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sergeant-spoons · 3 years

Text

Four Minutes to Midnight

For Eva- @basilone - to make up for the sad sad sad I posted with "Drink You Away". I hope you like the fic! 💕

Pairing: Chuck Grant x Female OC

Word count: 3644

Tone: Angst, tension, s t r e s s, then we take a quick turn into pining and caretaking and fluffiness; happy ending!

Summary: She prayed for this day to never come, for her skills as a brain surgeon to go unneeded in her service; alas, the war is not over, despite the relative peace in Austria. Even more terrifying, the man she’s about to perform a lifesaving surgery on is the one she’s been secretly in love with for years.

In turn, perhaps he will find the strength in his recovery, with her at his side night and day, to show her all the love he’s kept bottled up for so long.

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @thoughpoppiesblow @victoryrollsandredlips @now-im-a-belieber @50svibes @mgdln97 @josephtoye @tina1938 @drinkwhiskeyandsmile @ask-you-what-sir @indecisiveimpatience @whovian45810 @brokennerdalert

Corporal Ginger Nye didn't think she'd ever been more scared than the moment she watched Doc Roe and Captain Speirs roll Charles Grant into the medbay on a stretcher.

Her watch read four minutes to midnight.

Rushing to them with only one arm up one sleeve, she let her jacket fall to the floor. She ignored her unraveling shoelaces, the disheveled appearance of her clothes, the absence of her reading glasses atop her hair. The lethargy just seconds ago haunting her vanished like a spirit in the wind. It was the end of a long shift among the thankfully sparsely wounded, but there was need of her yet. And Chuck, Chuck, not Chuck- she might have begun to cry if she hadn't understood the gravity of the situation and her impending involvement.

"Jesus Christ Almighty, what happened?"

"Shot in the head," Doc muttered, his expression exceptionally grave.

Noting the IV in Chuck's arm, she questioned, "Plasma?"

"Uh-huh. Administered as soon as I saw 'im."

"Good." Ginger clenched her fist, leaning over the wounded man on the stretcher. "Oh, Chuck," she whispered, tenderly examining the gunshot wound, and her heart sank. This was bad. Very bad. "We have to go," she decreed, "we have to go now."

"You can help him?" Speirs asked as they turned back to the exit.

Ginger nodded, holding the door for them as she replied, "He needs a brain surgeon, and I haven't got the tools here. There's a hospital a mile away."

"You're a brain surgeon?"

"Ten years of training and everybody still doubts it," Ginger muttered, her wry, misplaced humor meant to defend against the tears she strained to hold back. "Yes, I'm a brain surgeon. Enlisted two days after my certification."

Speirs and Doc shared a glance as they lifted Chuck onto the back of the waiting jeep and Ginger sighed, one hand on the driver's side door.

"Believe it or not, the only way a girl like me gets into the army like this is medical expertise. If we had the time, I'd tell you to ring up Colonel Sink, he'd confirm it."

"Alright," Speirs assented after a moment, hurrying around the front of the jeep to hop into the passenger seat, "let's go."

For the first time since arriving in Austria, the warmth and peace of the night air brought Ginger no comfort. To her, the world seemed abuzz with urgency and fright.

Chuck's been shot. Chuck's badly hurt. Chuck needs my help.

She held onto the steering wheel just a little tighter, drove just a little faster.

As they sped along, Speirs told her about the situation. A drunken private, from their own regiment- Ginger paled to hear it -had shot two Krauts on the road and was about to steal their car when Chuck, who seemed to know the man, arrived on the scene with a couple of friends. The story, though a little confuddled due to the panicked state of the two witnesses, seemed to go like this: Chuck went to see if he could diffuse the situation, the private shot him, then drove off.

"I've sent all we can spare of Easy to track down that sonuvabitch," Speirs concluded. "I don't care if they bring him back dead or alive."

"Honestly," Ginger replied as she pulled into the emergency driveway of the hospital, "neither do I." Gritting her teeth, she muttered, "Bastard," a curse meant for the scoundrel who had hurt her Chu- who had hurt Chuck. A gentle hand on her shoulder gave her a start. For a single second, she thought it was Chuck, but no, the touch was from Doc, meaning to reassure her. She nodded a muted thanks as two nurses rushed out from the ambulance entrance of the half-dark building. Waving them over, Ginger cried for their help in German, and the Austrian women shared a concerned glance as Doc and Speirs lifted the stretcher down from the back of the jeep.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. Ginger hated every second of it. The stress, the fear, the exhaustion, and most of all, the nature of her patient. She left the operating room five minutes after 04:00 hours. For the first time since she saw Chuck on that stretcher, she let her hands shake, and shake they did, so violently she could not pour herself a glass of water without spilling half of it. She stared out the window as the tireless nurses who'd remained at her side during the whole procedure (as well as the sole doctor on the night shift) wheeled her old friend down the hall to the recovery ward.

The moment they turned the corner, Ginger began to cry.

Her legs gave out from underneath her and she just managed to place the unsipped glass of water on the counter before falling to the floor. She leaned against the table leg with enough weight that it shifted and she ended up half-laying on the floor. Footsteps approached, and she turned her head to the side, a meek attempt to avoid the attention of the passerby. Instead, their movement stopped, and then she heard them crossing the otherwise empty room to her. Though she expected Doc Roe or another nurse, it was Captain Speirs who knelt beside her then and laid a comforting (if stiff) hand on her arm.

"He'll be alright?"

"Yes," she wept, "thank God, yes."

Immediately, he rose to leave, and when she choked out the question as to where he was going, he replied, gaze as steely as a bullet itself:

"To find the scumbag who did this."

"Good luck," she whispered, voice hoarse, though he was already gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a month before Chuck could stay awake for longer periods and look around, two before he could speak. Even then, conversation exhausted him quickly and he often stuttered or lost track of his thoughts. All the while, Ginger stayed at his side. When word began to spread of the 101st's impending deployment to the Pacific, she stayed. When she realized she didn't have enough points to go anywhere but the Pacific, she stayed. When Major Winters tried to send her to Paris on a long-deserved leave, she turned him down and stayed. When her parents wrote her to say they were bringing her home no matter what the Airborne said, she returned their letter with a simple 'no, thank you, I can do better things here' and stayed.

One morning, as Ginger drew the curtains to let the early August sunlight stream through the sole window in Chuck's room, she heard him begin to cough. Turning, she retrieved the glass of water he was struggling to reach for on the bedside table and lifted it to his lips. Silent, she let him drink, then at his nod, replaced the drink on its perch.

"Gin?"

Chuck had taken to calling her the shorter version of her name in the last few weeks. Ginger assumed it was for ease of speech, but some part of her wished there was an affectionate dual reason behind the nickname.

"Mhmm?"

"I want- I want to meet the- the surgeon."

Ginger, brushing a bit of dust off the windowsill with her sleeve, paused and did not look up. "The one who operated on you?"

"Yes."

"Do you know the surgeon's name?"

"No."

"Geez, no one told you?" Ginger hesitated as she stared out the window, though the vivid sun pierced her eyes enough to ache. "Then again, I'm not surprised. You've been through a lot, no need to toss one more confusing thing into the mix."

Despite how she avoided meeting his gaze, Ginger knew Chuck was frowning, and she muttered a warning against it, knowing it would give him a headache.

"Confusing?"

"Or unbelievable, or both. Take your pick of the word, it's all the same." She returned to his bedside and sat on the edge of the mattress. "No need to worry yourself over that, now."

"Who is it?"

Ginger looked away.

"Gin, I don't c-care if it was a Kraut surgeon that s-saved my life. I want- I want to thank him."

"Thank her," she muttered before she could catch herself, and to her uncertain dismay, he heard.

"Her? A Kraut lady surgeon?"

"No, not a Kraut." She patted his leg, quite gently, through the sheets covering his form and rose. "A young lady you knew here and there."

Chuck was silent, contemplating. Ginger nearly made it out the door before he called her back.

"You told me once..."

He trailed off, expression contorting, and she laid her hand on his chest, just above his heart. This was her way to relax him, to remind him to breathe and the pain would dissipate. Together, they inhaled and exhaled slowly until he returned to his earlier focused state.

"You told me once your father w-was a brain surgeon," he said, nearly whispering, and Ginger tipped her head, a shy agreement. She knew how smart Chuck was, and that he'd probably figured it out by now.

"Yeah, he sure was."

"Th-that's why they let you i-into the Airborne," he realized, his words coming out almost hiccuped in his excitement. "Because- because you're one, too."

"Yep." She offered a wry smile as a blush spread across her cheeks. Any other patient and she'd be proud to claim her surgical success, but this was Chuck, and she was so afraid he'd look at her differently once he knew. Too late now. "Cat's outta the bag, now."

"Ginger-" He moved one hand from under the sheets and over her own, still on his chest, and she teared up just a little at the gesture, knowing how difficult it was for him. "-you saved my life?"

"Well, yeah, I s'pose I did."

"You- you saved my life." Chuck stared at her so intently she turned away, examining the ugly duck painting on the wall as if she hadn't seen it a hundred times before. "Hell, Gin, I knew you w-w-were incredible but this is a whole new- a whole new level."

"Aw, Chuck, I'm nobody special-"

"Oh, don't even," he scolded, cutting her off. "You're one in a m-million, doll."

She was quiet for a while, still looking anywhere but at him. Slipping her hand out from under his grasp, she rose and turned toward the door.

"I'm gonna go get some breakfast. You want anything?"

"No."

"Chuck, you should eat-"

"Not hungry."

Ginger turned halfway, one hand on either side of the doorframe. Chuck was watching her, his head turned despite the strain she knew it put on his neck and brain. Indeed, he winced as he opened his mouth, and once he'd opened his eyes again, she was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ten minutes passed before Ginger's return.

In one hand, a spoon, in the other, a bowl of pudding. He hated having to eat only soft foods, but chewing anything else still hurt. He hated the inability to move the spoon himself, but his fingers would not grasp the handle. He hated the helplessness of this hospital bed with the same fervor he'd once turned upon his fellow man on the battlefield. The one and only thing that kept him sane in this grey, grey, grey place when he should be out there in the daylight and the dance halls was her.

So he let her feed him the pudding, although he felt humiliated each time she did so. He let her tuck the covers just a little closer to his chin, let her sit on the side of the bed and just talk to him about this and that and everything in between, let her touch him although he now shied away from physical contact. Only she could lay her hand on his chest and comfort and calm him. Only she could kiss the knuckles of his better hand after he'd woken from a wicked nightmare. Only she could sing him to sleep in that haunting alto that may have spooked him rather than soothed if it came from anyone but her.

He wanted to tell her the finality of his heart. How he knew she was the be-all, end-all for him. He'd wanted to say it for four goddamn years. And yet he never had. The idea that he may never sickened him, and yet he saw no way to confess his deep admiration without scaring her away. Each time he dredged up the courage, something turned him away, something caused a falter in his step. And now this, the greatest injury he'd ever sustained. At least, he joked to her once, there was nowhere to go but up from here.

"That's the spirit!" she exclaimed, a smile flooding across those pretty features. "A good attitude will get you back on your feet in half the time you'd expect." She patted the side of the bed as she nodded knowingly, the gesture so terribly endearing to Chuck that he found himself withholding a wistful sigh.

"Really?"

"It's true," she affirmed, straightening the sheets at the end of the bed, "the greatest challenge to recovery is one's outlook on it." That brilliant smile again, the one that would have knocked Chuck right off his feet had he been able to stand. "I bet you'll be back home by Christmas."

"You really think so?"

"I sure do."

"Sooner than Shifty," he muttered, newly melancholy, and Ginger came to his side. He liked it best when they talked like this, her so near and comfortable next to him as, most often, her touch gently brushed his arm or leg or chest or hand.

"You know, he's three flights above you." She, as he'd expected and appreciated, laid her palm upon his chest, right over his dejected heart. "I could see if he could come down to visit. We've got the elevator working, and all, so he wouldn't have to take the stairs. And I know he'd be glad to see you-" Ginger cut herself off, the pink hue now familiar to Chuck creeping onto her cheeks. "Sorry. I'm rambling."

"No." He cleared his throat, and she reached for the water on the side table, but he shifted his hand, the best he could muster for a wave against it. "No, yes. I mean, I'd like to s-see Shifty."

"Oh!" She brightened up almost immediately, and he would have done just about anything to see her smile like that again. "Good, good. I'll see what I can do."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chuck did not qualify for the last shipment home before Christmas.

The States were tantalizingly close, now. A hospital in Plymouth, England was where he would spend the holidays. Ginger had chirped, as she wheeled him into his new room, that his lodgings now had two windows, imagine that. Cruel, almost, how every day he could look out and see the Atlantic, knowing he was on the wrong side of it. He asked Ginger to keep the blinds shut more often than not. On the sunnier days (of which there were few this December), she would sometimes refuse and leave them open, and together they would count the seagulls or discuss the shapes of the clouds until he didn't feel so bad.

It astonished him, every day, how Ginger could be so clueless to his affections for her. He called her pet names, told her she looked nice each morning when she came in even though she always had the same Red Cross uniform on (she'd transferred after the 101st's dissolution), stared at her when she wasn't (and was) looking. He'd even asked her ring size, one morning he'd felt particularly brave, and she'd told it to him without batting an eye. Didn't even ask why he was wondering.

Oh, Ginger, he wondered that Christmas Eve as the door opened and her smile appeared beyond it, why is it so hard to tell you I love you?

"Hey, Chuck!"

If he'd had any less composure he may have mouthed along to the greeting, the same she gave every time she saw him, no matter the day or hour.

"Morning, doll."

"I've got some good news." She pulled over the small stool in the corner she'd commandeered from the hospital break room two weeks prior. "I feel bad you can't be with your family on Christmas, so I arranged a cross-continental call with them in two hours' time. How does that sound?"

He turned himself in the wheelchair so he could look at her better head-on. Her smile began to fade as he stared and he reached to hold one of her hands between both of his own.

"You're an angel, you know that?"

She blushed. "Oh, I'm nobody-"

"Special?" He shook his head. "Doll, c'mon. You're the b-best thing that's ever happened to me. A godsend."

Ginger glanced aside, and after a moment, Chuck withdrew his hands.

"How'd you know the number?"

"You." At his puzzled expression, she went on, "Right before Normandy, you told me you wanted me to call your mother if you- if you didn't make it. So I memorized the number you gave me."

"And you- you remembered it? All this time?"

"I called her the day you were- I called her while we were in Austria."

"Before or after..?"

"After, when I knew you'd be alright."

"Did she cry?"

"Jesus, Chuck, what kind of a question is that?" Ginger didn't seem offended, to his relief, only amazed. "She's your mother, of course she cried to hear you came that close to death." A pause, then she gasped, covering her mouth with pallor-stricken fingers. "God, Chuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, no, I know." He laid one hand on her arm. "I'm lucky to be here. And it's all thanks t-to you."

"Well, and the nurses, and the assistant doctor, and Speirs and Doc Roe and Winters and-"

"Are you ever going to accept your resp- your responsibility for this?"

"What?"

He gestured to himself. "You saved my life, Gin. My mother would be laying a wreath on my grave, not hanging it on her front door, if it wasn't for you."

She made to speak, but he shook his head.

"You're a hero, Corporal Nye. You're my hero."

Ginger was silent as she, slowly but surely, leaned against his side. He could scarcely feel her weight, so careful was she not to put any sort of pressure on his recovering self. He appreciated it. She was always so careful around him, but he never felt coddled or demeaned. He wrapped his arm around her waist. She scooted her stool a little closer. They sat there, just looking out the window, side-by-side, for a long, long time.

"It's snowing," he whispered, sure his voice would break if he spoke any louder.

"Yeah. It's pretty."

"Not as pretty as you."

It was corny, and cheesy, and overdone, and Chuck knew it was a long shot. Ginger would laugh, tease him that his old humor was returning, that was a good sign. Everything was a step forward these days, in her eyes. Even the littlest things brought a smile to her lips, so he worked hard to not only get better, but to do so for the joy it clearly brought her. Alas, she would scoff at his poor attempt at flirting, perhaps sit up straight or leave the room altogether, finding some other sap to spend her morning with until that call came in from his folks.

Ginger did nothing he predicted, and what she did do meant everything.

She turned and kissed his cheek, so lightly he barely felt it, then rested her head upon his shoulder.

"It's almost Christmas, Chuck. Can you believe it?"

He could. He could, with her beside him like this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four minutes to midnight, Ginger Nye and Chuck Grant were still awake.

She draped the tinsel around his neck like a scarf. It tickled his skin and he laughed. She smiled at that.

He blew the limp party whistle back into shape. The little 'fwee' it made drew a giggle from her lips. He smiled at that.

Three minutes to midnight, Chuck beckoned for her to help him stand. Ginger was uncertain at first, as he'd only done so twice before. On his feet, he held to her with a gentlemanly firmness that made her cheeks turn pink. Though the yonder night was dark, there was no hiding her blush under the gleam of the fluorescent hospital lights. He began to sway and she was afraid he was losing his footing.

Just then, at two minutes to midnight, he whispered an oath, and she began to turn, shuffling an inch at a time, along with him.

"Next year," he promised, "you and I are gonna dance like this, on Christmas Eve, and you won't have t-to hold me up, and I'll kiss you under the mistletoe."

One minute to midnight, she looked him right in the eye like she'd never done before and replied, "A pity there's no mistletoe right here, right now."

Fifty seconds to midnight, he drew her closer with what strength he could manage. "Doll," he wondered, "what if I kissed you, right here, right now?"

Forty-five seconds to midnight, she could feel his breath on her lips, half-parted, just inches from his own.

Forty seconds to midnight, he kissed her.

Twenty seconds to midnight, they took a single, solitary moment to catch their breath.

Nineteen seconds to midnight, she kissed him.

Five seconds to midnight, his lips against her forehead, he asked if she would stay with him past the Christmas dawn and all the sunrises beyond it.

One second to midnight, she chased a tear off his cheek with a kiss.

"Of course."

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star-labs-intern · 3 years

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Serendipity: A New Year’s Kiss harrisco fic

A/N: This is super late but it is for @heckyeahharrisco ‘s beautiful Harrisco New Year’s Kiss Anthology! Happy almost- New year!

Summary : Harry and Cisco have a one night stand the night before NYE and then find themselves at the same New Year’s party.

Serendipity

The date was December 30th and Cisco was out at the bar, drinking. The holidays had been stressful to say the least and he deserved some proper rest and relaxation. He was hoping for someone to flirt with, so Cisco wasn't at his usual haunt tonight. He was at a place a little further across town that was usually very busy but tonight, looked like a ghost town. He looked up when a tall, lanky man of ambiguous age came to stand near Cisco.

“So...Do you come here often?" Harry Wells found himself asking, aloud.

Cisco barked a laugh. “That line ever worked on anyone before?”

Harry chuckled and reddened a little. “Honestly haven’t used it on anyone in a while. But I’m truly curious. You don’t exactly strike me as a regular.”

Cisco nodded at the drunks asleep at the counter. “No, I am certainly not a regular.”

“So that means, young attractive man, not at his usual neighborhood bar… looking to get into trouble tonight?”

Cisco found himself laughing for the second time. “You’re the one calling me attractive without even buying me a drink, let alone introducing yourself.” Cisco smirked at this handsome stranger. “And I’m the one looking for trouble?”

“Harry Wells. And I’d love to buy you a drink, even if you don’t tell me your name.” Harry leaned closer to the man with the beautiful curly hair, anticipating his response.

“My name’s Cisco. Cisco Ramon. And, yes, I think I’ll let you buy me a drink.” Cisco sized Harry up for a second.

“Oh, you’ll allow me to buy you a drink? How kind of you.” Harry quipped.

They decided to move to a table to talk. One thing led to another and suddenly Harry was asking Cisco to come home with him. Then, before they knew it, Harry and Cisco were two single people heading home together on a cold New Years Eve, Eve, intent on having some fun with no expectations.

Cisco always buzzed with nervous energy before moments like this and Harry could feel it radiating off of him.

“Relax,” Harry cooed as they got out of the taxi. They stood at the bottom of the stairs that led up to Harry’s apartment. It was bitter cold but Cisco stared up at the door and then looked sheepishly back toward Harry.

Cisco couldn’t help feeling a little bit of hesitation. Harry was an older man, a stranger, bringing Cisco into his home, after all.

“Hey,” Harry stopped Cisco by gently grabbing him by the shoulders. “You good?” Harry asked seriously, instead of complaining about the cold or rushing Cisco inside.

“I’m so good,” Cisco nodded, suddenly back in the moment with refreshed enthusiasm.

Harry grinned and pulled Cisco to him, kissing him slowly. Cisco felt lightheaded.

"Let's go inside. I'm cold." Cisco complained when they parted.

"Hmm, I think I may be able to help with that," Harry replied cheekily as they ascended the steps and disappeared into the apartment

***

The next morning Cisco was up cooking breakfast, even though it was Harry’s home.

Harry grinned waking up to the smell of food. “I don’t remember telling you to get out of bed,” Harry teased as he came into the kitchen.

Cisco blushed, “Good morning! I think we both deserve some food after last night,” he deflected the flirtation but looked at Harry under low lids.

Harry came to kiss Cisco squarely on the mouth. “You are amazing. Thank you for such a wonderful evening.”

“I certainly enjoyed myself,” Cisco grinned and kissed Harry back before breaking away. “Now! Unless you want burned eggs to ring in the last day of the old year, I suggest you stop distracting me,”

"Whatever you say, Cisco," Harry grinned

***

Later that day, Cisco was at home preparing for his New Years Eve party. He was going to Mercury labs with his best friend Caitlin Snow. He was going as “back up”, as moral support for Cait, who worked there, and he had to start getting ready.

His phone vibrated and, expecting a message from Cait, Cisco opened his phone. What he found was Harry’s apparent phone number, saved under “That Hot Guy” and a new message saying “Had a blast with you. Hope to see more of you in the new year.”

Cisco rolled his eyes and quickly texted back “You saw plenty of me last night. You’re so corny”

After hesitating for a moment, Cisco texted again, “But I also had a blast and we should def do it again soon”

“Sounds like a plan” Harry texted back and Cisco bit his lip, thinking of another night promised with Harry. He was a little bit irritating, for lack of better word, and there were moments where Cisco kind of wanted to strangle him, but boy did they have chemistry…

With another twist and turn, Cait was picking Cisco up for the party.

“What did you end up doing last night?” Cait asked, in the car.

“Honestly, I went out to the bar and had a one night stand,” Cisco winced as he told Cait.

“Did you really??” Cait grinned. “Give me all the details, why didn’t you text me where you were?? What if he had been a murderer?”

Cisco laughed. “I have my pepper spray, don’t worry. I can handle myself. He was… very smart. A little older than me. Kinda sarcastic in this really annoying way.”

Cait was looking at Cisco. “And how was it?”

Cisco rolled his eyes. “It was really nice and I had a really good time.” He said, looking out the window again and avoiding Cait’s reaction.

“Did you get his number??”

“Oh my god, Cait, enough of the third degree!”

When Cisco peeked at Cait, she was still grinning from ear to ear. Cisco groaned and filled Caitlin in on the rest of the details.

“Wow, Cisco. Good for you!” Cait complimented as they got to the party and started getting out of the car.

“Thank you, it was fun, yes, and hopefully I will see him again, but now it’s time to enjoy this party! So please, no more Nancy Drew-ing my love life, okay?”

Caitlin pretended to zip her lips. “Time to party,”

Cisco smiled. “Thank you!”

***

Cisco had tried his honest to god best, to continue and forget all about Harry.

They had been at the party a little over an hour, when Cisco spotted him. “Oh shit. I’ve gotta be fucking dreaming,” Cisco muttered to himself.

“What are you doing?” Cait asked as Cisco was suddenly hiding behind a waiter holding a tray of appetizers.

“Nothing,” Cisco replied, stealing a glance from behind the waiter, to see if Harry had noticed him. He was a little ways away, standing profile, speaking with some woman in a fabulous pant suit, and it didn’t seem like he had spotted Cisco yet.

“Are you hiding from Dr. McGee? She adores you, she wants you to come work with us.” Cait asked, narrowing her eyes.

“That’s who that is. Nope. Actually, yes, I am hiding from Tina McGee, I don’t want her to see me in this hideous tie I picked out with champagne glasses on it.” Cisco lied, poorly.

Cait rolled her eyes but then narrowed her eyes at Harry. She was starting to put the pieces together.

“Cisco…”

“Listen, Cait, I think I’m gonna have to go home early, I’m getting a terrible stomach ache…”

“Cisco, is that the man you slept with last night??” Cait whisper yelled at Cisco, pulling him out from behind the waiter with the appetizers and dragging him to the entrance.

“What? Where would you get a crazy idea like that?” Cisco laughed, nervously this time.

Cait looked at Cisco and blinked, waiting for him to come clean.

Cisco pursed his lips. “Not gonna buy the stomach ache story, huh?” Cisco asked.

Cait laughed. “You’re the worst. Just go over and talk to him. Just say hi and make it not awkward, and then come find me. I’ll be mingling.”

“Fine.” Cisco grimaced. “I can’t believe I told you any of that. This is the worst New years party ever,” Cisco whispered to Cait before going off to find Harry.

Cisco spotted his tall demeanor at the drink table. He was grabbing another glass of champagne. Cisco took a deep breath and approached Harry.

“So… Do you come here often?” Cisco asked, mirroring Harry’s words from the night before.

Harry glanced up at Cisco. His eyes were wide. He took a swig of his champagne before he answered.

“That line ever worked on anyone before?” Harry asked with a tight lipped smirk. They smiled at each other, in shared loaded silence for a moment.

“Did you know I was going to be here?” Cisco asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Did you know I was going to be here?” Harry turned it around.

“Touché.” Cisco commented, grabbing a champagne glass and offering Harry a toast. Harry tipped his glass to clink with Cisco’s and they shared a drink.

“Well, I just wanted to say hello. Enjoy your evening.” Cisco said.

“Alright, Cisco. But I have to warn you, these things are dreadfully boring,” Harry commented.

Cisco laughed and headed back off to find Caitlin.

“All sorted out?” Cait asked.

“Easy, peasy,” Cisco said in reply.

“I don’t even want to know.” Cait said.

Forty-five minutes later and Cisco was starting to get what Harry meant. This was a giant party but people kept going in and out, finding different groups to linger in, it was impossible to keep track of who you had and hadn’t met yet. All these academic types started to blend together after a while. It was honestly starting to give Cisco a headache.

Cisco gave a sharp gasp when someone grabbed his arm, suddenly.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” Harry’s rasp was soft in Cisco’s ear and his fingers were tight but gentle holding Cisco’s arm. Where had he even come from?

“A little,” Cisco admitted, looking up at Harry.

“Aren’t you bored yet?” Harry asked again, soft this time leaning all the way in, to whisper in Cisco’s ear. “If you’re as bored as I am, you should meet me up on the rooftop in fifteen minutes.”

Cisco felt shivers up and down his spine, and said, “Make it ten,”

Harry grinned and walked off. Cisco was thankful that Cait was otherwise occupied talking to a gaggle of her coworkers.

Cisco waited four agonizing minutes before nodding at Cait and then walking off down the hallway to find Harry.

He took the elevator up to the top floor. He followed the signs for the staircase. Cisco went up a half flight of stairs and found a door which was propped ajar with a rock. On the door it said, “Roof access, CAUTION”

Cisco slipped through the door careful to keep the rock propping it open.

He looked around, “Harry?” He whispered.

“Over here,”

Harry was draped in shadow, leaned against a chimney. He held open arms to Cisco.

“You’re not worried we’re gonna get stuck up here?” Cisco asked as he got slowly closer

“You saying you wouldn’t want to be stuck up here with me?” Harry teased

Cisco laughed and then, finally, he was close enough that Harry pulled Cisco to him and they kissed, gravitating together like magnets.

***

Cisco returned to the party a little while later looking very red and with very messed up hair.

Cait quirked her head at him when he returned. “Where have you been? You look like you’ve been in a fight.”

Cisco gave her a small grin. “You should see the other guy,”

Cait narrowed her eyes at Cisco.

“You’re lucky you made it back in time for the count down.”

Harry and Cisco made eye contact from across the room. They were each pretty happy that they had gotten to steal away for a little while.

Cait and Cisco tried to maneuver themselves closer to where the action was happening.

Cisco lost sight of Harry in their move.

Suddenly they were counting down from thirty and Harry had come up right behind Cisco.

When the clock struck zero, Harry took Cisco by the arm and swung him around to face him. “Happy New Year, Cisco,” Harry whispered, and suddenly dipped Cisco low, kissing him deeply.

Cisco gasped but was thrilled by the most exciting New Years kiss he could imagine.

Harry stood them both back up and when they broke apart, he chuckled sheepishly as anyone who saw them, wolf-whistled and shouted. “I thought you were my secretary from behind! Your long hair!” Harry winked at Cisco who bit his lower lip, shaking his head at Harry’s sneakiness and terrible excuse.

Cisco touched his lips where they had kissed, only seconds before. “Honest mistake,” He said, eyes glaring daggers at Harry and Harry grinning like a lunatic. Halfway across the room Christina McGee looked a fraction more stressed out than she had already.

“Happy New Year, everyone!” Harry shouted and made off into the crowd.

Cait leaned over to whisper to Cisco. “He is something else.”

Cisco smiled and touched his lips, where Harry’s had just been. “You’re telling me.”

#harrisco #new years eve #nye #harrisco drabbles #this is silly but i had fun writing it!#so there's that #happy new year

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writers-hes · 4 years

Text

how do you want to spend new years eve?

hello, guys! thank you so much for your support on christmas record! i’ve been getting some requests to continue it and late christmas and i will get to it, after the plans that im currently thinking of! meanwhile, here is a new years-themed fic! if

if you haven’t read the fics mentioned above, you can read them here. if you want to be a part of my taglist, you can do so by reblogging or liking this post.

don’t forget, requests are open! ❤️

warnings: SMUT !!!!! swearing, alcohol + unedited

(it’s my first time writing smut so please leave me some feedback! i love you guys and thank you guys so much for 140+ followers, i love u all!)

--------

“I can’t do this anymore,”

Words that Harry told you when last year’s New Year’s Eve. Harry didn’t know why he was saying those words, perhaps it was because he wanted to take the young model to bed instead of you. Harry watched you crumble that night, asking what happened, asking if it was your fault. It wasn’t any. In fact, things were going great--so great between the two of you. Perhaps the reason why Harry broke up with you was because for him, distance was the antidote to the love he was feeling. Perhaps he was scared because all of his past relationships never seemed to work out, a sick part of him wanted you not to work out. Heartbreak brings a new writing material, anyway. He felt it at first, how in love he was suddenly being when you combed the stores in London to find his favourite bath gel. It was the little things that you noticed and the little things that Harry’s beating himself up for now.

The year was so great for Harry, releasing his new album and all that. He just had two successful live shows in Los Angeles and in London. People celebrated him wherever he went and he had this rockstar status that you once used to love but he’d just rather be at home with you. He’d rather spend the night with you instead of getting wasted during the afterparties, trying his best to forget the greatest mistake he’s ever done. It was annoyingly painful, how he saw your face in crowds, he knows you weren’t there but he was hoping. One time, strolling in his hometown, Holmes Chapel, he thought he saw you. He ran after you, grasping the arms of the girl in front of him. It wasn’t you--she just looked like you. Seven billion faces in the world and yours was the only face he memorised perfectly. He memorised how you scrunch your nose, how you’d raise your eyebrows, the curve of your lips, the shape of your tongue, and the softness of your eyes.

It wasn’t purposefully, how he never saw if you were off having the best life you could. He was just bored and decided to go on Instagram. He was scrolling through the photos of his friends, even liking some of them when he stumbled upon a picture of you, wearing a shirt he gave you, whilst looking another man in adoration. He bit his lip, making himself believe that that was not his shirt and even if it was, you weren’t looking at another boy--you were looking at him. He lightly tapped on the photo, seeing as you tagged the prick that was in it. He chuckled, it was Leon Harris, a friend of yours that he always found annoying. How come he never recognised him? He saw how this Leon guy was looking at you while you were both dating. He frowned. How long have you been with this Harris prick? It was jealousy bubbling in the pit of his stomach but at the same time, it was the need to see more of you. He wanted to see how Leon Harris viewed you. Does he see you the way Harry does? Does he kiss you like Harry does? Does he hold you like Harry does? Was he a better man than Harry?

He sighed, scrolling through Leon’s photos. He’s a douchebag. Surely, my angel could do better than this. Harry was irked and irritated. Leon never posted photos of you--he only posted photos of football, gaming consoles, going out with the boys, and unnecessary flexing of his father’s money. Harry was annoyed. He felt his skin prickling with the thought of you being touched by Leon in ways he shouldn’t. That night, he drowned himself in putrid brown liquid. To think, he had all the money he could ever want in the world but still settled for convenience store-grade whiskey. Tomorrow would be a better day.

“Fuck,” he said once he woke up. He remembered the night before, him downing the bottle of whatever shit was in the glass bottle. His head was pounding and he knew that if you were here right now, you would take care of him. He always looked for you, even though he was the one who broke your heart. New Years Eve was coming around and people were already asking him to make an appearance in some parties. He wanted to, he really did but the risk of bumping into you in some of the parties were high. He wasn’t ready to see the face of the woman that haunted him every night for the past year. He lazily walked towards his en-suite, one of the many rooms that smelled like you. He made sure to buy the exact perfume you always wore and spray it around the house. Harry knew that it was unhealthy, holding onto every piece of you when he was the one who decided to end things. He was annoyed at himself and wanted nothing more than to call you but it will only stay like that, a wish. He couldn’t bring himself to do it and to call you because he knew you were hurting. Perhaps you weren’t hurting now, seeing as you were with Leon but maybe you’re still stuck on him, seeing as you were wearing his shirt and a chain around your neck with his heavy ‘H’ ring hanging. Who else was ‘H’ in your life? He couldn’t remember any. As he was taking a shower, he was confused. Was that photograph a sign to call you? Or was it you slapping him in the face because you would never come back to him?

-----

Harry decided to drop by Nick’s NYE party. He never got to see his old friend around and wanted nothing more than to confide in his friend. Nick was your friend too but he always belonged to Harry. He was Harry’s friend first, after all. He might see you there but at least, liquid courage would flow freely into his bloodstream, giving him all the confidence that he needs in order for him to talk to you again.

When Nick learned that Harry was coming to his party, he was ecstatic. It’s been awhile since he last saw Harry and he really missed him. After the break-up, he knew immediately that Harry was broken and in the seams--so were you. Nick invited you to his party, too and you weren’t sure if it was an act of kindness or generosity. Perhaps he was pitying you because all of you and Harry’s mutual friends left you after the break-up, a confirmation that they never really liked you. They only liked to be closer to Harry for his money, fame, and influence. Who wouldn’t want to be near the Harry Styles after all? Still, you knew Nick wasn’t like that. He genuinely liked you after Harry formally introduced the both of you to each other. You were practically joined by the hip whenever Harry was touring and it was nice--it was just you who decided to distance yourself from the friendship when you and Harry broke up, avoiding everything that was related to him.

You had just woken up when Leon knocked at your door. Through your break-up, Leon was there to console you. You tried dating each other but it just didn’t work out--Leon was not Harry and you were not a boy. So instead, you hired Leon to be your assistant, seeing as he was unemployed and was also your friend.

“Y/N if you don’t wake up the fucking door I will break this down!” Leon called from outside. Groggily, you made your way to the door of your London penthouse. You opened the door to reveal Leon, in what he would call an outfit that was out of his comfort zone. You understood, though, seeing as Leon was still inside the closet. The only people who knew he was gay was you and his sprinkling of boyfriends who also happened to be inside the closet. You understood, though. Leon’s family was strict when it comes to homosexuality so he had to act as a straight black boy--always going to the gym, making his Instagram as douche-y as possible, and so one. You felt for him, always asking him if you could do something for him. He would always say no telling you how much your friendship and the job you gave him was enough.

“What do you want?” you asked as you walked to your couch to continue your sleep.

“Remember? Nick Grimshaw is coming in today for a fitting,” Leon reminded. You sighed. You were a designer based in London but because of Harry, you had more artists come at you for designs. That was how you and Harry met, you being introduced by Harry L, his stylist, before his world tour for a couple of suits. He then came to you a few months after, asking for some pieces for his magazine covers and you agreed. Your heart ached at the memory of you and Harry playing with new pieces you came up with. Harry always loved your designs.

“Oh, yeah. Where was it again?” you asked, disoriented because you’d see Nick Grimshaw again. You’d be reminded of Harry again. It wasn’t as if you weren’t reminded of him all the time, though. The burning sensation of his gold ‘H’ ring hanging from your chest every time. It became your source of comfort and it was pathetic how you still held onto it for so long--it’s been almost a year. “It’s here, yeah?” you asked, to which Leon nodded. You nodded as well, limping towards your bathroom to be ready for the day.

“I’ll make coffee!” Leon shouted as you trudged to the comforts of your hot shower.

It was a few hours later when your doorbell rang. Nick’s custom silk pants and denim jacket was laying on your couch, ready to be worn by the celebrity. If it fit him, you’d be focusing on the apliques and the details that he wanted to have--they were quite easy actually. He just wanted to have his name in sparkling red embroidery, almost looking like something inspired from Gucci (Harry’s favourite, your heart hurt) but entirely different at the same time. Leon opened the door as you shuffled back and forth to make sure everything was dandy. “Y/n! Oh, how I missed you so much!” Nick greeted as soon as he saw you flip through the crystals that you would embed on the lining of his pants. You smiled and gave him a hug, to which he returned. He looked at Leon and greeted him as well. Leon only replied with a “hey, man” and if it weren’t for Nick not knowing that Leon was gay (they kissed many months ago), he would think that Leon was your boyfriend. “How are you, Nick?” you asked. “Really doing well but better because you’re coming to my party!” he answered. You frowned in confusion. “I’m not going,” you told him. “Harry would be there and I don’t really wanna see him.” “But Y/N…” he trailed. “It’s been so long since we last hung together! If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were avoiding me,” he pouted. Leon decided to exclude himself from the conversation going straight to the kitchen to get some refreshments for your guest. “Nick--” “Just come on to the party and all will be forgiven,” he cheekily grinned. In reality, he was never really mad at you. He understood why you decided to distance yourself from him but he still likes you as a person and wanted to be your friend. You sighed, nodding to his request. He squealed. “Now, where is it? I wanna fit through my special outfit now,” he said. You motioned him to the pieces lying on the couch. “So you wanted to have something hip and vintage, right? Well, here’s a pair of black silk pants. They would be embedded with diamond Swarovskis on the side. Then,” you trailed looking for the surprise that you wanted to give him. “Ah, here’s a special just for you. I worked on it by myself,” you said, showing Grimmy a large hand-made sewn on patch of his caricature. You also showed him ‘GRIMMY’ in a font quite similar to BBCRadio1 in sparkling red thread.

“Wow--I am floored! These are so good!” he exclaimed, carefully taking the patches from you. He observed them, amazed by how far you went onto the detailing of his face to his favourite shade of red.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “It’s nothing. You’re my friend and I wanted to make your day extra special,” you muttered. “I’ll have them sewn on before the event ASAP so you could get it tomorrow or the next if the blank pieces already fit you or the 30th if there are still alterations to be made,” Nick stood up immediately, trying on the pieces over his current clothes and declared that they were the perfect fit. You smiled at him, appreciating how much he appreciated your work.

“I’m really glad to be your friend, y/n. I know Harry will be there and I know what he did but if you ever need me for anything, just call an old man like me, even if it’s just for a laugh,” he said. “The pants and jacket are a perfect fit, by the way.”

-----------

It was the day of the gruelling New Years Eve party hosted by Harry’s friend--Nick Grimshaw. He wasn’t quite sure if you were coming but just in case, he wore the other half of his iconic ‘H’ ring--the gold Gucci ‘S’ ring on his pinky, the ring you gave him on his ring finger, as if telling you that he was still yours to take, and a couple of rings he bought from all around the world. He also wore a custom polo shirt from you, one that you collaborated on with his mum for his birthday. No designer brand could top off the beauty that he was wearing. He was hoping that maybe, just maybe, after you see him tonight, you’d come back to him.

He sighed, anxious to see you—or not. From what he could recall, you distanced yourself from Grimmy. Maybe you rejected his invite, maybe not. Who knows what you were doing anymore? Why should he care? You were with Leon Harris. In his mind, the worst rebound you could ever get. You knew he hated Leon, that prick was a good for nothing douchebag. Harry went over to his collection of liquor, pouring himself a shot of vodka. Who was he to judge your tastes? It was him who broke things off, leaving you with nothing and no one. He knew that your mutual friends sided with him and left you. He groaned as he downed the shot, annoyed at himself. He misses you and he doesn’t know how to take you back.

“Leon, stop!” you groaned as he laid down your revealing party dresses. You were opting for a pair of floral pants and black shirt. Leon, however, disagreed with your choice.

“What? You should show him what he’s missing,” he shrugged.

“There’s nothing to show,” you muttered, taking a red dress off the bed to shut Leon up. You changed, not really minding if Leon was there, seeing as he wouldn’t even think about you that way.

“Look, I know you’ve been wallowing in your sadness since he ended things but it’s been a year, y/n. You should let things go,” your friend sighed as soon as he zipped you up. You sat on your vanity chair and took your curling iron.

“It’s not that easy,” you sighed as your curled the first strand of your hair. You spent the afternoon like that, fixing up your hair and putting on your makeup. Leon sighed, he knew that you were clearly affected by seeing your ex again. Leon was happy though, you maynit see it but you were clearly stressing about what version of you you would present to Harry. Leon was positive that this would end up in some make-up sex but who knows?

Harry arrived at the party earlier than you did. Knowing you, it probably took you hours to get ready for Leon. You loved doing that and you used to dress up for him. Sure, you were a secure woman but you still loved to make sure that your man’s eyes was on you and you only. Still, from a far, he would stare at you, the way he did when you were still together. He immediately made it a mission to look for Grimmy. He was porbably out there, entertaining guests but Harry wasn’t really in the mood to socialize. He was just here to get drunk and see you—if you were even coming.

“There he is!” Nick exclaimed as he saw Harry walk towards him. Nick’s friends looked at the poostar.

“Hey, Nick. Thanks for the invite,” Harry smiled. Nick saw that Harry was clearly uneasy.

“Love the polo shirt but you’d probably want to look like you actually want to be here,” Nick said. “Y/N’s attending the party,”

“Could’ve told me that before I wore this shit,” Harry grumbled. He took a flute of champagne to one of the bartenders walking around and downed it immediately. Nick looked at him incredulously. “If I have to see her, I have to see her while I’m drunk,”

Nick sighed but still guided Harry to the special booth for Nick’s closest friends.

You stumbled in, a little tipsy in the bar to look for Nicky. Nick when you’re sober, Nicky when you consumed alcohol. You were with Leon who was holding your hand, just in case someone bumped in on you and you tripped. Leon sighed, obviously being sober in this situation. He was sure that Harry was here, seeing as there were shitty headlines such as HARRY STYLES WEAR Y/N Y/L/N’S COUTURE IN NICK GRIMES ANNUAL NYE PARTY.

Leon saw it though. He was wearing the special polo shirt you and his mother designed. He knew the intricacies of the polo shirt because on your first and last attempt to date, you rambled about Harry. You told him that instead of the signature tag of the customers with Mademoiselle or Monsieur as prefix, you opted to embroider my love, Harry--a one of a kind polo shirt. Leon has seen him wear the said shirts in Harry’s appearances, even getting the nickname ‘Harry’s special’ by many of his fans.

“Y/N!” Nick exclaimed as he saw you and Leon. You looked at him and immediately sobered up, seeing as Harry was latched onto his shoulder. You looked at Harry, suddenly aware of his presence and your self. He was looking at Leon with jealousy and you knew it, Harry never liked Leon and you walk in here with him in a dress like yours? It was killing him.

“Y/N, Harris.” your ex-boyfriend acknowledged. “Harry,” you nodded. Leon looked at him, aware that your ex was probably killing your friend in his mind. “I see that you have replaced me so easily, y/n,” Harry slurred. He was pretty sure he won’t remember shit tomorrow so he decided to just go with the flow. “Ha! See, Nick? Liquid courage,” he chuckled as he took a swig off of his beer bottle. “Alright, Harry. That’s enough,” you interjected, trying to take the bottle away from Harry. He clearly drank a little too much and you know that when Harry was drunk, he has the tendency to say things he didn’t mean at all. It’s not even a defense or anything, he just does it. “No, you’re not my girlfriend anymore. You can’t control me. Why don’t you go be with that Harris prick? Honestly, angel? You could do way better than that wanker, yeah?” he says, pointing his bottle to Leon who was busy eyeing down Nick.

“Harry--give me that bottle.” you said, clearly annoyed with how things are currently going. Why was he being difficult?

“Do you still love me, y/n? Look, I’m wearing the polo shirt you gave me,” he says, twirling like a little girl showing off her new outfit. “I see you’re wearing my ‘H’ ring, too. I saw it the other day...Instagram. That must mean something, yeah?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. He surrendered the bottle to you.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere so you could sit and clear your head, yeah?” you asked, holding his arm. “Leon,” you called to your friend. “I’ll just help Harry clear his mind. I’ll find you later, yeah? I’m sorry,” you said. Leon only nodded, mouthing a ‘sure’ before talking to a friend Nick introduced him to.

“If you don’t love me, you wouldn’t take care of me like this. Remember when you would do this lot? I miss it,” he rambled. You weren’t sure if he was being serious enough but you decided that either way, your heart was hurting. A silence fell upon the both of you as you sat on the booth.

“Harry, stay here yeah? I’ll see if someone could get you some water,” you said, standing up from the couch. Harry grabbed your hand.

“Please, stay. I promise I won’t say anything anymore. Just...stay here, love? Please? It’s been a while since you were this close to me and tonight, let’s just do things like the old times, yeah?” he asked. You were torn, so fucking torn with what he was saying. Wasn’t he the one who asked for a break? It’s been a year and you missed him. You really do.

“Harry,” you started, staring at his lips. You missed how soft it was, you missed how he kissed you. “Can we, can we kiss?” you asked. Harry sobered up. Were you really asking him to kiss you? He sat up straight looking at you. He inched closer until he could feel your heavy breaths. Your chest was heaving and you were itching for him to get closer. He smiled, taking your chin with his ring clad fingers until your lips met. It was slow and nice, two lovers yearning to be with each other again but soon enough, with too much yearning and passion, your kiss became heated. You didn’t notice it but Harry’s hands soon found your arms, caressing your bare arms up and down, the coldness of his rings against your warm skin a pleasuring contrast.

“Fuck,” he breathed as soon as you both pulled away. “Do you want to take this somewhere?” he asked. You nodded, mind too hazy from what just happened. You collected your bag that was left beside you.

“Let’s use the back door and walk discreetly, yeah?” you asked, Harry was never one to bring drivers during the holidays and so were you. You were intoxicated so you both didn’t want to drive. “Then, let’s just hail a car or something when we’re a little too far away,” you said. “I’ll just text Leon,” you added as you unlocked your phone.

“W-wait, Leon,” Harry rasped.

“You don’t have to worry about him. I’m single and I’m not his type,” you breathed as your grabbed his hand. He wasn’t sure if he should believe you, but nodded anyway. He was too desperate--all he wanted was to feel you close. You both made a beeline to the backdoor and exited, silently thanking the Lord for the absence of paparazzi. You walked, an awkward silence falling between the both of you. Still, your minds were hazy with lust, yearning, and love. You were a little far away when you hailed a taxi, telling the driver to go straight to Harry’s place, seeing as his house was nearer than yours. The both of you were obviously itching to touch each other but you refrained, you didn’t want anyone to see and complicate things.

The moment you arrived at Harry’s door (thank God he cleaned), your mouth was on his. This time, your kiss was more daring and passionate, all curfew thrown outside the window. You moaned as he trailed down to your neck, your back against the wall. He was sucking and licking the spot where your neck and shoulder blades met, your spot as he would call it. You were sure that he would leave a mark in the morning but you didn’t care. You were tugging at his hair, something that he always liked, to encourage him to go lower.

“Come,” he rasped as he took your hand to his bedroom. You both tiptoed in the dark hallways of his massive house until your back met the mattress in his bedroom. “How do you think I feel once I saw you in this red dress?” he asked. You weren’t able to answer his question as he kissed you again, only this time, his hand was playing with the thin straps of your silk dress. He lowered it.

Meanwhile, your hands were on his polo shirt, carefully unbuttoning the material off of his torso. Once you were able to take off the buttons, your hands met his tattooed chest. He moaned at the contact.

“Unzip me?” you asked as soon as he moved his lips down to the skin visible on your chest. He sucked your skin as you raised you body, his hands going underneath you to unzip the tight red dress off your body. He stopped for a moment, looking at your naked chest.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he moaned as he put his mouth on your nipple. You arched your chest towards him, his ring clad fingers kneading your other breast. Your hands were inching towards your underwear, nothing really special because you weren’t expecting this. “Ah, ah, ah,” he taunted, the moment he felt your fingers go lower.

“Harry—“

“No, let me do it, love,” he whispered. His mouth latched on to your other nipple, only this time, his fingers were trailing down to your clothed center. Your hips grinded on his hands, the rings giving you more texture. You were whimpering, begging for your ex-boyfriend to touch you. He chuckled a little bit, pushing your underwear to the sides before teasing your clit. You grounded your hips again, and Harry gave in, flicking the button in between your legs.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “more, Harry…”

“You want this? You want me to fill you up?” he asked, breathy. Quite frankly, his manhood was penting up in his pants. You nodded and Harry moaned, completely removing your underwear. Your hands trailed to his pants, massaging him through his fabric. Your hands immediately unbuttoned his trousers, and he stood up, removing it alone with his boxers. Your hands immediately found his dick, rubbing the precum all over before you pushed Harry onto the bed.

“What do you want me to do, Harry?” you asked seductively.

“Ride me,” he says. He bucked his hips towards your hands, clearly wanting more. “Come one, love,” he encouraged. You sat in his lap, taking his dick in between your hands, rubbing it on your clit for a few times before inserting the tip inside you. “I missed this, fuck,” he moaned. You moaned too, sitting lower until his length was filling you up. “I think you had your fun already,” he taunted, flipping you over. He leaned onto you as he pounded into you a few times.

“Harry, shit, shit,” you moaned. Your hand went to your clit, rubbing it as Harry went in and out of you.

“You just can’t get enough can you?” he asked. Your other hand and legs were around him, your nails digging onto his back. You nodded. “You’re not gonna cum until I tell you to, love,” he said as he pounded into you harder. His hand was immediately on your nipple, pinching and tugging it. It was sensory overload, his hands on your breast, yours on your clit, him inside you, your nails onto him. He moaned, putting his mouth on yours as his tongue entered your mouth. You both felt his thrusts going sloppier and sloppier as your walls started to clench.

“Harry, I’m cumming, fill me up...cum inside me,” you moaned. The popstar only gruntled, obviously bathing in your wetness.

“Cum, princess. Cum on my cock, cum with me,” he moaned as you both came, his cum filling you up and your walls clenching around him.

“I love you,” you whispered, hoping he didn’t notice but he did, stopping for a moment, looking at you. “Let’s talk about it later,” you smiled.

He thrusted for a few more times before removing his girth inside you. He immediately looked for a towel to wipe you with it and you waited. He always did this—you waited, basking in the afterglow of sex.

—————-

It was 4 am in the morning and you were both naked underneath the sheets. You didn’t talk about your confession, sleeping immediately once he wiped down the mess on your legs and he sighed.

It was 4 am and he was sound asleep, his tattooed arm wrapped around your torso. You removed it carefully and he shuffled in his sleep. You watched him, tears springing in your eyes before silently dressing up and tiptoeing until you were outside his room. He didn’t notice it, too sound asleep. You were silently sobbing as you buckled the straps of your black heels, calling for a car. It took a few minutes of you waiting outside his gates, the cold breeze raising goosebumps on your skin.

That was how you spent your New Years Eve and New Years, having sex with your ex and then, regretting it hours later because you told him you loved him.

PART TWO?

happy new years! i hope this is the first / last fic you’ve read for the decade. thanks again! xxxx

taglist:

@giitterysuits / @floral-suits @bree082 @dezzym17 @bouncebackbyers @lolapuffs @belleamoree @demolition-lovers-blog @gorgeouslygrace @styledharry @nervousshoeghostmoney

151 notes · View notes

reylo-solo · 4 years

Text

I have thoughts.

About what happened last night and on nye. If I don’t write them up somewhere I may explode. Don’t read if you don’t want to. I just need to vent. Also I’m on tumblr mobile and it’s still not letting me insert a read more break so I apologize if this clogs your timeline. :/

1. Arrogance. It reeks of pure “I’m famous and can do/say whatever I want” arrogance. Sucks that I thought he was better than that. Disillusionment to the extreme on my part.

2. How is he gonna put out an ad he did with a company, the slogan of which is to “put down your phone” and enjoy life, then turn around in 24 hours and upload something so immature and inflammatory? That’s quite contradictory. I wonder what the company he did the ad with thinks of that? If he keeps behaviour like that up he’s going to find himself losing brand deals and job opportunities. Any director worth their stock knows fans build an empire. How’s it going to look when they see him harassing a group of fans just for a little ego boost? I get a feeling the words “don’t you know who I am? I was in star wars!” may end up being something of a common refrain in the future if that’s the case.

3. He knew what would happen, because it happened on nye. He knew he’d get people upset, get antis and even people with no clue about any of it riled up and shouting “racism” in his name, thus making him trend on twitter. And all the noise made on that platform would flush out the truth: that it all started bc he made a gross misogynistic joke that people didn’t like. It wasn’t specifically reylos that called him out on it either, it was rightfully unimpressed and uncomfortable women, but it’s the shippers he decided to deflect with.

4. Because he did this, and because the truth got drowned out by a bunch of people using us as scapegoats, reylos are being blamed for being racist towards him and Finn since the casting for TFA was announced, when anyone who was actually around at that time knows the racism came from old, white male fans, who said there couldn’t be a black stormtrooper. (And I have to ask - how can reylos be at fault for this particular instance of nastiness when ‘reylo’ as a ship wasn’t even a thing yet? We only had the trailer! We didn’t even know these characters yet! Make it make sense, luv). Don’t get me wrong, though. The racism he faced and has faced through this has been truly awful and unjust. But it wasn’t specifically reylos spewing it, which is somehow what many people seem to have taken away from all of this. The fact that he has done nothing but push this false narrative rather than turn the mirror on the real problem (i.e. the older generation’s “fandom m*nace”) is...haunting to me. It feels spiteful. It feels cruel. I’m sat wondering why. Why use your 1.5 million follower influence to harass a group of people shipping two fictional characters online, when you could put that influence to good use for, idk, a charity against cyber bullying perhaps? Or some other cause he supports? It’s baffling. Almost as baffling as the fact that no one else who’s feeding into this with any kind of public influence cares to look behind the curtain.

5. That being the case, celebrities and other news outlets with large platforms are reporting that we’re a toxic fandom based in racism and bullying. Continuing to spread that toxic narrative that he built to deflect from his own mistake. And why? Because we’re a fandom largely comprised of women, to be sure. We ship a pretty gentile (and canon) enemies to lovers couple. And because we’ve been dogpiled and attacked for four fucking years as it is so he likely knows we can get defensive when wrongfully accused or targeted. This enlarges the conversation; it makes it trend. This inflates his ego. This is why we should not engage.

6. Lastly, I must have been following the right people on all platforms these last four years, because I have never come across a reylo who was racist towards him (or anyone else for that matter) and wasn’t immediately called out and exiled from the fandom for it. That says something.

In short: I’m glad Star Wars is over because I’m tired of being a scapegoat just because I ship two fictional characters in an online fandom space, where it should be safe to do so but apparently isn’t. I’m tired of the bullying and the death threats, and it still isn’t enough to get people to leave us alone. I just want to read and write fic about these two fictional space nerds, and reblog art of them, and talk to the friends I’ve made bc of it all in my own space, where I’m not inviting anyone who doesn’t like reylo to look at or engage with reylo. That’s it. So for someone like him to come in and act that way, with his platform and his connections...it makes me sick. I’ve lost all respect for him. Not that it means anything to him, clearly. Just sucks.

With that out of my system, I continue my day reblogging great posts and writing fic. (Side note: Please don’t reblog this post - I don’t need unwanted attention brought to it. No matter what we say or do, they will not listen. They will not relent. And I don’t have the energy to deal with it rn. I may end up just deleting this later anyway, but I needed to say it somewhere and twitter is REALLY not the place, for so many reasons.)

#fandom wank #discourse #venting #long post #fandom drama

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goddamnitkastle · 4 years

Photo

Happy #KastleChristmas!

Hello Kathryn (@fortysevenswrites)! Yes, I am your Kastle Secret Santa. Ta da!

You prompted me with "open road, winter retreat, snowball fight". I inquired further (gotta love that sneaky anon option on here) and was given some of your favorite headcanons/tropes which included “hurt/comfort (come on, it’s Karen and Frank and they have BAGGAGE), and nonverbal communication.” and I basically ran with that.

Your fic is ready. However you will have to wait a teeny, tiny bit because surprise! It’s a NYE fic! And I want to post it on that day, for aesthetic purposes. Hope that’s okay 😬

But in the meantime enjoy this preview of the fic and this graphic I made for it before I lost Photoshop CS6 (it’s been a week/month/year ya’ll and I, for one, cannot wait for 2020).

The general gist of the fic is that Karen’s past has come back to haunt her (in the form of her former, drug dealing boyfriend Todd) and she is hiding out in a cabin in New Jersey cause he is after her. Frank is spying in on the trial for her and is annoyed about wearing a monkey suit to do so but for Karen, he wears it. There will be angsty, sexual tension with a sweet ending as they ring in the new year, finally together.

Enjoy the sneak peak! Full fic to come shortly!

This black tie might as well be a goddamn noose. Frank is relieved to see the Welcome to New Jersey sign, it means he’s almost back to the cabin. Back to Karen, who definitely has cabin fever and it is something fierce.

”I’m not gonna keep repeating myself here. You are not coming with me, end of...” Frank exasperates.

“I just don’t understand why I still have to stay here if today is the day...” Karen retorts. “Come on Karen, Todd directly targeted you. Even Mahoney recommended that you get out of the city for your own safety until the trial is over and he is put away...” “Yeah but I doubt he would’ve been okay with you as my protection.” Karen says stubbornly. Frank sighs and is about to dig his heals in metaphorically until she sees reason but he is not the best multitasker. He can’t keep arguing with her and get this stupid tie to cooperate. He hears her footsteps on the hardwood floor and he knows she’s standing in the doorway of his bedroom. “Here, let me help.” Karen finally offers after struggling with it for what felt like an eternity. She turns him away from the dresser mirror. Frank drops his hands in defeat and accepts her help. “I swear I will give anything if I could wear my uniform for these kind of things and never deal with ties again for as long as I live.” They both laugh and fall into silence while Karen does his tie. She is done before he even blinks and any irritation he had felt toward her before has completely disappeared. “You would, uh, do this for your brother?” The question sits in their space and despite there being no secrets between them now Frank can’t help but feel like he’s rubbing salt into the wound. “Yes. Matt asked me the same thing once. Not the same exact question but he wondered how I knew how to... I spoke of Kevin to him like he was still alive.” Her brow furrows as she pulls the knot of the tie even closer to the collar of his shirt. He doesn’t even feel it.

“And he still is. In a way. We’ll... talk and it feels like he’s right next to me.” “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have...” “It’s okay, Frank. Go to Todd’s sentencing.” “Aren’t you coming with me?” Frank cracks. “No. You and Mahoney are right and if I don't let you go now you'll miss it. Hopefully he will be going away for a long time and I can get out of this cabin.” She smooths his tie down and leaves him in his room.

#kastlechristmas #kastle #kastleedit #kastle fanfiction #meganerinff #meganerinedit #frank castle #karen page #kastlenetwork #fortysevenswrites #daredevil #the punisher #this is the new year #I hope you like it!

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skywalkerbc · 5 years

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Mads’ massive bellarke rec (pt.1)

So I’ve been asked a couple times to make a bellarke fanfiction rec list so here it is! (Okay so I realised that I had way too many bc our fandom is filled with so many talented authors so even though this is actually massive, there will be several parts)

(Also- I don’t know everyone’s tumblrs so if you know any of these author’s tumblr accounts, please lmk so I can link them properly!)

In no particular order, here are some of my all time fav blarke fics:

MODERN-VERSE AUS

I dreamed you a sin (and a lie) by monroeslittle

“If I do this,” Blake said, “how are you imagining it’s going to work? I can’t just knock on his door, and say I want in again. It’s been eleven years. And even before I left, I never cared about the business. Do you have a plan? You say you want me to open the door for an agent. How? What’s that mean?”

“You’re going to get in touch with your grandfather again at your wedding,” Clarke said.

He stared.

“I hope you don’t have a girlfriend, Mr. Blake.”

fake!married AU. Clarke's in the FBI, Bellamy's the grandson of a mobster, and they've got to work together.

Lines in the Sand by @fen-ha-fuck-you

“You looked like you were gonna hurl when you got up,” Raven said, pausing for a moment. “I’m not sure this is better.”

Clarke shook her head minutely, finally looking up at herself in the mirror. She quickly wiped away the tears that had fallen. She hadn’t even noticed. “I’m fine.”

“No,” Raven replied, her eyebrows scrunching together. “You’re not.”

“I just… had a little too much to drink. That’s all.”

“That why you’re strangling that poor sink?”

i’m not asking much of you by emmylou

When Clarke gets invited to her ex's wedding- her CHEATING ex's wedding- she knows she can't go alone. She's not dating anyone, so she has to find a boyfriend, real or fake, fast. Luckily, Octavia knows just the guy.

I’d Promise You Everything (But I’m Not Sure How Much Good There Is In That) by @talistheintrovert

Bellamy has never been a huge fan of Valentine's Day, but Clarke outright hates it. Her father died at the start of February when she was in high school, she found out her first boyfriend was cheating on her two weeks later, and then almost exactly a year after that, her girlfriend dumped her to travel around Asia.

But now they're in their 20s and Bellamy finally admitted that he loved her a few months ago. He knows this is the real thing and he absolutely knows that she feels the same way, but he also knows how miserable Clarke gets around Valentine's, and he's determined to cheer her up this time.

hold me in your beating heart by amberwoods

He’d got out of bed and walked to the nursery to console his youngest child. When he’d been shushing and cradling her for about twenty minutes, he noticed a silhouette hovering in the door opening. Clarke.

“I’ve got her,” he’d said softly, his voice rough with sleep, “Go back to bed.”

She just stood there. When he took a closer look, he noticed she had a strange expression on her face. She was looking at Madi.

“Clarke?” he asked carefully.

And There’s a Hand My Trusty Friend by Who_Needs_Reality

He sighs dramatically. “Can’t believe you’re not gonna let me kiss you until next year.” That sends a sudden, sharp jolt of sadness through Clarke, the realisation that they’re going to be spending another day spent pretending that she’s not his; it means ushering in their first year together… by, well, not being together.

Or, {NYE fluff where Bellamy and Clarke are together, but since they're keeping it a secret from their friends, they run into an unforeseen complication.}

A Little Bit of Something (God, It’s Better Than Nothing) by @grumpybell

“-Clarke.” He sounds alarmed, suddenly, none of the casual, arrogant, amusement that had been in his voice moments before. “What?” “Why is your mom calling me?” “Shit. Don't answer that. Listen, okay. She and I kind of got into an argument today-” “-what else is new?” “Shut up. Anyway, she told me she's getting married and there was just so much subtext about my failure at relationships and my lack of love life, and I might have told her I'm engaged too.” There's silence on the other end of the phone. “To you,” Clarke prompts.

I Don’t Need Your Love (I Just Need You Now) by @talistheintrovert

“What was the worst part?” Raven asked.

“Probably when he shoved me against a wall and stuck his tongue down my throat,” Clarke admitted, sipping her hot chocolate, which she quickly realised was spiked with rum. God, her friends were perfect.

Octavia and Raven both gasped, but it was Bellamy’s reaction that she found the most interesting. He didn’t say anything, didn’t look up from his book, or even alter his expression, but his hand balled into a fist on the arm of his chair.

OR: The AU where Clarke and Bellamy hate each other until Bellamy realises she's being mistreated, and does his best to protect her.

Come Close (And Then Even Closer) by sheryl_sems

Clarke thinks about Octavia and how her best friend had stormed out of the house earlier that day, furious at Clarke for taking her brother's side in their argument. She thinks about Raven, and Monty, and Jasper, and Wells, and Lincoln but in the end, she really only wants one person by her side and it's fruitless to fight herself on this one.

"Could you call Bellamy?" She finally says in a soft, hoarse whisper.

Or the one where Clarke is attacked and the only person she wants by her side in the aftermath is Bellamy Blake.

You Look Like a Movie. You Sound Like a Song. by lordmxrphy

She knows shouldn’t care. She and Bellamy were never together. They never dated. But for as long as Clarke can remember, Bellamy’s held her heart. Even if he’ll never know it.

(a modern au inspired by when we were young by adele)

What We Do to Each Other by marauders_groupie

A Bellarke AU in which Bellamy and Clarke are childhood best friends, separated by life and trying to relearn each other again.

A Symbol of Goodwill And Love by LayALioness

“So when you said we need a good tree, you meant,” he hedges, and she huffs, little clouds of steam escaping her mouth.

“One that needs a good home,” she says, like it’s obvious. “Shopping for a Christmas tree is like going to the pound—you don’t look for a purebred at the pound, Bellamy. You look for the puppy with a missing eye, or mange. One that needs us.”

“If this is code for wanting us to get a puppy,” Bellamy muses, reaching out to tug on the tassels of her hat. “I think we should probably live together, first.”

We Have to Stop Meeting Like This by @goldenheadfreckledheart

Tumblr prompt: “We both have friends who party too hard and we keep running into each other in the bathroom while we hold their hair back.”

Aka, the three times Bellamy and Clarke meet each other while taking care of their friends + the one time they don’t.

Christmas Sweaters by lightyears

Clarke's upset that she won't fit into her Christmas sweater this year. Bellamy surprises her with a new one.

Ladylike by Who_Needs_Reality

Bellamy stares at her. "You want me to make out with you. Platonically."

Clarke very resolutely does not panic. "Do it for the views, Bellamy."

(Or, an AU in which Clarke works for a Buzzfeed-esque company, and has to kiss someone in order to test lipstick durability for a new video. Feelings and decidedly non-platonic nonsense ensue.)

Love Is Not a Victory March by @asroarke

“You could have been here four years ago,” she reminded, raising her eyebrows at him.

“No, I couldn’t have. I needed to be here with you,” he replied, and Clarke felt like the breath had been knocked out of her. It wasn’t the first time he said something like that, of course. But it caught her off guard every damn time.

“Was it worth the wait?”

“Yes, you were,” he replied, and how could Clarke not kiss him after that?

Olympics AU where a knee injury kept Bellamy and Clarke from making it to the Olympics... the first time around.

the tie that binds me to you by glowinghorizons

“we’ve been pen pals for like hella months and we finally decided to meet up and damn you’re cute, also did you break up with your jerk bf/gf yet?” au

or:

bellamy and clarke finally meet after months and months of hand-written letters, phone calls and text messages.

you bring me honeysuckle by caramelle

It suddenly strikes Bellamy, one day, that his girlfriend is in possession of what has to be the best hair in the entire cosmos.

Or, the one where Bellamy's fixation with Clarke's hair is totally normal and healthy.

Walk With Me by arysa13

Bellamy is pretty sure you aren't supposed to hit on the people you're supposed to be getting home safely, but he kind of wants to anyway.

Prompt: Bellamy works at safe walk and Clarke keeps falling asleep studying. And is the last one to leave the library every night!

Sugar, Spice, and All Things Nice by Who_Needs_Reality

Clarke just really wants a peppermint mocha. Breaking into the apartment of her ex, with whom she may-or-may-not still kind of be madly in love, is an unplanned side effect. Mostly.

Based on the prompt "listen i know i can’t just show up at your apartment at six in the morning but i need coffee and no one makes it like you do”

time flies but you’re the pilot by @onemanbellarmy

“Wait a minute, your new art teacher is Clarke Griffin?”

Gus paused to consider. “I think so?”

A huff of a surprised laugh escaped Bellamy. He hadn’t talked to Clarke since college.

(or, single parent x child's teacher AU)

the girl next door by funfanfin

The first time he hears her, he’s making his grandmother’s afritada recipe, a dish that reminds him of long, lazy, hot summers in the Philippines.

The first time he learns her name is on a Tuesday so ordinary and average he wouldn’t have remembered it otherwise.

The first time he realizes he loves her is during the early hours of a cool morning, with her curled into his side.

-OR-Bellamy hears singing from the apartment next door. It isn't long before he meets the girl behind the smoky, haunted voice, and it isn't long before he learns the reasons for her sorrow-filled singing.

only fools rush in by @chants-de-lune

based on the tumblr prompt:

"just drove a guy home from a bar and for the whole 15 minutes he talked about how excited he was to see his wife"

the fuzziest of woodland creatures by tempestaurora

“it’s 2 in the morning and i was just trying to get home but i left my sunroof open all day and now there’s a squirrel in my car and it scared me and i drove into a pole – would you please stop laughing you’re a cop. you’re supposed to be helping”

Settling Debts by indygoh

"Um. Thank you. You didn't have to," she peeked up at him, suddenly shy for some reason. "I can pay you back."

Bellamy just chuckled, already shaking his head before she could finish her sentence.

"I've got a little sister. She probably would have kicked my ass if she found out I didn't do something to help you out back there."

Clarke raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Do you always rescue strange girls in desperate need of tampons?"

"Only the really cute ones with crowns on their butts."

when love hits (better make it worth the fall) by kay_emm_gee

Summary: Four times Clarke gets hit on the head (+1 time she doesn't) during her last semester of high school, and every single time, Bellamy Blake is somehow involved.

Turn the tide on my losing side by Lalalli

Clarke doesn’t know why Thelonius Jaha keeps posting really random shit to her Facebook wall, but whatever. It’s fine. It was weird at first, but she’s used to it now.

And then Bellamy gets involved and it gets weird again.

My Soft Place to Land by Who_Needs_Reality

Bellamy's happy to be back. He's even happier to see who's waiting for him.

{Or, soldier!Bellamy comes back home after being deployed and meets someone special}

We Keep it a Secret (You Leave Me Dying to Know) by @ringsabellamy

Bellamy doesn’t claim to be the greatest at dating, especially considering he’s been quietly in love with his best friend for the past six years, but hey, at least he’s been /trying/ to get over her. Not, of course, that this current situation is helping.

Or: Bellamy just asked Clarke to fake being his girlfriend for one date, honest. But then things got a little...out of hand.

If You Like Your Coffee Hot by marauders_groupie

They haven't been friends for a very long time but Bellamy still can't ignore Clarke acting out and getting into fights when she was a model student just a few months ago. They might’ve kept each other at distance for years but she is still his first best friend.

Calm my tears, Kill these fears by @goldenheadfreckledheart

Prompt: I somehow always get you as a cashier at Walmart and it's always when I’m buying the weirdest shit at the weirdest time. “A head of lettuce at 3am?” "It's a long story”

bit of a disaster, aren’t we? by katsumi

Clarke breaks her ankle and really would prefer that Bellamy not find out about it. She has a feeling he's going to get mad. (She's right.)

~~~

CANON-VERSE AUS

Meet Me in the Morning by monroeslittle

“I guess one of us is messed up,” he said, “and it’s part of our hallucination that the other is, too.” He paused. “Seems appropriately hellish that my mind sticks me with you.”

She pursed her lips. “Likewise.”

AU. Clarke is trapped in a stupid time loop, and guess who's trapped with her?

I Miss Our Little Talks by @chants-de-lune

“Wow,” she breathed out. “I thought that one would have done me in.”

Bellamy didn’t smile, shaking his head and taking the slightest edge of coldness off his glare.

“You took a bullet for me.” he said through gritted teeth. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Today is Dying by theprincessandtheking

“Look, sorry, but it’s an emergency,” Harper said, eyes firmly fixed on the wall ahead of her.

The tea he’d downed at the bar was still in his system, as evidenced by the way the room spun when he reached for his shirt a few feet away and struggled to pull it over his head.

“So much of an emergency that you couldn’t knock?”

“It’s Clarke.”

That I Will Never Escape by @talistheintrovert

“Execute me; I poisoned you. Let Clarke live."

“Very well,” Octavia raised a hand and a soldier with a gun pointed it down at him. He steeled himself for the bullet that would end his life, but before it left the chamber, Clarke yelled out.

“No!”

He jumped, surprised, when she moved suddenly, and he registered in his periphery as she snatched the sword from the floor and spun it in her hand deftly.

“Clarke, what are you doing?” Bellamy frowned, his gaze switching to her, but a part of him already knew. His body was reacting to it before his brain could catch up – he felt his breath catch in his throat, and his heart-rate speed up.

we were nothing more than stardust by cresswell

"I'm going to kill that bastard," he says quietly, bent close to Clarke's ear. "He's not going to touch you again, and I'm going to kill him."

Her pinkie finger extends, brushing the waistband of his jeans, and he carefully pushes their palms together, lacing their fingers. He thinks she smiles in her sleep.

Love is Not a Whisper (or a weakness) by monroeslittle

"There was a strange, muffled snap, and the tentacle around her middle was retracted. The hold on her ankle was gone, and Bellamy was pulling her up through the water. She began to pump her arms, and they broke the surface; she gasped, and coughed.

He pressed a gun into her hand. “If you see a ripple, shoot,” he ordered."

AU. The dropship doesn't land on land. The next seven years are a little bit different.

Astraphobia by @chants-de-lune

The fear of thunder and lightning. In other words, rainy day cuddling with a bit of angst.

Trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat by islabbe

There was blood everywhere; some of it red, but most of it was black. Bellamy wrinkled his nose at the metallic smell as it filled his nose. Pushing down the reflex to gag, he quickly made his way over to the tent.

“Clarke, stay with me,” he said gruffly, his voice straining as bent down to enter hers and Madi’s tent. She was drifting in and out of consciousness and Bellamy knew the longer he dawdled, the less time she had.

We Can’t Leave Us Behind by @ringsabellamy

"I don’t blame you for that, not anymore. I understand why you had to leave. But it still hurt, Clarke. And I guess...I think your goodbye reminds me of how I felt. Of what it was like to lose you.”

“The kiss,” she says, eyes full of sudden realization. “You think when I kiss you, it means I’m going to leave you.”

Or: Bellamy has a lot of healing to do, one try at a time.

Set The Dark On Fire by @talistheintrovert

Clarke isn't coping well with peacetime on the Eligius ship, and while Bellamy has woken some of the others (mainly spacekru) and tries to organise a trip to the ground, making decisions and considering all the variables, Clarke makes a choice of her own:

She'll take herself out of the equation.

OR: the post season 5 idea I had to write because all of the unresolved emotional turmoil this season is actually killing me and someone needs to notice that Clarke is in pain, for the love of god.

for everything unsaid (there is a flourish of my pride) by theprincessandtheking

“I don’t know,” he says. “I guess I just didn’t really care either way anymore.”

She pauses, and from the corner of his eye he can see the odd expression on her face.

“So in the middle of wartime, when everything is going to hell around us, shaving is still a priority. But you spend six years with all the free time in the world for it, and suddenly you don’t care?”

He tries to smile at the joke, but he thinks it comes out as more of a grimace.

“I guess down here it was more of a sense of normalcy,” he explains. “But with you gone—”

He pauses, clears his throat in an attempt to keep his voice steady.

“Without you there, nothing really felt normal.”

I can never be alone when all gods keep calling me out by angel_deux

Raven fixes the radio after a few years, and Clarke can talk to them again.

they will see my strength (in this love i’ve found) by glowinghorizons

“If you’re married they won’t let you go alone.”

The silence is deafening. Bellamy braces himself for the slap he knows is going to come his way any second, but it never happens.

“You--” she sounds breathless. “You don’t even know me.”

Bellamy shrugs. “Look. I-- this is crazy. I know. I just know that I can’t let my sister go to the ground without me.”

OR, Clarke finds out she's being sent to the Ground only days after her Dad dies. Bellamy is determined to go to the Ground with his sister. They need to fool everyone to make it work.

Like a Second Heart by Who_Needs_Reality

She’s hardly surprised, the first few times it happens. The hallucinations are vivid, but not long, not much, just short, staccato bursts of him, tiny pieces to keep her going -- his hand extended out to her to help her up from the rubble, his voice a soothing murmur in her ear telling her she’ll be alright until she finds water… of course she sees him, of course she hears him. It’s Bellamy -- who else would her mind conjure up to help her survive? There are worse symptoms praimfaya has left her with than a few too-real imaginings of her best friend after all.

{Clarke's not worried when she starts to hallucinate Bellamy. It's only when the dreams continue to haunt her even after the real Bellamy comes back that she's concerned}

We Sure Know How to Run by winterwaters

While attempting to get Jaha farther from the AI and the nuclear warhead, Clarke, Murphy and Emori run into trouble from another tribe and Clarke is injured. Bellamy and his group happen to be following that tribe and help take care of her. On the way home, she confronts her feelings for Bellamy - with a bit of help from Emori.

darling, just hold my hand by killianslonghaul

“I know you don’t like public displays of affection, but… you’re really not going to kiss me goodbye?”

Bellamy doesn't really do PDA, but he might make an exception.

baby on board by katebishop

As a soon-to-be father, Bellamy thinks he's feeling the appropriate amount of worry and concern for his pregnant wife.

Clarke thinks he's utterly ridiculous.

~~~

Other AUS

Forbidden Words by onceuponahundred

we’re in between classes, and we both hear a fourth year calling a first year a mudblood, and neither of us are having any of that prejudiced bullshit. unfortunately, my impulse was to hex them, and yours was to punch them in the face, and my jelly-legs curse hit you instead, i’m really sorry, and we both are probably getting detention now, but hey, plus side, you’re kind of cute

{Bellarke in Harry Potter}

Name One Hero Who Was Happy by Who_Needs_Reality

Clarke huffs again, and he glances at her.

“The Curse of Achilles, Bellamy? Do you know how risky that was?”

“I got the idea when I felt my soul being torn from my body.”

She sniffs, imperious. “How did you do it?”

“Huh?” Her voice is smaller when she speaks again. “How did you...not get your soul...y’know?”

“Oh,” he swallows. “I had some help.”

{Bellarke in a Percy Jackson/The Last Olympian AU}

Don’t Think I Want What I Used to Want by arysa13

Bellamy has a compass that points to what his heart most desires, which, as a pirate, must be treasure, obviously.

can’t control my feelings, can’t control my thoughts by katsumi

When Jasper accidentally gifts Clarke a love potion, everyone she interacts with starts acting...weird. Everyone, that is, except Bellamy. [Hogwarts AU]

~~~

#bellarke fanfiction #bellarke #The 100 #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #there's a looooott #this should keep you busy for a while lmao #(there will be more parts)#(I have read wayyyy too much blarke fic)#also i am so super sorry if the continue reading link breaks oml #that would be so much scrolling lmao #im sorryyy #but bellarkeeeee #mads fic recs

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