#amber fic

[ylanylans]

"Scars."

FEATURING !! Amber x GN! reader

WARNINGS !! Burn scars, reverse comfort, pretty fluffy?

WORDS !! 1105

NOTES !! Actually my favourite Amber HC hands down I am so sorry for hurting you girl but I love you and I'd comfort you so much. Also don't look at my titling skills please...

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon c’mon,” she urged as you took off your shoes, setting them by the wall along with hers. “I won fair and square!” You sigh, laughing as you stand back up.

Amber kicked off her boots the moment she got inside, the metal soles clattering against the wood floors. For all the activities you had planned for today, it’s impressive your partner still had so much energy. She giggled, still leaning against the wall. 

“Oh, c’mon,” you teased and took her by the hand, pulling her close so your lips were centimetres apart. “You just got home. Wouldn’t want to deprive a pretty girl of “welcome home” kisses, would we?” 

She squeaks, pulling back just enough to attempt to hide her blush. She purses her lips, trying to hold back a grin. “Yeah but… I also want to cuddle you… You said if I won the bet…”

You pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “Of course, cuddles for the pretty girl, how could I ever deny them?” You lead her hands to your shoulders, moving your hands to her thighs and picking her up. 

She laughs, wrapping her legs around your waist. Her hands moved from your shoulders; one around the back of your neck, and the other to hold your face; the leather of her gloves soft against your skin from years of use. She kissed your forehead first, leaving a thin residue from her lip balm. Then each of your cheeks, once higher and once lower. Then again on each of your temples, and finally your lips. 

She lingered on your lips, allowing you to taste just how sweet she was. Soft, gentle yet eager, and vaguely tasting of strawberries and vanilla. Still, she pulled away far too early. She smiles, seeing you chase after her.

“C’mon… just one more?” She giggled, smug.

“Of course, kisses for the partner, how could I ever deny them?” You frown, scrunching up your face in faux annoyance. “Hehe, I guess you’ll just have to carry me to our room then. Reward you for following through on your promise, sunshine?” 

You hum in response. “Alright, I accept your offer.” 

You begin down the hall to your room, pushing the door open with your shoulder and shutting it with your foot. You set her on the bed and follow, leaning into her until she lays under you.

“There. Kisses, please.” You turn your head to face her. She smiles, obliging, kissing you again. And again, and again. The smile still on her lips is apparent. Probably rubbing off on you as well, making you smile into the kiss.

“Cuddles, then?” You roll over, pulling her with you into your arms. She giggles, snuggling closer into your chest. Her hands come up to hold your waist; her gloves catch on a seam. “Oh, these are still on?” She sighed, rolling over to sit up. You propped yourself up on your elbows, waiting for her.

Her fingers slip under the glove, hesitant.

“Could you uhm… Could you look away for a moment, please?” She mumbled. You hummed, tilting your head to the side. “I uhm… I had a lot of accidents when I was a kid. Pretty scarred up. I don’t… really like how it looks.” She looks off to the side and you notice her biting her lip.

“Amber…” pause, trying to form a sentence. You think back, realising that she’s always avoided taking off her gloves. It was a small thing, you never thought any of it. “I can look away if you want, but it’s alright, you know.” She doesn’t look up, still slouched over her hands. “I love you for you, any kind of scars or injuries won’t change that.”

She hesitates before replying, “... do you want to see them?”

“Only if you’re comfortable with it, bun. It doesn’t have to be today, but I would, eventually.” 

She sighs, shuffling around to face you. “They’re not pretty at all, but… if… if you’re sure.” She holds her hand out to you, gesturing for you to take it off. You sit up properly, crossing your legs in front of you. Carefully, you support her hand underneath her wrist and begin pulling at each of the fingertips. It came off easily, along with the softer lining.

The skin underneath was darker and, from what you could see in the moonlight, thicker. Almost leathery. The scars disappeared underneath the cuff of her sleeve, but from what you could tell, extended pretty far up her arm.

Your thumb gently ran over the back of her hand, and you watched her expression for signs of discomfort. It was more of nervousness than anything. She probably hasn’t shown many people, if she’s like this.

“It’s alright, you don’t need to be that gentle. Honestly, I’ve lost a lot of feeling in them. Like wearing a bunch of gloves stacked up on top of each other. I’m used to it now, though.” 

You set her hand down, reaching for the left hand. Repeating the process, the hand looks just about as scarred as the other, maybe just a bit more. But, farther up her arm, it looks to be a lot worse.

“Bun, if you don’t mind me asking…” She hums, looking up as you continue examining her hands. “How did you get them?” You turn over her hand in yours, running your thumb over the more prominent marks.

“Oh… It was a long time ago; when I first got my vision. And I was experimenting with making baron bunnies. Of the explosive kind, I mean. A few kinda blew up on me. Hehe…” You glanced up, noticing how she’s begun to smile again. “Pretty lame, I know. Barbara could only do so much. I still really appreciate her though! Who knows how bad it could’ve turned out without her help.” You smile at her words, bringing up her hand to kiss her wrist.

“I think I quite like them,” you say. “They’re part of you, after all. And I like you a lot, so. Heh.” You turned it over, continuing to press kisses to the uneven skin.

“You… really don’t mind them?”

“Of course not, bun.” You let her hand go, looking back up at her. “Thank you for feeling comfortable enough to show me.” One corner of her lips quirk up, and she looks back down at her hands. Following suit, a faint blush appears on her cheeks.

“Of course. I trust you…”

You open your arms to her, gesturing. “Did you still want those cuddles, bun?” She giggles, crawling into your arms.

“My hard-earned prize, you mean.”

[a-colourful-stranger]

day 4: let it snow

> summary: the clock strikes twelve and the snow is coming down harder than ever. luna is stuck, but at least she’s with amber, her girlfriend--ahem, her friend. they’re friends. nothing more. that doesn’t stop luna from wishing though. > ship: lunber > words: 806 > song: let it snow by carly rae jepsen

“Wow, it’s coming down really hard out there,” Amber mused as she stood by the window sill. Luna was sat on the couch, her eyes fixed on Amber and her hand deep in a bag of pre-popped popcorn. Amber turned back to her, “I don’t think it’s safe for you to drive home. I wouldn’t feel comfortable letting you drive on those streets.”

Luna craned her neck to look out the window behind Amber. The snow was almost blizzard like, she could barely see the other high-rises from where she sat. “I’ve never seen it this bad before,” she noted and Amber nodded in agreement.

Luna relaxed slightly, comforted by the view of the snow and Amber leaning against the window. She wasn’t too upset that she was stuck in Amber’s apartment. If anything, it was a blessing in disguise. For weeks now she’d wanted an excuse to spend more time with Amber. It was so hard to come by these days. Their schedules were so hard to get into sync and Amber was always off with one of her friend’s visiting from the States. Luna just wanted to spend some time with her favourite person.

It doesn’t help that she’s also hopelessly in love with Amber.

Amber looked at her and said, “I have an idea. Let’s go out into it.”

“Into the snow?” Luna looked back to the window, “Really?”

“Yeah! There are no cars on the road because of how bad it is. We can have ourselves a little party out there,” Amber came up to her and pulled the bag of popcorn from her hands. “Come on, it’ll be fun. How often do you get to run around on the streets of Seoul without having to worry about getting hit by a car?”

Ten minutes later, the pair were running out the front doors of Amber’s apartment building and into the thick snow. Luna watched as Amber stuck her tongue out to catch snowflakes and she couldn’t help but admire the twinkle of joy in Amber’s eyes. It was breathtaking.

Amber caught her eye, “Do I have something on my face?”

“Just snow,” Luna lied, well, it wasn’t a lie there was snow on her face.

The other woman laughed, “Come on, let’s make snow angels.” She took Luna’s hand in her own and said, “You ready?”

“For what—” Luna felt herself lose balance and both her and Amber went falling backwards. Out of instinct, her body prepared to fall onto cement but instead they both landed softly onto the plush snow. “Amber!” she shouted, “what was that?”

“That’s how you make snow angels!” Amber said through her laughter, “Come on, let’s do this.”

The entire time the pair made their snow angels, all Luna could think of was the fact that Amber was still holding her hand tight—as if there was nothing in the world that could possibly get her to let go. It made Luna’s heart hammer rapidly in her chest. She was so distracted by Amber holding her hand, she hadn’t realised she stopped making her snow angel and Amber rose her head up to look at her, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” she said smiling up at her group mate of eight years.

An emotion suddenly filled Amber’s eyes and her hand reached up to touch Luna’s face. Luna held her breath, afraid to disturb whatever was going through Amber’s mind.

Amber’s finger tips brushed her cheek and whispered, “You had an eyelash.”  

Whatever emotion had taken over Amber didn’t go away. In fact, it intensified. Very slowly, Amber seemed to be coming closer towards her. Or, Luna was lifting her head up to reach Amber, she had no idea.

They met in the middle. In the sweetest kiss Luna had ever had. Amber’s glove covered hand cupped her cheek, rubbing along her jawline. They stayed like that for some time. Kissing in the streets of Seoul, with no one to take pictures or gawk at them. Just the two of them.

Amber was the first to pull away and it was with a quiet laugh, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Luna beamed up at her, “I probably do.”

They laid there together for a while before Amber spoke up, “Do you want to go inside? I can turn on the fireplace and we can sit on the couch. Maybe eat some more popcorn and watch the snow fall?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Luna grinned. When they stood up, Amber laughed once more, “What?”

“Our snow angels are so ugly,” Amber took Luna’s hand once more and led her back into the apartment building. Back to the warmth, and the comfort of being at Amber’s side. But this time, as something more than friends. 

Yeah, Luna wasn’t upset at all about the snow.

day 1 | day 2 | day 3 | day 4 | day 5 | day 6 | day 7 | day 8 | day 9 | day 10 | day 11 | day 12

[jld-az]

And with this, I am 5,100 words away from 250k.

[[ holyshit ]]

Beneath the Cut:

Don't Think Twice (It's All Right)

ch3 - Tristan post-Patternfall War, in recovery in Shadow following his lengthy coma and spinal injury / paraplegia. [AO3 link here]

- - - - - - - -

A toe prodded him in the small of the back. “No cheating, Sir.”

Tristan tightened his core and straightened, then groaned a laughing response when the adjustment seemed to add fifty pounds to the weighted ball he’d been swiveling from side-to-side for the past two minutes.

“Any day now, Connor,” he chided good-naturedly. Maybe a touch flirtatiously. “Any day now you're gonna realize I’ve hung up my stripes, and it’s ok to start calling me ‘Tristan’.”

“Let’s get one thing straight, Rozenberg,” the other man fired back. Grinning, Tristan craned his head slightly until Connor moved into view, taking a stance off to the side with arms akimbo. “Vert don’t hold rank in MedCorps, and you were never my CO-”

“That’s two things, at least,” Tristan interjected. Connor barked a laugh.

“Are you bored?” the PT leader asked, making a motion with one upturned hand, eyes panning over his charge’s angled seat, knees bent and feet flat to the floor. “Is this boring you, Sir?”

“Tristan.”

Connor folded his arms across his chest, biceps flexing.

“Am I boring you, Tristan?”

His voice had dropped to a low rumble. Tristan felt his dick twitch.

“You’re not,” he replied, leaning into the innuendo.

Connor lifted an eyebrow. Tristan continued twisting, attention trained on the other man’s face. Then he smiled coyly and focused once more on his form, redoubling his pace. After a full twenty seconds, Connor resumed his circuitous observation with a murmured ‘good’ and ‘much better’.

Few people knew about Tristan’s praise kink, but those who did also knew it was a mile wide. Dress it up in a certain male physique and the combination was downright lethal, so by the time he’d been given a reprieve Tristan had to curl upright and wrap his arms around his knees to conceal his raging hard-on. He absently heaved the weight toward the nearby corner and tucked his face into the circle of his arms, equal parts relieved for the concrete evidence that things were finally back in working order, and desperately willing them to come back at a better time.

He was in the midst of a second five-count breath when Connor’s shadow passed over him, and something cool tapped against his left shoulder.

“Here,” the trainer said. “Hydrate.”

Tristan lifted his head with a murmured ‘thanks’ and reached back across himself to accept-

-only Connor had taken a knee at his side, so his hand came to rest on the other man’s thigh instead-

-which is when he realized how close the words had been, almost whispered into his ear, and all the progress he’d made in reducing the situation in his shorts was nearly negated.

Tristan calmly retracted and redirected. Connor smiled in response, his expression sly yet disarming as he pressed the glass into Tristan’s grasp.

“I remember what that was like,” he said. “First time I got it up again, I didn’t know what to do with it either.”

“Oh, I know what to do with it,” Tristan responded with a self-deprecating huff. “Just .. time and place.”

His gaze darted around the PT enclosure, noting the handful of other sessions in progress before tipping the glass for a long swallow. Beside him, Connor let out a low chuckle.

“What if I told you it was part of my job to make sure?” he asked. “Would that Malwainese sense of propriety preclude us from getting you off in the showers?”

To his own credit, Tristan didn’t choke.

- - - - - - - -

Warm. So warm. And the body pressed against his was so slick and broad and warm sweet goddess the hand wrapped around him felt so good he could sob. Head tipped back against the tiles, mouth dropped open beneath the palm clapped over it-

(because sounds carried in this space and Tristan was having difficulty moderating his with Connor’s fist sliding over his cock; the timbre of his growled “Hush, sweet thing” rumbling between their chests; the heightened rush of taboo sparked by “Can’t be giving away the game, can we?”)

-Tristan responded by sucking Connor’s fingers into his mouth, nursing wantonly as his own hand curled over the cubicle wall for stability, the other gripping tightly across the back of Connor’s neck and pulling himself closer, body undulating desperately beneath the stream of water, selfishly chasing the pleasure licking up his spine until it became too much and-

- - - - - - - -

The flood of endorphins was relentless when he came. His toes curled into the mattress as his spend pulsed between his fingers and onto his stomach. He swiped his other palm up over his face and across his sweated brow before running his hand into his hair, riding the rush of release as his hips jerked reflexively for a long, blissful minute.

But as high as it crested, it dipped nearly twice as far. Tristan felt a hollow sort of guilt that descended beyond sadness, and he hadn’t the first clue why.

Because what he’d actually said was:

“Thanks for the visual, Connor.” Because they both knew that’d never actually happen. His PT leader was a confirmed Hetero, but comfortable enough in it to acknowledge his effect on a certain set of people. All the same Tristan asked, “Permission to indulge in it later?”

“If it’s what gets you there,” Connor replied with a carefree shrug, passing over a towel in exchange for the empty glass. “Just let the duty nurse know so she can note it in your PRC.”

And now he felt empty. Which should probably concern him a little, but even that emotion felt dulled.

So he took a shower. He dressed in clean clothes and scripted a quick message to Connor, then summoned the duty nurse and did as he’d been told (sans details of course; they weren’t medically critical).

“I believe that completes my Principal Recovery Chart,” Tristan concluded, passing her the letter. “I’ll be leaving now.”

“Sir-”

“Tristan,” he corrected, light but firm. “And I’ll be leaving now.”

After a frowning hesitation, she relented.

[jld-az]

18 October 2021 👍🏼

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Also: Soundtrack Update

And We Are Merely Players: A (mostly) Canonical Soundtrack

I reference a LOT of music in my writing. Like, A LOT. This is a compilation of songs that were - culled for titles, - directly named within

[jld-az]

21 September 2021

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[jld-az]

Something that never fails to amuse me:

Most of my AO3 posts direct potential readers to a specific entry, and usually when I notice my hit count go up it’s there (the compendium / read order) and / or the first tale in the series (‘A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall’).

But occasionally - for some bizarre reason - I’ll get a hit on ‘As Though Nothing Could Fall’, which is near the end of a series-within-the-series, about midpoint in the overarching narrative. Never any new kudos / comments tho, which makes me think that story resonated w/ someone and they keep coming back to it..? 🤷🏻‍♀️ Because there’s really no other reason to land on just that entry. I’m a minimalist tagger, and my fandom is very smol.

Anyhow, all this to say I wish they’d comment (assuming it’s the same person over and over). I know we can only kudos once, but if I revisit something, I try to tell the author it was worth the reread. ❤️

[jld-az]

Some curious symmetry going on with my counts today. 😅

3 September 2021 ❤️

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[jld-az]

And We Are Merely Players

(my fic on AO3)

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

In short: It's canon-parallel to the Corwin Chronicles, but heavily diverges (fix-it style) post-Patternfall / pre-Merlin Chronicles.

Knowledge of the source material can be helpful and fun for the Easter egg factor, but isn't required.

I'm always happy to discuss my storylines / character castings. Engagement with my readers makes me want to write more.

Comments there are moderated for spam, not content.

Also, there’s a soundtrack. 🎶❤️

And We Are Merely Players: A (mostly) Canonical Soundtrack

I reference a LOT of music in my writing. Like, A LOT. This is a compilation of songs that were - culled for titles, - directly named within