisation – and then you smiled.

Nebarra had seen many things in life. Many ugly things, things that he'd tried to forget, that haunted him until he drowned them in drink. The few beautiful things he'd seen, though... those, he remembered clearly, and often. Fought to carve them into every facet of his memory, to allow himself the slightest hope, to give himself the smallest of reasons to keep going. And the smile you gave him...

It was the most beautiful of them all.

There was life in your smile. Vast, vibrant, and beautiful, your face haloed in the golden light of morning, you looked... divine.

And then, you spoke, words low and husky from sleep, a laugh rumbling in your throat: "And you call me guar-face." Slowly, you raised a hand, gentle fingers brushing his cheeks, smile growing ever wider.

...He wanted you. Gods, how he wanted you. His heart ached with the thorns of longing, with the knowledge that he couldn't, shouldn't have you.

So, he turned away, pulled back from your touch. Forced an empty expression on his face, in his eyes. Grunted a simple, "Morning." And carefully, oh so carefully, pushed you off him.

"...Nebarra?"

Unwelcome. Outsider. All he was ever meant to be.

"What?" The word was heavy on his tongue, deadened in tone as he sat up, got off the bet, and set to collecting his clothes from the floor.

"Nebarra... What's wrong?"

Everything. "Nothing." He fumbled with his trousers, nearly falling as he tugged them on, still scanning the floor for his shirt. Anything to avoid meeting your eyes.

"Bullshit." Sheets rustled as you leaned forward, and he could practically hear your brows furrow at him. "Is it... because of last night?"

"No." Yes.

"I think it is. And I think we should talk about it – about this."

"There's nothing to talk about," he grunted, still pacing the floor, eyes roving everywhere but the bed. Where was his damn shirt?

"Oh, I think we have a lot to talk about."

He didn't answer, and in the silence, fabric rustled some more. Then, your voice, "...Looking for this?"

Finally, slowly, Nebarra looked at you. You were sitting upright on the bed, and in one hand you held up his shirt, winkled and dusty from the floor.

And you... were still very much naked. Your chest was on blatant display, the blankets pooled low around your hips, deep purple teethmarks scattered over your skin – his doing. Nebarra swallowed, averting his gaze back to the tunic. 

Wordlessly, he stalked over, reaching out for it – only for you to snap your hand back, away from him. He sighed. "What are you doing?"

You didn't answer, though he could feel your gaze burning into him. Reluctantly, he returned it – and the storm in your eyes sent a shock down his spine.

Oh...

Oh, no.

Before he could even begin to pick apart what he saw in there, you raised your arms, slid them through the holes of the shirt, and pulled it down over your head.

You... were wearing his shirt.

Still holding his gaze, there was something like a challenge in your eyes. Nebarra grit his teeth and, for once in his life, held his tongue, unsure if he could win this one.

The thought... unsettled him. 

But... maybe not as much as it should have.

"Nebarra."

No. No, no no no. You couldn't do that to him – say his name in that tone, in that way. 

"What?" he snapped, harsher than intended.

Maybe he should have just been born mute.

"We need to talk about this."

"No, we don't."

"Why not?"

"Because... it was a mistake." He looked away, unable to meet your gaze, tearing a hand through his hair. Coward, coward, coward. "That's all there is – was – to it. We were drunk, and tired, and maybe... just maybe... a little lonely. So we made a bad decision – one we should just forget about, move on from. Because ultimately... it meant nothing. Not a damn thing."

It felt like an eternity passed before you answered, and when you did, your voice was heavy, rasping with emotion. "...If that's how you really feel, then–"

You choked. Nebarra could practically hear the words catch in your throat, dying before they could pass your lips. Instead, a low, bitter laugh rose suddenly in their place; the sound scraped his wounded heart raw. "Gods damn you, Nebarra. You're... really selfish, you know that?"

"Yeah," he mumbled. "I know."

But you weren't done. Because as you rose from the bed, the floorboards creaking beneath your feet, you continued, "You're also... a really shit liar."

And then you were standing before him, your hand on his chin, turning his face towards you, your gaze searching his. He couldn't avoid your eyes this time, couldn't look away from the storm raging within them: hurt, anger, confusion.

Because of him. Him, and his stupid decisions, and his even stupider words.

Yet, even as he stared, he could see something else in them, too.

Affection. Care. Passion. And... lo–

Why? Why him? Of all the people on Nirn you could want, how could you want the mess that was him?

"I don't know," you said softly, and Nebarra realised with horror that he'd spoken his thoughts aloud. "Because, gods, you really are a mess, aren't you? You're bitter, cynical, surly, arrogant, selfish, flawed to the moons and back, but..." Your hand shifted, brushing upwards to cradle his cheek, and the Altmer found himself holding his breath, afraid of what you'd say next, needing to hear what you'd say next.

Only, you didn't say anything. Instead, you simply leaned in, pulled him close – and kissed him. Before he even knew what he was doing, Nebarra found himself returning it, pulling you in closer, hands falling to your waist –

Wait.

No.

Stop.

What was he doing?

Breathless, he pulled away, nearly stumbling over his own feet. His mind spun; he couldn't seem to form a single coherent though. "What – what was that?"

Your eyes seemed to stare right down to his soul, burning with intensity, filled with both pain and longing. Yet a faint, bittersweet smile ghosted across your face as you answered, "Nothing, apparently."

...Damn you.

Before he could change his mind, think himself out of it, Nebarra caught your arm and tugged you sharply back towards him, crashing his lips back against yours. You stumbled from the initial force of it, but he followed your motion, keeping your lips on his.

After a moment, your arms slipped around his neck, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other tickling his nape. He grunted into the kiss, pulling you back towards the bed; you didn't resist, and readily fell back on it.

Nebarra fell with you, straddling your prone form, brushing his lips from your mouth to your jaw, nipping gently as he went. A soft gasp escaped you; his hands slid down, tugging your shirt – his shirt – gradually upward, pulling it off of you. 

And immediately he sat up, got off the bed, and tugged it over his own head. Without a word, he walked away to the other side of the room, leaving you naked and stunned on the bed.

"...Nebarra!"

"Like you said," he muttered, stalking across the room and far from you, "I'm selfish."

He could hear a frustrated breath hissing through your teeth. "Damn you! Why can't you just admit what you feel, what you want? What are you so afraid of?"

The elf froze.

You could see right through him, couldn't you?

"You don't... even know me," he managed at last, keeping his back towards you. "You don't even know my name, my real name."

"I don't need a name to know you, though. Names aren't what define us – we define them. It doesn't matter to me whether you're Nebarra or... or Nico, or something else entirely. Because you're still, and always will be you, regardless of what name you answer to."

Gods, why did you have to be so damn stubborn?

"Pot, kettle, black," you sniffed, and Nebarra realised that yet again, he'd spoken aloud. "And who knows, maybe I picked some of it up from you in the first place."

Sighing heavily, Nebarra leaned forwards and let his forehead thunk against the wall. He stayed like that for a long moment, counting his breaths, trying to collect his thoughts.

"I'm not... suited for a relationship," he slowly began. "I wouldn't be... you have better options than me. People who could give you what you want far better than I could."

At that, you actually laughed, and he turned to look at you despite himself. There was no smile on your face, only pain and mockery; the sight drove thorns through his chest. "Who, then, O wise one, most knowledgeable of relationships? Who on Nirn can give me what I want, when what I want – is you."

He shook his head. "Well... you shouldn't. I can give you nothing."

"You aren't nothing," you said softly. "Your heart isn't nothing. Don't you get that yet, Nebs?"

"My... heart," he echoed, staring blankly at you. "My heart."

Shifting, you rose from the bed, wrapping a blanket around yourself as you approached. "Yeah, your heart. This thing–" you placed a hand over his chest "–that's beating right here, going at a million miles a second." Your eyes locked with his once more, and somehow, even before you spoke, he knew. He knew.

"I love you, you miserable bastard. And I want you, not for anything you can offer me, but for who you are. There's no doubt in my mind about that. Now, the only question left is... how do you feel? What do you want?"

He couldn't hide from it any longer. The truth was on his tongue, escaping his lips before he even had to think about it. "You. I just... gods damn it, I just want you," he rasped. "But..."

You placed a gentle finger against his mouth. "Shh," you murmured. "No buts."

Slowly, Nebarra raised a hand, brought it up to yours, and pulled it away from his lips, instead lacing his fingers with yours. "No, listen. I... this... is going to be complicated, if we really do this. And... you're probably going to get hurt and disappointed because of me. There's a lot you don't know–"

"And you can tell me when you're ready," you soothed, brushing your thumb across the back of his hand. "We'll cross all those bridges when we get to them. And yes, before you protest any further," you added, when his mouth opened to do just that, "I'm aware of the emotional risks. But that's part of every relationship, Nebarra, and you know that. So, again, when they do inevitably arrive, we'll cross those bridges together."

...He really didn't deserve you. Didn't understand how or why you wanted him, of all people. But as you rested your forehead against his, breaths mingling, eyes full of nothing but each other – Nebarra realised he didn't care, anymore.

The voices in his head, all the doubts and fears – they still hissed their poison, and he knew it would be a long, long time before they stopped. But a new voice had joined the mix, soft but confident, telling him that maybe, just maybe, life wasn't about "deserving" things, but appreciating them. That maybe, amid the bleak desert of his past, he could still find a lone rose of happiness.

And that voice... sounded an awful lot like yours.

[hazinhoodies]

October 12

A/N:This is it. The last part. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i did writing it. I’ll write an epilogue if you guys would like. Thank you so much for reading, send me your feedback on October so i can improve for my net series (which has already been planned)

Word count: 2.7k

It wasn’t long before Emma was already back into the swing of school, finding any way to incorporate Harrison into her schedule, and Harrison did the same. The five hour time difference didn’t help. Emma would Skype him after her class, and he would have already wrapped for the day. They talk for a few hours until Harrison fell asleep, usually with a little convincing from Emma. Then once Harrison woke up, Emma would be asleep and he’d hang up. Except for the few times she fell asleep at her desk, much to his own distaste, Harrison would wake her up, and stay on the call until she fell asleep again, in bed this time

Harrison’s alarm woke him up, Feel It Still blaring from next to him. He turned off his alarm, only to be faced with a tired looking Emma, her knees pulled to her chest, an oversized sweater engulfing her body, her hair in a bun on top of her head, baby hairs galore. The light of her laptop illuminated her face, making her look even more tired as she tapped away. “Love why are you still awake?” Emma’s head shot up at the voice “Sorry. I’m nearly done. I promise” she rubbed at her eyes gently before going back to typing “No, love you have to go to sleep okay? What time is it?” Harrison’s brows furrowed as Emma looked at the clock. “2:47” Emma spoke quietly. “Love you need to go to sleep” Harrison’s expression softened. Emma shook her head “Not tired. I’m fine Haz” “Emma. Darling. You’re gonna be exhausted. Let the essay be. Sit on it for a bit and come back to it tomorrow, you need sleep” Emma sighed “Okay. Okay I’m sorry you’re right I should” she looked at Harrison on her screen, smiling softly. “I’ll stay on until you fall asleep okay love?” Harrison smiled “Haz you don’t have to-“ “No, I want to” He interrupted her Emma presses her lips together and nodded, she stood up and started to close her books. “Don’t forget to take off your makeup Emma” Emma smiled, rolling her eyes sarcastically. “Thank you” she reached up to one of the shelves of her desk and wiped off her makeup. “Anything else I may be forgetting?” Harrison thought for a moment “no that’s it I think” Emma laughed quietly before crawling under her sheets and pulling them close to her chest. “Night Haz” She spoke softly, her eyes closing. “Goodnight love.” Harrison muted himself as he started to get ready for his day. He didn’t want to wake her up, once her breathing evened out, Harrison took a few moments before hanging up. He said a quiet ‘goodnight’ even though she wouldn’t hear it.

She watched the pancakes video for the first time with him on Skype, which they quickly discovered was the worst thing to exist, but they suffered anyways.

“Wait you did what now?”

“Yes. I filmed a video of me making pancakes and posted it” Harrison looked down at his lap, making a mental note to get back at Tom for bursting in, saying that one line and leaving. “I also made a video of how to cut hot bread, must've been six years ago now? If you search my name in youtube both should show up”

“Oh, I’ve already seen the hot bread one. Tom sent it to me a bit after I got home” Emma typed Harrison Osterfield into her search bar and there it was, first result How to make Pancakes with Harrison Osterfield.

Harrison listened to her commentary throughout the video.

“What if I already know how to make pancakes?”

“Well then I guess you don’t need to watch the video” Emma shot him a glare “I’ll take that as a no”

“You’ve never used olive oil or baking soda before? I understand the baking soda maybe but olive oil? Really?”

“Harrison oh my god that is so much sugar”

She looked at him with wide eyes as video-Harrison poured well over two tablespoons into the bowl. She opened her mouth to speak but could only shake her head. “Not surprised just disappointed”

She cracked a few smiles throughout the video, chuckling softly at some parts. Harrison admired her as she subconsciously bit down on her sleeve covered thumb gently.  

Emma paused the video and looked up at Harrison. “Pancakes in salt” Harrison laughed “Yeah I know I’m a div. Keep watching” She hit play, her attention going back to video-Harrison only to pause it a second later

“You better not have used garlic salt. Harrison, you can’t be that inept”

“I don’t. And I’m not” Emma hit play again.

“A mug isn’t necessarily a cup”

“But if I use a mug to measure everything then shouldn’t it still have the same ratios? Approximately at least?”

Emma shrugged. “Maybe? I’m not a hundred percent sure”

“Can never have enough sugar” Emma paused the video an looked up at Harrison.

“You better not have. Harrison that’s so much sugar already”

“Keep watching love” Emma hit play again and glared at Harrison as video-Harrison poured more sugar into the bowl.

“Not surprised just disappointed I know love” She turned her attention back to the video.

“Hopefully not burning cause the pancakes would be ruined”

“Oh no. What would you ever do? Not like you made enough pancake batter to feed the entirety of Europe” Emma spoke monotonously. Harrison couldn’t help but laugh at her sarcasm.

Video-Harrison flipped the pancake and caught it in the pan.

“I’m mildly impressed”

“Oh please you’re impressed”

Emma smiled “Okay maybe a little more than mildly. Also, that kind of maple syrup is nasty”

“You. Are. So. Canadian” Harrison laughed “Critiquing my maple syrup? Really?”

“It’s so processed I don’t even think you can call it maple. I’m taking you to a maple syrup farm one day. You’ll see”

“A maple syrup farm? Those actually exist?” Harrison shook his head in disbelief “Canada is a fucking theme park”

“Canada produces eighty percent of the world’s maple syrup. Quebec alone produces seventy percent of it. Our maple syrup reservoir is huge. We have to get the maple somewhere” Emma grinned, never missing an opportunity to embody Canadian stereotypes.

They lived out most of their relationship through Snapchat, texting, Instagram stories that were definitely meant for the other but they’d never admit it. Emma was sitting in the library, must have been a week, maybe, into school. She quickly opened up her phone and sent a Snapchat to Harrison. The video zoomed in on to two students with their backs to her, the past them and to the books on their desks; Catch-22 and How I Live Now. She flipped the camera back to her face and sighed. ‘I can’t escape either of you’ written across the top of the screen. It’d only been 20 minutes after Harrison had posted his Instagram story of him working out when he received a simple ‘Fuck you’ text from Emma. He grinned, typing a quick response. Haz: 😉

As for Tom, most of their conversations we’re games of 8ball, mainly of Tom trying to redeem himself of his 13% win rate. Emma had been added to a conversation with Holland and Co plus Zendaya and Harrison, that’s where most of the actual conversations went down

Harrison found himself falling in love with Emma even more. The way she spoke, saying traw-no instead of Toronto, blaming it on how close she grew up to the city. How she said ‘bronze’ with a rounder, softer o, caused by years of French lessons and actually learning the French word before the English one, not that they’re much different. Or saying ‘melk’ instead of milk, a mispronunciation she couldn’t trace back to anything. About turning slightly more into ‘a boat’ when she talked fast, or sorry, as if it was story. He never thought he could fall in love with one accent as much as this. But it was only hers.

When he’d been introduced to Millie, her roommate for years, he didn’t find her mispronunciations nearly as interesting. They were the same for the most part but something about it didn’t strike the same chord within him.

He still had yet to meet Hannah. Emma told him every story she could think of about the two of them, never seeming to spare a detail. He found himself smiling more during those stories, the way Emma seemed so happy when talking about the pair. Her eyes lit up at every opportunity to recite a story, whether it be a band camp story or the time they drove down to New York together just for the hell of it. He listened, watching her excitement.

They updated each other constantly. Harrison filming whatever prank Harry had most recently filmed, Emma, getting way over excited when she came in second place during a game of laser tag. There was one time when Harrison full on judged Emma for dipping fries into her frosty after Millie had delivered her food. “What it’s good! I swear” “That’s not possible at all. The thought of it is kind of disgusting” “You have to try it to understand it. Next time you go to Wendy’s you better call me and you’re trying it” It was only a few days later, Emma was in her 11am History of Western Music class when she got a Skype call on her laptop. Her earbuds were already plugged in but she shoved one into her ear as she answered. She typed a quick ‘can’t talk. In class” onto her phone and sent it. Harrison nodded as he received the text. “So uh I told Tom about the fries and frosty thing and he forced us to go to Wendy’s for dinner. And then forced me to call you. I wasn’t planning on it” A small smile found its way onto Emma’s lips as she typed away whatever the professor was saying. “Yeah so now you’ve got to try it. I trust whatever Emma says honestly” Tom spoke from behind the camera. Harrison glared at him Emma picked up her phone again, typing a text. Toms phone buzzes a few seconds later. “Tom you too. Emma. No” it buzzed again “please, you said you trusted me” “Mate if i have to try it then you do too” Tom sighed. “Fine” the two boys picked up a fry each and dipped it into the frosty. They counted down and ate then hesitantly as they hit one. There was a pause “Okay why is that good” Emma tried to contain a laugh “Emma why didn’t you tell us about this earlier?” Tom ate another fry “it’s so good” Emma shrugged, a smile plastered to her lips that she hoped was hidden behind her laptop from the prof. Another text from Emma. “Have I lied to you yet? Told you it’d be good” Emma had had the worst day so far. It was October 5th. The last Friday before the long weekend, which she had decided to stay at school for. She had slept in, forcing her to go to her 8am lecture in a pair of leggings, a sweater, with her hair up messily and no makeup whatsoever. They had messed up her coffee order but she was too late to say anything. Thinking back, it wasn’t that big of a deal, just one small annoyance that made her morning worse. Emma has forgotten to check the weather, which in early October in Ontario, proved to be very important. She walked back to her dorm from the lecture hall as it poured, hugging her laptop to her chest. Emma’s music blared in her ears. She didn’t bother running, she was going to end up soaked either way. Emma opened the door to her building and stepped in the elevator. She wiped at the hairs plastered to her forehead, tucking what she could behind her ears, the shortest of her hairs not going with the rest. She walked down the hall until she reached her room. She huffed as she opened the door and immediately turned to her desk, placing her laptop on it. Something felt off about Emma’s room. Sure it was messier than normal, she’s had what seemed like a billion projects coming up. She felt eyes on her and panicked slightly. She looked over at her bed abruptly and her breath caught in her throat. Harrison. She pulled her earbuds out of her ears, tossing them on the desk carelessly. She took two strides across the small room and stopped in front of him. Her hands immediately went to his cheeks. Emma smiled. Her cheeks almost hurt from how wide it was. “You’re here. Harrison. What?” “I knew you were staying home for Thanksgiving, which I still don’t get by the way. How could I miss a chance to see my favourite girl” his hands rested on her hips, he pulled her down so she straddled his lap as she pulled his face to hers and pressed their lips together. Emma pulled away after a moment. “I wanna show you something” she leaned back, relying on Harrison to hold her up as she reached for her laptop. She set it down next to her and opened it. Harrison left soft kisses on Emma ’s cheek and neck as she searched through her computer. She paused for a moment, leaving a quick kiss on his lips. “Wait how did you get in here?” Emma continued searching through her laptop, opening up a file SILcc “I messaged Millie. She thought it’d be nice for me to surprise you as well” Harrison ran his hands along her sides. Of course, it was Millie. She was too good at keeping secrets. Having been Emma’s roommate for the last three years she’s noticed how off she’d been. “So are you gonna show me or not?” Harrison laughed “So remember that piece I was working on? All summer?” Emma played with the hairs at the back of his neck. Harrison nodded. “Well, I finished it. And I want you to hear” she out the window, mainly trying to avoid eye contact. “I know that listening to orchestral music isn’t everyone’s thing but I’m really proud of it and-“ Emma was cut off by Harrison’s lips on hers. “Darling I’d love to hear it” Harrison spoke as he pulled away and rested his forehead on hers. She smiled, pecking his lips quickly as she pressed play. They watched as it scrolled through the score as their hands mindlessly ran along each other’s sides, arms, back. Whatever they could. What had started eight months ago, only to be completely rewritten less than three months ago, now condensed into five minutes, smooth melodies telling the story of her summer. It started out smooth, but as if it was being contained. Held back. There was one part that Harrison couldn’t quite explain. It was harsher. Blurred, almost. Moving into what could only be confusion and guilt? Maybe. Regret? Also maybe. Slowly but surely it moved back into the same sweet melodies as it had started. But brighter. Almost as if it had burst. Harrison still didn’t get it. How Emma could just create music out of nothing. Or perfectly explain a story. It was remarkable. She just got something in her head and was able to put it into the ears of others “That’s amazing” Harrison smiled as Emma stopped the music. He noticed a title at the top. Summer In London. “Well, coming from someone who doesn’t understand music” Emma chuckled “I’m glad you think so” She presses his lips against hers.  “I emailed it to Michael a few days ago” “Yeah?” Harrison mumbled against her lips. “Yeah” Emma paused, biting her lip gently “He wants to publish it” Harrisons' head shot up. “Really? Emma that’s amazing” he kissed her “I’m so proud of you” he wrapped his arms around her torso, pulling her against his chest. Harrison could feel her laughing. “How do we celebrate?” He spoke softly in her ear. Emma pulled away from his body “we stay in all weekend. I haven’t seen you since August and I miss you” And so they did.

taglist: @notimeforthemessenger @ap93mcu @pumpkinravingparker @rainbow-marvel

Writers who were kind enough to let me tag them throughout this mess of a series (thank you for inspiring me with your work btw): @avastarrrs @starksparker @h-osterfield @hollandroos @dej-okay @upsidedownparker @darlintom @marvelellie @starksmile