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hogwartsfirebolt · 4 years ago

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Hello everyone! I’m back for my (omg time flies) third yearly drarry rec list, in which I share with you my 30 favorite drarry fics I read in the year, divided in three parts. What a year 2020 was. It was challenging, scary and confusing, and it was also an amazing reading year for me, I read so, so much more than I ever had before, and I’m really excited to share these masterpieces with you! The banner art is by @dragontamerdame who is one of my favorite artists and was kind enough to let me use this beautiful piece, which you can (and totally should) reblog right here. Now, with nothing else to add and in no particular order, here’s my

FAVORITE FICS I READ IN 2020 PART ONE

1. Who we are in the shadows - @quicksilvermaid - 100k - E - What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost. But nothing is exactly as it seems. Not even Harry himself. And as he gets drawn further and further into Malfoy's world of honour and deception he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew—about his childhood nemesis, the Ministry job he misses so much, and most of all, about himself. What happens when you’re forced to see that you were wrong?

THIS FIC!!! It was the first one I read in 2020, and it immediately became my favorite fic of the entire year, and one of my favorites of all time. I have since read it two more times, the entire 100k of it. There are absolutely no words to describe how amazing it is, how much it floored me to read their characterizations, their jobs and the roads life took them on to end up where they end up, the connection between them in a time when they don’t even know how to relate to anyone, their sorrow and struggles which, despite being so rooted in the magical world, are painfully human, just... wow. It’s a masterpiece. It changed the way I view their characters, forever, and I suspect I will read it many, many more times in the years to come. It’s that kind of story. If for whatever reason you haven’t read it, this is your sign to take that chance and embark on this amazing journey.

2. Every Kingdom - @thistle-verse - 7k - E - Every kingdom needs a prince. Every prince needs a good and useful knight. Draco and Harry play their parts and renegotiate some borders while they’re at it.

So, so lovely. Even though I don’t read them very often, alternate universes fascinate me so much, and I am in awe of the author for being able to pack so, so much story, so neatly into 7k words. This features a princely, lonesome Draco, a charming, golden Harry, and a blossoming love that could change everything. It’s beautiful, and I recommend it deeply.

3. The Bucket List - GallaPlacidia - 32k - Draco will die in six months if he can't get Harry Potter to fall in love with him. Since that's not going to happen, he might as well spend his last days working through his Bucket List. Tap-dancing lessons? Rock climbing? Poetry-writing? Threesomes? Cocaine? Getting to know his adorable cousin, Teddy Lupin? Draco will try them all! Feat. Cheerily pessimistic Draco, devoted bitch queen Pansy Parkinson, and a Harry who can't help but notice that something seems DIFFERENT about Draco, these days.

I’m positive that many, many of us got acquainted with GallaPlacidia’s writing this year, and I, too, fell in love with it. This story aches in the most beautiful of ways, the humor happens to be somehow light in such a difficult circumstance that it ends up hurting when you laugh, it hurts when everything is right because it’s also wrong, it aches when it’s supposed to be a happy moment and feels tender and sweet when it’s not. I can’t even imagine the challenge of writing this kind of story, and they pulled it off beautifully. It’s a lovely story, one you will take with you long after you finish it, and, personally, I think it’s a great introduction to the author’s writing.

4. halcyon days - @the-starryknight - 1.3k - T - Sleepy mornings caught while the sun rises are reserved for silly word games and soft touches and feelings.

Oh my god, the amount of tenderness in such a low wordcount made me weak in the knees. I almost couldn’t take it. Being able to convey such a deep emotional connection in a short story seems like such a daunting task, and the author makes it seem almost effortless. I guarantee that this will make you bring your hands to your chest and sigh with how lovely it is. Reading it will be the best ten minutes of your day.

5. Clouds That Veil the Midnight Moon - @drarrytrash - 37k - E - According to Harry’s personal narrative regarding the incident, he’d hooked up with Draco Malfoy for purely self-destructive reasons, or out of convenience, or by some unlucky accident. Looking at him, sprawled in the moonlight, Harry is devastated to recall that he’d hooked up with Draco Malfoy because he’s hot. Draco is a secret werewolf and Harry is doing his best and they've got criminals to catch, darn it.

Reading this, I found myself laughing out loud, nodding profusely with how freaking spot on the characterizations are. The dialogue is amazing, so hilarious and real and Harry’s inner monologue is so, so him. I love everything about this story. I have a soft spot for werewolf fic, and this one hit everything I love about it, the case is interesting and engaging, the incidental characters, the OCs, Ron and Hermione, everyone and everything is absolutely perfect and I had an absolute blast reading it. You HAVE to read this and see for yourself what I’m talking about.

6. Sex Ed for Aurors - curiouslyfic - 8k - M - Some things, you need to learn on the job.

Oh my god this is so freaking good. The premise is, basically, that Harry is accidentally doused with a lust potion while in the vicinity of Draco, and suddenly wants him more than anything. I loved this take on that trope, we��re in Harry’s head, and it’s absolutely hilarious and endearing to experience the near childish glee he feels whenever Draco looks his way, when he smiles, when he feels he’s made him happy, meanwhile Draco and Ron are horrified and doing whatever they can to correct it. This is so funny and such a good time, I can’t recommend it enough! While you’re at it, you should definitely read megyal’s remix of this, which is also a blast.

7. plasticine porters with looking-glass ties - @bonesliketambourines - 15K - E - Lately, Harry thinks things don’t seem the same between him and Draco. His head is in the clouds when he thinks about what their relationship is now, and where it might be headed—he’s happy with their friendship, but he wants something else. A potions accident over a lunchtime visit to Draco’s lab (what does he get up to in there, anyway?) changes things, though, and accelerates their relationship faster than either of them had ever expected. How are they going to get through this new development together?

Atmospheric, beautifully-written and delicious. Their relationship is tender, just on the edge of something more, when they’re forced to quarantine together and face the effects of a potion that makes them see and feel things differently, which makes for the most intense, visual, gorgeous sex scene I think I’ve ever read. It’s just absolutely phenomenal.

8. i wake up falling - warmfoothills - 9k - M - Draco’s always leaving, one way or another. Harry’s usually 240 thousand miles too late.

In trying to come up with a way to summarize this story, I’m feeling the overwhelming urge to cry again, just like I did when I read it. It’s just so, so, beautiful, every single word of it aches in the best way, the longing feels deeply authentic and just, the setting and the jobs and everything is so unique and gorgeous. Every single work by this author is beyond beautiful, but especially this one is incredibly close to my heart and I think everyone should read it. It’s a gem.

9. In Every Universe - @skeptiquewrites - 27k - M - They sent Professor Harry Potter to search for Unspeakable Draco Malfoy. Draco has stolen a Firebird, an experimental magical device from the Department of Mysteries that lets you enter parallel universes as yourself. As Harry traverses from universe to universe, he begins to think Draco might be the one searching for him. A story about whether knowing what's possible makes it possible.

Stories where the characters find themselves somehow hopping from one reality to another are always so, so fascinating to me, and this one is incredibly creative and well-written, so entertaining all around. The mystery of it kept me on my toes, and every single reality was a joy to read. 10/10

10. Life goes not backward - @shealwaysreads - 8k - T - Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different. A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots. Leaving one life behind isn’t always a sacrifice, and sometimes the greatest good comes from embracing the people you love.

My god, there are not enough words to describe how much this story means to me, how beautiful it is, how every single time I’ve read it, I’ve cried. Bella has undoubtedly become one of my absolute favorite writers in fandom. She has such a way with words, there is not one of her stories that hasn’t touched me, that doesn’t feel like an actual, full-length novel no matter the word count. I read so many of them this year, so many of the masterpieces she’s gifted us, but this one especially is so tender, so dear, that I ended up choosing it as my favorite of hers this year. Harry’s charactertization, the unbelievable warmth of their relationship, absolutely everything about this is gorgeous. Go read it, right now, and then binge all her other works!! You won’t regret it.

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Each of these fics is incredibly close to my heart and I enjoyed them immensely. In the midst of everything changing, I really found comfort and solace in the amazing works of the people of this fandom. I hope they give you the same amount of warmth and comfort they gave me, and I’m ALWAYS here to gush about any of them ❤️ Happy New Year!

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #drarry fic rec #2020rec #ficrec #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry rec list

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tuiccim · 4 years ago

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TikTok Trend #Memory

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1149

Warnings: Angst

Summary: Bucky waits for you to wake up and handles the aftermath.

A/N: Divider by @whimsicalrogers

TikTok Trend Series Masterlist

Bucky kept watch. He ate with you, worked out in your room, slept next to you, and was rewarded when three days later he woke to see you looking at him.

“Doll! You’re awake. Hey.” Bucky presses the call button for the nurse and then reaches up to cup your face. “I’m so glad you’re awake. I’ve been so worried about you. Are you okay?”

You blink at him but can’t seem to form words. You’re confused. It feels as if your brain is jumping around and you can’t concentrate well enough to speak or move. You feel tears fall down your face at your frustration.

“Doll, are you in pain? What’s the matter?” Bucky says as he wipes the tears away.

“Sergeant Barnes?” The nurse walks in.

“Get Dr. Miles.” Bucky says with barely a glance at the nurse.

Noticing your eyes are open, the nurse nods, “Right away.”

“It’s okay, Doll. You’re okay. I’m here. No matter what.” Bucky comforts you.

Dr. Miles rushes in and does a cursory examination. “She’s fine. You’re fine. Disorientation like this is normal. It’ll improve with time.”

Your eyes are beginning to droop and Bucky’s heart twists, “Doc, is she…”

“She’s tired. She woke up once, she’ll wake up again. Sleep is best. It’ll help the brain heal.” Dr. Miles smiles at you and smooths your hair like a mother with her child as you drift back to sleep. She had a deep love for the team and the work she does for the Avengers. She was glad the brain activity she saw over the last few days was what she hoped.

Bucky looks at her and says quietly, “This is good, right?”

“Yes, we can be cautiously optimistic. The inability to talk or move is normal with this kind of brain injury. We have every reason to believe it’ll get better with time, but we still don’t know the extent of the injury. She may have loss of memory, muscle weakness or paralysis. Cautious optimism, okay?”

“I understand. No matter what, thank you for saving her.”

Dr. Miles smiles and nods as she leaves.

You woke several times over the day and the confusion was a little less each time. Movement began to come back more, but speech was still difficult. You mostly just made incoherent noises which frustrated you until Dr. Miles reassured you that it was good. During the night you woke several times to find Bucky asleep in the bed next to you while holding your hand. He was so sweet. Your best friend.

The next morning, you found your voice but still had problems with some words.

“Mornin’ Buck.” You smile at him as he wakes.

“Hey Doll. You’re talking.” Bucky grins.

“It’s coming... back to me.” You say slowly. “Still feel strange. How long?”

“You were out for a little over five days. I was here with you.” Bucky says.

“What happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

You shake your head.

“Doc said you might have some memory loss. What’s the last thing you remember?” Bucky furrows his brow as he watches you search your memory.

“I… Nat and Wanda and I were in my room. You burst in after that stupid text they sent. I’m so sorry about that. I don’t know why they thought it was so funny.” You look at Bucky and see a stricken look. “What?”

Bucky’s heart twists as he realizes that you don’t remember the kiss, the video, the meetings, the mission, and, for a moment, he panics. Then he remembers. You loved him then. You may not remember the kiss or the confession, but the feelings are still there. You still love him and he’d make sure you remembered that. He smiles at you, “Don’t worry, Doll. I’ll tell you everything that happened.”

“How much am I missing?” You feel fear cropping up.

“A couple of months.”

“What?!”

“It’s okay, Doll. I’ll explain it all to you.” Bucky begins and watches your face as he explains his bungling of the video.

“Can I see it?” You smile but an intense feeling of sadness settles over you. Bucky shows you the video and your heart leaps watching the two of you kiss, but you don’t remember it at all. Bucky tells you the rest. The story makes you happy and sad and angry and elated.

“I shot him in the face and he fell in the river. When I got to you, you, uh, you were bleeding pretty bad. You told me…”

“I told you what?” You wonder why he is hesitating but then smile as you realized the only thing you would have said to him if you weren’t sure you were going to make it. You put your hand on his cheek and smile at him, “I love you, Bucky. I’ve loved you for a really long time but I was scared. Scared of messing up our friendship. Scared that you didn't… that you don’t feel that way.”

“I love you, too.” Bucky says as he brings his mouth to yours for a gentle kiss.

A tear rolls down your face but you want to know the rest, “Finish. Tell me the rest.”

Bucky goes through the remainder of the story, explains your injuries, and then asks if you have any questions.

“Ummm.. yeah. Did you and I… did we, have we-”

“No. So much was going on with the mission and we weren’t sure how much the mole was watching us, so we said we’d wait to be together until after the mission was over.”

“Oh, thank God.” You say.

“What… do you mean?” Bucky looks worried.

“I mean I would have been pretty pissed to miss that,” you giggle but then groan at the pain in your ribs.

“Oh, poor baby. Those are gonna hurt for a while. First priority is gonna be getting you healed.” Bucky kisses your head.

“And the second priority?” You smile.

“Making sure you know how much I love you.” Bucky kisses you for real now. Melding his mouth to yours while holding your face in his hands You cover his hands with yours and relax into the movement of his lips, the slide of his tongue, and the intoxicating taste of him.

“Keep kissing me like that and I’m going to be better real soon.” You smile at him.

“Then let me give you another.” Bucky grins as he leans back in.

“Slow it down, you two.” Dr. Miles walks in. “I take it you’re continuing to approve.”

“Yeah, Doc, I’m feeling more like myself.” You smile.

“Excellent.” The doctor does a quick exam, asks several questions, and then smiles, “Everything looks great. I want a few days of observation to make sure you continue to improve.”

“Thanks, Doc.” You say as she exits before turning back to Bucky, “Now where were we?”

Bucky grins as his lips descend on yours.

Part 10

Masterlist

Permanent: @bubbabarnes @badassbaker @thefridgeismybestie @strangersstranger @cherthegoddess @buckyluvrs-deactivated20201210 @sherlocksmanwatson @cap-n-stuff @finleyjayne @caplanreads @connie326 @daydreamerinadazedworld @bugsbucky @chrisevanscardigan @harrysthiccthighss @palaiasaurus64 @rebekahdawkins @maaaaarveeeeel @tllynn15 @learisa @jelly-fishy-babie @fistmebuckyskywalker @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @liebs82 @honestly-dontknow @a-really-bi-girl @saiyanprincessswanie @baddie-barnes @aikeia @paleo-runaway @marvelgirl7 @starlightcrystalline @xxloki81xx @kcd15 @slytherinambitious @sallycanwait68 @slytherdorxmd @fangirlforever2412 @rainbowkisses31 @whisperlullaby @thejemersoninferno @thehumanistsdiary @supraveng @dispatchvampire @juenenfeu @sxbby-barnes @allonszassbutt @y-napotat @reallymagnificentinfluencer @is-it-madness @harold231 @buckysbaby32 @purselover23 @ene-rene @chrisevansbaby @absolutemadness @rosesanchez12298806 @xxpapasfritasxx @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @softie-socks

TikTok: @juju092118 @kmuir1 @somewhatasoftbaddie @goldenfightergir @curlyred2020 @obsessedbutnotblessed @little-baby-vixen @sallycanwait68 @honeygingergemini @sheerfreesia007 @jamesbuchananbarnesslut @mollygetssherlockcoffee @thereisa8ella @kidney9-9 @msmarvelwrites @surrounded-by-superheroes @slytherinandoutasgard @mcolbz14 @kyrarose16 @sxbby-barnes @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines @theoneandonlyslytherinprincess @writerwrites @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @goldenfightergir @angrybirdcr @roserose26 @sloth-with-a-taser @thecornerlot @animegirlgeeky @sagechanoafterdark @i-alyssa @viinchester @kalesrebellion @hermione-grangers-wife @jassy2101 @demidia @2017booklover @readsreblogsfics

Strikethroughs could not be tagged.

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drarryangels · 4 years ago

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angst corner recs

Hello hello everyone. Long time no see. Here are some fics that I love under the angst tag in my bookmarks that I'd probably (totally) die for. I tried to include mostly fics that I don’t hear people talking a lot about, but there are some big titles in here as well.

I'd Catch You by Caellie_E_and_Vaye_Rue_Y, G

...Five times Harry made a promise, and one time he had to fulfill it.

R/N: Royalty au! Friends to lovers! Angsty! Perfection. I got into some heeeavy royalty au obsession for like two days, and was blessed to discover this fic. Seriously, so good. Beware MCD.

Stone, Sky, and Sea by RurouniHime, M

...(In which the Wizarding Saviour wanders about Oop North, tries to escape his partner, and fails miserably.)

R/N: Um this specific writing style is literally everything I love and also everything I aspire to be. Plus, this fic is just... hard to explain but it's so.... nice. Nice writing, nice location. Heartbreaking, but also so sweet.

The Bucket List by GallaPlacidia, NR

Draco will die in six months if he can't get Harry Potter to fall in love with him. Since that's not going to happen, he might as well spend his last days working through his Bucket List....

R/N: I think everyone has read this by now. But if you haven't... seriously do. It's one of the Drarry Classics That Everyone Must Read.

I've Built My Dreams Around You by fwooshy, T

Harry loves Draco. But starting over is hard, even when you're in love.

R/N: Rip my heart out and bury it anyways.

the last time that you touched me by silvergalaxy, M

What do you do when your boyfriend refuses to admit that his snarky comments about your hair are just a cover up so that you don't find out how much he actually loves it?

Harry Potter has a plan.

It doesn't work out quite as hoped.

R/N: I have no idea how many times I've read this fic. Like so many. Sooo many.

Espresso Patronum by tasteofshapes, T

When Draco reappears five years after the war and opens a wildly popular coffee shop, Harry’s pretty sure that Draco’s Up to Something. He just has to prove it.

R/N: Coffeeshop plus enemies to friends to lovers plus potions plus pining and lots of feelings. I can tell you: you want to read it!

Quiet World by augustskies, G

The first time the silence is broken, it’s Harry, nudging Malfoy’s shoulder, pointing out a single firefly perched on the ledge between them.

“Look,” he whispers, forgetting about one hundred and sixty-seven words.

R/N: Such a beautiful fic in a unique world where people can only say a limited amount of words per day. Really puts how inexhaustible what we say is, and what things could be like if our mouths couldn't run on forever. I like how this fic puts it all together, and how it shows that there are things that can be shown without words and those things are equally as important as the things said in words.

if stars died of old age by LiviKate, NR

His mother had had six months after his father had died. But it was expected; they had prepared and were already rather distanced. Draco hadn’t been ready, and Merlin, he had been so in love. He knew he was counting down in weeks, not months.

R/N: Gives me you are the antidote for me vibes but a little bit shorter for all the darlings out there who need shorter fics.

Small Thing by tsauergrass, G

...Or more simply: Draco falling in love with Harry.

R/N: Okay god, but I love this fic. Literally any who knows me knows that I am head over heels for tsauergrass, and none of their works have ever let me down, and I must rec them and comment on them endlessly because I just... cannot imagine a world where my life didn't cross pass with theirs. And GOD WHAT A HORRIBLE THOUGHT (i can't imagine never reading anything of tsauergrass') JUST READ THIS PLS

Ship of Theseus by GallaPlacidia, T

When Harry gets amnesia and forgets he and Draco were ever married, he refuses treatment to remember.

R/N: One of my favorite fics ever, no exaggeration. Beautifully written, incredibly heartbreaking, and so tragically GOOD.

The Green Vial by eidheann, E

After months of seeing Harry Potter walk into his Apothecary disappointed and hopeless, Draco offers to carry the baby that Harry can't. Now he's just got to hide the fact that he's been half in love with Harry for years.

R/N: I know most people don’t really like mpreg, but I do so there. This is so sweet and precious with all the heartbreak and pining and trying for a baby and and and. 10/10 would read.

Silverpoint by tackytiger, E

...Or: How Harry Potter Fell In Love (and Realised that Draco Malfoy Loved Him Back).

R/N: Tacky is a beautiful writer, and this fic is perfectly heartbreaking so. Yeah.

Stop All the Clocks (This Is the Last Time I’m Leaving Without You) by firethesound, E

Living with Draco was difficult; living without him is unbearable. But if there’s one thing Harry learned from the war, it’s that even when one life ends, the rest of the world goes right on living.

R/N: There were tears rolling down my neck pretty much the whole time I was reading this. It’s another one of the Drarry Classics I think, but please do proceed with caution because it is quite a bit heavier than the other fics on this rec list. The portrayal of grief is incredibly vivid, and while that is a beautiful and special thing about this fic, it’s also very hard to read about. Really wonderful, but take water breaks in between and breathe a little.

Blackberry Jam by JulietsEmoPhase, E

10-year-old Harry and Draco are evacuated from London during the Blitz, and through a logistical error, end up sharing not only a home but a bed. Follow them as they grow up against the backdrop of the war, discovering who they really are and slowly falling in love.

WWII Muggle AU. Mild smut, warnings for some thoughts of self harm/suicide.

R/N: This was the first Drarry fic I read over like 7k and I remember thinking how freaking long it was when I read it for the first time (it’s about 36k). My oh my how the times have changed. And yet, this fic is still just as good as ever.

Aaaand that’s the end of the list for now. I hope someone finds something on this list that they enjoy, and please feel welcome to leave additional recs in the comments/reblogs.

#drarry #fic #recs #angst #angst tag #rec list #short summaries #happy endings #but also #tragic endings #some mcd #angst fics

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k-sci-janitor · 4 years ago

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So I finished DCWT last night and while I know this fic is quote unquote famous and also rightly contentious, I still had some thoughts on it that I wanted to spew out long form style on here, SO-

To be clear, this was a fic I avoided for a LONG TIME

You know when people hype up a thing as like, the pinnacle of whatever? And if you haven’t read it, you’re not a real fan? Yeah well, that was the vibe I got with this dumb fic for a long time while absolutely no one told me that, it was just my dumb brain being judgmental to myself really, lol. Anyway why would I wanna read a fic that famously doesn’t have any tags? I mean, who does that?? Anyway-

So what changed your mind?

Well I watched this wonderful video (everyone, GO WATCH THIS VIDEO) and even tho the creator simultaneously hyped and un-hyped DCWT, it got me intrigued and a little cautious about finally just giving it go. It had literally been sitting on my kindle for months and I just finally decided to see what it was I was missing.

So you got past that opening, huh?

MY GOD. My biggest initial hurtle getting thru this damn thing was just the opening. It was verbose. It didn’t make much sense. It didn’t even seem like this author and I had watched the same movie. Everything about it was off putting and strange and I must’ve picked it up and put it down like 10 times. Don’t do this. I’ve only written a little bit personally but the fastest way I chuck a book/fic/whatever away from me is a terrible opening or like, an opening so fucking confusing that it’s unclear that it’ll get better from here.

So it got better from there?

Okay yes, it did, thank goodness. At a certain point it became more clear and I realized the fic had started with a wildly confusing intro to show, you know, how m e s s e d up they were post-drift, cognitively, emotionally, etc. The story eventually started to speed up and I got engaged with the action and finally I couldn’t put it down. It took a while tho!! But I also HAD to put it down at some points.

Oh, why?

So, remember when I said there was no tags and everything I had gathered about this fic was secondhand knowledge? I didn’t really know how in depth the fic was going to describe disassociation and panic attacks. I don’t mind mentions of these things in other fics I've read but DCWT really delves into them in a way that made me, someone prone to panic attacks, really uncomfortable. It basically just hit a little too close to home for me and I occasionally had to put it down so I could breathe or find myself in a different headspace to be able to read these descriptions. This could easily affect someone else pretty harshly.

And like, I know these descriptions are fictional, they're not going to hurt me but they read real enough to me and they’re happening to a character I care a lot about and it was genuinely distressing to read. I also generally don’t read angsty fics because like I said, I don’t really like thinking deeply about Newt or Hermann having something overtly terrible to their bodies (sorry Kaiju!Newt fans, I get eeked out!!). Sometimes I can handle it if it’s abstract enough but sometimes I can’t. I especially find it hard if it's crouched in something I have personal experience with (the panic attacks, sigh). Tags, people, YOU USE THEM.

So did you even like this fic??? SPOILERS BELOW 👇👇👇

Omg so I actually did. Newt and Hermann’s characterizations were really good. Newt was quite possibly the world’s biggest asshole while I wanted nothing more than to give this Hermann a really big hug. Since this fic is so long, it gets a chance to really hone in on their dynamic and how they care for each other. They literally call each other their "life partners" before they examine if they're actually dating or not. I really enjoyed that a reader could interpret their relationship as ace, it totally works. And I still got my big damn kiss! Jokes that have been building up for like 100k words have an amazing pay off and was super funny to read. Also somehow NO ONE told me about the AI self-driving cars and were my surprise favorite characters. Mako's characterization was also some of the best things I've read about her and I loved her and Newt's relationship a lot.

So it was fine in the end?? MORE SPOILERS 👇👇👇

Well, no, I think I'm just sensitive to the idea that Newt's mind is tearing itself apart due to the kaiju, due to Hermann occasionally taking over, due to his own dumb hang-ups. It's a melancholy read is where I would place it. Their dynamic is difficult and real in it's terror of what's happened to them. A BIG SURPRISE for me was Newt's third drift and the fact the PPDC may or may not have coerced him to do it while he was on anti-seizure drugs?? IT'S REALLY UPSETTING. I don’t like the immediate alienation from the PPDC, I mean, I also don’t like the military but the idea that they would whisk Newt away like that is weird and I dunno. It’s fucked, whatever.

It was just a weird, hard read for me emotionally and I don’t blame anyone who decides to just put it down. And it has SUCH good stuff hidden in there (the AI cars, Hermann buying a Porsche on a whim and being a scary driver, that fucking hair stroking thing) but it’s a roller coaster and I honestly don’t know what to make of a fic that has it’s own PR person to hype it up, lmao.

So what do you recommend?

Approach cautiously! I’ll even make a short list of tags here: Descriptions of epilepsy, seizures, nosebleeds, disassociation, panic attacks, eye damage, hand surgery, Drinking and depictions of drunkenness, underage drinking mentions, implied drugging, descriptions of imagined head surgery, suicidal thoughts.

And hey, you might be a tough guy who reads fucked up fics all the time and I just sound like a wimp here, that’s fine!! I just felt complicated about this fic (liking and hating it, ugh) and wanted to get down what I thought about it while it was fresh. And like, y’all know me, I like cute, fluffy shit where they kiss for the first time or whatever. But I occasionally will dip into scarier stuff. I just don’t know if this is everyone’s cup of tea and wanted to elaborate. 😮‍💨

#pacific rim #DCWT #newmann #fic review #I’m just spewing here I’m not starting discourse as much as I’m just dropping an opinion #maybe I’ll do more fic reviews?? this was actually pretty interesting to write

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smallerinfinities · 4 years ago

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mad woman: iii (nessian)

a/n: *taps mic* does this thing still work? OH hey! hello! yes, this fic is properly old now and probably everyone thought I abandoned it but joke is on everyone including myself lmao...turns out I love these two..and after acosf well I would 10/10 die for them. so here we go! a ride to be sure! people do be getting naked!

warnings: 4.8k of smut (like woah). language. guilt.

Nesta wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing.

It had seemed like a good idea. Everyone in certain social circles knew the truth about Hewn City. Knew the dance club for the front it was for the shadowy bowels beneath. Here, she had thought yesterday morning, here she could be on even ground with him.

Him.

Cassian's hand was still in hers as she led them both down the long hallway toward room 3B. His words before hadn’t completely hidden his reactions to her clothes, her face, her body. She smiled to herself remembering the slight widening of his eyes. He probably thought he hadn’t reacted, but she knew. All men are weak. Just put on a dress and show some thigh and she knew she’d get his attention. Even if it was probably all for show. Cassian was a fine actor.

She thought back to four days ago. Or was it five, she thought. They had started to bleed together after the bender she’d gone on after wishing Cassian death on the phone with Amren.

Feyre was in her apartment for the second time in a week. An unprecedented occurrence. If the judgment in her eyes was any indication, she had come to check on things. Baby sister coming to her rescue. How rich. She stood on the carpet again, with her perfect heeled sandals and her tidy camel trench coat. Thankfully, she’d left the hat at home this time. Her arms were crossed tight against her chest as she surveyed the room.

“I see you’ve already made yourself at home again,” she observed, picking up a half-empty bottle of gin, “I’ll send Alis this afternoon.”

“I don’t want anyone else in my fucking apartment, Feyre,” Nesta cringed at the lingering slur in her voice.

“So you can drown yourself in this shit alone?” She held up an empty bottle of vodka in her other hand. “Nesta, it’s only been a few days since I was here the last time. Can you even stand right now?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Nesta sneered, settling back into the couch cushions. She couldn’t, but Feyre was a bitch for even asking, so she spat back, “At least I cope with my problems legally, High Lady.” In a fantasy world, smoke would have curled from her lips when she exhaled those last words.

Feyre stilled, breathing evenly. Nesta wasn’t sure if she was containing her rage or accepting the shame she had to be feeling.

“I see you gave Amren a call.”

“She didn’t tell you?” Nesta was surprised. Amren had seemed like one of Feyre’s inner circle, no matter how much money the High Lord and Lady may have given her.

“No, I told Amren that what you did with her number was your business,” she wrung her hands. She was….nervous. How odd. Feyre Archeron was a lot of things, but nervous was rarely one of them.

“Well,” Nesta exhaled, the anger fleeting like wind taken out of her sails, “yes, I called. Everything was very cryptic until someone showed up here who was not a therapist and started taking his clothes off. Honestly, what were you thinking, Feyre?!”

“I…” she hesitated, sinking down on the other end of the couch with Nesta, bracing her elbows on her knees, “I don’t know. I was desperate. I just want you to feel something again, Nes.” She hadn’t called her that since they were children. Nesta felt a little pang in her chest. I need another drink. “I know it’s...unconventional, but it really does help. Rhys and I...well, you know there’s a lot of stress involved in our lives.”

“So you fuck it out with strangers that you pay to keep silent??” Nesta asked incredulously.

“When you put it like that it sounds a lot seedier than it actually is, but,” she huffed, swallowing back some kind of emotion, “yes. There’s a lot of….relief, if you just give into it. Amren knows what she’s doing.”

“Are you and Rhys having problems?” It was the only explanation Nesta could understand for this. I mean it was one thing to hire a hooker if you weren’t getting any, but from the forced lunches and “sister dates” that Elain made the three of them go on, Feyre had always seemed to have a very active sex life.

“Oh, God, no,” Feyre visibly relaxed, caught off guard by even the implication. That made Nesta’s stomach relax. She hadn’t even realized she cared. “Rhys and I are fine, stronger even. There is power in giving up power, especially when you grapple with it on a daily basis. But this isn’t about me or Rhys.” Feyre leaned over and reached out to take Nesta’s hands, but stopped when Nesta visibly tensed at the mere idea of contact. “I’m really not lying when I say I think a little relief would help you.”

“Why do you insist I need help?” Nesta ground out through her teeth.

Feyre sighed and stood. There was something settling over her face, deep in her eyes. Sadness. “Suit yourself, sister.” She stood and, to Nesta’s surprise, took a swig from the half-empty gin bottle she’d pushed in Nesta’s face earlier. Her face screwed up in a grimace, “Jesus, how do you drink that shit?”

“I don’t even taste it anymore.” Nesta looked off, toward the window. Toward the empty corner where the wedding dress had hung for months. She’d taken it down that night after he had left.

That bone-deep sadness returned to Feyre’s eyes, “Alis will be here this afternoon.”

She left without another word.

Nesta sighed, catching Cassian’s attention, but she said nothing. She kept a steady flow of booze in her veins after Feyre left for three more days, sometimes just laying in bed for hours while the world spun. She saw Tomas, saw Elain, but most often she saw hazel eyes and bold, dark lines inked across a broad, tanned chest. Those were the torturous hours, when the desire would rise in her, when she would feel something just like Feyre said. Even if it made her soul burn. He was haunting her. He’d left her alone, angry and wet, for what? Because she refused to accept his “help”? Wasn’t this all just fucking anyway? What difference did it make how she responded?

The frustration had overwhelmed her until she finally realized that it didn’t matter how much she drank, he wouldn’t go away. She couldn’t chase him into a whiskey-soaked oblivion like she could the memories of her fiancé and her sister. He was real. He was still breathing. He was making her life a living hell.

He was going to pay for it.

So, she’d called Amren back. Had made him meet her here of all places. Had put on a dress and a pair of heels and more makeup than she’d been planning to wear at her own wedding. A costume. A mask. If he was going to “help” her, at least it wouldn’t seem like her that he was helping. She’d fuck him out of her life on her terms. Just once wouldn’t damn her to hell, right?

Nesta had never been to Hewn City before. Clubbing had never been her style. She was more of a library, bookworm kind of girl. But now that she was here, she kind of liked the secrecy of it all, the discretion everyone had whispered about. It made her feel like a character in one of her books, a different kind of escape than booze offered, with the rouge-tinted lights and shadowy, padded hallways. She could be anyone here. She would be anyone here. Anyone but herself.

“I think this is it,” Cassian’s deep rumble sounded behind her. They stopped in front of a painted black door, the marker flickering “3B” in the light of the candle sconce behind them. Nesta fit the key into the lock and turned it.

The room was cooler than the hall, but she wasn’t sure the temperature was what made her break out in gooseflesh. There was a massive four-poster bed in the center of the room covered in black satin sheets drawn back against a deep crimson comforter. Only a handful of hanging exposed bulbs lit the space, giving the boudoir decoration some industrial finishes. It was like a scene out of some vampire film noir. The light reflecting off heavy restraint cuffs at each corner of the bed only heightened the effect. A dark armoire loomed in the corner. Nesta was sure that if she opened it, she would find any number of instruments with which to tease and taunt Cassian with. This place was a sex dungeon and she had paid to be a mistress tonight.

Cassian’s mistress.

Nesta took a deep breath and settled into this new character, some confident woman who knew exactly what she wanted and knew exactly how to take it from a willing participant. She sauntered over to the foot of the bed and leaned back against it to look at him. He was so quiet tonight, looking around the room like she had, taking it all in.

“Cat got your tongue?” Nesta proded.

“No,” he hesitated, stuffing his hands into his front pockets like an embarrassed school boy rocking forward on his toes. It only lasted for a second before he hid it behind a smirk, “no, just a little….confused?”

“About what?” She crossed her feet at the ankle and let the deep slit on her dress fall open, revealing almost every inch of her long legs. His eyes widened momentarily before he cleared his throat. Was he….nervous?

“Well, uhh,” he was stammering now, the false bravado unable to keep up with the situation unfolding in front of him, “if I’m being honest, I’m not sure what to do.”

“You mean, Cassian, self-proclaimed sex therapist, doesn’t know what to do?” The teasing in her voice blushed his cheeks pink, “well, color me surprised. I thought it would have been clear by now.”

“It’s not that it’s...you’re…” he cocked his head, “different.” His eyes followed every inch of bare skin from her painted toe to the top of the slit an inch below her hip. “Something changed.”

Why does he make this so damn difficult?

“Yes, well,” she replied, biting her bottom lip for effect, “I decided that I want you to help me.” His head straightened.

“Do you?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, emphasizing the size of his biceps. His nervous energy cooled in seconds, giving way to something else, something that had been simmering beneath the ice.

“I do,” she slipped back a little farther onto her palms, tilting her head back. She was a predator, setting a pretty, needy trap for him. If he got off on a savior complex, she’d play the part until she got what she wanted. “I just want to feel normal again.” She smiled internally as she watched her words wash over him. Watched him take a few deep breaths, watched him move for the first time since they walked in the room.

He kept his body closed, his arms a barrier between the two of them, as he stalked forward. Nesta stopped breathing, feeling his gaze shift from confusion and questions to calculated assessment. He paused in front of her and bent down, his hands sinking into the mattress on either side of her slim waist. The space between them was thinner than the air atop the mountains in Illyria.

“I think…” he looked her in the eye, no blinking, no touching, just a wisp of mint from his mouth, “that’s a load of bullshit.”

A rush of fury, so white hot it blinded her, licked down her arm. She raised her open hand and ripped it through the air.

Only to be caught in an iron grip.

“Ah, ah, dear Nesta,” his lips curled up on one side, “I like a little pain with my pleasure, but not without my consent.”

All she could do was stare him down as she huffed, imagining the breath leaving her nostrils in puffs of hot smoke. A caged dragon in pretty clothes begging to get out. But hell would freeze over before she moved first. She could feel the tension between them, feel the electricity pulsing through him where his fist gripped her wrist. Maybe it was her pheromone-laced delusion but she thought he might want this as much as she did. He wanted her challenge, her adamant wall. He wanted to break her, remake her. Little did he know that you can’t break what’s already broken.

Just a character, just a role to play...

“Oh, come on, Cassian,” she tried to free her hand but he remained hard as stone around her wrist. He hadn’t pinned her legs though. She slid one bare leg up the inside seam of his jeans. The muscles flexed and contracted underneath the well-fit fabric, higher and higher, until she reached the apex. He hissed. A feline smile spread across her face when she felt it, felt him, hard and begging for her. “I think you want this a little more than you’re willing to admit, more than you’re allowed to admit.”

His nostrils flared, barely imperceptible, but even the smallest changes in him drew her notice. Why? It was a question she didn’t want to even ask herself, but it kept coming, night and day. Why did this night feel like the edge of a dangerous cliff? Why did his agreement to come tonight feel like more than just a business arrangement? Why did the tension between them feel like her only anchor to this life? She pressed harder into him, needing to move, to get this over with, to fuck him right out of her head.

“Nesta.” His voice brought her back from those questions that haunted her like the inked lines hidden underneath his t-shirt. So close now, so close to her fingers, her mouth. She looked up at him, aware of her knee still cradled between his legs.

“Cassian.” Her voice practically sang. The song of his own personal siren.

He was so still. If he hadn’t said her name she wouldn’t have been sure he was even breathing. He placed his hand between his groin and her knee and stepped backward. His pupils were wide, endless pools, black as tar and eating at the hazel surrounding them. He was drunk on the lust, drowning in it just like she was.

“Take off that dress before I rip it off.”

A bone-deep shiver ran from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes at the command, reaching back up to settle between her thighs. She flushed from the heat of his gaze on her skin as she stood, reaching behind her neck to loose the three pearl buttons between her pride and her desire. Fuck it. The dress pooled at her feet.

The corner of her lip tugged upward when she heard his breath catch. She wasn’t wearing anything under the dress. Lingerie had felt like too much and her regular cotton cheekies would have been too conspicuous beneath her close-fitting dress, so nothing had been the only choice. The right choice if Cassian’s jeans had anything to say about it, clearly growing tighter by the second.

Nesta backed herself onto the bed again, digging in with her heels to push herself toward the headboard as gracefully as she could while burning alive. And she was burning under his gaze. Every flick of his dilated pupils, from her bare legs, to her full breasts, to her smooth stomach, to her glistening cunt, she burned. When her head thudded against the carved cherry wood headboard, his eyes finally met hers. A low growl sounded in the back of his throat.

“See something you want, Cassian?” she asked, struggling to keep her tone innocent, indifferent.

“Depends, Nes.” She ignored the heat that pooled at the nickname, especially when he said, “what are you offering?”

She bit her lip at his words. And spread her knees open for him. Now, come and take it.

He went wholly still as pink creeped into his tan cheeks. He was fucking blushing at her cunt on display for him. A filthy thought entered her head and before she could shut it down, she reached between her legs and traced a finger over her slit. The low lights flickered in the reflection off the wetness laced there before her finger disappeared….

Right between Nesta’s wine-colored lips.

His eyes tracked that finger in and out of her mouth as she sucked and swirled her tongue around it, moaning at the taste of her arousal, the eroticism of the gesture. She released her finger with a pop and smiled wickedly at him.

“Want to taste?”

Cassian moved swift as a thunderclap, as if her words were paddles jumpstarting his heart into quick, heavy beats. He pulled off his shirt. Those thick, black lines of ink that haunted her dreams were on full display, curling around his biceps and across his broad shoulders. She wanted to trace them with her tongue, taste the salt on his skin. He didn’t bother with some cliché striptease. His fingers fumbled with his belt, fumbled with the top button and zipper of those tight jeans. He tripped out of them, splaying his hands across the rumpled comforter as he kicked his pants somewhere across the room, losing his shoes and socks at some point between.

She would have smirked at the clumsiness, questioned his self-proclaimed prowess as a sex therapist, if her throat hadn’t gone completely dry at the size of him. Even through his underwear there was no mistaking it—massive, just like every inch of the rest of his body. Of course, he had a cock to match.

He grinned, following her eyes, guessing her train of thought. The bed dipped as he crawled toward her, full prince of cats on display again. A man who knew what people saw when they looked at him and enjoyed that power, that raw sexual energy dripping from his every pore. With that glint in his eye, she was happy to play along—for now.

Every thread in the expensive duvet cover beneath her set a thousand sparks rocketing across her skin. His movements were measured, purposefully kept from touching her skin. He was so close she could feel the warmth radiating off of him with every inch forward, every inch toward where she wanted him. All of him. His fingers, his mouth, his cock. Nesta started to fidget with anticipation, ready for him to spread her open and take, take, take, but she wouldn’t beg. Wouldn’t reach or claw or whimper, no matter how much she wanted to.

Feyre might be paying, but she would own him before the end. Even if she had to sacrifice her soul to do it.

When his mouth finally made contact with her skin, a whisper of a kiss along the inside of her thigh, it was a struggle not to moan. Loud. She was strung tighter than a bowstring and he knew. Her traitor body was going to beg for him with or without words, so she opened her mouth instead.

“Gonna fuck me senseless, Cassian?”

His head jerked up from between her thighs, that feline smile turning her molten. “You know, Nesta. I think I’ll shut you up instead.”

Someone as big as he was shouldn’t have been able to move that fast. Shouldn’t have been able to cover her entire body with his and claim her mouth between one second and the next. His hands curled behind her neck to pull her firmly to him and devoured her. Their tongues clashed, dancing together, as she moaned into his mouth. Whether it was surprise or pleasure or both that pulled it from her, she wasn’t sure. The mint and adrenaline still laced his tongue, this time with a natural smokiness that she hadn’t noticed before. He licked at her, sucked at her lower lip. She nipped at him, teeth as much a weapon as her words, her hands. She dragged her nails down his naked back and drew a hiss from him, maybe some blood too if the tang of iron was any indication.

It only spurred him.

“You know these lips taste better when they’re not liquor-stained,” he panted. He studied her face, she knew it must be flushed from his kiss, and slowly ground his hips into hers, with the same bruising intensity he claimed her mouth, drenching himself in her through the thin fabric of his underwear. Those really need to disappear. Her fingers continued their violent path down his back to the waistband of his boxer briefs, the only barrier left between everything she wanted. Wanted, never needed. They danced around to the front of him and sought purchase.

Another moan, loud and throaty filled the space between them.

My God.

“Off, off, off, off,” she was chanting when he finally released her mouth to move down to her neck, surely to mark her like she’d marked his back. It was going to be tit for tat with him. “OFF,” she clawed at his hips. He raised up and smirked at her.

“You just have to ask, Nes.” His lips curled to the side, “maybe say please.”

She held his gaze. Please. It was a chant in her head but she couldn’t say it. He saw it there, the challenge, the struggle, but this was a battle of wills. And Cassian was a seasoned general.

He ducked his head and nosed at her jaw, along her throat, peppering her skin with close-mouthed kisses. “Just say the word,” he ground into her again, not nearly the friction she wanted. His hands found her peaked breasts and traced her nipples, slow circles at first, then quick pinches accented by his teeth at her throat. There was no pattern, no guessing, no preparation. Every nerve ending was a live wire, screaming for his touch.

Nesta Archeron was going to die here. The flames in her belly were going to consume her and she was going to die at a high-priced sex club. And maybe she should. It might be worth it. Rhysand would never live it down. She wouldn’t sacrifice her pride for an orgasm. But, as his hips did another slow roll against hers and he scraped at her neck with his teeth, her resolve imploded.

“Please,” she croaked. She felt his smile against her skin.

“What was that?”

“Please,” she said a little louder, still barely a whisper.

“That’s awfully quiet, Nesta,” he licked at her collarbone and made her eyes roll back into her head. “Makes me think you don’t really want it.”

“Please,” she repeated, her head thrashing, “please, PLEASE.”

“Okay, okay,” he pushed up to lean back on his heels above her. “No need to shout.” The tease in his voice forced an impatient growl from her. He cocked an eyebrow as he toyed with the elastic waistband on his underwear, slowly pulling it down below the defined V set low on his abdomen, revealing inch after inch of smooth, tanned skin, until finally they were gone and there was nothing left between them but sexual tension and a promise of release.

Her eyes raked down his muscled body, unable to keep her hand from reaching to touch the hard planes of his chest and abdomen, reaching lower. His fingers wrapped around her wrist.

“Uh, uh, princess,” her cheeks flamed as he lifted her hand to his lips and left a tender kiss on her palm, “it’s my turn.”

She blinked and his mouth was on her. His hair, tufted at the back of his head, bobbed between her legs as he lapped up the wetness that had been pooling since they started their games tonight. Since he first leaned against her door frame, if she was being honest with herself. His lips wrapped around her clit and when he moaned around her, she saw stars. Her toes curled. Her fingers buried themselves in his hair. Her knees bent to capture his head forever between her thighs but he caught them before she could crush him with the force of her pleasure.

It might have been hours, days. He held her spread open and licked and suckled and fucked her entrance with his tongue. Careful, slow strokes to stoke the fire ripping through her veins but not enough to send her to her peak. Her thighs began shaking; her fingers knotted into his hair and held his mouth against her. His name was a holy chant in this unholy place.

“Cassian,” she sobbed as a tear rolled down her temple and into her sweat-soaked hair.

He groaned and release ripped through her. Waves of pleasure locked her body in a silent scream, her head tilted back and her mouth wide open. He kept stroking her through it, his tongue undulating against her clit over and over as her body jerked involuntarily once, twice before relaxing completely, melting into a warm, soft puddle of flesh.

There were no words. No thoughts. Nothing inside her head except for the truth of it. No one has ever made her feel like that, forced that kind of pleasure from her. Her harsh breaths were the only sound in the room as Cassian traced patterns on her inner thigh. She blinked furiously, clearing her eyes of any emotions that might betray her. Looking down, she caught his eye and his answering smile made her forget her own name.

He was looking up at her, his cheeks pink from the heat and pressure between her thighs. His hair was a fucked out mess. He looked...content. As if her orgasm was all he wanted, like he could do it again and again and not care if she ever touched his cock even though she’d never wanted anything more in her life.

But...what if he doesn't want that?

She tensed suddenly. He was an escort after all. This wasn’t his choice. What if all of this is just an act? She knew she shouldn’t care. She was a paying customer and shouldn’t care what he wanted. What his desires were. She should just take her pleasure, satiate her own desire, and leave. That had been the plan when she came here. Hell, she had just been acting when this all started.

Until he gave her the best orgasm of her entire fucking life. Until he called her on her bullshit, got naked, and got on his knees for her. Until he made her gasp his name and fucking cry for the privilege.

This was wrong. She shouldn’t—couldn’t—

I don’t deserve this.

Her breath caught in her throat. I need to get out of here.

She sat up so quickly her head spun. Her fingers caught on the restraints attached to the headboard and she recoiled. What am I doing? Why did I think this was a good idea? Cassian jerked up from between her legs at the motion, the perfect window for her to rip her legs from his vicinity and swing them to the floor.

“Nesta, what’s wrong?”

She heard him, confused, still panting, but she couldn’t find the words to answer him. The panic was bitter, the taste in stark relief to Cassian’s tongue. Stop! Where is my fucking dress? Her head swiveled frantically. A slip of navy stuck out from under the armoire in the corner. She lurched forward, grabbing and pulling on the dress that barely covered her ass, left nothing to the imagination. What have I done?

“Nesta, what is happening?” Cassian was louder this time. Loud enough to draw her eyes. He was leaning on one elbow, wide-eyed and still painfully hard. At this angle, she could see the angry red marks across his shoulder, darkening with dried blood in some places. A damning souvenir for what she had done. A claiming.

She couldn’t ignore the voice in her head. A betrayal.

“Was—” he sat up and leaned on his knees, “was it not good?” Some unfamiliar emotion danced across his eyes as he waited. She stared and stared and stared. “Did I—“ he kept hesitating, “did I not make you feel good?”

It was the doubt, thick and traitorous, in his voice that made her silently turn around and walk out the door.

------ *runs away*

tags: @sleeping-and-books @greerlunna @sjmships @cupcakey00 @queenestarcheron @awesomelena555 @mysticalunicole @lordof-bloodshed @courtofjurdan

#acotar #acosf #acotar fic #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #sjm #sarah j maas #nessian #nessian fic #nessian au #acotar au #acotar smut #my writing

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midearthwritings · 4 years ago

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Oh Gods I'm so excited for this!

Hello my dear friends! It is me, Max, your host and devoted writer. And today I am here to challenge you, my dear followers and friends who support and motivate me!

On January 8th 2021, I have decided to open this blog to share my fics with the world. At first I thought that it would last for a few weeks, and that I would have maybe 50 followers, not more. But here I am today, 5 months later, with 650 followers, and I'm so happy about it.

So I have decided that to celebrate my blog's anniversary and my 650 followers, I would create a writing challenge. Yup, that's it. A challenge.

The deadline is July 8th, my blog's 7 months anniversary (because 7 is my lucky number). On this day, everybody will have to post their works. After that, I will link all of your works in a post (the link to this post will be available in my Masterlist).

When you upload your work, you can tag me in it, of course. But I will also ask you to use the tag Midearthwritings Rewriting Challenge . That way I will be able to easily find them and won't miss anything.

What is the challenge about and how to participate?

It is...About me. Because I am a very egocentric person. No, just kidding.

But it really is about my works. See, I used to be a literature student. And for years I have been asked to re-write pieces that already existed. It is a very common exercise, and it is always extremely fun to do. So I thought...Why not give my followers this exercise?

Below the cut will be listed thirty-five quotes and ten plots. All of them are from my works. Your task will be to write a piece based either on a simple quote, or an entire plot.

There is no limit. You can select as many quotes or plots as you want! To participate just send me a DM or and Ask telling me which one you want to write about.

Up to three people can use one quote and up to five people can use one plot :) So make sure to claim the one(s) you want before it's taken!

How long does it have to be?

As long as you want! It can be a 200 words fic or a 10k one shot. Or even a multi-chapter fic! It really is up to you!

Does it have to be a reader insert? What can I write about?

Absolutely not! It can be a reader insert, a character x character or even a story about your OC if you have one! I love to read about OCs.

You can change the pronouns in the quote you choose to fit your story.

And you can write about everything. You can write Angst, Fluff, Unhappy Ending, Triggering Topics, NSFW, Modern AU. Whatever you want! Just make sure to tag your story properly so no one will be surprised.

Can I upload my work on another platform?

Of course. Just make sure to send me the link so I can read it and add it to the final post!

Participants : @shethereadinghobbit @riderofrohirrim @guardianofrivendell @grunid @imnotevenhere9 @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @hobbitkin-journey @hey-its-nonny @dark-angel-is-back @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @sassyscribbler @laurfilijames @learntosharefeanor-blog @classyhorseeclipseduck @cassiabaggins

Here are all the Quotes and Plots you can choose from! Don't forget to tell me which one you picked so I can write your username next to it!

QUOTES : If you pick one (or several) of those, you will have to include the quote into your piece. Reminder that you can change the pronouns to fit your story of course.

1-One last time, you look back. (Claims : @dark-angel-is-back )

2-The words were like a punch right in the stomach. (Claims : @grunid )

3-“No. This is not good.” (Claims : @learntosharefeanor-blog )

3-Because after all, happiness takes its sweet time, doesn’t it? (Claims : @cassiabaggins )

4-”You belong to me!” (Claims : @dat-pan-dwarf )

5-”I can sense that something is troubling you…” (Claims : @imnotevenhere9 )

6-He keeps you close to him, his arms circling your body like a shield. (Claims : @hobbitkin-journey )

7-”May I join you?” (Claims : @imnotevenhere9 )

8-“I know.” You said, smiling. “I trust you.” (Claims : @dark-angel-is-back )

9-“This is a misunderstanding!”

10-“I could help, you know.” (Claims : @shethereadinghobbit )

11-“You better apologize, or I will make you regret your actions.”

12-But you cannot bring yourself to care. (Claims : @riderofrohirrim )

13-After all, you hadn’t done anything to deserve his anger. (Claims : @shethereadinghobbit )

14-“Excuse me?”

15-Or maybe were you simply imagining it. (Claims : @dark-angel-is-back )

16-You were his greatest, most precious treasure. (Claims : @bitter-sweet-farmgirl )

17-You had almost died.

18-“I see you find this rather amusing.” (Claims : @shethereadinghobbit )

19-Never before had you seen those people.

20-”They need you, all of them.”

21-”I must go now.”

22-”Yet, my love, I cannot bring myself to be angry at you.”

23-”Please, do not forget me.” (Claims : @hey-its-nonny )

24-“I will get rid of them.”

25-Why? You do not know. (Claims : @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse )

26-“If anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself.” (Claims : @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse )

27-“As you wish.” (Claims : @sassyscribbler )

28-“Are you feeling alright?” (Claims : @sassyscribbler )

29-“Why is it that you are crying?” (Claims : @classyhorseeclipseduck )

30-“Careful, we do not want you getting hurt.”

31-“Is this treason I hear?”

32-“Will you please get off me?” (Claims : @laurfilijames )

33-“I am sorry. I should have said something. I should have protected you!”

34-“Finally.”

35-For a moment, everything is quiet. (Claims : @hobbitkin-journey )

PLOTS : If you choose to rewrite an entire plot, you don't have to include any quote from my work. You can also change the character the story was about (ex : If you pick Be Mine, you don't have to write it about Dwalin) .

1- Angels Standing Guard : Going through a difficult time together.

2- Time Won't Heal, Only Your Love Will : Taking care of each other.

3- Let Your Love Wash Over Me : Sharing an intimate moment. (Claims : @guardianofrivendell )

4- Bye, Baby Bye : Saying goodbye. (Claims : @dark-angel-is-back )

5- Farewell : Writing each other a letter.

6- Tongues Rip Like Razors : Having a disagreement. (Claims : @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse )

7- Pour a Little Sugar on my Wounds : Giving love to each others and showing affection. (Claims : @learntosharefeanor-blog )

8- Love Stumbled into my Heart : Realizing how much they love each other.

9- Be Mine : Confessing their love.

10- I'll Show you my Shadows : Comforting the other.

Thank you so much for reading all of this, and a big big thank you if you decide to participate! It means the world to me! ❤️

*big forehead kiss for you all*

#max talks #the hobbit #the hobbit writing challenge #lotr #lord of the rings #lotr writing challenge #Midearthwritings Rewriting Challenge

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hp-fanfic-archive · 4 years ago

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an introductory rec list (that no one asked for) to some of my favorite ships: drarry [4/10]

First fic I read for the pairing: Obsession by yesbocchan [2k,T] Harry thinks Malfoy is up to something evil. Until he finds out maybe he's not the only one with an obsession. [just a cute little eighth year fic i saw on tumblr back when i was first getting into fandom stuff (and back into harry potter in general) when i was near the end of high school. it’s cute, it’s sweet, and i was curious about drarry as a concept so]

Fic that really sold me on the pairing: Stealing Sweaters by DorthyAnn [12k,T] It's their eighth and final year and over the course of several months, Harry and Draco have managed to become close friends. Their friends are entirely certain that they ought to be much, much more. So they just decide to... help things along. [listen, everything that DorthyAnn writes is phenomenal, so how could i not fall in love with this ship after this?]

Absolute favorite fic(s) for the pairing: Animus Nexus by MystyVander [96k,T] It's Eighth Year at Hogwarts and it seems Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy hate each other more than ever before. Everybody is sick of it. Somebody was tired of the two enough to curse them, binding them together. What at first appears to be a death sentence to both Harry and Draco turns out to be the thing the both of them needed the most. [it’s enemies to friends to lovers coupled with accidental bonding coupled with discussions of magical theory coupled with wizarding traditions with a few misunderstandings and some angst all set in eighth year and that’s basically the perfect combination for me.] Twist of Fate by Oakstone730 [302k,T] Draco asks Harry to help him beat the Imperius curse during 4th year. The lessons turn into more than either expected. A story of redemption and forgiveness. Pairings: HP/DM (Slash) Timeframe: 1994-2002 Goblet to 4 yrs post-DH EWE Rating T for language, high angst, content. [this fic has lived rent-free in my head for three years and it fucking slaps. there’s angst and fluff and so many bittersweet moments and it’s both canon compliant and completely canon divergent and i am obsessed with it. 40000/10]

Most recent fic I’ve read for the pairing: love me now (touch me now) by swisstae [3k,G] Harry's never had a bath. Draco plans on changing that. OR in which Harry gets his hair washed and Loves It (and Draco. He loves Draco too.) [this fic is adorable and sweet and i enjoyed it immensely.]

Favorite AU(s) I’ve read for the pairing: Alternate Sorting AU (Slytherin!Harry): Malfoy Flavor by Vorabiza [199k,E] Harry’s ready to banish the Golden Boy image and take charge of his life. Unfortunately for him, or fortunately, there are surprises in store for him. [Slytherin!Harry but it’s not an entire canon rewrite like most of the alternate sorting fics i love so much, so that’s fun. also severitus and just the right amount of soul crushingly painful angst. oh and it has a delightfully fluffy little sequel. ] Alternate Sorting AU 2: Electric Boogaloo (Ravenclaw!Draco): Chaos Theory by Tessa Crowley [102k,E] Chaos: when the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future. One gene varies, one neuron fires, one butterfly flaps its wings, and Draco Malfoy's life is completely different. Draco has always found a certain comfort in chaos. Perhaps he shouldn't. (warnings for: major character death, graphic depictions of violence, psychological torture, implied/referenced non-con) [as my notes on my bookmark said: GOD DAMNNNNN. I LOVE THIS FIC. I CRIED SO MUCH AND ALSO THERE WAS LAUGHTER AND JUST GOD DAMN. ONE OF MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITES. so that about sums it up.] Time Travel AU: Annus Mirabilis by Ren [39k,E] Harry and Malfoy are trapped at Hogwarts around the time the school was founded. Stuck with a different way of doing magic, with no chocolate, and with each other, they have to find a way to work together if they want a chance to go home. [i almost never fuck with time travel aus but… this one slaps. also? hogwarts founders era?? hell yeah. also also? their relationship progresses in a way that feels so natural and the tension is so palpable and the writing is excellent.]

Favorite Series for the pairing: Leo Inter Serpentes by Aeternum [746k,E,6 Works] Just one conversation between two eleven year old boys goes slightly differently, and the world changes. Just how much will be different with Harry being sorted into Slytherin, and how much will stay the same? [Slytherin!Harry? Harry, Draco, Hermione friendship? Severitus? All in a complete series re-write that’s currently six completed works deep? What more could you possibly need?]

Longest fic I’ve read for the pairing: I Do What I Want by XxTheDarkLordxX [509k,E] They say you shouldn't touch what isn't yours... Too bad no one told Harry that. A simple mistake that Harry made in his first year at Hogwarts is coming back to bite him in the arse. The war is over but the threat to his life is just beginning. This story begins with a simple apology that changes Harry’s life. It starts a domino effect that leads to unbelievable connections, undying love, unique past lives, unknown villains and an unstoppable family. Follow Harry and his friends on an epic adventure filled with twists, bumps, comfort, enemies, a new life and a lot of love. (warnings for: major character death, some character bashing) [the first (or first few? i forget) chapters are written in first person but they’re an internal monologue and the rest of the fic is not in first person, just so you know. Also, the concept slaps and the fic is cute and i love to see it (and i’ve read it thrice).]

Fic(s) with some of my favorite tropes: Matchmaking: Ron Weasley: Accidental Matchmaker by Phoenix_Waves [2k,T] "There's not a sexual tension out there that the man can't accidentally detect!" George beamed. "And then ask the stupid arse question that's going to light the spark and fan the flames." Lee added matter-of-factly. A fluffy Christmas one shot featuring our favorite older Gryffindors. [god this is excellent: the obliviousness, the mutual pining, the matchmaking, having the older gryffindor kids around and having a good holiday time- it’s all excellent.] Soulmates: Kiss Me Not by DorthyAnn [21k,T] Sometimes a witch or wizard's magical signature is so completely incompatible with another that they repel one another like magnets. On the other hand, if two magical signatures mesh well together, well there are no stronger relationships in all the world. In a sample of a thousand people, the average witch or wizard will be slightly repelled by four or five people and strongly repelled by only one, at the most. The opposite is true for attraction. But Harry Potter can't kiss anyone at all. [this is actually such a fascinating take on the classic soulmates trope. there’s no predestined person for everyone and there’s no magical guarantee of anything, just magic being a little difficult and i adore that. also the writing style is excellent and the characterizations are spot on.] Accidental Bonding + Bed Sharing: Let's Take A Chance On Happiness by endless_grey [21k,E] Harry works with Luna at her magical antique shop, and everything is going pretty well until a mysterious ring makes an appearance. Cue curse-breaker Draco Malfoy and an accidental bond, and suddenly Harry is magically married to his former nemesis. They need to break the bond before Hermione's fundraiser, but Harry doesn't remember "fall in love with the git" being part of the plan. [i discovered this fic while looking for something else, but it’s so good. i love their dynamic and it’s shift as the story progresses and i love both of their friendships with luna just as much. it’s funny and a little angsty and well written and has two of my favorite tropes in it. what more can i say?]

#drarry #drarry fic rec #drarry rec list #drarry fic rec list #drarry fics #drarry recs #hp fic rec #hp recs #hp fics #hp fic rec list #hp fic list #hp fic recs #drarry fic recs #intro to my fav ships rec list #queue is for quibbler

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xo-cuteplosion-xo · 4 years ago

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How about a musician reader x character fic? Maybe a singer who performs in a cafe, or a classical musician who plays in an orchestra, or who plays in a rock band? I dunno I have a lot of ideas in my mind but I'm just too lazy to write them :D What do you think?

So here's the baseline you gave me - a musician reader fic x character. Here's what I decided to fill in for this lovely fic- a fluffy bsd collage Au where the reader is majoring in music and has the side job of a stage performer. Then, because they would match well, so I decided to go with a Fyodor x reader. Hope this is alright!

Words- 1728 ~

Hearts Composition | fyodor x musician reader | (collage Au)

Music thudded against the walls, muffled only by the thick layers that hid backstage from the audience. The aroma of heavily worn perfume surrounded people in pleasant bliss. Waitresses and waiters swayed with heavy plates rested along arms and in hands. Carrying much-wanted foods and booze to awaiting customers. The collection of accents muted under the heavy beats of taps and clicks from the metal of the dancer's shoes. Picking up a smaller wooden, finely carved, and rather expensive model of a violin, stood yourself. With a smile, your hands trailed the curves and strings of the delicate instrument. With all the work you had to do for university you had truly didn’t have time to be doing some minimum wage job. Though you didn’t care much, if you could play something, it would be fine. You performed here every once in a blue moon. You weren't one of the performers, but they would grace you with the intermission on busy nights. Much like these nights, when the crowd was full and the people rowdy and in need of constant entertainment. You could soothe those shouts and demands of perverted drunk men; Soothe the cries of broken women and rich spoiled children.

Stepping onto the wooden stage as the lights dim, allowing you the bare minimum of the peeping moonlight to find the microphone located at the center. Inhaling as your anxiety turned into bliss, you waited. As the colored light flew on, you rested your chin on the soft velvet. Holding up the bow, you set it to the strings. With a final inhale, your eyes fluttered shut as you played a classical piece; one constructed for an upcoming project that was due for your music composition class. You had nearly all the string instruments you could play finished; all but the cello. With every strum of your instrument, the crowd fell silent, enjoying the break from all the heavy excitement. Even the children's chatter soothed down, so your instrument could echo off the thin walls of the pub.

Sipping nothing but a cup of tea with a small side of biscuits, a male leaned in his seat. Sitting with a pristine, perfect posture, he listened to the soft sound. The way his violet eyes slowly lidded, and his hair fell back against his face, lit his features in a urethral, almost divine light. His mind working to recognize the piece. As an up-and-coming musician, he had several classics memorized. He could join in by ear, or even write out the full pieces without needing to see the original sheet music. This piece wasn’t something he recognized, could it be an original piece?

If you were to open your eyes as you neared the end of the first piece, you would notice his gaze rested on you. Eyes open halfway with hidden interest, and yet, the stare was attractive. The blank look that hid everything beneath a mask laid strewn across his features. As you finished and stood up, surrounded by applause, he watched your every stride. It was funny, he thought he could almost recognize you.

With shaking hands, your fingers typed within a group chat of other college students you had met and become close to. “I’m so nervous. I have to hand in that piece today. I pulled an all-nighter trying to decide on the cello part, but nothing sounded right, so now I might not get a full mark.” You could hear the whine through the text. When replies of good luck came to you, except for two replies, you chuckled. One read “could always just die before handing it in.” Another wrote, “I've got the wine ready.” laughing to yourself as you walked into the classroom and set down the folder in the bin. Glancing through the room, you took a seat with your head down. It was unusual for you to arrive early to class, but your anxiety with this project was slowly picking at you to just get there and hand it in. With twenty minutes till class started, you decided to pull out your laptop and listen to the recording from last week.

Taking out your notebook, you started jotting notes about small things to improve, and things you hated about your performances. You didn’t notice somebody else enter the classroom rather early. Carrying his bag, he set it down at one of the desks before the sound of a violin entered his ears. Sitting down he listened to the melody you had played several nights before. As the piece finished, his eyes traveled to the bin. Now understanding where you had gotten the piece from, he sighed. “You’re not half bad, you played a little flat, but it sounds okay. Becoming a flustered disaster, you froze glancing over to him. This wasn’t the first time you had noticed him in class, he was hard to miss. His completely perfect grades, perfect posture, and looks made him stand out. Not only that, but he had strong ideals and his debate skills could sway anybody. Though, you knew it wasn’t really skill, more manipulation. To add to everything his Russian accent stuck out with every word he spoke. “Could you play that again?” hesitating at first you restarted the piece.

He took out a blank piece of sheet music and started scribbling down notes. As if memorizing the piece, he tapped his fingers before bringing his thumb to his mouth and chewing on it. Tapping his foot as the piece came to an end, he glanced at the time before walking over to one of the room's cellos. His face resembled discontent as he looked at it. Looking to where he sat, you realized he didn’t have his with him. You presumed it had to do with the instrument being heavy and somewhat large. Though for somebody of his height, it may not be that big of a deal. Perhaps he didn’t want to lug it around with him, considering he had all of those other books for classes. “So uh, why did you want to hear it again?” you mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck as you watched him strum a few strings. He was checking the accuracy and pitch of the notes. With a contempt sigh, he shrugged.

“Your writing is considerably well done. I wished to try something that is all.” He did not shed a glance as he sat down and ran the bow across the strings. The sound was heaven within your ears, but to him, it was nothing but ordinary. The sound of a well-made expensive Russian model, the model he owned, was much better than this school-provided variant. As the melody played, you recognized it as your piece. Smiling slightly as your eyes sparkled. You bolted from your seat to grab your folder; the music that was due in 10 minutes.

Looking over the cello part you had constructed, you changed the key signature to hold a few new sharps and took away some of the flats. Boldly, you handed the male the sheet music and pointed as if asking "Is this the piece you were playing?" Setting the cello aside, he ran a finger over the bars with a nod. “So that’s what I was missing! You're a god at memorizing and creating. Now I'm excited to see what you concocted for the presentation.” You smiled lightly before placing the folder in the bin. “Oh, I never got your name. I’m-” he cut you off before you could formally introduce yourself.

“You’re y/n. I do pay attention to people who aren't a complete waste of time.” The layers of his ego began to shine through his solid expression. The way you'd called him god just then, was another layer added to the ever-growing ego this man had. He thought he was above everybody else; he indeed was. In every way possible, he was above the normal human. With an exceptionally sharp mind, emotionless facade, and a spin of extraordinary talents, he was a god among men. “I’m taken aback, you don’t know me.” frowning you sat back at your desk. Leaning your head against the palm of your hand with a frown, you clicked your tongue.

Coming up with a sharp reply, you rolled your eyes. “Please, who doesn't know the great Dostoevsky. You’re only at the top of our class. Correcting myself before you can, the top in everything.” He snickered his brows raising in interest. His lips curled into a smirk moments before breaking to speak to you again.

“Consider your words before speaking. That wasn’t exactly the best wording to say "I'm better than everybody at everything.” It took you several seconds to realize what had gone through his head. Of course, he understood what you were saying, but he also managed to nitpick everything.

Blushing you placed your hands in front of your face. “I didn't think about it because that’s not what I was saying!” he snickered again. Listening to him stand you peeked from your hands to watch him set away the cello and bow.

“How often do you perform at that pub?” He switched the discussion relatively quickly. But with the sudden pause of your reaction and the setting away of the instrument, it flowed nicely with the conversation.

“Once or twice a month?” You answer honestly. A bit upset by the lack of real performances you had.

“Next time, I'll reserve something, and we’ll set something up. I want to see if you can play something… difficult.” It wasn't much of a question, more a demand. Nodding you wrote down your number, sliding it to the student with a smile as the bell rang.

For the next week, the two of you met in the unused rooms Fyodor managed to snag for practicing. He often shook his head at your way of playing. He did compliment the several different instruments you would take with you. From the cello to the violin, there wasn’t much you couldn’t play. Each was expertly designed and crafted to fit your arm length and height. Custom made and shipped from all over the world. Eventually, it became a routine, going to his concerts as he attended yours. While you praised how good he was, he would find the smallest mistakes to condemn you about.

#bsd #bsd x reader #bsd x reader scenerio #bsd scenerio #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #fyodor #bsd college au #bsd college au x reader #bsd college x reader #fyodor college au #fyodor college #fyodor x reader #musican fyodor #musician fyodor x reader #fyodor x musician reader #fyodor x you

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literaryfic · 4 years ago

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can u PLEASE write a fic where chayenzo is together but they want to hide it from the rest of the crew so they’re trying to bang in the office but mr nam is on the way so they have to pretend that nothing is happening

read on ao3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/30911159

I only realised after writing this that this does not follow the prompt but I hope you like it nonetheless.

“It’s not a secret. I just want it to be private. We’re colleagues and business partners, it’s inappropriate for us to be in a relationship”, Cha-young had said after Vincenzo asked her why they couldn’t just tell everyone. He had just nodded, still unsure as to why Cha-young suddenly seemed to care about what was appropriate and what wasn’t.

Their whole secret-relationship thing would be way easier if Mr. Nam wasn’t always the first one to arrive at the office.

Somehow, the paralegal has never once been late in his career.

Cha-young has been working as a lawyer for almost a decade now, so she’s used to waking up at dawn, and Vincenzo wakes up naturally with the sun.

It’s weird that, ever since they’ve gotten together, they can’t seem to arrive at the office before 8:30. Sometimes, they swear they’re going to make it, but Vincenzo forgets his phone and they have to turn the car around.

Often, Vincenzo’s 10 minute morning shower turns into a 30 minute love-making session after Cha-young sneaks behind the curtain. Other times, they give themselves 5 more minutes to enjoy each other’s embrace, unwilling to get out of bed.

Vincenzo is slowly learning that greed isn’t just about money, gold or power. Sometimes, greed is never having enough of Cha-young’s touches, of her voice moaning his name, of her hair in his fist, of her. It’s refusing to let go of her hand in public, it’s fighting off sleep just to listen to her rant about something that happened with a client that day, it’s never wanting to be apart from her.

And so, they all but move in together. At first, he stays over at hers because he’s too tired to drive back. Then, the next time he comes over he brings a toothbrush, and his favorite pair of pyjamas. After that, it’s because he’s renovating his place at Geumga Plaza. Weeks turns into months, and suddenly they’re looking for their own apartment.

Cha-young doesn’t like all the nostalgia the house carries, and she thinks it’s not appropriate for them to sleep in her teenage bedroom. She decides to rent it and they move into a cosy two-bedroom close to the office. It’s nothing extravagant like what he’s used to in Italy, but it’s new and it’s home. Living together, however, makes it harder for them to keep their relationship a secret.

(“It’s not a secret. I just want it to be private. We’re colleagues and business partners, it’s inappropriate for us to be in a relationship”, Cha-young had said after Vincenzo asked her why they couldn’t just tell everyone.

He had just nodded, still unsure as to why Cha-young suddenly seemed to care about what was appropriate and what wasn’t.)

It meant that they couldn’t be seen arriving together in the morning too often, which proved difficult when they drove Cha-young’s car every day.

“Oh, you guys are early today!”, Mr. Nam had once noticed.

“Uhm, yes! Mr. Cassano’s car is in the garage. I gave him a ride. Because that’s what business partners do. Haha”, Cha-young had quickly clarified. As if clarification was even needed in the first place.

Mr. Nam vaguely acquiesced, engrossed in the folder he was reading.

“Smooth”, Vincenzo mouthed at her, teasing.

Clearly, he was unappreciative of her efforts to protect their relationship.

It was only a matter of time before they got caught. It was a late evening in the office, later than their usual ones.

They’d been working on a big case for a union going up against a huge chain of supermarkets and their key witness suddenly declared he could not testify anymore. Midnight turned 3 am, then 4. Suddenly, it was 5 am and the three of them had pulled yet another all-nighter, reading thousands of pages of obscure legislations and jurisprudence, desperately trying to find a loophole.

“I’m going home to shower. I’ll come back in an hour.”, Mr. Nam said, rubbing his eyes before putting on his coat.

“Make sure to call a cab, riding Cheetah would be too dangerous right now.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hong”

Vincenzo and Cha-young were now alone in the office, the first rays of sun peaking through the blinds.

The Italian-Korean man got up from his chair, massaging his neck while walking towards their coffee station set-up he’s learned to love.

“Oppa, I’m so tired.”, his girlfriend calls, using the annoyingly high-pitched voice reserved for when she wants to play around.

“Don’t.” She pouts. “Coffee?”

“Mmh, yes please.” It’s her turn to get up now. She walks up to him and wraps her arms around his waist while he prepares their drinks, letting her hands roam on his upper body.

“Cha-young-ah.”, he warns.

“What?”

“Aren’t you tired?”, he sounds unsure but interested. Good.

“I am. That’s why I’m trying to wake myself up.” She stands on her toes and kisses the spot where his jaw meets his neck with an open mouth. She feels his hair rise before she sees it.

Vincenzo abandons their coffees and turns around, one hand resting just above her ass while the other runs through her hair. “Mmh. Be careful, at this pace you’ll wake up our friend over here too.”, he says, looking down at his trousers.

Cha-young shrugs before circling her arms around his neck. “Oh well, the more the merrier, am I-” He cuts her off with a kiss and she smiles through it. Of course he’d beat her to it.

They start making out, enjoying each other’s taste. His stubble scratches her skin but it’s not unpleasant. Kissing him feels like a gift and a punishment wrapped in one, always exhilarating yet never enough. She needs more.

Soon enough, she tugs at his hair. He bites her lower lip, ‘Be patient.’. He grabs her ass with both of his hands and lifts her up. She can feel him, hard against her inner thigh, and Cha-young thinks for a second that if he doesn’t take her now, she might die on the spot. Luckily for her, he wastes no time in sweeping all the piles of documents off the central table before putting her down. The office is a mess they’ll have to clean up later, but neither of them care.

They’re both panting now, Cha-young sat on the table and Vincenzo in between her legs. “Can I?”, he asks, his hand hovering over her zipper. She nods enthusiastically and before she knows it her trousers fall to the ground.

“Someone’s eager...”, she’s about to tease but the sight of him loosening his tie and dropping to his knees silence her.

Oh.

Slowly, he trails wet kisses up her leg until he reaches her inner thigh. She feels hot all over, the ache between her legs impossible to ignore. Looking up at her, he smirks, clearly satisfied by her red cheeks and laboured breathing.

“Now.”, she commands and he obeys. Pulling her closer, he positions her knees over his shoulders, ready to start pleasing her. He’s about to kiss her where she so desperately needs it when they hear a scream.

They both jump when they see Mr. Nam, who’s now facing the other way, head in his hands. Scrambling to puts their clothes back on, Cha-young thinks she’s about to faint.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I-”, Mr. Nam starts.

“You said you were going home to-to shower! What are you doing here?”, Vincenzo is clearly just as embarrassed as she is.

“I forgot my keys! I got in front of my house and I realised- Wait! That’s not the issue here. What are you doing in the office? I know you’re dating but still, I work here too, you know. Sometimes, I really feel like the third wheel and I know it’s not intentional but-”

“WAIT, you knew?”, Cha-young cuts him off.

“Knew what?”

“That... Mr. Cassano and I... we’re together?”, Cha-young is now hiding behind Vincenzo’s back, only her head pocking out.

“Was I not supposed to know?”, Mr. Nam asks, and from where she is Cha-young thinks he might be crying.

She doesn’t know what to say, and Vincenzo is the one to hand Mr. Nam his keys. They apologise profusely as he leaves, probably scarred for life.

Cha-young sinks to the ground, hugging her knees. Her boyfriend crouches down next to her, a reassuring hand patting her back. “Everyone knows? About us?” He nods. She screams. She gets up again, flailing her arms and pulling out her hair.

“Why would you not tell me? I’ve been making a fool of myself trying to keep this a secret-”

“I thought you said it wasn’t a secret?”, he interrupts.

“Aaah, whatever. I’ll just never show my face again. I quit.” She’s on her way to the door when Vincenzo pulls her into a hug.

“Don’t worry, tesoro. He’ll forget about it soon enough.”, He kisses her forehead, her cheeks, her nose and finally her lips, trying to comfort her. He’d always been better with actions rather than words.

“You think?”, again, Vincenzo nods.

She shrugs and kisses him softly, her hands cradling his cheeks. “Thank you, oppa. Now, where were we?” She asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

He bursts out laughing, eyes closed and mouth wide open, a sight she didn’t get to enjoy often.

Yes, everything will be okay, she thinks. How could it not be, when she has him by her side?

#vincenzo #chayenzo fic #vincenzo fanfiction #chayenzo #ask stuff

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contraststudies · 3 years ago

Text

Thank you for tagging me, @tawnyontumblr! I’m very bad at doing these writer meme things, so here goes nothing.

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

45 and counting!

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

376,429. Holy moly that is a fuck ton of words (I only properly started posting on AO3 last May iirc).

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Four: Critical Role, Good Omens, Hades, and Kill La Kill.

4) What are your top five fics by kudos?

This list is bookended by two PWPs, which I find hilarious given that I seem to have misplaced my smut brain cell sometime in the last couple of months.

On The Matter of Traffic Violations (Good Omens, E)

“Officer Fell,” Crowley says, and leans forward, enough to give Fell a good view of his décolletage. He tilts his head in the way he knows people find deliciously coquettish, glad that he’d had the foresight to apply some mascara before heading out. “I’m so very sorry about this,” he says, looking up at the officer through his lashes. “It’s late, you know, no cars around… Didn’t notice how fast I was going, that’s all.”

[Or: Crowley flirts his way out of a traffic violation.]

Unbinding (Critical Role, T)

This is a great honor, Essek reminds himself, trying not to recoil as fingers run through his hair, working through the tangles. A braid is made of three strands, symbolizing the inextricable bond between the soul, the den, and the Luxon. A recognition of an achievement by the drow who bears it. With each braid, the soul is bound ever closer to its den and to the Luxon.

It is a lesson Essek learned long ago, but one he is never permitted to forget.

[Or: the story of why the Shadowhand wears his hair cropped short.]

No Church In The Wild (Good Omens, E)

The stem of the wineglass in Aziraphale’s hand snaps cleanly in two, but no one seems to hear it—every eye in the room is trained on the redheaded dancer sashaying to the gleaming silver pole, centre stage for all to see.

Oh, Aziraphale thinks faintly. Good lord.

[Or: the one where Aziraphale gets assigned to the red light district.]

abide gold with me (Critical Role, T)

“Okay, Cay-leb,” Jester says, stretching out the syllables affectionately. “You sit right here so we can watch you and Essek try an orange for the first time.”

The Primal Scene (Good Omens, E - a collab with @lookitsstevie!)

Harriet notices that there’s a crack of light at the end of the hallway coming from the door to the library, and her mood brightens considerably. Perhaps the tutors are still here, putting together their lessons for the next day before they leave for the night. She leans down to pick up a piece of cloth that’s fallen on the rug. Her breath catches in her throat when she realizes what it is – a necktie with a familiar tartan pattern.

She nearly drops the tie in shock at the unmistakable sound coming from the closed door of the library. A sharp, quickly stifled moan.

[Or: Harriet Dowling accidentally bears witness to divine ecstasy.]

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try. I really do. My friends (and maybe some of my readers) know that this is difficult for me, mainly because any sort of recognition reduces me to a gibbering pile of tears. I’m working on it though, even if it does take me a million years to respond to anything on AO3.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

God, which one do I choose. I have been referred to as an angst gremlin for a very good reason. I’m gonna go with The Remains of the Day, a Good Omens fairy tale AU I wrote loosely based on Bluebeard.

7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I HAVE. I wrote philtatos, a crossover of Good Omens and The Iliad/The Song of Achilles. It’s the only crossover I’ve ever written, unless we’re counting Variations of an Arrangement, which could loosely count as a crossover of the book/radio/TV versions of Good Omens.

8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I have not. And hopefully never will.

9) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do, and it’s usually of the angst with a happy ending variety.

10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Hm. How do we define stealing? Just kidding. The short answer is no.

11) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

12) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Got one in the works for Critical Role!

13) What’s your all time favourite ship?

Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes was actually the first ship I ever really got into, and they’ll always have a special place in my heart even if I never wrote anything for that fandom. Crowley/Aziraphale from Good Omens of course, and more recently Caleb Widogast/Essek Thelyss from Critical Role.

14) What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Variations of an Arrangement. I loved writing it, and I still want to finish it one day, but it took a lot of brainpower to write and keep track of the plot and I feel like it’s beyond me, at least right now.

15) What are your writing strengths?

I… hmm. Judging by the way people are always yelling at me in their comments, I guess it’s that I can write stories that make people feel things very deeply.

16) What are your writing weaknesses?

I repeat words so often, it’s embarrassing. I use too many “-ly” adverbs. Also, I find myself using the same turns of phrase across several fics lmao.

17) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Language is a tricky thing. I don’t want to bore you with discourse. I try not to write dialogue in a different language (especially if it’s not one I speak myself) unless it’s absolutely called for, or if they’re just basic phrases and I’m 100% certain I won’t be getting it wrong. I have read fics where this was done very well though, and I’ve found that it really adds to the atmosphere in those cases.

18) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

It was for this old anime called Princess Tutu. I danced ballet when I was younger and loved it so much – I believe I was only twelve at the time?? But I think the fic may still be floating around on FF.net somewhere.

19) What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

I wrote philtatos in a four-day fever dream. It’s not the most technically perfect fic I’ve ever written or anything like that, but I think it’s the one that reveals the most about who I am as a person. That is an incredibly cheesy thing to say, I know. I always joke that posting that fic felt like offering my still-beating heart on a silver platter to the void, but there you are.

For Critical Role, surprisingly enough it’s this ficlet I wrote called sinners, a small bite of Shadowdrei where I was parsing my ideas on Astrid and Eadwulf’s dynamic and where they stood when it came to Bren/Caleb and Essek. I didn’t realize how fully formed my thoughts were until I wrote that. Fascinating what your own writing will show you about the things that are in your mind.

Tagging with no pressure whatsoever: @naromoreau @jenanigans1207 @saretton @theseedsofdoom @musegnome!

#about me #writing meme

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iwannaholdyoutight- · 5 years ago

Text

Pintaga (a summer fic challenge)

Fresh fruit. Friends to lovers. Longing.

a/n: it’s finally here! This piece of writing couldn’t happen without the one and only @helladirections. She organized this amazing challenge and you guys should read everything from her and this challenge. Please, don’t forget to reblog, this is my first fic in a very long time and I would love to see people reading it.

word count: 8k

Preview:

In the air Harry could smell the jasmines, coming from the perfume of the girl with the blue heart shaped sunglasses and dressed with a yellow one piece with little white flowers sewed to it - a vintage piece she got just the day before on a thrift shop when they were exploring. He could listen to the faint Mick Jagger voice repeating the verse “pretty pretty girl” and he couldn’t disagree, she was a pretty girl indeed.

There was nothing he wanted more than get her in his arms, tell her he didn’t know it was possible to fall in love without even kissing the person for a first time. He wanted to press his nose into her neck and feel the shivers that would pass through her body.

When Harry had to postpone his tour, he was sad. But, when 2021 finally came, he was just so happy to be able to reconnect with his fans. To see people’s faces and knowing that each person has their own story to tell when they listen to his songs. He loves that.

It was during tour that he met Angelino, a new music producer with very different methods in his technique: zither in a mix with glam rock, alfaias with hip hop. To put it short: they became fast friends when they met on a night out after the Vegas show.

And it was thanks to Angelino he met her. It was raining so much when the words left his friends mouth “I want you to meet someone” yet she was the sunshine walking inside the hotel.

She wasn’t shy but also didn’t do everything to draw any attention to her. Harry was captivated to say at least. Maybe was her smile or maybe was the way she looked with such care when taking to anyone. Sadly, they couldn’t see each other for longer than a few hours. Harry had a plane to catch, she was a movie and arts major in Italy and was only there to visit a friend. But Harry just couldn’t let her go, there was something about her, he wanted to know what was hidden behind those colorful outfits she wore and all the smart talk they had during that same rainy afternoon. Being in his position he had to be careful, what he would give to be “normal” for just 5 minutes so he could flirt with this cute girl, get her number and maybe ask her on a date. But he wasn’t. So he settled with an Instagram follow and a promises she would dm him books and movies he should check it up.

The first book she made him read was Dorian Gray - she was shocked to know he never read anything by Oscar Wilde. In exchange he tried to make this curious stubborn girl give Murakami a second chance (she still hates the book and he couldn’t lie, he got a bit sad about it).

After a few months of conversation he finally gave in and asked for her number. From this day on, they would never stop texting each other, to the point Jeff would complain about how “he’s always on his phone and never actually listening”.

He got so close to her and was admired with how free she was. After 20 something years stuck in her hometown she decided she wanted to met the world. Entered this course in Italy with a scholarship (she is very smart to the point it Harry is intimidated) and never looked back.

Harry told her about his first big break up, that inspired Fine Line, told her about his fears and how love is a difficult subject when it comes to him. The loving part it’s easy the problem is when the enchantment dies and all there is left are two broken people. The one to move on first it’s always the happiest.

But he couldn’t always live on his phone talking to this girl who makes him weak in the knees. He had interviews to attend and shows to perform. When tour finally ended, he was tired but sad, a deep space in his heart felt so empty. It’s the first time in three years he didn’t have nothing planned and he was only starting his new album in a few months.

Harry needed a break, a nice holiday. Sadly London was cold and so was his emotions. So, when that same girl told him about this island called “Fernando de Noronha” around the South American continent and that her aunt got a house there and asked if he wanted to join her on 10 days trip there… he just couldn’t say no!

It’s summertime whenever she is around and well… it is summertime in the south so it’s a win win for Harry, honestly.

🐠

And that’s where Harry finds himself right now… bathing in the sun together with this amazing girl that makes him feel all mushy inside and nervous. He is almost a 30 year old man, he shouldn't be so nervous around her, but it’s inevitable.

The moment he got off the plane, he was in love. The island was beautiful. Blue skies that mix with the blue of the ocean and the horizon. Everything seemed to be made out of glitter and rainbow colors. There was music every night, people were singing and dancing. During the day there was street fairs, boat rides and the beautiful golden light that was didn’t come only from the sun, but also a light that shined through this amazing young woman when she was laughing and trying (and failing) to play volleyball with a group of teens on the beach. They didn’t stay in a fancy hotel, they were in a simple yet beautiful house, without any neighborhood but when they went out they always went to the simplest places, surrounded by simple people. People who might know who he was, but mostly just didn’t care. Sure, he was asked to take some pictures but that was the most normal he ever felt since he was a teenager. There was a rich part in the island, lots of famous people from South America liked to spend their summer there- but for one, Harry was grateful to stay like this.

All thanks to her...

The summer breeze in his face being exactly what he needed. He was living those sweet days of summer he was denied in 2020 because of the pandemic and in 2021 because of the tour.

He wanted to kiss her and keep her forever by his side so they could be happily ever after. But Harry couldn’t. He was bad at love and he would rather have her as a friend than doing something and fucking up her as well.

“What did you say” she asked while lifting up from the towel she had on the floor, raising her sunglasses over that beautiful sun kissed hair (it was shining so much) and attentively looking at him.

“I didn’t say a thing” was he thinking out loud? Oh my god… he is fucked if that was that case.

“You said something about being bad at love. Why do you think that?”

Harry sat down and took a deep breath.

“I talked to you about my love life before… I don’t think I was made for love. Some people can find love at every corner, but it doesn’t matter how hard I try, every time I think I got it right… the person just vanish out of the tips of my fingers. And I feel so bad talking about this when I know I can have anything I want, but it hurts when I’m alone in a bedroom or I’m being the third wheel again with my friends. I’m just so lonely all the time and every time I try… it just ends shitty. I get a few good songs out of it but the pain sometimes it’s just not worth it”.

She looked at the ocean, the sun was already so high in the sky, it was probably around 11 am. Then, looking back at Harry, she gave him a weak smile. She felt like he was a mixture of everything good and he didn't deserve to feel like he wasn’t cut for love. If she could and he let her… she would give him all the love it was possible and impossible.

“Just because it ended doesn’t mean it was bad. If it made you happy, even if just for one second, it was worth it. And even when it hurts, we always learn something.” She took a deep breath, waiting for him to say something while Harry just looked at her with soft eyes but so much sadness and sorrow behind them. He didn’t know what to say, so she decided to continue: “you know, I call it bullshit when poets say love is only good if it hurts. Love isn’t made for pain, sometimes it might happen, but love is made to give warmth and to make the soul feel like it’s being caressed in a whisper that says ‘you found me’. And there are many types of love, not all of them are made to last a lifetime”.

He gave her a smile:

“Do you think there is still someone to love me or have I missed my chance?”

That was her chance:

“I think if you look right… you will find it right next to you, so close it would surprise you” she gave him a knowing look and decided to change the subject “wanna put on some clothes and go to the street fair? We can have lunch in there, buy some nice fresh fruits and have a picnic when the sun starts to set. You can make a playlist while a set a nice towel with candles and everything we might need. Maybe… we could try some of that stuff I got yesterday, what do you say?”

That stuff being the Argyreia seeds a friend of her had given as a gift. They were in the fridge inside a pot of water - apparently you have to leave them at least 12 hours on it so it could be ready to use. Among the effects they found of Google you could suffer from synesthesia episodes, positive elevation of your humor, sensitive to touch among others. A normal (and legal, apparently) natural hallucinogen.

Harry decided to play cool with her confession (he thinks it was a confession) and just smirks at her as a confirmation for the rest of their day. Maybe then, he’ll have the courage to kiss her. He gets up first, offering his hand, she takes it, getting up. Being barefoot, she had to look up to talk to him, their hands intertwined, noses almost touching. Looking inside his eyes, she thinks Harry must be a magical being, that could be the only explanation to how his eyes could change color to match the nature. Normally green but right now his eyes were almost blue, maybe was the sun, maybe was the sky without a single cloud; one thing was clear: his eyes were matching the ocean and the sky but also the leaves on the palm trees with the green left in them.

Leading the way, they got inside the house. In a secluded area (you just had to walk a lot but it wasn’t in the middle of the fancy big mansions- the house was colorful - just like everything about this island). The wood backdoor was the way they go when coming back from the beach . As soon as they entered through the gate, was a little stone way, with red and pink poppies adorning both sides, they went to the shower the house had on the outside so none of them would make a mess inside the house with sand everywhere. Then, I sei de the house, walking through the open plan kitchen, that was out of a sixties movie. Almost everything looked vintage with the most beautiful dining table they had ever seen: made out of dark wood and tall chairs, her aunt said this table was from her great grandmother.

Then there was two little steps and it was the living room, with a lot of space, three couches and a lot of pieces of art, it looked like someone had just throw different items but, somehow made it work. Harry went to sit on a plastic chair there was right in the corner of the room and looked at the very wet very sunburnt girl:

“You can go get ready first, I’ll wait” she smiled and thanked him, going upstairs and leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. Looking at the yellow wall full of paintings from the people of the island, he didn’t know what to do to himself, he was fucked. He got up from the chair and went to the vinyl player that stood on the far left of the living room with three boxes next to it, opening he found a lot of vinyls. Settling for one he never heard before: Caetano Veloso - Transa, he put to play. He knew about Caetano, he even putted one of his songs to play at the one night only event, the name of the song was Baby and at the time was his ex girlfriend who had showed him, but right now the only thing he could think about when listening to this very psychedelic song that was playing through the speakers, the only thing he could think about is the same girl who is taking a shower just a few feet away and how much he wants the hours to pass faster so they can get high and listen to the playlist he was making and was to add also this album he was listening, especially after a quick google research about it, having now the acknowledge that transa translates to sex.

She came downstairs with her hair still wet, wearing her old pink converse and a yellow sundress, with the cute straps and a short but very loose ends. She had this glow someone can only achieve when you just spend the day at the beach with dear ones. Free of any makeup she was with his ray bans and gave him a soft look “I hope you don’t mind I got your ray bans to wear. They just look they were made for this outfit”.

“No problem. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be done”.

Taking the fastest shower he ever took in his life, he put on some old jeans short and his favorite pink summer shirt. And he ran - literally ran - downstairs because he felt like this was a date. He was excited.

“So, wanna take the bikes or see if we can get an Uber” there was this thing, neither one of them had the license required for the island and even if the Uber app worked there… it was hard to find drivers who were willing to drive to such a far area.

“Let’s take the bikes. They have baskets so whatever we buy we can just carry back”

“Sure”

They went through the front door, the house was painted in blue, to match the ocean, with lots of different plants and those same plants, especially the clambering plants, gave the house this almost fairy vibe. Like it was made of a golden and rainbow dust and everything that it’s good. The bikes were located near the wall and close to the small pool. One bike was white and the other was of a bright orange. Harry got the bright one because it was slightly bigger, so he would feel more comfortable.

🍓

They rode the bike for around 10 minutes, passing fields and trees that were so tall it almost felt like their leaves were kissing each other. Harry kept ruming gold and braid by stevie nicks the whole ride while dividing his attention between the girl riding the white bike a few meters ahead and the surrounding area. There was no one in sight for the first few minutes, but the closer they got to the center of the island, more people started to appear. In a few days living in the island he already observed that he could pinpoint who was a tourist and who was a native by one thing: the clothes.

The citizens always dressed like it was just a normal day (like imagine you normal day it’s living in paradise) and people from the outside always went out like it was a beach party everyday. As soon as Harry notice that, he always made sure to dress quite simple, so people could pass him by. Of course, sometimes someone would try and talk to him with the native language (which he learned is portuguese and not spanish, as he originally thought it would be).

They descarted their bikes on a small wall that was made for this purpose, with digital locks and everything (it was 5 bucks the hour and all you had to do when it was the time to pick it up you just put on your card to pay for the time you used the spot). They started to walk towards the street fair that was in a pretty street with old houses from the colonial era. The more they walked, closer their bodies touched and closer they were from holding hands.

People never talk about the conversation that goes when it comes to small touches. Sometimes, a small caress of a finger against someone's hand, it’s more than the act of touching, it’s an act of questioning: are we feeling the same? I wanna hold you hand like my soul it’s holding yours, please take care of it, because it’s your to take.

They started holding hands the moment the took a turn to the street fair, and if anyone looked at them, would say there were a couple. And it was nothing more that their entire wish that that statement was actually truth.

In the window of a red brick house there was an old man with his guitar, he sung something of their culture and a few people were dancing to it like it was a show. Harry was so in love with this environment, people lived and breathed culture. It was a break he never needed. He already went all around the world and it was on a simple island that he found something he didn’t know it existed.

“Where do you want to go first?” Asked the girl looking up at him and squirting her eyes because of the sun. She had his sunglasses but they were acting more like a headband to that mess it was her hair than to their actual function: protect her shining beautiful eyes from the sun.

“How about we go and buy those fruit for our late evening picnic and then we go have lunch? And from there we see where to go”.

“Seems like a plan, let’s find the vendor with the most variety of fruits, wanna taste them all” And I wanna taste you, thought Harry but he just accepted it wasn’t the time yet. He didn’t want their first kiss to be in the middle of a fair with so many eyes watching. Harry hasn’t been recognized too much but he couldn’t risk too much.

Walking they passed a group of old ladies - like maybe in their 80s- selling beautiful handmade dresses and skirts and shirts, all made in white lace. Such a beautiful work, and Harry made a mental note to come back later and get something for his mother and sister. That was something they would like.

Finally they reached a wooden table full of different fruits and behind it was an older and a younger man, if they had to guess, they would say there were grandfather and grandchild because of their faces similarities: dark skin with very powerful green eyes. While one had the blackest hair either one of them had see, the other one had silver strings in different parts of his hair. In their mouth they carried a soonting smille. They approached the table and the older one started to talk in the native language and he was speaking in such a enthusiastic manner that Harry didn’t have the heart to explain he new close to nothing about portuguese. But the young man seemed to have noticed who he was, touching the talking fella head and saying something in his ear. He stopped talking and was, now, quiet, but never ending the smile in his face.

“Sorry about that. My name is Sol. What can I do for you guys?” The girl beside Harry gave him this shining smile and started talking:

“Hi, Sol.That means Sun right?”

“Yeah, my family it’s a very hippie family. Actually I have two sisters: one it’s called Lua, her name translates to ‘moon’, and the other it’s called Frida. By the way,if it’s not too much problem Mr. Styles, I would like to get an autograph for them, they are big fans of you. And what about your name, sunshine?” asked the young man. Harry was jealous he was flirting with her - and he wasn’t entitled to feel jealous, but that’s what he was feeling - so he put his arms around her and told her name getting an angry yet amused look from her.

“And no problem about the autograph… we would like to take a bit of everything you can recommend us. We are going to do a picnic and want to try everything that it’s different”.

“But please add a bit of those gorgeous strawberries, they look yummy”said the girl next to him “ and what it’s that?” she pointed to a pink yet green round fruit.

“That is pink mango, very famous around this island. She is sweeter than the normal ones you found, actually there are over 24 different types of mango around the south territory, but right now we only have this one. But we’ll be getting more around monday morning if you guys are interest.” He gave them a time to think if they wanted to buy it or not.

“I love mango. Put 3 of these, please.” Harry said giving a genuine smile, everybody knows how much he loves fruit… among other stuff that could be fruit related. He saw a small fruit, that looked like a cherry but it had this red/orange to it’s tone and it wasn’t completely round, so he asked: “Sol, what is this type of cherry?”

“Oh that one? That it’s pitanga. This fruit smells like trees and something sweet that takes you back to your childhood, if you lived on this island” he laughed like he was remembering a distant memory inside of his green eyes but continued soon afterward his little journey through memory lane “My mother used to say this fruit it’s like when you fall in love at first sight: first comes the infatuation, the smell that reminds you there is so much good in the world and all of the good is all in one person. Then, when you first bite to it, first it has a sour taste, like when you get insecure about first kissing someone, but they, you get the courage and kisses them… and it’s amazing and sweet.”

Well Harry didn’t need more and said:

“Give me 12 strawberries, a few limes so we can make drinks, those mangos,a bit of that gelly that looks yummy, and half a pound of those pitangas”

“All done. That is going to be 25 and 75 cents” Both Harry and the girl tried to pay the guy, in the end, she ended up paying, earning a glare from Harry and looking at him like saying ‘what’. The boy returned with the change and the piece of paper for the autograph, Harry signed told him he would be back monday morning to get those other types of mangos and he could bring his sisters if he wanted to,he would gladly meet the girls.

They said their goodbyes and continued their walking, now holding hands without questioning.

“You know out of all those fruits the one I’m more excited to taste it’s this pitanga one” she told Harry.

“Me too”

He knew she was talking more than just the fruit.

And so was him.

With the sound of ocean and the winds in a mix with people chatter, they walked through the fair. Stopping for a quick lunch (some natural sandwiches with coconut water to wash it down) they looked around a vintage music store.

“It’s getting late, I wanna go back to the house if you don’t mind… get some sleep so I’m not tired when it’s time for our little luau” she said looking at him with tiresome eyes “oh maybe I’ll dress like a little witch!!!! So we can perform a little moon ritual”

That put a smile in Harry’s face.

“You know Stevie would actually love this”

“I can’t help getting a bit starstruck every time you mention Stevie Nicks”

“I get starstruck every time I remember that I’m actually her friend... it’s inevitable, she is a legend and an amazing human being”

They were walking and talking about Stevie Nicks and Harry was telling her all about the first time Stevie listened to Fine Line and by the time they got close to their bikes. Just like yesterday, Harry was ready to pay for their bikes parking lot but she was not having it. He was always paying for every little thing (the first time she got to pay anything was the fresh fruits just a few hours ago). So she looked at him when he was lost looking at the turquose sea and just ran away towards the bike.

She heard his scream- a soft loud HEY - and just when she was reaching for the bikes she felt two arms wrap around her waist and pull her out of the way. But they both lost their balance, falling towards the wall of bricks next to the bikes. Her head hit the wall a little bit to harshly makig her let out a low “oh” all that while he crushed her into the same wall.

Puting his hand in fits next to her face, Harry took his face off and lowered to be abble to look at the pretty girl in the eyes. He noticed she was standing on her toes to get closer to him, if he took a deep breath he could smell her perfume, a mix of peach and tangerine. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had never been as close to her as he were now. Harry was abble to see how beautiful eyes eyes were when the sun was high up in the sky and his face too close, he could see how her eyebrows had a thin yet natural draw or how her cupid bow were a little bit more colored than the rest of her lips. He could listen to the wind, bringing a message from the ocean: “it’s time to kiss her, you fool”.

He took her messy hair from her eyes, cradling her face in on hand while the other was kept on the wall, so he could have a sense of what was real. It was the perfect moment.

Or not.

Time simply wasn’t on Harry’s side, as he thought. Because someone started to yell at him in a language he couldn’t pinpoint the country, maybe Russia because of how pale was the old couple looked. They were point at the bikes and yelling at them, people were looking and she was blushing.

“I think they want to park their bikes and we’re on their way” she told him “maybe we should just go home.

🍄

The sun was now close to say it’s farewell for the day. While Harry was busy making a nice playlist (and also giving himself a talk: “you are going to kiss her tonight”. Maybe if started to say all the time like a mantra in would come true). She was making the perfect ambience for a beach party for two. Opening in the sand a round beach towel with lots of candles for when the only light in the sky was the moon and stars. The fruits all in pretty plates made out of wood and she also melted dark chocolate - it would look cool with the strawberries.

The sky was a mix of pretty colors: pink and purple and orange and everything that would make a perfect painting .

She was using this old seventies skirt from her mother (a tie dye skirt with all the colors of the rainbow) and a Stevie Nicks shirt she stole from Harry the night before to sleep. Her hair was falling from her face, dancing with the wind just as her skirt.

It was that moment that Harry made his appearance: his safe sex shirt, yellow shorts, barefoot, no rings. Smiling at her, she thought she looked like he looked like a prince out of every seventies groupies fantasies.

Harry was holding this old radio and in his hand there was a mixtape. Only Harry would come up with the idea of using this old radio that her aunt left at the house as a source for playlist making. Spotify playlist just wasn’t enough if he wanted impress her. In the words of his friend Rob Sheffield: “mixtapes are like pictures but with sound”.

And Harry was planing of making this evening a picture he would always remember with lovin’ care.

“Doesn’t he looks handsome” she walked towards him to help him with settled everything he brought down. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was blushing.

“The seeds are ready if we want to try it now” Harry said changing the subject.

“Let’s go. It takes half an hour to kick and till then we can talk some more”

The seeds didn’t have any taste, almost like any pill you wash down with water.

“Wanna eat one of those fresh fruits?” He said getting a piece of de the pitanga “quite anxious to try this one” he said getting one of the small pitanga fruits.

At first bite it was quite bitter, he was glad Sol had told him about that. But the more he ate, the sweater it got. It was something he couldn’t describe.

“So what do you think?” She asked.

“The explanation that Sol gave to us it’s the best one. It changes taste the more you get used to it. The same is with feelings, right?”

She smiled at him and opened her mouth: “give me some then….” He got one of the fruits and feed her. But he didn’t take his hands of her, leaving there so he could feel her neck veins move with her chewing.

“It’s so sweet in the end… almost like an orgasm”. Harry was fucked.

The time passed and they talked about anything and everything. The sun was almost all the way down as they looked over the horizon.

“So… is it starting to hit for you? ” she asked with a coy smile while getting herself more of the fruits.

He saw her red lips curve around the fruit and suddenly everything was changing colors. The world was red as the fruit she was (so deliciously) tasting. Red like the passion he was beginning to feel for this carefree girl. But she... she was golden. Her aura was just shining through her.

It’s no secret he falls in love with people with golden aura- Stevie has said so herself when he first showed her his second album - and she is shining so much he thought the sun had come down to earth.

Maybe she was the sun, even if it the stars were starting to take their place high in the sky, she was sunshine. His sunshine. It’s never night when she’s around.

“You know, it’s starting to hit”

“And how do you know that?”

“You’re golden”

She laughed at him

“Are you quoting to me a song you wrote about another woman, Styles?”

“No. It’s your aura. It’s shining. And is golden”

That left her with no answer.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Seeing anything?”

She could see the rainbow inside his eyes. She was always attached to everything that was colorful, from a young age. And right now there was this rainbow of lights playing with her vision. And it was all because of this beautiful young man standing right in front of her.

“Yeah, I think I can see everything” happy with her mysterious answer, she looked at the ocean. The waves were moving slow and in pretty rhythm, inviting her to dance together.

Today all of the nature was rooting for them. Getting another pitanga she could feel the sour before the sweet. Giving her body chills. She looked at him and those chills only got stronger but so was her bravery: “will you dance with me?” she asked.

“Well... of course young maiden I shall dance with you” he laughed at his own joke while getting up and offering his hand.

In that moment their worlds collided: their hand were glued together seeding all of different feels from one body to another. They didn’t need to talk to understand: there was a feeling of belonging neither of them never felt even if once they thought they did. This was a moment once in a lifetime: the moment you look at someone and you see them slightly different from one minute ago. When all of the puzzles pieces starts to make sense: what they were feeling from the moment they got on this island wasn’t only attraction it was months of friendship that intertwined them towards something stronger. Something they knew it was blooming inside their chest. Something new, something exciting.

Something beautiful.

He twirled her in his arms and then let her rest her head in his chest, right where his heart was beating so loud and fast, just for her.

“You know it feels like the world is almost too much right now” Harry heard her say “it seems like there are more sound than before, the ocean is actually a song ya comes together with your heartbeat and when you touch me it feels like there is a more to than just a simple touch, like it’s your souls that’s touching me, you know?” He starts to caress her right arm with the tip of his finger, he wanted her to feel more of whatever this she was describing. “Or maybe that’s just the seeds talking but it just feels like something I never had before”

God, she looked beautiful right now blushing with all the glitter around her and her lips red from all the fruits.

It’s time.

“I wanna taste those pitanga lips. Can I?” He asks while still caressing her arms with the tips of his fingers, getting her dizzy and seeing everything with light tones of pink, just like the shirt he wore to the street fair. She wants so much that in a moment of pure infatuation she raises her hand, feeling his chestnut curls, looking into his green eyes that looked almost a dark blue due to the lighting and finally she answered:

“Anytime. Everywhere. Anywhere”

He gave her a soft kind of fucked up smile, getting a good grasp of her hair and pulling her towards his mouth.

She spent so much of her time wondering how does Harry Styles kisses but nothing could get her ready to what she felt in that moment. His lips were a bit chapped because of the sun and the weather, they both were a bit clumsy because they couldn’t feel their faces but the soft touch of his tongue contrasting with tight grasp he had on her hair was making her body feel like it was part of the sand they were standing while he was the ocean, one doesn’t belong without the other, in a painting they would always be together and if that kiss was any indication... so would be their lives.

He gave her a small bite on the lips and laughed: “I’m so sorry, I can’t feel my lips” and she started to giggle because she couldn’t feel a lot, but she could feel him. All of him.

“I’m so glad we finally kissed” she said in a whisper. He looked inside of her eyes before putting his eyes right on her left cheek and flicking his eye lashes while she was having a fit with laughter... everything was too much in their state of mind. And this little touch made her feel like Harry has been tickling her soft skin for hours.

“If you’re so glad that we kissed... you wouldn’t mind if we kissed a bit more, right?” He said in a sensual whisper in her ear while giving little bites.

She pulled him by his hair in a hungry attack. Moaning into his mouth. Sucking his tongue. Smiling when they took small break.

They were standing, her on the tip of her toes, trying to reach him but Harry had other plans, whispering a small “come here” he took her by the waist and made her jump so he could walk back to the beach towel and sit down with her on his lap.

With Harry’s hips between her knees, that wasn’t a inch to separate them. All of their bodies were touching and each particle inside of them was screaming in delight. The feeling of having someone near when the mind is in such a state of inebriation was out of this world. It was paradise.

But maybe their state of mind is just a plus because Harry is pretty sure it could be 10 am on a Sunday and she would make him feel the same way he was feeling now: completely in bliss, in a hypnotic state of mind because of her pitanga lips and the warm energy. She was his sun, his warmth when they would feel could. A little piece of magic after so much pain in love. And Harry couldn’t deny anymore: he was falling.

She stopped kissing him and decided to give small kisses in his neck and every time he moaned she would increase the strength of this kiss.

Harry was quite literally seeing stars, but not only the ones in the sky. He was seeing the stars coming together in a show: each constellation was dancing on its own circle of star friends. And there were always changing color: pink, golden, red, silver.

They were dancing in a celebration because two stars that were meant to be were finally coming together as one.

That was the moment that Harry decided that he wanted more. He pulled her out of his neck and asked: “I love that you are wearing my old shirt but there is nothing more in this world that I would love more than being able to see you without it. Can I?”

Her response was clear: raising her hands above her hand, the - now- moonlight caressing her form when Harry took her shirt off. She was perfect, every little thing about her was just so her, from the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra to how she had this little moon necklace and a little citrine stone resting right on her heart.

He didn’t want to lose more time, he started to give little pecks on her nipples and when Harry heard a moan and a whisper saying “finally” he just went ahead and took the everything he could from her chest inside his mouth while his hand was playing with her right breast and his other hand was supporting her back so she wouldn’t fall off his lap.

She was seeing stars, she could feel everything and anything. His mouth was powerful, like he knew all the buttons to push and that was only the beginning. Moving her hips in circle movements she started to moan more loudly. Using one hand to pull his hair and grinding faster on his growing dick and finally earning a full on moan from her she took his head of her chest and said “I need you, please take off your clothes”

She didn’t have to say more. After this they disrobed so fast they didn’t knew they were able. Now, completely naked, she looked at Harry with a mischievous look and went back to his lap, but before she could do anymore than that, Harry stopped her, using his force to manhandle her body to a lay down position “I promise you that I will be inside you in a moment, but first, I need to taste you, I need to hear your moans and know that’s all because of me, all because of my tongue”

She lost her power to speak but she was pretty sure she kind of screamed “yes” without intending to.

Harry spread her open and looked at the mess that was between her legs. He did loved tasting the pitanga. But he was pretty sure that nothing would compare to the taste of her.

He took his finger and started to pass lightly through the inside of her right thigh and she was trembling already “this seeds are making me more sensible fuck” he heard whisper. Smirking he answered her: “oh so this is all the seeds and not me? Pet, you are breaking my heart now”.

In a revenge he took the same finger that was caressing her thigh and passed from her opening to her clit without any warning.

“Fuck fuck FUCK please just touch me already. My whole body is burning in flames all I can see is a burning flame” he decided to end her suffering. Taking his thumb and lazily caressing her clit in slow but strong circles.

“Are you happy now, Pet”

“Yes but please, give me more”

In a responde Harry took his tongue and licked her right on her clit and started to use the tip of his finger to tease her entrance.

Her moans started to get louder and Harry didn’t have a care anymore, just her taste. That’s the only thing that matters.

While his lips were sucking and licking her clit his finger were working inside of her. When he wanted to change he would put his finger in her clit and would go to her pretty hole and use his tongue to tease her.

Every time he saw she was getting closer to her orgasm, he would stop what he was doing and would just use the tip of his finger to tease her while he kissed her thigh. When her breathing was back to a more concentrated peace he would get back to give her everything he could with his tongue and finger.

And that went on for a while: lips, tongue, fingers. Saw her getting close? Stopped for a while.

When he was doing the pattern for the third time she signed: “I need to come, please let me come?”

Harry wasn’t doing this to be mean, he just wanted to be the only thing she could feel and see. Wanted this to be so good she would never want to be away from him again. And when he saw her trembling lips and eyes full of tear he new she has enough, so he moved his finger in a “come here” motion while she was wetting and wetting more and more his hand, dripping down to the towel and her screams were so loud that if there was a single soul in the almost private beach, he was sure they could listen.

When she was done he took his finger off of her linking each one of them while patiently waiting so she could get back to her state of mind and tell him what she wanted next.

“Hey, there is a condom in the fruit basket” she said

“You dirty little thing, were you planning all of this?” Harry said taking the condom and opening carefully.

“No but I had my hopes up”

She looked so perfect with the sweat on her body dancing around the moonlight, he smiled and asked sweetly: “how do you want me?”

“I want you on top, want to be able to look inside your eyes” He wanted that, too.

“Your wish is my command” whispered Harry while settling on top of her. He stroked her face with one arm supported beside her hand. “Are you ready for me” She nodded with starry eyes and asked:

“And you, are you ready for me?”

Harry guided himself inside her, getting his mouth closer to her left ear and whispered like it was a secret and she was the only one who had the right to hear: “I have been ready for you my whole life” and then he was inside of her. While she was breathing hard, he was whispering sweet nothing in her ear, trying to calm himself, he wanted this to last.

“You can move, you know” that was all Harry needed to start to pick up his pace, making sure every time he came closer to her his pubic bone would caress her clit. She was whimpering and he was completely hers.

He picked her leg up on his shoulder and said: “I need…. fuck…. I need to get closer to you”. She was feeling all of him stretching her a little bit more every time he pushed himself inside of her. Hitting her g spot so perfectly she was seeing stars - and this time was all because of him, not the seeds.

Her body was on fire and the delicious warmth was starting to form in the pit of her stomach. She was going to come again, and she was going to come hard.

“Come on, baby. I can feel you squeezing me so hard. I know you wanna come. I need to feel it” Harry said, his movements becoming each time more out of rhythm, chasing his own peak.

Bringing his hand to her clit, it was only three flicks of his fingers till she was shaking and her eyes were closing. Her mouth forming a delicious smile, one full of satisfaction. And it was watching her come that Harry felt his need to come as well. Closing his eyes and feeling his whole body shake with release.

The only thing surrounding Harry was her. Her name. Her smell. The feeling of her. Everything was her.

When their breathing was back to a normal rhythm and the moon and stars were high in sky, Harry looked over her naked body laid down on all the towels, surrounded by fruits and golden from the candle lights. He was starting to sober up and there was so much he wanted to tell her, but he settled for one single sentence:

“You are a wonderful creation” he told her.

“Look at you quoting Dorian Gray to me!” She said smiling lightly “Do you remember that was the first dm I ever sent you? Telling you to read that book.”

“Of course I remember. I remember everything you ever said to me” he started laughing with the memory “you know, after that message I went running to the closest book store? I wanted to do anything to have a reason to talk to you, even if it was just a dm. I wanted you to think of me all the time, because since that moment I saw you on that raining afternoon my heart started to beat in synchrony with yours” now it’s time to say everything, before it’s too late “you know I’m falling for you right?”

She looked at him like he was the brightest star in the night.

“I know, I’m falling in love with you too” she told him while laying her her on his chest and started to trace the butterfly tattoo “And now?”

“Now I think I have a new song about another fruit to write”. They both started to smile, sealing the deal. She got another pitanga and popped into her mouth and he smiled. He was happy.

#harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry x reader #harry styles friends to lovers #summer fic challenge

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peachy-beomie · 4 years ago

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I’ll Be Your Light (In The Darkest Night) <KUNTEN>

Genre: Hurt/Comfort (Fluff w/ Light Angst)

Pairings: Kunten (Qian Kun x Ten Lee)

Word Count: 1,936

Warnings: Light Angst (not much but like kun gets yelled at a lot)

Synopsis: Kun is an amazing leader for wayv. He’s levelheaded, smart, observant, and he knows how to make sure the boys are taken care of. But sometimes leaders have to make tough decisions for the good of their members, even if they can’t see the benefit. OR Kun is upset and Ten is there for him.

A/N: Uh hi this is my first fanfic on tumblr!! :DD My awesome friend sophie (@chicksung) encouraged me to try posting one so here I am. Hope it’s at least an enjoyable read :))) Tell me what you think in the comments or by reblogging! Also I thought a cute little thing to do at the end of each of my kunten fics would be to include a random kunten photo, since they seem to be few and far between (@ Kun and Ten POST A SELFIE TOGETHER COWARDS). So look for that at the bottom of the post! Enjoy lovely readers!!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29409582

“You’ve got to be kidding me!!!”

Each of the 7 boys flinched hard at their dance instructor’s exclamation, their hearts beating wildly in their chests.

“Seriously what is WRONG with you guys?? That’s the 10th time we’ve gone over that section and you STILL can’t get it right!”

“I think we’re all really tired ge,” Kun interjects, voice calm and collected as always. “Maybe we should call it a night and try again tomorrow.”

The teacher seems to grow angrier from that comment. “We are not done until each of you can do the choreography flawlessly. Go get some water and I better see you back and ready to dance in no more than 10 minutes!!” Kun can do nothing but nod and usher his members into the hall. As they step over the threshold, each boy all but collapse onto the floor, completely drained of energy and courage.

Kun sinks down the wall whilst holding in a groan of pain. The teachers had been really harsh that day, yelling at them and making them work extra hard. Kun wishes he could just go home and cuddle with his boyfriend.

As if sensing Kun’s unease, the aforementioned boyfriend sat next to him and offered him a sip of water which he gladly accepted. Ten intertwined their hands and squeezed Kun encouragingly.

“I don’t think I can take much more of this, my legs feel like Jello.” Hendery comments, breaking the silence of the room.

“I know, the staff have been really crude today,” Lucas responds, his usually wide and wondrous eyes are dulled, which isn’t lost on Kun. His stomach clenches as he looks around at his members. It’s painful seeing them so despondent. Each pair of eyes sporting large bags and shoulders all hunched and tense. The boys stare back at him with expressions so colorless it makes Kun want to cry. Winwin taps him on the shoulder suddenly.

“Kun-ge you have to tell the teacher we can’t go on, I can barely feel my legs.” Winwin’s eyes brim with tears as he speaks and Kun wants so badly to wipe them away. He grabs the back of Winwin’s head and guides it to his shoulder in comfort. Being tired as shit himself, Kun would love nothing more then to tell the teacher to let them go, but he knows he can’t. If he so much as looks at the teacher the wrong way he’ll get them all punished. It makes him feel terrible, not being able to take care of his members the way he needs to. With a heavy heart he brings the boys to their feet, offering them the most encouraging smile he can muster.

“It’s only another half an hour guys, we’ll get through this I promise.”

Needless to say the practice continues to go downhill from there.

The short break did not make the teacher any less cruel. He continues to scream, degrade, and cuss out the members. The words he spews sting each boy to the core. Kun only watches as brows crease infinitely tighter and stray tears are wiped in secret.

Kun doesn’t realize how deep in his thoughts he is until he trips over his foot sending him to the floor. His eyes remain closed as he hears the music switch off and the feeling of doom rises in his chest.

“Oh my god Kun this is RIDICULOUS!! Why can’t you guys get this?? It’s so simple!! Stop slacking and focus!!” Kun reluctantly stands up and faces the teacher with the most level expression he can.

“I’m sorry ge, I’ll do better from now on.”

“You better. It’s bad enough that I have to deal with Xiaojun’s weak form, I don’t need any more challenges today.” Kun is taken aback by the comment. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Xiaojun curl into himself almost as if trying to disappear, and it fills him with rage. Fire spreads from the tips of his fingers all the way to his toes. His hands ball into fists as he struggles to maintain his calm demeanor. He can handle the insults thrown his way, but something about this one comment set him off. Poor Xiaojun is struggling enough with his own confidence and Kun knows things like this really get to him. He doesn’t want to let this teacher continue to talk shit about the people he cares for. His members stare at him almost expectantly as he glares daggers into the back of the staffs’ heads. Checking his watch, he realizes that there’s 5 minutes left of rehearsal and reality sinks in slowly.

Kun, having been cursed with “holding the braincell” (as Hendery lovingly puts it), knows that if he goes off on the teacher it’ll only hurt his members more. God only knows what’d happen to them if the staff report them as “difficult to work with” or anything. As much as the members want him to assert their needs, they have to know that he stays silent to protect them. So he reluctantly bites his tongue and just continues to dance for 5 long, agonizing, scream-filled minutes.

⏳

The ride back to the dorms is unusually quiet. All the members seemingly too upset or too tired to speak. Ten rests his sleepy head on Kun’s shoulder in a form of comfort that’s only half effective. Kun watches as Hendery holds a shaken Xiaojun and whispers affirmations into his hair. He sees Winwin and Yangyang cuddle up to Lucas trying to get as much sleep as they can in the uncomfortable position. Knots of guilt and sadness begin to form in Kun’s stomach. He attempts to focus on Ten’s heartbeat against his side, but he’s never able to drift off.

Once they get home everything explodes.

“How could you let him do that ge?? Shit talk us like that?? You should’ve said something.” Yangyang cries out, emotional and desperate. The tears they’d all been holding in spilling over in the tense atmosphere. Kun stares back in bewilderment, unable to form a coherent response, and Yangyang is not having it.

“LOOK WHAT HE DID TO POOR XIAOJUN!! HOW COULD YOU LET HIM JUST DO THAT????”

“It’s not Kun’s responsibility to cuss out teachers baby.” Ten interjects, trying to calm the two.

“But he could’ve said something. He’s our leader, he should look out for us.” Hendery pipes up, his tone even but a slight bite lies in his words. Kun’s really trying not to cry now. He should’ve been there for them. He was so stupid to stay quiet, they neeeded him, and he’d failed them.

“I-I’m sorry,” Kun mutters. He keeps his eyes glued to the floor.

“You should be.” Yangyang spits out, before turning on his heels and stomping to his room, slamming the door closed.

“Guys, there’s no use placing blame right now. It’s really late, we should all get to bed.” Lucas shoots a small smile in Kun’s direction before shooing Hendery and Xiaojun into their room. Kun walks shakily to his own room, not bothering to get changed. He sits on his bed and buries his head in his knees, focusing on his shallow breaths.

He felt like the worst friend on the planet. His members had been suffering and all he could do was watch. Some leader, he never should’ve debuted. He’s so worthless, so stupid, so-

“Kunnie?”

Ten’s silky voice cuts through Kun’s thoughts like a knife.

“Kun can I come in?”

Kun makes no motion to look up or get the door, only letting out a noise of confirmation before he hears the doorknob turn.

“Oh darling,” And all it takes is that one pet name for Kun to shatter like glass. His body shakes with each silent sob, all the emotions from today come pouring out. Ten sits patiently, never forcing Kun or rushing him. He’s too perfect Kun thinks. I don’t deserve him follows soon after only making him sob harder. Ten’s hands find their way into Kun’s hair, massaging his scalp assuringly. Several minutes later, Kun’s breathing has evened out until only occasional sniffles remain. He looks up at his boyfriend reluctantly, finding only care and worry in his brown eyes. Ten’s expression melts into a fond smile, pressing a kiss to Kun’s temple before getting up and moving to the dresser. Kun’s gaze follows him, puzzled, until the younger boy turns back to him with pajamas and a large sweatshirt. Ten motions for Kun to lift his arms and begins undressing him. Once Kun is comfortable in his pajamas, Ten sits back down on the bed.

“Care to tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Kun can’t help the slight heat that spreads across his cheeks. Even though they’ve been dating for 3 months now, Ten still manages to fluster Kun with ease. It’s just one of his many annoying charms.

“Nothing,” Kun lies, not convincing Ten for a second.

“Come on Kun, knowing you, I’d be more worried if you WEREN’T overthinking this,” Ten giggles melodically making Kun’s stomach flip slightly. “I’m not gonna judge you sweetheart, I swear.” Kun looks down and fidgets with his sleeves.

“It’s just…” he begins, “I feel like a shit leader. Like I wasn’t even able to protect you guys from our own staff! I just think I should’ve... done better.”

“You saying something would only make the situation worse, and we all know that.” Ten smiles lightly. “You can’t actually blame yourself for this Kun, look at me.” Ten presses his forehead against Kun’s and their gazes meet.

“You have to know they didn’t mean that,” Ten’s eyes scan Kun’s, “You didn’t do anything wrong bub, they’re just tired and upset.” Kun nods understandingly, but is obviously still uneasy. Ten quickly notices this and presses his lips to Kun’s. Their eyes flutter shut as each of them get lost in the feeling of each other. Ten’s lips work as if he’s trying to erase all traces of doubt and worry from his boyfriend’s mind. To be honest, it’s kinda working. When they break apart for air Kun can’t wipe the smile off his face. Ten, wearing an equally dopey smile, reaches up to wipe the saliva from Kun’s lips tenderly. He looks into Kun’s eyes with intent as he delivers his next statement.

“You. are. not. always. to. blame.” He boops his nose with each word for emphasis. “You did what you thought was best for the group, as any good leader does. You are so kind and considerate darling, the members love you so so much, you are the perfect leader for WayV.” Kun’s face feels like splitting from the size of the smile he’s wearing now.

“I love you so much.” Ten giggles and pecks Kun’s lips once more.

“I love you too, my handsome baby. Now get over here and sleep with me. We’ve had a long day.” And who’s Kun to refuse such an offer?

⏳

The next morning, Kun watches as Yangyang shuffles into the kitchen looking considerably more rested and also considerably more guilty. He pauses eating his breakfast to look up at the young boy.

“I’m really sorry Kun-ge, I didn’t mean to get so angry last night. And I definitely didn’t mean any of the things I said.” He genuinely admits. Kun only smiles.

“It’s ok Yangyang, I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” Yangyang’s shoulders relax at that.

“Thank goodness. I feel really bad about it.”

“No need. All is forgiven.”

“So does this mean you’ll make me pancakes?”

“You little-”

KUNTEN PIC OF THE DAY:

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thesassenachswiftie · 4 years ago

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Lover - Chapter 13: “Soon You’ll Get Better”

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8 // Chapter 9 // Chapter 10 // Chapter 11 // Chapter 12

Summary: Claire and Jo go Christmas shopping; Claire gets a call at work that Lamb’s in the hospital in Boston where she fears she will need to spend the holidays without Jamie. In short: angst, but make it festive.

" This won't go back to normal, if it ever was It's been years of hoping, and I keep saying it because 'Cause I have to

Ooh-ah, you'll get better..."

CW: cancer, hospitals, illness of a loved one,

Notes: First of all, if you’re still here, thank you for reading, and thank you for bearing with me as I took a small hiatus. Hopefully I will be getting back to a more regular posting schedule, but work is really draining right now and it’s hard to find enough hours in the day to do everything.

As you know, each Chapter of this fic is based off a Taylor Swift song by the same name. This one was particularly difficult to write/approach because I actually haven’t listened to this song in over a year. In early Summer 2019, a tumor was found on my grandfather’s brain. This was also the summer I discovered Outlander, and the summer Taylor Swift released Lover. The day after Lover came out, I broke down sobbing in my apartment listening to this song and thinking about my grandfather, knowing his condition was worsening. That night, I recieved the call that my grandfather had passed. He was the kindest, purest soul and I write this chapter in part as a tribute to him. Many of the experiences Claire and Lamb share are based on my own experiences with my grandpa that summer, and this version of Lamb is very much based on my Grandpa Jim.

That being said, you may want to grab a box of tissues before reading, but hopefully not all your tears will be sad. I’m hoping to post again before Chistmas, but in case I don’t Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays--and Happy Hanukkah to any Jewish readers I may have--here is a Hanukkah present for you!

Chapter 13: “Soon You’ll Get Better”

“All I want for Christmas is yooouuuuu” the sounds of Mariah Carey rang out throughout the small boutique gift shop in the heart of the village of Northport.

“Good God, we’re only a week into December and I swear I’ve already heard this song three hundred times. I’m not exaggerating either. Two hundred and eight-four at the very least.” Jo scoffed exasperatedly.

“Are you complaining?” Claire asked in reply. “It’s a great song--a classic really.”

“Do you know how many incredible, amazing, beautiful, jolly Christmas songs there are in existence?” Jo was gearing up for one of their famous rants, “Yet, the radio stations only ever play the same eighteen songs, I swear!”

“It must be more than eighteen.”

“Fine. Twenty. Take this song for instance: Ingrid Michaelson has the most hauntingly beautiful cover of it--do you ever hear it? No! You only ever hear Mariah!”

“I, for one, like Mariah!” Claire interjected, playfully defensive.

“Who doesn’t? But she’s not the only powerhouse female vocalist out there! I’d just like to see a little diversity in my holiday music, is that so much to ask?”

Claire giggled. Her best friend always had an opinion on everything and she loved them all the more for it. “Do you think Jenny would like this candle?” Claire unscrewed the lid a locally-made jar candle, taking a sniff before placing it under Jo’s nose. It smelled like Lavender and Sage with just a hint of Eucalyptus.

“Does Jenny keep a lot of candles around, with all those children?” Jo chuckled back. “It does smell nice though.” Jo had only met Jenny a couple times when visiting Claire, but they had a knack for reading people and Claire was glad to have them along as a shopping partner.

“I suppose candles aren’t really her thing. Jenny seems very practical, but I don’t know what she would need that she doesn’t already have, and Jamie’s been no help!”

“I think you’re on the right track with the self-care/relaxation vibe, but maybe not something the children can use to burn the house down. What about an artisanal lotion set?” Jo inquired, gesturing at a nearby display.

“Oh that might work!” Claire took a squirt from the bottle labeled ‘tester’ inhaling deeply as she rubbed it between her palms. “Ooo that’s nice, I would appreciate this if I were a hardworking mother.”

“If things keep going the way they are with your man, LJ, you might just be before you know it” Jo made a lewd gesture with their hands, raising their eyebrows to make it clear exactly what they were implying.

“Jo! You’re terrible” Claire shrieked, smacking her friend playfully on the arm. Besides, not much of that happening these days if you haven’t noticed, Jamie is literally across the ocean.”

“Well, at least you can’t get knocked up from phone sex,” Jo replied. “What are you getting him anyway? I’m thinking something lacy and strappy, with little bows on it of course, to be festive. There’s a place down the street that might have something like that.”

“Hmm” Claire exhaled. “We’ll see.” Claire knew lingerie was definitely going to be part of Jamie’s Christmas gift, one she would be most excited for him to unwrap. God, she missed him. It had been over a month and they were settling into a routine, video chatting every night, sweet texts back and forth throughout the day, the occasional phone sex when they were both sick with desire for one other--but nothing was the same as the feel of their bodies pressed against each other in the heat of the moment, chasing each other’s climax. Claire couldn’t wait to be reunited with him in every way.

It was two days before Christmas break, only a few days left until Claire would find freedom for the next ten days and, most of all--the comfort of Jamie’s arms. Claire was sitting in her school nurse’s office, inhaling deeply during the first quiet moments she’d had all week. There was an uptick of student visits in the past couple weeks--a few were legitimate concerns tied to cold and flu season: students whose parents sent them to school when they weren’t quite well enough, overachievers who wanted to maintain their perfect attendance dragging themselves to school despite their bodies protestations. Most of her patients however, were suffering from something much more insidious: the eagerness to start their winter break early by skipping their classes. This time of year the air of the school felt different, students and teachers alike were burnt out, apathetic, and ready for a break. This attitude in the students fed into the teachers’ attitudes--overworked with the end of the marking period, trying to squeeze in Christmas shopping and decorating between grading. Claire did not envy Jo nor any of the other teachers during this time, but their exhaustion was so palpable in the air of the school that she was starting to feel it too. By tomorrow, most teachers would be shutting their doors and playing a holiday film, giving up on instruction all together--hopefully that would make for a quiet day for Claire. Really, if she could just get through the rest of the day it would be smooth sailing until Christmas--until Jamie.

Her silent musings were broken by the blaring sound of her office phone. She was expecting a teacher, calling to send a student down, but instead it was the school clerk, Glenda. “Hi Nurse Beauchamp, we have an outside call for you, it seems like it may be a personal call so if there’s any students with you we can send someone down to watch them if you’d like to take it privately here in the office.”

Claire's heart sank to her stomach. What could it be? She took a deep breath and swallowed to brace herself before replying “last student just left.”

“Alright, I’ll transfer you now.” The click of the call transferring sounded through the phone.

“Hello, this is Miss Beauchamp”

“Hello Miss Beauchamp, I’m Tammy, a nurse at Mass General we’re calling because you’re listed as the emergency contact for Quentin Beauchamp” a nasally voice croaked through the phone speaker--the voice was impersonal like that of a cashier saying “have a nice day” for the thousandth time, not fitting of a potential harbinger of death.

“Yes…” Claire replied, nervously, questioningly.

“Mr. Lambert was admitted this morning after showing signs of cognitive distress. An initial cat scan shows a mass on his brain. He’s currently undergoing testing to see if it’s cancerous.”

Claire’s lungs felt like they were about to collapse. Lamb had been diagnosed with prostate cancer several years ago, but had been able to live with it through treatment. Claire also knew that cancer was insidious and could spread throughout the body rapidly and without warning. She knew it was very likely that the mass was cancer. She tried to find her medical professional voice, but a diagnosis was different when it was someone you loved. Instead, she croaked out, “when will you know?”

“We should have the results by tomorrow. He’ll stay here overnight for monitoring and we’ll decide whether to admit him long term from there.”

“I’m on Long Island, should I drive up?”

“I’m afraid it’s too soon to tell, it could be nothing, but--” Claire cut her off, knowing exactly how bad it could be.

“I understand. I’ll drive up this evening.”

“Alright, he should be back in his room by then, he’s out getting his tests done now. It’s room 713 when you get here.” Claire wrote the number on a bright blue sticky note on her desk as the nurse spoke. “Have a nice day Ms. Beauchamp”

“Hmm” was all she could reply, as if she could possibly have a nice day. She hung up the phone, and finally let the deluge of tears she’d been holding back free.

She allowed herself to cry for a few minutes to get it out, but she knew she had to get to Boston as soon as possible. She picked up the phone again and dialed the main office.

“Hi Glenda, it’s Claire. I need to take the rest of the day off--I have to go to Boston, my uncle…” she couldn’t say it out loud for fear of unleashing the tears again “Is Principal Gowan there, I need to let him know.”

“Oh Nurse Beauchamp, I’m so sorry to hear that, let me know if you need anything. Mr. Gowan’s in his office, I’ll transfer you to him now, if he doesn’t answer just pack up your things and go, I’ll take care of it”

“Thanks Glenda, I really appreciate it”

----------

After getting the ok from her kind and understanding principal, Claire rushed back to Jamie’s apartment, hastily packed a bag (likely forgetting several things), informed Jenny where she was going--which was met with sympathy and genuine concern--and hopped back in the car for the journey to Boston. She entered the hospital doors several hours later, the buttons of her coat were tangled in her hair as she rushed, breathless, to the front desk to receive her visitor’s pass.

When she arrived at Lamb’s room, he was asleep. She didn’t want to wake him, but she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze to let him know she was there before settling into the armchair beside him to await his awakening. He looked so frail and small in the hospital bed, not at all like the strong, spirited man who had raised her. He had left the television on--some sports channel was playing a highlight reel of various golfing moments. No wonder Lamb fell asleep. Claire was staring at the screen, but her thoughts were elsewhere: worried about Lamb, wondering if she’d remember everything when she hastily packed, wondering what the future held. Would she have to spend Christmas in this hospital room? A golf ball soared across the Scottish Highlands on the screen. Jamie. Jamie was coming home Christmas Eve, she was supposed to pick him up from the airport, supposed to spend her holiday break with him, experience her first Hogmanay with the Murray family, be surrounded by love and laughter and family. Lamb was supposed to be fine, he was supposed to take the train down, spend Christmas with them. Every plan they had made was shattered into a million pieces. Would she even be able to see Jamie? She thought about the presents she’d bought for him, not yet wrapped, piled in the closet but definitely not hidden, especially considering it was his apartment. Of course he’d understand--she could tell him where they were, but the magic of unwrapping would be lost, it would feel entirely unsentimental. It was bad enough that she felt her gifts weren’t sentimental enough--what could she possibly get him to show how special he was to her? How could she communicate that with an object? If she were a painter she would paint him a painting, if she were a songwriter she would write him a song, but she was simply Claire, and practical gifts were all she knew. She had purchased a cozy blue sweater to match his eyes and keep him warm in the brisk London winters, a cool multi-tool the size of a credit card that would fit in his wallet and help him solve a variety of problems, a protective case for his phone, and a box of artisanal beef jerky. She had also procured a complicated piece of lingerie with a big red bow across the chest for him to unwrap the night of Christmas, which she knew he would enjoy. Everything was thoughtful enough and mostly practical, but she longed to be able to give him something truly special--a grand gesture to match her feelings for him. Claire glanced back at her uncle and immediately felt guilty being so selfish. I hate to make this all about me. Lamb always had a knack for helping her realize what was important when life’s situations overwhelmed her. She needed him for perspective, but how could she talk to him about this? How could she tell him how she felt? She knew it was wrong, but she was mad at him for getting sick so close to Christmas. Who am I supposed to talk to? What am I supposed to do if there’s no you? The tears were welling up in her eyes as she watched her most beloved uncle sleep--hooked up to machines, pale and listless in the hospital bed.

Claire slipped into the adjoining bathroom to try to compose herself--she didn’t want her uncle to wake up and see her upset, she knew he would try to comfort her, to be the rock he always had been for her. She was here to be his rock this time, she needed to stay strong for him. She looked at herself in the mirror, telling herself it was going to be ok--her uncle was strong and he’d been fighting a long time--he’d continue to fight. Soon you’ll get better. She had to convince herself it was true, pretend it wasn’t real, it wasn’t so bad. She knew it was a delusion, she could see it all over her glass face when she looked in the mirror. She was genuinely afraid that this could be when she lost him, if not physically right away, he could be lost mentally. She’d been hoping for years he would get better, but now it seemed he’d taken a turn for the worse. She took a few deep breaths and offered up a prayer. She wasn’t usually religious, but they say desperate people find faith, so she decided it was time to try. God? Jesus? Whoever is up there. I know I don’t much deserve anything from you, I’m not sure I’m exactly on good terms with you, but I’m inclined to believe you care and you are good. Besides, I’m not really asking anything for myself, not really. I just pray my Uncle is ok, I pray he gets better. He has to. Please don’t take his brilliant mind away from him. Please let him be ok. Please, I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever it takes to help him. Just please, please, don’t take him away from me. I need him. Please let him get better. Please let him get better. Claire continued to repeat the words like a mantra as she returned to her bedside chair. She stared at the collection of orange bottles on the tray table. Please let them help him get better. Please let him get better. Please, please, please let him get better.

Claire had no idea how long she sat there, repeating those words to herself, but her silent appeal was interrupted when a nurse entered the room to check her uncle’s vitals.

“Hi, I’m Brenda, I’ll be the nurse on duty tonight.” Brenda erased a name on a small whiteboard in front of the room and replaced it with her own.

“I’m Claire, I’m his niece.”

Brenda had made her way over to the other side of the bed and was checking the monitors beside the bed, making notes on the chart in her hand. “I hate waking them up, but I’m going to have to.” Claire was glad that she was much kinder than the nurse she had spoken with on the phone earlier—had that really been earlier? It seemed much longer since that phone call. “Excuse me, Quentin? Sir?” Brenda gently nudged his arm to awaken him. Lamb’s eyes fluttered open and he looked disoriented, Claire watched him carefully hoping that his disorientation was solely from being awoken mid-sleep and not from any neurological damage.

“Hi Uncle Lamb” Claire stammered, hoping she sounded cheerful anyway.

“Claire! My girl! You came all the way to see your old uncle!”

“Of course I did! How are you?” she replied warmly.

“Oh, I’m fine, they’re taking good care of me here.” Lamb’s voice sounded genuinely content and Claire felt comforted for the first time since the hospital had called her earlier that day.

“Hello sir, my name’s Brenda, I’ll be your nurse tonight. I just need to ask you a few questions and check your vitals.”

“What is your name?”

“Quentin Lambert Beauchamp”

“Good. When is your birthday?

“March 23th, 1939”

“Good, and who is the president?”

“Well, unfortunately…” both Claire and Brenda giggled at how Lamb began his sentence. Claire was well aware of Lamb’s opinions of the current president of the United States, and was glad to see he hadn’t lost his sly sense of humor or his disdain for the man. She was also glad he knew who the president was, hopefully his mental capacities were more promising than the worst-case-scenario her mind was conjuring.

----------

Claire stayed by her uncle’s side for the rest of the night, only leaving the room twice, once to find something to eat from a vending machine, and once for her nightly call to Jamie. She allowed herself to break down when talking to Jamie, sobbing over the phone. Jamie did his best to comfort her through the speaker, desperately wishing he could be there for her in person. Claire wished the same, longing to curl up in his strong embrace, and bury her swollen face in his chest. She couldn’t bring up the fact that she might have to spend Christmas in Boston. She was enough of a mess without facing the reality that they wouldn’t see each other, and when Jamie promised they’d see each other soon at the end of their call, Claire hung up quickly as another wave of emotion overtook her and she buried her face in her hands to cry some more.

The next morning, the doctor came in with Lamb’s results. Claire grasped Lamb’s hand, unsure of who was holding onto whom for comfort as the doctor explained that the mass on Lamb’s brain was in fact cancerous, but it was still relatively small and had been caught early. He explained that they could operate on it and remove it, however there was no guarantee that it wouldn’t come back or that they’d be able to get it all out. It was moments like these where Claire desperately wished she was already a surgeon, that she could feel in control of the outcome--though could she operate on her own uncle? Would she be able to hold her hand steady enough to do a good job? No, perhaps it was best left to the veteran surgeons in Boston.

After discussing all the details and options with the doctor’s, Lamb decided to go through with the surgery. It was scheduled for the day after Christmas and Claire resigned herself to the sobering fact that she’d be spending the holidays in the hospital. As the florescent hospital lights lit the room with an unnatural glow, Claire couldn’t tell him she was scared. She had to stay strong, she had to keep it together and remain positive and supportive.

----------

Claire spent the next few days devoted to her uncle, rarely leaving his bedside. Lamb had forced her to spend the nights at his apartment, which was probably for the best. She wasn’t sleeping well to begin with and the recliner at the hospital was only making matters worse. Claire was present and doting on him from morning to night though, helping her uncle order his meals, assisting him when he needed to use the restroom, adding and removing pillows and blankets as needed, or anything else he needed or wanted. Lamb had been moved to the cancer floor, and the window of his new room had a nice view of the Boston skyline. Lamb was making the best of a bad deal, he bragged about his ‘luxury accommodations’, he cracked jokes often, he liked the nicer nurses, he ordered extra dessert with all his meals and was in generally pleasant spirits. Claire could see the cracks in his cognition though. Sometimes he would change the topic he was discussing mid-sentence, and he couldn’t seem to keep time straight. Whenever anyone would mention Christmas, he would act surprised to know that it was coming up, and at one point he hinted at Claire that she might just get those roller skates she wanted for Christmas, a gift she had not asked for since she was eleven years old. He didn’t seem to know what year it was or how old Claire was. He did know who Claire was though, and for that she was thankful. He also knew who the president was whenever the nurses asked, always beginning his answer with a short preamble to make known his disdain.

Before they knew it, it was Christmas Eve and Claire couldn’t hide the sadness she felt on her face. She was glad to spend the evening with Lamb, but she had been looking forward to her first big family Christmas. She had filled in Jamie about Lamb’s condition and her subsequent stay in Boston over the course of their phone calls that week. She had also describe the Christmas gifts she had purchased for the Murrays, Jo, and Lamb, so Jamie would know the rest were for him. Jamie had agreed to put the Murrays gifts in gift bags and distribute them for her. They were meant to exchange family gifts that evening, the morning being reserved for Santa, and Claire was heartbroken to be missing out. In a matter of hours, and for the first time in two months, her and Jamie would be on the same continent, yet they wouldn’t be able to see each other. There was no way Claire could get into the Christmas spirit under these conditions. The hospital, despite being modestly decorated, was not the most festive atmosphere. Even a troop of Girl Scouts caroling their way through the hospital halls did nothing to assuage the weight of losing everything Claire had been looking forward to for the past two months.

“What’s a matter, my dear?” Lamb asked, showing genuine concern for his niece.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine, I promise, I’m just wishing things were different today.”

“Why today? Is it something special? I can’t seem to remember.”

“It’s Christmas Eve. You were supposed to come to Long Island and meet Jamie. We were going to spend the holiday with his family.”

“Yes, I remember, that’s today? Oh dear, I haven’t gotten your gift yet I’m afraid.”

“That’s fine, Lamb, I’m afraid I left your gift at home, so we’ll have to do that part later. We can take a raincheck on gift exchanging. I was just really looking forward to you getting to know Jamie.”

“I’m sure I’ll meet the lad soon; he seems really special to you.”

“He is; I know you’ll like him.”

“I already do.” He patted the top of her hand and turned his attention back to the sitcom on the television, providing humorous commentary to try to cheer Claire up.

----------

It was late Christmas morning. Uncle Lamb was napping again and Claire had switched the television to the Hallmark Channel--usually her guilty pleasure this season, today it was simply reminding her of how her Christmas was proving to be less than magical. For her there would be no Christmas kisses, no magical snowfall, no saving the small town family business or learning to love Christmas again. All that awaited her this Christmas were fluorescent lights, beeping monitors, and nurses visiting every 6 hours to check her uncle’s vitals. This Christmas would be decidedly the most un-magical she had ever experienced. She had had her share of unconventional Christmases in the past, in fact, she never really was a Christmas person, but it had started to feel special to her when she was living in New York. This Christmas though--this was one she was looking forward to more than ever before. Claire spent most of the morning crying, grieving over all she was missing. She should have spent the morning curled up in Jamie’s arms, watching the children open presents. She could picture the Murray’s living room, trashed with colorful wrapping paper from end to end, each child in their own private world fascinated by their latest favorite toy, Jenny and Ian beaming through tired eyes.

Claire was surprised Jamie hadn’t called her to fill her in on the details yet. He had called yesterday when his plane arrived--groggy and jet-lagged, his communication skills were not the most eloquent, but he tried his best to make her feel better. She hadn’t heard from him at all this morning though, not even a Merry Christmas text. Surely the jet lag would have woken him up as early as the children, and they must have been done opening presents by now. Claire tried to rationalize that Jamie was just spending time with his family, but she couldn’t help feeling hurt and ignored. She thought she was important enough to him that he could take a moment away from his family to at least text her, or to find some way to make her feel included from afar. Had his feelings changed in their months apart? Did coming home to a messy apartment turn him off? Did she find his Christmas gifts and come to think she didn’t care enough to get him something more thoughtful? She thought about calling him, but a mixture of pride and fear kept her from acting first, not to mention she couldn’t stop crying over these sappy Christmas movies.

Suddenly, a voice from the doorway rang through the room, “Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas!” Claire looked up in confusion, momentarily unable to comprehend her surroundings and the disruption that had just entered them. Santa? No. The tall figure filling the door frame was dressed like Santa, beard and all, but the unmistakable Scottish burr gave away his true identity. If Claire hadn’t already been crying, she certainly was now. Jamie was standing in the doorway, dressed in a Santa suit, carrying a large, blue IKEA bag overflowing with wrapped presents and what appeared to be Christmas decorations.

“What?” Claire could hardly believe he was there, she rose from the chair and the couple met in the middle of the room for a hearty embrace. Claire buried her face in the soft, fluffy suit covering Jamie’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Perhaps the setting wasn’t a snow covered street in a small town, but this was her own Hallmark movie moment--and to be honest, those Hallmark guys had nothing on James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser. Jamie held her close, and tight, planting kisses in her curls and whispering softly to her.

“I’m here, mo nighean donn.” He caressed her shoulders with his thumbs, not releasing his embrace in the slightest, breathing in her scent, trying to absorb her fears and pain.

All of the commotion had awoken Uncle Lamb and after witnessing the couples’ embrace for longer than was comfortable, Lamb loudly cleared his throat to remind them of his presence in the room.

“Uncle Lamb!” Claire unfolded herself from Jamie’s embrace, keeping one arm around his back. Jamie sheepishly pulled the fake beard down around his neck to reveal his face and removed his Santa hat, clutching it tightly in the palm that wasn’t holding Claire. “This is Jamie, my Jamie. Jamie, this is my Uncle Lamb.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad it’s not Santa Claus, or we’d have a lot of explaining to do to the lad!” Lamb chuckled back.

“A pleasure to finally meet you, sir.” Jamie reluctantly released Claire from his grasp to step beside the bed, extending a firm but gentle hand to Lamb. “I’m sorry it’s not under better circumstances.”

“Pleased to meet you as well, lad” Lamb replied, patting Jamie’s hand with his before releasing their handshake. “And don’t you worry about me, I have the best nurse there is taking care of me.” Two sets of proudly smiling eyes met Claire across the room.

“Oh I dinna doubt it for a second. Your niece is a rare woman.”

“Glad to see we’re in agreement. Now what’s all that?” Lamb gestured towards the large tote discarded near Claire’s feet.

“Aye, I thought I’d bring you two a bit o’ holiday cheer.” Jamie pulled a large cardboard box from the bag and extracted a small tabletop Christmas tree from it, unfurling each branch carefully and placing it on the countertop across the room, plugging it in to reveal fiber optic lights changing colors dreamily. “I usually insist on my Christmas trees being more, well, alive, but under the circumstances this’ll have tae do.” Jamie and Claire spent the next half hour or so festooning the room in garlands and placing tiny ornaments on the small tree. Claire tried to ignore that more than half of the bag was filled with brightly wrapped gifts, not sure whether she was hoping they were all for her, or hoping that they weren’t. After all, she didn’t have anything to give him and she didn’t know if he had looked through his gifts yet nor if he had appreciated them.

While they decorated, Jamie filled Claire and Lamb in on the events of the last few days. Jamie had called Jenny to tell her not to bother picking him up from the airport. He had planned on renting a car there and driving straight to Boston. Claire could hear Jenny’s voice loud and clear through Jamie’s imitation “ya clotheid! Have ya gone daft? Yer barely able to form coherent sentences amidst the jet lag from yer Christmas Eve flight, and ya wanna drive five hours tae Boston in that state!?! Claire willna appreciate ya ending up in a ditch on the side of the road as a Christmas present ya eejit!” Jenny had made a fair point, and Jamie had agreed to sleep at home and left shortly after he awoke that morning, staying only long enough for the children to open their stockings, and to watch their faces alight with surprise at the sudden appearance of piles of presents under and around the tree.

“I’m glad you took Jenny’s advice, but most of all I’m glad you’re here.” She embraced him again. “You didn’t have to do this though, Jamie, I know how important your family is to you.”

Jamie stepped back and lifted Claire’s chin with his thumb, looking into her eyes. “You are important to me, Sassenach.” he replied, with a sincerity that penetrated Claire’s heart. Claire responded by kissing Jamie chastely on the cheek, knowing her uncle was only four feet away--politely trying to ignore them and watch the television which he had flipped to an all-day marathon of A Christmas Story on repeat. Jamie’s welcome intrusion broke up the monotony of hospital life and seemed to give Lamb a better sense of what day it was.

“Now that we’ve got the place looking good and festive, I believe it’s traditional to exchange gifts on Christmas day.”

“Jamie, it’s too much, I--”

“Oh? Thought they were all for you, didja Sassenach?” he teased. Claire blushed. Of course; she hadn’t really--but who else would they be for? Surely Jamie wouldn’t spoil Lamb, a complete stranger to him, quite so much, and no one else was there. She looked dumbfounded as she tried to come up with a defense but Jamie stopped her. “Dinna fash, Sassenach, Jenny wrapped your gifts for me and Lamb before I could see and I bought them along too. She thanks ya for the wee lotions, by the way.”

“God bless Jenny! That woman is a Saint.” Claire also silently thanked God that she had left the present she was planning on wearing for Jamie that evening in her dresser drawer, that was not a gift she wanted Jenny to see, and was definitely not something she wanted him to be opening in front of her uncle.

The three exchanged gifts, save Lamb, who had nothing to give but smiles and approval for the young couples’ thoughtful gifts. Jamie was genuinely appreciative of Claire’s gifts, although she kept insisting that she hadn’t finished shopping and there was more to come; to which Jamie humbly rejected, claiming it wasn’t necessary. Jamie’s gifts to Claire were thoughtful and meaningful, the most touching ones being a print of a painting of the rose garden he had ordered from the Botanic Garden’s gift shop and a bracelet engraved with the words perennis amor, which caused Claire to tear up and embrace him tenderly in spite of her uncle’s presence.

The three enjoyed the rest of the day thoroughly. A Christmas Story played in the background and they laughed and shared stories with one another. Jamie was a born storyteller and Lamb was elated to have a fresh audience to recount his many adventures to, so conversation flowed naturally between them, with Claire occasionally interjecting. Claire mostly just sat back and admired the two men who were most important to her, filled with joy that they were getting along, that Jamie was there, that it was Christmas. For the first time in several days she had hope and peace. She was surrounded by love in that hospital room as well. She had all the things Christmas was said to bring, and for that she was grateful. Jamie had made her greatest Christmas wishes come true without her even asking and she felt lucky to be alive.

The hospital staff served their version of Christmas dinner for the small family, and while Claire was sure it paled in comparison to whatever Jenny had made, it was quite delicious, especially considering it was hospital food. Jamie ate in the armchair next to Lamb at Claire’s insistence, since the two were deep in conversation, and Claire sat in the chair on the other side of Jamie, taking in her magical Christmas scene, better than any Hallmark movie could depict.

After dinner, Jamie was fading fast, listening to one of Lamb’s stories with heavy eyes. She took one of the spare blankets and covered Jamie. “Looks like you’re still not over your jet lag”

“Hrmmphh, I ‘spose not.”

“Do you want me to go get you a coffee? I doubt the cafe downstairs is open today, but there’s a cappuccino vending machine a few floors down that isn’t terrible.”

“Aye Sassenach, that’d be bonny. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“None at all, my love, I’ll be back soon.” Claire squeezed his hand before leaving the two men alone.

Jamie listened to her footsteps down the hall, and waited until he heard the ding of the elevator before he cleared his throat to speak frankly to Lamb. He sat up straight in the chair to ward off the sleepiness, having a few important things he wanted to say before Claire came back.

“Lamb, I need you to know, Claire is the most important person in my life. I love her sae much and I’d do anything for her.”

“I’m glad to hear that, I can see how happy you make her. She lights up when you’re around, it comforts my old heart to see.”

“I need you tae know, I’m very serious about her. I ken we haven’t been together that long, but I know--I know deep in my wame that I’m meant tae be hers. I want ya to know that I intend on spending the rest of my life making her happy, and while I havna bought a ring or ennathing yet, I wanted to ask yer blessing” Jamie paused for a moment before adding, “just in case.”

“Of course you have my blessing, son. I couldn’t be more glad to know that Claire will be so well cared for after I’m gone, truly.” Both men looked somber, knowing full well that this could be their last conversation, hoping dearly that it wasn’t. Claire returned with three cappuccinos in hand, surprised by the mood in the room.

“Everything alright, gentlemen? Don’t tell me Ralphie shot his eye out!”

“Och! Everything’s fine, Claire! I’m just tired is all, I’m sure this wee cappuccino will cure me in no time!” replied Jamie, eagerly taking a cup from Claire as she set another on Lamb’s tray table. The rest of the evening was quiet as Jamie took a nap, while Lamb and Claire watched A Christmas Story more intently then they had all day. Claire didn’t want to leave him alone so early on Christmas so she let Jamie nap until Lamb was asleep soundly for the night. The sense of joy she had felt all day was still present, but the nagging worry she felt about Lamb’s coming surgery was starting to settle in as well. Claire woke Jamie gently and Claire whispered softly to Lamb that they’d return in the morning, squeezing his hand before the couple quietly left the room.

----------

They walked out to Jamie’s car, since he still had his stuff packed in it, but Claire drove them back to Lamb’s apartment where she’d been staying. The cappuccino was helping Jamie stay coherent, but he was in no state to drive. They were quiet on the drive home, but kept their hands locked between the seats, grateful just to be in the presence of one another.

When they arrived at Lamb’s apartment, Jamie was so tired, he didn’t even want to brush his teeth, let alone do any of his usual nightly routines. However, he had spent the morning sweating in a polyester Santa suit over his clothes, and although he took it off shortly after his surprise arrival, he felt in need of a shower. Claire showed him where the bathroom was and made sure he had everything he needed, and got herself ready for bed.

Jamie showered quickly, not bothering to wash his hair, and only cleaning the parts of his body where any stench would be most concentrated, figuring the water would take care of the rest. A few minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist, ready to collapse into bed, but not before embracing his sorcha. He scooped her into his embrace and she buried her face in his bare, firm chest, warm from the shower. He smelled clean, and fresh and most of like Jamie. “I’m so happy you’re with me, Jamie. You have no idea how much it means to me that you’re here.” the emotions of the day hit her again and her voice caught at the end of her sentence as tears filled her eyes once again. Jamie kissed her forehead softly, down to her nose, and landed on her lips, giving her the firm, passionate kiss they’d both been longing for all day--and for months before that.

“Mo cridhe.” Jamie breathed when they separated. “I’m here. I’ll always be here for you. I’ll no’ leave you alone when ya need me.”

“Oh Jamie” Claire was still crying, “I’ve been so worried. I’ve been trying to stay strong for Lamb, but I feel like this won’t go back to normal--if there ever was a normal with him. I’m scared he’s going to get worse, or--” her sentence dissolved into a fit of sobs, which she tried to stifle on Jamie’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to stay strong when you’re with me. I’ll be here to help you shoulder the burden. I’ll be here to soak up your tears. There’s two of us now, Claire.” He pressed a kiss into her curls. “You can feel your feelings now, mo cridhe. Lay your cares on me. Come now, let’s get ya tae bed. I’m no’ sure how much longer I can stand myself.”

Claire fell asleep wrapped safely in Jamie’s embrace, free to be herself fully. Free to be vulnerable she felt safe, she felt loved, she felt comfortable, and most new to her--she felt she had the hope and strength that she could carry on, no matter what was to come. She slept better than she had in weeks, secure in the embrace of her eternal love.

End Notes: Thanks again for reading!! By the way, the Ingrid Michaelson song Jo mentions is hauntingly beautiful and you should listen to it. Also, I hope you liked Jamie's surprise. This was going to be a lot more angsty of a chapter but Jamie refused to let Claire suffer and had other plans. I know this was full of a lot of emotional ups and downs, and hopefully we can all find some comfort in the fact that just because Christmas/the holidays may look different for a lot of us this year, it can still be special, and there's still light, joy, love, hope, and peace to be found in the midst of the darkness.

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