#((:dddddddddddddddd))

max fewtrell made it 'two for two' via british f4 history on fia formula4 website

max thanking his team carlin after winning the f4b championship title via max_fewtrell on twt

max congratulating carlin and lando for the f3 title via max_fewtrell on twt

“You coming?!” Marcela called to her sister, stopping by a tree and resting her hand against it.

“Coming…” Y/N said to herself, looking over at the cabin door that still stood open before glancing in Marcela’s direction again. “Coming where?!”

“Let’s take a walk!”

It was just about to get dark, the sky above them white like a cotton blanket was draped lazily over the south of Wales, but greying with an oncoming storm. The last time Y/N had been to Newport was a weekend in October, but it had been raining constantly, so she had not taken the time to walk around the forest or stroll down to the ocean a mere 10-minute walk from the cabin. She had just been indoors, reading The Picture of Dorian Gray and not feeling any sort of need to leave the cabin’s four warm walls. Marcela had been in Manchester then, busy with uni work, and planning on spending the weekend studying in the library. She had an article that needed to be written for the UoM’s monthly academic journal, she said she wanted to finish it as quickly as possible, so Y/N had not asked her sister to drop it and come regardless. Though she had very much wanted to do just that.

“Y/N!”

Y/N walked over to her sister instantly, jogging a little to reach her before Marcela just turned around and started walking on before they were side by side. Though the trees around them weren’t many, they were big. Huge beech trunks rose up from the ground around them sporadically, their massive branches stretching out around them like the long, slithering limbs of many insects. Different coloured leaves covered most of the forest floor, though some brown and yellow still lingered in the dark, old trees. In summertime, most of the forest was left in shade, covered up by the thick layer of leaves that rose high above them, preventing actual sunbeams from touching the ground.

“Any idea what you’re gonna be wearing for New Year’s Eve?” Marcela asked once the two of them had walked a minute in silence.

New Year’s Eve was just a few days away, and the family planned on spending it alone in Newport. Marcela usually spent it with Kit and friends in Manchester, but it had been a while since she had celebrated a proper Brazilian New Year’s Eve. Though the Montes family usually spent it in Nottingham with the rest of their big family, Davi and Lottie wanted to try and spend this one with just the four of them. Neither one of the sisters were opposed to the idea, it just meant they wouldn’t have to watch their primos, Edgar at 7, Valentim at 5, and Raimundo at 2, while tia Gilma and tio Jaren ate their Véspera de Ano Novo dinner undisturbed. They loved their primos dearly, but it often left both of them massaging their temples to get rid of a throbbing headache afterwards.

“I brought a white tee shirt and some white joggers,” Y/N said, wrinkling her nose. “I hate wearing white.”

“Why, it doesn’t go with your gothic-black-clothing type of lifestyle?” Marcela laughed, reaching up and picking a yellow leaf off a branch.

Y/N did not feel like telling Marcela why she hated wearing white. And in turn therefore hated part of New Year’s Eve. Only that one part.

Davi always started off every Réveillon, or every new year, by knocking on his daughters’ doors and exclaiming, “Ano novo, vida nova!” New Year, new life. Brazilians are extremely superstitious when it comes to New Year’s Eve. What you do, eat, and wear on New Year’s Eve, will draw certain energies and wishes for the upcoming year. New Year’s Eve in Rio de Janeiro is a massive beach party from Copacabana Beach to Ipanema and beyond. Millions upon millions of people gather at their nearest beach to celebrate, starting early in the evening and going all night, Y/N had always dreamed of one day experiencing that herself. She had been to Brazil, but never on New Year’s Eve.

One of the Brazilian traditions for New Year’s is to wear all-white. Y/N was told by Davi years ago that the tradition came from African religions as an homage to the God Oxalá. It was then adopted by Roman Catholics and Evangelists alike, and though their family wasn’t religious, they practiced this regardless. Another tradition that you did alongside the all-white, was that you have to wear coloured underwear on New Year’s, and it all depended on what you want you want the new year to bring.

“I brought a white dress,” Marcela explained. “What colour?”

“Hmm, I brought a few colours. Think I might go with laranja.”

“Orange,” Marcela smiled. “Professional success. Good choice.”

“And you?”

“Amarelo.”

Y/N blinked. “Yellow.”

“Luck,” Marcela said. “What do you think everyone that sees us at the beach on New Year’s Eve are gonna think? They’ll see us jumping into the water and into seven ondas.” Marcela laughed. “Unless they know of Brazilian culture, they won’t understand what’s going on.”

Y/N smiled.

“Let’s confuse them.”

“Going into the ocean at midnight and jumping into seven waves for good luck, is nice.” Y/N wrinkled her nose. “If the water just hadn’t been so cold.”

“And we need to jump into the ice-cold waves head-on.”

“But you can make one wish for each wave.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s been a while since we got to do that, not a lot of ocean in Notts.”

Marcela smiled. “If only we were in Copacabana.”

“I want to watch the fireworks there so baaad!”

“Instead we’re stuck in Newport.”

“Well,” Y/N said, cocking her head to the side as she caressed a tree when they walked past it. “You decided to come here yourself, I was forced. I’m stuck, you can leave.”

Marcela only bumped Y/N’s shoulder with her own, shaking her head at her before she jogged a bit away. Y/N just continued on walking, thinking that her sister had just found a rock or something else that she wanted to pick up, but after a few metres, she was still not back. Turning around, she saw her sister hunched over something further away than she had seen her last, wiping at something on the ground as if to reveal something hidden beneath the layer of leaves and dirt there. Y/N walked over, feeling as if the forest around them had just gone deadly quiet. Marcela stood as Y/N approached, pointing at something on the ground.

A small cellar hatch. Made out of old wood and painted a ghastly brown colour to blend in with the nature around it. In the 10 or so years the Montes family had owned the Newport cabin, never had Y/N stumbled upon this hatch. It looked aged, as if it had been there for way longer than the cabin had. Or maybe it had been made in a hurry and left just like this, with no one to care for it. Y/N looked over at Marcela who was studying the hatch, bending down again to check it out more closely.

“Do you think anyone lives here?” she asked. The question made Y/N feel oddly cold.

“Would hope not. It’s right next to our cabin.”

“Why would it be here otherwise?”

“Dunno.” Y/N looked around them, the forest looked darker now. “Mari, let’s go back.”

“Y/N, we can’t just leave. We need to check this out,” Marcela said, reaching for the metal handle. “I thought you liked exploring.”

“I do, but… this is creepy.”

“No, it’s not.”

Without warning, Marcela opened the hatch, flipping it over so it rested on the other side, leaving the contents of the cellar visible to them both. Y/N took a small step back, but then took one forward again, wanting to be quick to her sister’s aid in case someone or something jumped out at her. But nothing did.

Instead of seeing a cellar exposed to them right under the hatch, a rather narrow and long tunnel straight downwards showed itself to them instead. A metal ladder ran along one of the walls, reaching a long way down, but the destination was left completely in darkness, making it hard to make out anything but the rotting wooden panels around the ladder and the rusting metal of said ladder. Marcela got her phone out, turning on the flashlight and shining it down the tunnel.

“There’s a room down there,” she said, moving closer, squinting down at the cellar.

“Mari, let’s go.”

“Must be here from the second World War or something.”

Y/N looked around, anticipating someone running up on them.

“I’m going down.”

“What-“ Y/N’s head whipped in her sister’s direction, but before she could even try and stop her, Marcela’s feet were on the rusting ladder. “Marcela, what the fuck are you doing?!”

“I just want to see what’s down here.”

“Which is a terrible idea. Get up.”

However, Marcela had never been one to listen to anyone but herself. She merely rolled her eyes at Y/N before she started her descent, keeping her phone in her mouth so it would shine downward and onto whatever she was about to see. Y/N felt herself both worried stupid and curious. She too wanted to know what was down there as well, but her concern for her sister and what she was doing championed over any curiosity she might have felt.

“Mari, I don’t like this,” Y/N called down, sitting on her knees by the cellar opening, not caring that her trousers would get dirty.

Marcela said something, though Y/N could not hear properly through the phone in her sister’s mouth.

“What?!”

Marcela struggled to get her phone out of her mouth, gaze turned downward as she examined the room underneath her. “I’m down!”

“What is it?”

“A shelter room of sorts.” Marcela let go of the ladder, jumping down into the dirt floor. “There’s a bed, some cabinets.”

“Great, you’ve had a peek,” Y/N called down. “Now get up.”

Marcela stood still for a second, turning around 360 degrees to take in the whole room. She suddenly stopped, eyes landing on something at the other end of the room. She walked toward it, disappearing from Y/N’s view.

“Marcela!” Y/N shouted, but Marcela did not reply, not even when she shouted a second time. “Mari, where are you-“

“-Y/N, oh my days,” Marcela groaned. “Chill out.”

“What was I supposed to do?! You disappeared!”

“I was okay,” Marcela said, grinning up at her sister. Y/N could almost just make out her sister’s teeth. “This is the best hiding place by our cabin, I think.”

“Can you get up here now? I think it’s starting to rain.”

“Fine,” Marcela said, putting her phone back in her mouth as she reached for the lowest rung of the ladder. Wrapping her fingers around the rusting metal, she was ready to pull herself up when she yelped. Next thing Y/N knew, metal clanged against the soil of the cellar and Marcela gasped for air, the flashlight of her phone cast at the ground, drenching the cellar in an unremitting darkness.

“Mari?!”

The only thing Y/N heard was Marcela heaving for dry breaths and shuffling, as if she was trying to find her phone on the floor of the cellar. With shaking hands, Y/N reached for her own phone, and though she was unsure of how much her phone would help, she shone her own flashlight down in the cellar. It gave Marcela just enough light to finally find her phone and shine a light around her. The rusty rung had fallen completely off the ladder, now laying somewhere Y/N could not see.

Marcela stood back up, dusting the dirt off her black tights.

“You okay?!” Y/N shouted.

“Fine.”

But she did not sound fine, and she looked worse as she walked up the ladder, finally making it to the surface. Y/N took a grip of her sister’s jacket, helping her out the last metre.

“You’re fucking mad,” Y/N hissed. “Never do that again.”

“Calm down.” Marcela stood up, Y/N joining her not even a second later. “I’m fine.”

“That cellar is old, Marcela, what were you thinking?! It could’ve collapsed, it-“

“-But I’m fine. It didn’t collapse.” Marcela took a grip of Y/N’s shoulders. “I’ve seen that hatch before, but only when I was on walks alone, I didn’t dare open it up and check what was down there without someone here. Now you were, and I didn’t feel so afraid anymore.”

Y/N clenched her teeth, her heart still hammering awfully fast.

“You make me brave, meu docinho de côco.”

My coconut sweet. The pet name made Y/N halt a bit. It had been years since Marcela had called her that. It’s an old-fashioned Brazilian pet name, one Marcela had started calling Y/N when she was just a baby because she had overheard their avó calling someone that, and so she had adopted it herself. They had countless of home movies filmed on rubbish cameras where five-year-old Marcela sat with baby Y/N in her lap, giving her a kiss to the forehead and repeating “meu docinho de côco” over and over again.

“Let’s go back to the cabin,” Marcela said. “Mum is probably angry we haven’t made our beds yet,” Marcela laughed, but Y/N only managed to smile a tine bit. “Aw, Y/N, I’m fine, really,” she assured her. “If I had died down there, I would’ve let you kill me.”

“Good.”

Marcela only laughed before she turned around and closed the hatch.

Friday, 27 April 2018

Y/N didn’t like being in central London. Though there were people everywhere in the capital, there was something about the never-ending crowds of the City of London that made Y/N detest being there. Tourists would walk in and out of shops, clogging up the streets to look at Google Maps on their phones, and not have a single care in the world for those who lived there and just wanted to get to their final destination.

April was definitely not the worst month, there had been and probably would be far worse months with tourists everywhere, but London was a natural and easy weekend trip for anyone living in Europe, and a nice place to visit for anyone else in the world as well, which resulted in it being a busy city at all times. It was not enough that over 12 million lived in or close to the capital, it sometimes felt like there were just as many tourists visiting the city as there were inhabitants. Today, Y/N ended up walking behind a particularly slow group of Dutch people, she recognised it immediately as they spoke, having heard Annalise speak just like them before. Regardless of that, Y/N just wanted to enter a shop without mowing her way through them. It took her a few minutes until she was able to navigate her way around them, by sprinting past them on the street beside them, making it back onto the pavement in time for a double decker to zoom by.

Finally reaching New Look on Gracechurch Street, Y/N walked on inside, feeling in the humid air outside that it was just about to start raining. With Communion playing in her ears and the voice of Olly Alexander singing about being confused about whether to want love or desire from someone, Y/N took a right as she entered the massive New Look, excited to treat herself to some new clothes.

She had been sitting in the Mile End Library on campus all day. The three essays she needed to finish along with revision for her exam in May was all catching up to her, almost making it impossible to fall asleep at night. She would lay awake, thinking about what she had to do the next day, what she should’ve done today, and the five-hundred things that needed to be done at one time or another. It had been a while since she had spent her time overthinking as much as she was right now. Now that almost none of her mates were in London yet, she spent most of her time by herself, either sitting in the library or a café, always doing uni work and always zoning out when she remembered something else she needed to research or another argument to bring up in another one of her essays. She didn’t like studying all by herself in her room. It felt too quiet. She needed people around her, some kind of sounds, even if that was just a student coughing a few tables down from hers. Even though she was by herself in the flat, at least she wasn’t completely by herself all the time.

Her thinking about uni hadn’t been the only reason it had been hard for her to sleep at night. Even though part of her detested herself for it, she still felt relieved at the thought of Harry arriving later that day. Finally she wouldn’t be alone in the flat, someone else was there with her. Even though she had heard their neighbours talking and moving around in their own flats before, she always woke up or stopped whatever she was doing at the smallest sound, even though part of her knew it was just one of their neighbours. She had never slept in a house completely by herself before. Whenever her parents were away, Marcela would come stay with her, and if she couldn’t, then Nathan would sleep over. Y/N had never been so alone like she was now ever before. It scared her.

Even though she knew nothing would actually happen to her, she knew how to throw a punch and knee someone in the groin so it hurt a little extra, it still felt good knowing Harry would be there now.

Suddenly, she stumbled upon something that had her stopping rather abruptly. A white tee shirt with a black X on it, a pink dragon slithering its way in and around the letter. Y/N absolutely loved it. She could see it going super well with her black pleated skirt, some fishnets, and her Docs. She took it off the rack, studying it a bit closer, she turned the head and hung it over the rack again, pulling it out to check the size of it. It was rather small. She checked the sizing, seeing that it was a medium. Putting it back properly on the rack, Y/N started filtering through the different tee shirts, trying to find one large or X large. After all, she could not deal with it being a slim fit. But she found nothing, they only had it in 2X small, X small, or medium.

“Excuse me,” she said, walking up to someone who looked like they worked in New Look. The employee smiled at Y/N as she approached. “Do you by any chance have this one in extra-large?”

“I’ll go check,” the employee said, walking off rather quickly so she could check and get back as quickly as possible. A few minutes later, Y/N still stood where the employee had left her, but she came back, a little out of breath, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, we only have it in large or anything under, not extra-large.”

Y/N felt her heart sink, she smiled at the employee anyway. “Thank you for checking.”

“No problem,” she smiled back. “Also… uhm-“ She pointed over her shoulder at the escalator. “-If you’re looking for plus sized items, they’ll be upstairs. We don’t have many extra-large alternatives downstairs.”

Not only had Y/N’s heart sunk to the very bottom of her stomach, now it had just fallen out of her arse and down to the bottom of the universe. Telling herself that the employee only meant well, Y/N nodded, thanking her, and put the tee shirt back on the rack. She walked to the escalator, taking it up and looking at the board for the overview of the different sections of the store. Downstairs was woman’s clothing, first storey was more women’s clothing, men’s clothing, and plus size, while the second storey was shoes, accessories, and changing rooms. That put Y/N off. How come there were more shoes and accessories being offered than plus sized clothing?

She started walking around the first storey, looking for the plus size section. It took a while for her to find it, but when she finally located it, she understood why and didn’t understand at the same time. The section was just as big, if not smaller, than the men’s clothing section, and how could she have not seen it when all the clothes looked the same? Everything looked at something her 50-year-old mother would wear, and though some of the items would look cute on her mother, nothing stood out to Y/N. None of the items were cute. In fact, they rather looked like bin bags with a bit of cleavage and zero tailoring to accentuate a woman’s figure. It just looked like clothes for the sake of wearing clothes, nothing that would stand out in a crowd or make the wearer look cute.

Y/N found a blouse that she was sure her mother would have loved, burgundy with blue flowers on it. However, she stopped dead in her tracks as she saw what was written at the very top of the blouse. Maternity. Quickly, Y/N put it back, looking around her to see if the maternity section was anywhere close to the plus size one. However, upon closer inspection, she realised that the maternity section was just combined with the plus size section. There was no difference. After all, it was all just bigger clothes. Plus size, maternity; did it matter.

Balling her hands into fists, Y/N left the store. She willed herself not to cry, not to lose it, until she reached a less crowded area. As she walked, it was hard for her to formulate how she was feeling. It was hard to put words to what she was going through. Even though she could’ve taken the tube or the bus, Y/N walked home. And in the 40 minutes it took her to reach the flat, she had not come to a conclusion to understand why she was so sad. The words were there, she could read them and see them, but as soon as she reached for them, to admit them to herself and to fully grasp them, they evaporated into grey vapour. She could not say it.

Sunday, 29 April 2018

“You’ve been quiet.”

Y/N tore her eyes away from the raindrops racing down one another on the window beside her. She glanced at Harry behind the steering wheel, his eyes on the road ahead of him, but he must have looked at her to understand that something was wrong. Or… well, he didn’t really have to. Y/N liked to talk, if she was quiet, then something was most likely wrong.

“Have I?” she asked, looking at her hands resting in her lap.

“Yeah, you alright?”

“No, I…” Y/N bit her lips together, feeling something in her throat clog up, as if the words refused to leave her mouth. She didn’t know what those words would even be if she were to speak them. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what’s wrong?”

She leaned her head back against the headrest. “Still working on it.”

“Alright,” Harry said, shifting his grip on the wheel. “Wanna talk? To get your mind off whatever’s bothering you?”

Y/N could feel herself smiling a tad at that. “Yeah.”

“I got the dagger tattoo.”

She looked at Harry. “You did?”

“Yeah, did some of it myself, but some angles were hard to do properly, so Wes helped me out.”

If Harry had only told Y/N earlier, he could have shown her the tattoo while they were still at the flat. Now, instead, they were in Harry’s car, driving down a tiny road that led to the cabin on the outskirts of Newport, Wales. They had been quiet most of the way, Y/N suspected Harry had given her silence so she could think. After all, they were going back to the cabin where her sister had been murdered, if she wanted to stay silent and reflect upon that then she should be allowed to. So, Harry let her be, only occasionally asking questions and making conversation, but for the most part, he just kept quiet, thinking and knowing that was what she really needed.

“You’ll have to show me later,” she said, smiling over at him.

Harry kept his eyes on the road as it went from gravel to dirt, making the drive bumpier than it already had been. Those same big trees rose above them that Y/N remembered from her childhood, keeping the best hiding places and all the world’s secrets. Leaves occupied the trees now working like an impenetrable roof for the forest floor beneath, which explained why the grounds were so brown and not a lush green colour.

“Down here,” Y/N said, her voice sounding faraway. Distant, even.

Harry must have noticed too, but he did not say anything, instead keeping his eyes on the road as it grew narrower. It did not even take a minute for the wooden cabin to show itself. An old Swedish couple had built it in the late 1980s, making it look very Scandinavian and half finished with its brown colour and small square windows. Y/N had not brought a key, knowing that she did not have the guts to enter the cabin just yet. She just needed a look, just needed to check something.

Harry cut the engine as they reached the parking spot Y/N’s papai always used. It was less of a marked-up parking spot and more of a convenient place to park your car. The ground showed of where a car had once stood many times over, and so Harry did the same as Y/N’s papai did. The window into the living room was just to Y/N’s left, and though you could barely make anything out without coming up close to look through it, she kept her eyes trained on the forest in front of her, not daring to even look in the direction of the cabin.

She closed her eyes, finding something that could resemble courage, and let it take over her. As long as she just did this without thinking too much, then she could get through it. She could reflect on what had just happened at a later time. Now, she just needed to get out of the car, and do what she came here to do.

She opened the car door and stepped outside, walking away from the cabin right away to create as much distance between her and the darkest place on planet Earth. Y/N heard her panicked breathing, and realised that if she looked at the cabin one more time, then that courage she had found bottled up inside her would not be enough to keep her on her feet when a panic attack came over her. She heard footsteps behind her and felt Harry’s presence at her side seconds later, his hands in his coat pocket as he looked up at the grey sky above them. It had been hot enough for them to wear tee shirts only yesterday, but now they had to wear jackets in order not to freeze. That was the weather in the United Kingdom for you in a nutshell.

“You alright?” Harry asked, his voice reassuring, but the hand he put at her back eased her more.

She nodded her head.

Harry looked around them at the dark forest that stretched out in all different kinds of directions, then scanning the sky above again. “This looks just as creepy as I would’ve imagined.”

Y/N swallowed, closing her eyes as she tried to calm her racing heart. The mere fact that the cabin was behind her made her want to throw up right then and there. “You think?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “You loved it here when you were little?”

“I did. It was a safe haven,” Y/N explained, opening her eyes again, facing the exact part of the forest that she wanted to walk down. “It wasn’t this dark before.”

Harry only looked at her, but the next second, Y/N walked away from the cabin, continuing down the path her sister had taken her all those years ago. Harry followed suit, studying the woods around them the trees they walked by, the thick layer of green leaves above them. A crease appeared between his brows, indicating that he was incredibly uncomfortable being here. Somehow, that comforted Y/N.

The two of them walked for a few minutes, Harry not once asking where they were headed or what Y/N wanted to do out here in the forest, only following and trusting that she knew what she was doing. These woods had been her playground when she was little, she knew parts of them as well as she knew the inside of her room home in Nottingham.

Finally, they reached what Y/N had wanted to come to Newport for. When she stopped and bent down, Harry almost fell over his own feet, for some reason not having seen this one coming. He only watched as she dusted dried and dead leaves off the forest floor, revealing the old and wooden hatch. Touching the handle felt strange, as if she were touching part of history. She slowly opened the hatch, revealing the ladder beyond and the darkness of the cellar. Seeing it again brought back the memory of her and Marcela being her together all those years ago, of seeing her sister lose grip of the last rung. Hearing her meet the floor of the cellar with a thud.

Y/N reached for the phone in her pocket, bringing it out and getting her flashlight out, pointing it down at the pitch-black hole. It was just as she remembered.

“What’s that?” Harry asked, taking a careful step towards the hole to get a closer look.

“A cellar of sorts,” Y/N said. “My sister once told me this was the best hiding place near our cabin.”

Harry glanced at Y/N then, knowing what was happening next. Y/N put her phone in her mouth like her sister had done, and then let her feet dangle off the edge of the hole. She gripped the topmost step and planted her feet on one further down.

“Y/N, that’s pure fucking madness,” Harry said. “Get up.”

She took her phone out of her mouth. “Harry, I need to check to see what’s down there. It might be nothing, but this has eaten me alive recently. I need to check.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, but let me go down there first.”

Y/N blinked. However, she did not protest, merely removed her feet from where they were already firmly placed on a step, and let Harry get his own phone out.

“Fuck, it’s dark,” Harry mumbled as he shone a light down in the cellar. “Have you been down there before?”

“No,” Y/N said. “But Marcela has. I suspect she’s been there multiple times.”

“Did the police ever find this place?”

Y/N thought for a second before she raised a shoulder in a shrug. “Dunno. I’ll have to ask mum and pai.”

Harry nodded, putting his phone in his mouth like she had just done. He sat down by the hole and took a grip of the ladder, a curl falling into his forehead as he started on his descent. Y/N watched him as he climbed all the way down, jumping off the ladder and onto the cellar floor with ease. He looked around, scanning the room slowly with his flashlight while Y/N sat by the top, watching like she had watched Marcela.

“The last steps are gone,” Harry called up.

“I know,” Y/N called back before putting her phone in her mouth, telling herself to just fucking do this. She had to do this. For Marcela. Y/N gripped the ladder and started climbing down like she had just watched Harry do, like she had watched Marcela do four years ago. The ladder felt old and rusty under her fingers, making her entire body tense up. She was ready to fall to her death any second, to be the sole reason why her and Harry starved to death in a cellar no one but them knew existed.

Finally, with sweat dotting her forehead and cupid’s bow, she reached the last whole step. But as she was about to put her foot there, she met nothing put air. She squealed a little, holding a little tighter onto the ladder with her hands and other foot.

“Oi,” Harry said, moving closer and putting a hand up. “Easy. I told you the last few steps had fallen off.”

Y/N furrowed her brows.

“Just jump, I’m here,” he said, voice so reassuring and warm that everything felt okay for a single second.

She did as he said, jumping from where she stood. Her feet hit the ground a little to hard, making her wince, but Harry was right there, one hand gripping her arm while the other arm snaked around her waist, holding her upright.

“There we go,” he mumbled, only just then realising that his phone’s flashlight was shining into Y/N’s jacket, making it harder to see the cellar. He took a small step away, letting her regain her footing as she glanced around. It was emptier than she thought it was. A simple wooden bed stood there, but no mattress occupied it, and some cupboards were on the other side of the tiny cellar, though some of the doors hung off their hinges, others looked fine, and some were removed. The walls and floor consisted of compact dirt, and the whole place smelled of rusted iron. Y/N hated it.

“Cosy place, innit,” Harry said, sounding like he meant the quite opposite. “Throw in a disco ball and you could host a rave.”

Y/N almost chuckled, but then her eyes landed on something on the floor beside some of the cupboards. A blue dog bowl. Whether it had been used for water or food, Y/N did not know, but it looked very out of place in such an old and dirty cellar. It had some dirt on it, probably having fallen from the ceiling and down into it over time, but the rather modern, blue dog bowl looked completely out of place. Y/N was certain this had not been here when Marcela was down there, or she would have told Y/N about it right away, even picked it up to show her.

What kind of sick human being had left a dog down in this cellar to die? Though it was dirty, the bowl did not seem to have been used. Maybe the dog had been given a last bowl of water before the owner just left it there to rot.

“What’s that doing here?” Harry asked, looking at the bowl over Y/N’s shoulder. He took it from her hands to examine it further, turning it over in his hand. “Strathy.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“Strathy.” He turned the bowl, showing Y/N the name that was written on it in neat handwriting. “The dog’s name.”

“Strathy,” she mumbled under her breath, feeling an immense sort of sadness take over her. She might not like animals much, but even she saw how wrong this was.

Harry grimaced, clearly feeling absolutely disgusted with this as well. After all, his dad took care of dogs at a dog hotel in Buckinghamshire. He had a rather special bond with the animal, Y/N supposed.

“Who just leaves a dog bowl down here?” she asked aloud, not expecting Harry to answer.

He frowned at it, giving it back to her so she could look at it. “Doesn’t make sense.”

Y/N turned around, looking at the ladder. And it was as Harry had said, the last two steps were gone, laying in pieces on the floor beneath the hole. “No, it doesn’t.”

Harry glanced over at where Y/N was looking, furrowing his brows. “Your sister said this was the best hiding place by your cabin?”

“Yeah, in December before the year she was killed,” Y/N said. “No one would find you if you hid here.”

Harry looked at Y/N as she looked at him. “Then why did someone else, someone who clearly came here after you and your sister did in December, know about this cellar?”

Y/N felt sick. “They must have known the grounds pretty well to know this was here.”

Harry only nodded, eyes falling to the dog bowl in Y/N’s hand. She glanced at the ladder again, feeling confused and furious at the same time. Who had been here after her and her sister had?

Wednesday, 2 May 2018

Even though Y/N’s door was open, Harry still knocked on the doorframe, looking in through the small slit in the door to check if it was alright with her if he entered.

“Disturbing my peace and quiet,” she said jokingly, putting a few folded tops in her suitcase to bring with her home for the summer.

“Thought you would appreciate the sight of the biggest hunk on the British Isles,” Harry grinned, opening the door and leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. “Give you some inspiration. Some motivation, even.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, Harry chuckling at the sigh as she put some more clothes in her suitcase. The room fell back into silence as Harry gave her some breathing space, obviously thinking that she did not appreciate him blocking her in any way when she was packing. She was not packing her entire room, after all she was coming back in September, but most of her clothes were in London and she wanted to take them home with her so she could wear them there. They were of no use just laying in her dresser in Hackney.

“How’d the exam go?” Harry asked.

She looked up at him, taking in his simple outfit. A loose buttoned-up shirt in a nice cream colour was tucked into dark brown trousers, his feet bare and his skin already glowing with an oncoming tan. So, he had spent most of the day outside. The tan would look nice against his tattoos. Y/N’s eyes fell to Harry’s tattoos, the ones on his knuckles in Greek that she still did not know the meaning behind, and then the barbed wire, making him look more badass than Y/N knew him to be. He now had a fern just below the dagger he had taken in April and a leaf on his pinky finger just below the barbed wire. At this rate, Harry would be covered in tattoos by the end of the year.

“New ink,” Y/N noted.

The right side of his lips tipped upward as he looked down at his arms and hands. “Yes.”

“You’re just taking advantage of the fact that you know how to use a tattoo gun.”

Harry chuckled. “Someone should take it away from me.”

“Truly.”

“I’m scared that I’ll, like, come up with cooler tattoo ideas later on, but then I’ve already filled up the spot where it’d look best.”

Y/N tilted her head at him. “Then you should slow down the tattooing.”

“Nah, can’t do that, love.”

She only rolled her eyes again, sitting down on top of the suitcase so she could close it and pull the zipper shut properly.

“You didn’t answer me earlier,” Harry asked, walking inside and sitting down on Y/N’s bed. “How’d your exam go?”

Y/N sighed, resting her chin in her hand as she glanced over at him. “Alright. We had an hour to, like, answer the two questions, one short answer and then a short essay. I was about halfway through my essay when I realised I only had ten minutes left.”

Harry grimaced.

“So, I just had to write until my wrist and hand ached, and was about to start writing the conclusion when we had to hand the papers over. I think Isla wrote way more than I did, dunno how she managed that.”

“How many pages did you get in?”

“About 12.”

Harry just stared at her. “And Isla got more down?”

“I think closer to 20.”

“20 handwritten pages in an hour?!” Harry said, sounding absolutely bewildered.

“She’s a machine that one.”

“Obviously.”

Y/N nodded, getting up from her suitcase and walking across her bed to get to the windows. She closed them both firmly, pulling the white heart pointelle cami top further down her torso, though it was supposed to just reach her belly button. Thankfully, her black tights reached just a little bit further up, keeping any more of Y/N’s skin to be exposed than what she wanted.

“Okay,” she said, sitting down beside him in bed again. “I want to be sure you’ve actually gotten better.”

“Understandable,” Harry retorted, nodding slightly.

“So, I don’t want to do too much just yet.”

He stopped for a second. “What does that mean?”

“That I want to just make out and get a feel of where you’re at. I think sex comes when we’re both turning each other on to the point where it’s actually going to be enjoyable. When I’m wet enough and you’re hard enough.”

Harry tried not to smile, but Y/N could tell he wanted to flash her a smirk. “I can assure you, you can make me do anything, and I’d be hard on the fucking spot.”

Y/N’s chest felt warm, and within seconds, her cheeks were approximately around the same temperature as the sun’s surface. There was something so very sweet about that, yet incredibly hot. She looked away from him, trying to act unbothered as she tried to find her words again, but by the slight chuckle emanating from Harry’s lips, Y/N knew he saw right through her act.

“What I’m trying to say is that I just want us to get familiar with the other’s body. Foreplay isn’t just about touching someone; it’s about touching someone. Feel their crotch, slide your hand under their clothes, grinding against them to the point of torture sometimes. That’s when the best sex happens.”

Harry nodded. “Take it you’re a big fan of foreplay.”

“The biggest.”

“Feel like I’m in good hands, then.”

“Figuratively and literally.”

He smiled.

“If you matched me on Tinder, and we were about to shag-“

“-I actually don’t think I’ve ever been on Tinder.”

Y/N blinked. “That’s not a flex.”

“Have you?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’ve got the app on my phone.”

“Wicked, you’ve got to show me then.”

She smiled, inhaling slowly. “I will. But first, let’s-“

However, fantastically, Harry took Y/N’s face in his hands and brought her to him. Before Y/N managed to finish her statement, they were kissing. The familiar feeling of Harry’s lips on hers made her previously tense shoulders relax considerably, making her involuntarily moan onto his lips. Harry kissed her more fiercely at the sound, moving closer so it would be easier for him to wrap his arms around her. She fell back onto the bed, crawling backward, and Harry crawled after her, settling himself so easily between her legs that it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

The ease at which they were doing this felt reassuring, like a good hug after a stressful day. She trusted that Harry knew what he was supposed to do, that he remembered from last time. And oh, did he remember.

She felt his hand slide down her front, laying the smallest amount of pressure on her breast, and Y/N realised with a suddenness that almost made her gasp; Harry was trying to tease her. His fingers slid over her, never laying his entire palm down against besides that grip of her boob, but besides that, he was touching her as lightly as possible, leaving Y/N’s body aching in its waking.

“Where’d you learn that?” she asked between kisses.

“What?”

“The teasing.”

She felt him grin against her. “Do you really want me to tell you?”

“Surprisingly enough.”

He chuckled. “Well,” he trailed off, looking down at the duvet beside her face. “The internet.”

Y/N felt herself halt a bit, looking at Harry as he refused to still meet her eyes. “You’ve been searching around?”

“About sex, yes.”

The corners of her mouth lifted. “Really?”

“How many times do you want me to admit it?”

She giggled. “Harry, it’s not something to be embarrassed about.”

“I think it is.”

“No, it just shows how dedicated you are to this. Which is anything but embarrassing.” She tried to catch his eyes. “It’s actually rather sweet.”

He met her gaze then, staring at her for a long while as if he could not quite believe what she had just told him. “You think?”

“You think I would’ve said it if I thought otherwise?”

Harry chuckled. “True.”

She smiled, arching her back a little so her tits were pressed against his chest. Harry bit his bottom lip, looking down at her front as she lowered herself down onto the mattress again. Raising her eyebrows, she watched as Harry took in her tits again, looking over at her with anticipation etched into his irises.

“I’m trying to silently tell you to kiss me again,” she said.

“Oh!” Harry exclaimed, bending down over her again. “Right.”

“Other’s might not do that, they might tell you, or maybe even expect you to do so. So, try and decipher what that person needs, what they want.” She settled herself into her duvet cover, Harry sinking further in between her legs as she wriggled her hips ever so slightly. His lips parted, both plump and swollen from kissing.

“What do I do if they don’t say anything?” Harry asked, lips hovering above hers. God, how she just wanted him to kiss her.

“Communicate. You can’t expect someone to know you and your needs right off the bat, people are different.”

“Right,” Harry said, sliding his nose against hers.

“And now I would really like it if you kissed me,” Y/N whispered against Harry’s lips, making Harry grip onto the duvet cover above Y/N’s head. Fiercely, he pressed his lips against her, slowly sliding his tongue into her mouth, making all kinds of shivers run up and down her body. Even after just one time, Harry knew certain buttons of hers that he had to push in order to get a reaction out of her. She wondered how long Harry had gone out with his previous partners for them to give up on him so quickly. If they had just shown him what they liked, if they had just explored, then Harry would have been a decent lover. He was so incredibly willing to learn new things that it was almost ridiculous. How had they just broken things off like that? If they had just been a little more patient, then Harry would have genuinely surprised them.

On the other hand, he had not actually showed her how bad he was in bed, like he was making it out to be, which could truly be the game changer.

Regardless, in that second, Y/N did not care about Harry’s skills in bed, instead she focused on how they worked outside the context of sex. They were just making out now, just checking each other out, trying to think about various ways to touch the other in order to turn them on.

One of Harry’s hands rested at Y/N’s knee, bringing it further up her chest so he could get a bit better access. She moaned as she felt his already hardening erection against her, instant wetness pooling between her legs. Her grip on his shirt tightened and she felt her nails dig into his skin under his shirt, urging him to continue doing what he was doing. Just like she had shown him last time, Harry grinded against her, doing it slowly and rubbing himself very deliberately against her for his own pleasure, but also trying to make sure she enjoyed it. The desire that ran up her spine was undeniable, making all hair on her body stand on end. His hardness grinded against her wetness again, the both of them moaning at the same time, losing themselves completely in one another.

Harry’s hand ran down Y/N’s thigh, coming to rest at her belly, slowly making its way to her very centre. She felt a yearning so intense it had to radiate off of her, engulfing her and Harry. Halting a bit, Harry’s fingers seemed to retract a bit, unsure if this was somewhere Y/N did not want him to venture or it if was encouraged. Instead of asking her, like she emboldened him to do multiple times, he traced the same path back up her belly, going to grab her breast again.

Y/N made a noise of protest, taking Harry’s wrist in her hand. She could feel Harry’s eyelashes flutter open against her own, and she opened her own eyes, detaching their lips. Slowly, she slid his hand down the way it had just come, making him lay as little pressure on her as he slid his hand down in order to tease as much as possible. Personally, she hated when someone would tease her because it only made her want sex even more than she already did, making her hungrier and more desperate than she would like, but it also made for the best shags. Teasing and dragging out, being needy for one another, was what created the best action when you finally had sex.

As they were just above her centre, she led his hand to her inner thigh, urging his fingers to trace along the skin of one of her most delicate places. Harry looked down between them, eager to follow along with what she did in any way he could. With care and maybe a little too much roughness, she made him grab her, at once showing how he would cherish her but at the same time make her squirm for more when the time came. Though Y/N was doing it herself, it was Harry’s hand that touched her, that made her entire body vibrate with expectancy. She bit her bottom lip, eyes not wavering from his face.

Slowly, his pinky came into contact with her centre, then his ring finger, middle, index, and lastly, his thumb. Each felt like a firework, reverberating through Y/N’s body and lighting her core on fire. It had been a while since someone had touched her with so much consideration, so patiently. Harry’s eagerness to please her, even though she was the one that showed him how to touch her, made her even hotter for him, if that was possible. With ease, she put her hand over his, putting extra pressure on his hand now and a little extra on his middle finger, she dragged his hand over her covered up cunt. A small gasp left her lips, eyelashes fluttering slightly. Harry looked up at her instantly, lips parting as his eyes scanned her face, ready to take in each one of her features when she laid under him like this. She did it again, this time putting a little more pressure at the very top of her centre, making a spark flood from her clit and out to the very tips of her fingers. This made her moan, involuntarily arching her back just a little at the sudden flash.

“Now you go,” she whispered, their eyes not wavering from one another.

Harry nodded, looking down between them at where his hand rested in her like that and then her removing his hand, letting him either mimic her moves or do something different. He watched his hand at first as it slid over her, putting that extra amount of pressure at her bud, making her gasp for breath. His eyes landed on her face again, eyes intent on her as he did it again, this time inhaling sharply as she moaned under him, of his doing.

“Just like that,” she encouraged, voice half moan and half mumble.

Harry did it again, earning the same reaction from her, his breath coming out all shaky, as if he could not quite believe he had this effect on her.

“You look bewildered,” Y/N said, trying not to laugh.

“I always thought that touching someone like that would be a little much too soon. Would you not rather I touched your cunt when we’re naked and about to have sex?”

“Yes, of course,” Y/N said, regaining her breath. “But you’re showing me what you’ll do to me when we actually get naked. Teasing can be pure torture, but it’s what makes the reward so much better when we actually fuck.”

Harry nodded, his already red cheeks reddening considerably. “Alright.”

Y/N smiled. “What?”

“I guess I… I’m not used to being…” Harry sighed, looking away from her and at his hand fisted in the sheets. “It’s vulgar.”

“What?” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Touching me?”

“No, touching like that. Grabbing someone through their clothes, touching your cunt like that.”

Y/N smiled again. “I can tell by the way you’re whispering the word that you’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable, it’s just a new way of having sex, I guess.” Harry blinked. “Also, what word do I whisper?”

“Cunt.”

“Oh.” Harry met her eyes again. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“It’s… vulgar.”

“It’s dirty,” Y/N said. “Not my cunt,-“ Harry laughed at that. “-but the word. Saying it, especially in this setting, is hot.”

“You like dirty talk?”

“When it’s done right. When it’s not, it can really ruin whatever’s going on.”

“Oh, right,” Harry said, nodding slightly. “There’s a balance.”

“Exactly,” Y/N smiled. “Annalise told me about this time she had sex with an American, like proper southern American.”

Harry chuckled a little at just that.

“And they were in doggy, so she asked him to grab her hair, and-“

“-Do you like that?” Harry asked rather quickly, as if the question had occurred to him on the spot and he had been unable to stop himself from asking.

“What, having my hair pulled?”

Harry nodded.

“Dunno, haven’t really tried it.”

Harry smirked, and Y/N could already see what he was thinking. She only rolled her eyes and continued on with the story, the bulge of Harry’s trousers pressing against Y/N’s centre.

“Anyway, she asked him to pull her hair, and if you, like, grab it with one hand, that’s hot and feels good, but if you grab it with two, if feels more like you’re trying to ride a horse.”

Harry chuckled.

“And while this man was holding Annalise’s hair with both hands, he just said ‘Easy, girl’ and this southern accent, and it sounded fully like he was trying to calm a horse down.” Y/N suspected that Harry was laughing more at Y/N’s attempt at a southern American accent than the actual story, but seeing him howling on top of her, burying his face in her neck to laugh some more there, made it impossible for her to even finish the story. They laid like that for a little while, just laughing and bathing in each other’s presence. It took a while for them to look at one another again, smiling when they remembered how ridiculous Y/N had sounded and how this all happened in the middle of a rather heated moment.

“Okay, let’s move on,” she said, making Harry chuckle some more.

“Right, what’s next?”

Y/N pushed him off her and down onto the bed beside her, quickly straddling him. She leaned down, kissing him hard, having missed the feel of his lips in the few seconds they hadn’t been touching hers. Harry’s hands fell to her bum, pushing her down onto his hard cock, Y/N instantly reacting by letting go of a small groan. He knew what to do now, how to handle her with care, but also make sure to let her know who was in control. Well, kind of, anyway. She was certainly the one with the most control out of the two of them.

She started grinding against him, sliding her hot core over his erection, a shock of pleasure running up to her chest, heating up her entire body. Harry must have felt something similar because he moaned into her mouth, his grip on her arse hardening along with his cock. She did just that again and again, feeling him become more desperate under her, grabbing onto her thighs and arse, one hand holding onto her neck to keep her lips on him. She felt herself get more needy as well, suddenly wanting to feel that release she had told the both of them that they would not be chasing today. However, when she was this wet and he was this hard, both of them clawing, gripping, and moaning at each other, it was very hard to remember what they had agreed upon earlier.

“Do you want to be in control?” she mumbled against his lips, a shaky breath leaving Harry’s lips.

“Show me how,” he said, panting just like she was.

She took his hands, putting them above Harry’s head. “Keep them there,” she said. “Don’t move.”

“What happens if I do?”

“I’ll have to punish you.”

A breath left Harry’s lips; his eyes filled with lust as he looked up at her. He only nodded, looking absolutely entranced by her. Y/N pressed a kiss to Harry’s jaw, then another one to his neck, then the front of his collarbone, feeling him squirm beneath her as she did. The need to have his hands on her, to make her grind against him to feel something, was clearly an instinct that was hard for him to fight.

“Lay still,” she urged him as her hands found the collar of his shirt, fingers sliding over his exposed skin until they came into contact with the button that kept his beautiful chest from being bare.

Slowly, she unbuttoned his shirt. She kissed down his now exposed chest, making her way down his torso until she was by his navel. Untucking the shirt, she undid the last button before pushing the fabric to each side, baring his chest to her. The red dragon on his right back and the black on his left were finally right there. The tattoos she had been thinking about for so long now, finally right in front of her. She made her way up to them, tracing her finger from the head of the red dragon that almost reached Harry’s collarbone and down in a circle and some waves before reaching the tail that ended up right beside his nipple. The black one did only slither to create one wave along its long and slim figure, but its wings were bigger, almost reaching Harry’s left shoulder, while the pointy tail came to rest just beside his nipple. Y/N could not explain how attractive she found his tattoos, especially these ones. Harry must have the exact same taste in tattoos as her, something that made her very happy about their little deal.

When she settled over his crotch again, his erection was even more prominent than before, the hardness feeling absolutely fantastic against her warm cunt. She put her hands on his knees behind her, slowly beginning to grind against Harry again. He craned his neck, lips parting as some slight release washed over the both of them. Dutifully, his hands still laid above his head where she had left them, where she hard ordered him to keep them. The sight of him displayed like that, all hers and trembling underneath her while she teased him, was maybe one of the hottest sights she had ever laid her eyes upon.

He looked up at her, eyes wild and bottom lip all dark pink from him having bitten it so hard while she had kissed her way down his chest. Their eyes locked, and Y/N could tell Harry wanted to grab her, to hold her to some extent. She recognised now that Harry liked holding her when they were like this. If they were getting things going, it seemed out of the question if he was not touching her to some extent.

Which must have been why he finally snapped, sitting up and taking a grip of her waist. Y/N exhaled sharply when Harry turned them around, making her back come into contact with the mattress again. Harry held onto her knee again before letting his hand trail up her side, the other one taking her hand in his, resting their intwined fingers above Y/N’s head as they started kissing again. Finally between her legs again, Harry started sliding over her again, this time his movements had a little more force behind them. She felt it in her toes, the heat in her core growing with each stroke. Bloody hell, she just wanted to fuck him right then. Harry had truly proven to her that he knew how foreplay worked, how incredibly important it was. Though he was the most impatient person she knew, he truly seemed to be enjoying himself when they teased each other like this.

Maybe, like her, he enjoyed the power it brought. You truly felt so powerful, so potent, so paramount, when you could make someone tremble at your touch.

Harry’s movements grew more frantic, his hands grabbing at her harder, and she felt her own nails dig into his flesh, begging him for more. Suddenly, without much warning, Harry got up from between her legs, and then made her turn over so she was on her stomach. This took Y/N completely off guard, but she welcomed the change, welcomed him trying something new and taking control. After all, that was what he wanted to learn how to do, how to become confident enough to order someone around in bed without thinking he was disrespecting them and their bodies.

Harry came to rest on top of her, his hand sliding from the rolls at her sides and up to her shoulder where he slowly traced his way to her neck. There, he took a light grip of her, bending down so that they could both feel his erection between her arse cheeks. Y/N closed her eyes at the sensation, feeling a very welcome chill run up her spine out of pure excitement. He stayed there, kissing her shoulder, her neck, breathing against her skin and making Y/N hyper aware of each one of his movements.

Because he remained immobile, she arched her back and lifted her bum ever so slightly off the bed. She pushed herself against him, then move her arse against him, wanting to feel some kind of friction even though it was barely existent on her part. Harry drew in a sharp breath and moaned instantly, holding onto Y/N’s neck with one hand while the other held him upright on the mattress. She continued to move over him and Harry grinded against her. Harry’s breaths came out quicker, slight whimpers leaving his swollen lips, vibrating against Y/N’s skin. It had certainly not been the point, but as Y/N understood what was going to happen, she just continued to rub herself against him, and Harry did the same.

His grip on her loosened and he put his hands on either side of her hips, moaning and panting and whimpering as he grinded against her. Suddenly, he jerked, and he gripped Y/N’s hips tight, trying to move against her, but he only managed to move in jagged motions. He came as Y/N slid her bum over him, feeling his cock move with each squirt inside his boxer, pulsating against the fabric; against her. Harry stayed like that over Y/N, and when she looked over her shoulder, it looked like he did not know what has just happened. After all, they weren’t supposed to do anything, really. They were just supposed to make out. And yet…

“In an ideal situation,” Y/N said. “You start having sex before that happens.”

Harry met her eyes, laughing loudly along with her. He fell down onto the bed beside her and she turned to lay on her back as well, both just looking up at the ceiling of Y/N’s bedroom.

“Note to self,” Harry said, still coming down from what had just happened, panting slightly. “Don’t come during foreplay.”

Y/N laughed, and Harry looked at her with the biggest grin on his face. “Add that to the list of everything else I’ve taught you, and you’ll be good for when we have sex.”

Harry chuckled, looking up at the ceiling again. “Tattoo appointment when we get back in September, then?”

She nodded, sitting up in bed. “Yeah, it’ll give me enough time to think about what I want tattooed.”

Harry sat up as well. “Imagine I’ll have a few more tattoos as well.”

“You’ll be working at Asgard this summer?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I’ll just either live here or at my mum’s, visit my dad a bit.” He shrugged. “But I have a tattoo gun so I’ll just do it at home, don’t need to be there unless I want some ink a place I can’t reach properly myself.”

Y/N’s heart stopped a little. “You have a tattoo machine here?”

Harry studied her face, a small grin appearing over his face. “Yeah. Your fanny fluttering at the thought?”

She slapped him across his still exposed chest; Harry laughed. “You know what, just leave. I need to finish packing.”

Harry grinned, getting up from the bed as he started buttoning up his shirt again, looking around Y/N’s room as he made his way for the door. “Will you miss London while you’re away?”

Y/N glanced around at her room, taking in the four walls she had spent so much time within during her first year of University. It did not seem real that she would be in Nottingham over the next four months, that she would go back to living with her parents for the time being until uni started back up again in September. Her first year had gone by so quickly, it did not seem real that it was coming to a close. She could not believe that it had almost been a year since she moved to London, since she med Chloe, Thian, Hayden, and Annalise, since she started working at Domino’s. It at once felt like ages ago, yet it also felt like it all happened last month. She remembered everything in vivid detail, and knew she would probably remember her uni years that clearly for eternity. So far, it had been the best time of her life.

She nodded her head, looking back over at Harry again. “I’ll miss it. But I’ll be back in September to pester you another year.”

Harry grinned. “Good, almost thought you would stop bullying me by the time we get back.”

“No, don’t you worry,” she said, smiling. “The bullying won’t stop for the world.”

Harry tucked his hands into his trouser pockets, whipping a curl out of his face as he said, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Friday, 17 May 2018

“Happy birthday!” Hayden screamed when Y/N answered their FaceTime call, their hands over their head and their short hair an absolute mess. They dropped their phone onto their bed, only to appear a second later with a red party hat on their head, waving it in front of the camera.

Y/N laughed. “Thanks, mate.”

“What’re you up to today?” Hayden asked, leaning back against their headrest.

“Well, since I’ve already been awake three hours, I have been up to quite a lot, actually.”

It was Hayden’s turn to laugh now. “What’s that then?”

“Pai and I made some pão na chapa, which is essentially skillet toasted French bread rolls, for breakfast, nothing extravagant. Then we went to pick up a cake that mum’s had made for the occasion, and then mum took me shopping for some new clothes. Just got home,” Y/N explained. “But we’re having a big lunch later with our entire family and we’ll serve a big dinner then.”

“Sounds like a very you birthday.”

“Good thing it’s my birthday, then.”

Hayden laughed, leaning their head back against the wall and forgetting about their birthday hat, making the string snap off their chin and the hat fall off their head. Y/N chuckled as she sat down in her bed as well, looking over at her window to see if it was closed or not. Her papai must have opened it while her and her mum were out shopping. Y/N quickly walked over to close it, but then a breeze came in through the small slit, cooling her down in what had already been the starts to a very hot mid-May day. She left it open.

“I wanted to ask you about something,” Hayden said, throwing the party hat away somewhere in their room.

“Yeah?”

“What do you want for your birthday? Like, is there a specific birthday present you’d want from say…” They shrugged. “Me, Thian, Annalise, and Chloe.”

Y/N smiled. “You’re getting me a birthday present, are you?”

“Of course!” Hayden said, sounding shocked. “You’re our mate! Now, what do you want? It can be anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” Y/N thought for a second, sitting back down on her bed. “Maybe like concert tickets, but not expensive ones for like a popular band. Maybe for a more lowkey one, one where tickets aren’t super expensive, and we can all go.”

Hayden nodded. “That sounds like so much fun, though. Just the gang, and your flat, of course.”

Y/N smiled. Someone shouted something in the back of Hayden’s end of the call, making them groan loudly before rolling their eyes.

“Right, my mum needs me to come downstairs. But,” Hayden said, getting out of bed, stepping on the party hat and crushing it under their weight. A stream of curse words left their lips before they bent down to retrieve it, showing it to Y/N before throwing it away in the bin. “We’ll bake a cake when we see each other this summer, okay?”

Y/N’s smile widened. “I’d love that.”

“Good, ‘cause we’re baking a cake when we see each other this summer.”

Y/N giggled. “Your mum gonna kill you or something?”

“Think she’s just realised I’ve raided the cupboard of Digestives.”

Y/N laughed.

“I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” Hayden smiled, waving at the screen.

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N said. “Hope you survive your mum’s wrath.”

“Doubt it.”

Y/N smiled, waving at the screen before they both hung up. A knock sounded at Y/N’s door a second later and then her mother walked into her room, smiling at her. She held a white envelope in her hand, holding it out for Y/N to take.

“You’ve got post, my dove.”

Y/N halted a little, unsure of who could possibly want to contact her through post. Lottie walked back out the door, leaving it open as she walked back downstairs, Davi’s singing sounding from the kitchen as he prepared everything for lunch. Y/N sat back down in her bed, studying the envelope in her hands closely. She thought she recognised the handwriting at the front of the envelope that spelled out her full name and her Nottingham address under it rather perfectly. As she turned the letter around to see the return address on the flap of the envelope, she realised why.

13 Dovecote Close, Princes Risborough, Buckinghamshire, HP27 9JU. Harry E. Styles.

She bit her lips together, already feeling the oncoming grin tugging at the edges of her lips. She should not have put it past Harry to do something for her birthday, this was just like him, to go out of his way and send her something in the post rather than just give it to her while they were both still under the same roof the week previous. Y/N opened it, peeking inside to see two different notes, reminding her an awful lot of the ones she slid under his door to set up a time for their little sessions. She reached in, pulling one of the two out.

Happy birthday, Y/N. Turn this around to see what I think your next tattoo should be.

She did, only to find herself laughing instantly. A heart was drawn on the other side, ‘Harry’ written in magnificent handwriting inside it. She let her finger trace the letters, imagining how smug Harry would have looked drawing this, knowing exactly the kind of reaction he would conjure up out of her. Chuckling still, she reached into the envelope and pulled out the second and last note.

And here’s something I actually think you would like.

Turning this one around, she found a drawing that took her breath away instantly. With black wings spread wide, almost glittering in the light that was supposed to shine on them, a crow was drawn in vivid detail on the other side. It looked strong, terrifying, even, staring straight back at her with an intensity and intellect only crows managed, as if they knew all your secrets and weren’t afraid to tell them to the wind, letting them carry through the world. Y/N ran a finger over the crow, feeling very overwhelmed all of a sudden. She had not expected him to draw something for her that he thought she would like tattooed on her body forever, yet here he was. It was the most beautiful thing Y/N had ever seen, and she wondered what had made him draw it.

Y/N awoke gradually, suddenly realising with slow efficiency that she was awake. Her room was draped in complete darkness, the streetlamp outside her window having been turned off for the night. Her eyes focused on her door for no particular reason, zoning in and out of what was going on, part of her thinking it was a dream while the other told her she was awake. Once she realised this was indeed reality, she tried closing her eyes again, readjusting the placement of her head against her pillow, tucking the duvet up to her skin.

A car drove by. Y/N’s eyes shot open. The car sounded closer, as if she had just stood outside, and she quickly realised why that was. Y/N had not slept with her window open since before Marcela disappeared, not in this house. Preferring to keep it closed, it felt safer that way. No spirits, no people, nothing, could sneak in through a closed window.

But as she heard footsteps outside, as if someone was walking hurriedly by her house, Y/N knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that her window was open. Wide open. It had not been that open since the night before Marcela was declared murdered. Grabbing onto her duvet, Y/N looked in the direction of the window only to confirm what she had been thinking. There her window was, the blinds open, open to let all the air, everything, inside. She wanted to get out of bed and close it, but her legs were locked to her bed, her limbs felt too heavy, too unsteady, for her to walk on right now. She had to calm down, blame it on her not closing her window earlier that day after talking to Hayden. That was it. It was the draught.

If she could just reach for her phone, she could call her mother and ask her to come into her room and close the door. Maybe she could check under her bed as well to make sure no one had gotten into her room in the time the window had been wide open. Y/N’s room was on the first storey, so it would be difficult to get in through her window, but she was also paranoid beyond belief.

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N saw movement. A stupid sense of relief washed over Y/N, thinking that maybe Lottie had come to check up on her. But no, it was not her mum. Averting her eyes from the window, Y/N looked to the end of her bed, feeling her heart stop beating. Her body lay still for a few seconds until she suddenly started shaking. It was not violently, but uncontrollable. She gripped into her duvet even harder, telling herself over and over again that this was not real.

Not real. Not real. Not real. This is just a dream; you are just having a nightmare. Close your eyes. Go back to sleep.

And Y/N tried. She closed her eyes, telling herself that this was just a figment of her idiotic imagination. Whatever she had just seen was not real, it couldn’t be. However, falling asleep when you had just seen your dead sister standing at the foot of your bed was hard.

Y/N opened her eyes, feeling a small whimper leave her lips out of pure fear. Even though she could barely see without her glasses, she still saw that. Marcela looked at Y/N with an eerie sort of passiveness, eyes resting emotionlessly on her younger sister as she shook with fear in her bed. The only way Y/N could tell it was her sister was by the slight light that came naturally from the night beyond, only illuminating half of her dead sister’s form. She did not look dead. In fact, her sister had to be a hallucination. She looked like Marcela, yet she did not. It was strange, almost devilish. She wore the exact same outfit as the last time Y/N had seen her, a floral dress and her denim jacket. A tiny smile rested on her lips, but not one Y/N had ever seen before. There was absolutely zero joy behind it. It rather looked like she was smiling for the sake of smiling. As if to ease the nerves of a terrified deer before she attacked to devour every last bit of her prey.

“M-Mari?” Y/N croaked, still unable to move.

Marcela only cocked her head to the side, still smiling that bizarre smile, making her face appear uncanny. Slowly, she raised her left hand. Y/N felt herself shrink behind her duvet. Marcela’s eyes fell onto her wrist, and when Y/N looked, she felt herself draw in a shaky breath. Marcela looked up at Y/N again, that uncanny smile still lingering on her lips as her hand fall to her side again. Slowly, Marcela walked backward towards Y/N’s door, opening it just barely. Moving out of the light of the open window, Marcela looked like a ghost. Black like complete darkness, moving unseen and transparent towards the door. Keeping her eyes on Y/N the entire way, she stepped outside. The door closed just as gradually as Marcela had walked, barely audible as it clicked into place.

Though she was trembling, Y/N removed her duvet, put her glasses on, and shakily made her way towards her door. She walked around the spot the hallucination of Marcela had just been standing, refusing to be near it. Carefully, she laid a hand on her door handle, it felt cool to the touch. As if no one had touched it a mere minute ago. Or that person had been very cold. Slowly, she opened the door, looking out into the hallway beyond. No one was there. Not a trace, not a sound.

Y/N had a hard time falling asleep, and when she woke up at 6 the next morning, it barely felt like she had gotten any rest at all. However, she wasted no time. She got dressed as quickly as she could, put some contacts in, and sent a text to her parents that she was out and about. With some breakfast in hand, Y/N drove as fast as she could. There weren’t too many out driving now, but she knew that she would be spending a lot of times in queues the closer she got to the capital. She zoomed down the motorway, not paying any attention to anything but the road ahead. Whenever she went on drives like this, she would need to have some of her own music playing in the background so she could jam out. Music could wait right now, because there was something she needed to check. Something that could simply not wait.

Once she reached the outskirts of London, the traffic was horrendous, making Y/N bite her nails as anxiety and stress started eating at every single one of her limbs. Though it took a decent amount of time to get into London by normal standards, Y/N still felt like that hour and some was the longest of her life. When she finally reached Hackney, Y/N felt her anxiety ebb just slight away. Driving in London was ridiculous, but at least she knew the streets near her well and could take some small and less busy shortcuts.

On Orsman Road, Y/N jumped out of her car and ran for the flat building’s front door. Then, after unlocking it, ran for her flat, and unlocked that front door too before sprinting for her room. The entire flat was empty, no one but her were there, which almost made it wrong for her to be there, it felt like. This was supposed to be a place she shared with Harry, Nathan, and Mason. Not someplace to run through, anxiety high, pulse higher, to get to her room as fast as possible.

She burst through her door and looked at her desk, trying to calm her breathing down as the sight in front of her dawned on her. With clammy hands, she rubbed at her eyes, maybe that would help her see more clearly. But it made no difference. She walked over to her desk then, throwing the books on her bed and putting the mug filled with pens on her dresser as she searched everywhere. But it was of no use. None at all. The watch was gone.

This is what I imagine Harry’s crow painting to look like btw!

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 23rd May, 9PM GMT!

Huge thanks to my AMAZING beta readers! 🏛️ @aileenacoustic​ 🏛️ @devil-in-bw-the-sheets​ 🏛️ @fromyourstrulyh​​  🏛️

FIC PAGE | COME TALK !!!