#i reread their fics over and over and get emotional every time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

captainfern · 9 months

Note

me, patiently waiting for any marigold updates because i can’t get enough of dbf!price: :3c

(in all seriousness tho i love your work so much you have converted me into a price slut and i am eternally grateful)

(live laugh love barry sloane)

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

Marigold pt. 4

dbf!Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Marigold” by Nirvana]

[18+]

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

• summary - price is deployed for over four months. photos and phone calls aren’t enough. when he gets home, you fuck lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 6.5k • warnings - fem!reader, dad’sbestfriend!price, established relationship?, age gap [whatever you want it to be as long as it's legal lmao], exchange of explicit photographs, phone sex, mutual masturbation through the phoneeeee, unprotected piv, oral [f!receiving], fingering, praise, light degradation, a sprinkle of dacryphilia, breeding kink [yk fern be serious when it's in bold], creampies, strong language, fluffy at the end, porn with a bit of plot i guess, um... i think that's it omfg i need to take a breath after typing this

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

the longer dbf!price fic i told you all i'd write

*rings little bell* dinner is served whores

Deployment was never easy for Price. Even when he didn't have anyone waiting at home for him, leaving the safety of what was familiar to him was stressful enough. He never showed it, though. He had a taskforce to captain. He couldn't afford to get homesick during missions of life and death.

But now...

Now, things were different.

He had you waiting for him. Sure, you weren't waiting for him in the sanctuary of his home— like he wanted you too— but you were still waiting for him.

So this deployment was especially hard for Price. The night before he left, he popped around to your house to say goodbye to your dad. They talked for a while as you listened in from the top of the stairs. When it was time for Price to leave, he stood at the bottom with his arm resting along the bannister, looking up at you.

"Say bye to Price, honey." Your dad said.

"Bye, Price. Stay safe." You said politely, your dad smiling gently at you.

Price's jaw ticked before he nodded in return. "Thanks."

He wanted nothing more for you to bound down the stairs and launch yourself into his arms. He wanted to hold you tight to him as you whispered in his ear. He wanted to litter your face in kisses and run his hands along your back and arse. He wanted to mutter into your ear, telling you he'll be back to you in no time. Back to you.

Instead, he turned on his heel, your dad offering him a hearty slap on the back as he walked Price onto the front porch. You watched them go, your heart in your throat. Your eyes stung with tears, chest beginning to heave. So, before the emotions could bubble to the surface, you retreated into your bedroom in search of sleep.

You didn't see Price look over his shoulder in search of you.

•º•

Price texted you when he could. Which, to your dismay, was not a lot.

A couple times every week, maybe, if service was good. Most of the time, it was a short burst of conversation. A couple of exchanged words before he was back into the thick of his mission. Even more common, he'd text you a huge paragraph before he went dark for several days, leaving you to reread the heart-warming message over and over again with tears in your vision.

A month passed like this.

During this time, the mission was critical for Price, so you understood why his attention was elsewhere. But, after about six days of anxiously waiting for a text, you got one.

————Hey, sweetheart. How've you been? alright. work sucks as usual. how are you?———— ————Not bad. I miss you. i miss you too. oh my god don't make me cry————

You managed to talk a bit more, before he was gone. With a simple goodbye, and a couple of x's, no more messages came through. You found yourself rereading the conversation over and over again, your stomach knotted with anxiety.

You lay back in bed, snuggling beneath your blankets. It was late, and you had work in the morning, but you doubt you'd be getting much sleep. Your stomach was a swirl of nerves, and sadness continued to simmer in the back of your mind.

You grabbed hold of the neckline of the tee you were wearing, bringing it up to your face and inhaling deeply. It smelt like Price. Your favourite cologne of his, too— all rich and masculine, with a hint of cigar smoke. You whined into the shirt.

You missed him so much.

•º•

Another entire month passed.

Price was on edge, too.

The 141 boys had noticed it. Price was a bit shorter and snappier with them. He smoked an extra cigar each day, too, and would smoke it right to it's last dying embers.

He was still doing his job really well— as soon as they were out on the field, Price let nothing distract him. But, in the solace of a safe house, or other place away from the fighting and shooting, Price's emotions were altered. He found himself checking his phone, despite having absolutely no reception where they were. He spent hours before missions checking, and re-checking the equipment, muttering meticulously to himself.

Gaz tried to ask what had Price so worked up. Price dismissed him, stating it was nothing. Gaz wasn't convinced, but didn't want to get in Price's way. Soap poked fun at his captain, but that didn't last long after a scolding from both Price and Ghost. Ghost would give Price a look when the captain would check his phone for the umpteenth time that morning.

"Something on your mind, captain?" Ghost asked.

Price shook his head. "Nothing, mate."

He was a goddamn liar.

He pulled out his phone again, opening your messages. It had been two weeks since your last conversation. You had been the one to sign off. The time differences were not helpful.

————ok, talk to you later :) stay safe! miss you x

He felt his throat go tight.

Fuck.

He missed you so much.

•º•

Two more months ticked past.

Four months since he'd left.

It was absolute torture for both you and Price.

Luckily, Price and the 141 found themselves hunkering down in an area with reception. Price was ecstatic when he saw those bars appear in the top left corner of his phone screen. Throughout the entire day, he felt as though his phone was burning a hole through his pocket. He was itching to text you. To talk to you.

It was like a shadow, looming over him— the temptation of stepping aside and pulling out his phone so that he could text you.

He wanted to tell you that he was alright, and that he'd be home soon. He and the boys were safe. More importantly, he wanted to know if you were safe— how were you? How was everything at home? At work? What had you been up too? Where have you been recently?

By the time the 141 reached the next safe house for rest, it was late at night. Pitch-black, the taskforce dragged themselves into the house and separated almost immediately, chasing sleep while fending off exhaustion long enough to find a bed or couch. Price found himself across the house, tucked away in one of the rooms as he pulled his phone from his pocket while he kicked off his shoes and prepared to get into bed.

Immediately, his phone screen lit up with numerous text messages from you. He smiled wide, his heart soaring. With a trembling hand, he opened the messages, his heart beating excitedly against his ribcage. The thought of you made his heart race.

————captainnnnn i miss you so much ––––four months is too long i'm going insane ––––i miss you more than anything

Price chewed on his bottom lip, clearing his throat as sadness swelled there. He turned off his phone and blinked into the darkness for a moment, before switching it back on. There was a break in the messages by about an hour, Price noticed.

————fuck price i need you ————open this alone [image] x3

His smile dropped at the most recent text messages, sent just seconds ago. He blinked at the three photos, his mouth dropping open in shock. The shock was quickly replaced by need as his cock hardened in his trousers and he let out a low groan.

You fucking tease.

The first photo was a selfie of you from the waist up— you were wearing his t-shirt, which pooled around you. You were propped up in bed, face shiny with moisturiser, skin dewey with the aftereffects of being fresh out the shower. It was tame, but your nipples showing clearly through the cotton of the shirt made Price's eyebrows quirk in intrigue. A smirk settled on his face, and he spent a good five minutes just looking at your pretty features.

When he swiped to the next photo, he muttered a "fucking hell" out loud. A mirror selfie, with that floor-length mirror you had in your room. You were twisted half away from the camera, with your arse to the mirror and your upper torso towards the side. You wore a tiny fucking thong, the curve of your arse on full display, making Price release a shaky breath. You still wore his shirt, too, but hoisted it up with your free hand, exposing your abdomen and a small sliver of skin from your tits.

Price hands shook as he reluctantly swiped to the next one, his cock painfully hard in his cargos. He quickly unbuckled his belt with his freehand as the last photograph illuminated the screen.

"Christ." Price hissed, dipping his hand into his boxers and pulling his cock out.

You, wearing absolutely fucking nothing, standing in front of your mirror in such a way that Price groaned into the air, tossing his head back. You looked so good, so fucking good. Your bare legs, your hips and thighs, your tummy and waist, your tits. Fuck, you looked so pretty.

He gripped his cock firmly, hissing out a breath, eyes taking in every inch of your body. He quickly spat into his palm, before stroking himself, paying careful attention to the underside of his tip, just like you would.

He groaned lowly, careful not to disturb the rest of the task force across the house. Teeth biting into his bottom lip, he fucked his fist in the darkness, his phone screen illuminating his face in a soft white glow. Your photo on screen, he could imagine the hot suction of your mouth on his cock— the purposeful movements of your tongue along the one prominent vein running up the lefthand side; the cheeky skim of your teeth when you pressed your nose into his hair, tip of his cock at the back of your throat.

"Fuck, pretty girl—" He whispered, dark hooded eyes on his phone, his thumb flicking between each photo.

He could imagine more, too. The tight, wet grip of your cunt around his cock, taking more and more. He choked on a low moan at the thought. Your pretty cunt— always dripping for him, soaking your best underwear as you rode his thigh; the tight heat as you rode his cock, tip slamming into your cervix with soft wet sounds.

Price spat onto the head of his cock again, trying to imagine it was you doing it. The speed of his hand sent wet clicks through the room, paired with deep, hushed grunts and groans. Price had dropped his phone onto the bed next to him, propping it up on the pillow so he could still see your photos. But pleasure was quickly taking over his body, his free hand at his balls as he fucked his fist to the thought of you, you, you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He whispered, movements desperate.

Swiftly, he grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt and lifted it up, biting it between his teeth to expose his abdomen. Groaning around the fabric, he came up his stomach, white splattering along the soft ridges of muscle. He whispered your name as he stroked himself through it; stroked himself until his hips twitched in overstimulation, and his cock softened in his hand, slick with his release.

He breathed hard, hand sticky.

Thinking in an exhausted post-nut haze, he grabbed his phone and snapped a couple pics of himself. Of his cum splattered up across his abdomen, through his happy trail; and of his cock in his hand, painted white.

He wanted to roll his eyes. He felt like a horny fucking teenager.

Price sent you the pair of photos before he made quick work of hurrying to the bathroom and cleaning himself up without waking anyone. When he returned to his room, his phone was illuminating again with more messages.

————holy fuck price oh my god ————fuck you're so hot i can't

Price couldn't help but smile as he settled into bed.

You started it, sweetheart.———— ————yeah. did you like them? I think the photos I just sent make it obvious.———— ————you wanked to my photos captain?

Price laughed. Of course he did. He had a whole collection on his phone, photos and videos, of you in varying states that he fucked his fist too each night he missed you.

Of course I did, pretty girl. Just look at you.———— ————price... You're so fucking beautiful.———— ————price don't make me horny. i have work 😭

Price smiled softly at your messages, his breathing calming. He felt an overwhelming sense of pride in the way you talked to him; how you texted him and called him; how you still called him Price after all this time. Your Captain Price.

Call me later if you can, sweetheart.———— ————i will. miss you so much I miss you too. Have a great day at work.———— ————i'll try. stay safe, old man x

•º•

A week went by. Just one more week until Price was home free. Four and a half months away was brutal.

His emotions were slowly becoming harder and harder to ignore. He found himself thinking of you constantly. He missed you so much it was making him worry— worry about you, about his boys, about the end of the mission. Fuck, his mind was going a hundred miles an hour, but his main thoughts were all about you.

The week didn't have as much contact with you as he would've liked. He found himself fucking his fist to the file of saved videos he had of you— wet cunt taking his fingers, his cock, your mouth whimpering his name, his rank.

Goddamn it, he felt like a teenager. Constantly horny for the pretty girl who sent him nudes. Wanking to said nudes almost every night. What had gotten into him?

He kept thinking about how there was one week until he was home. That kept him going. One week until he could hold you in his arms, hug you, kiss you, absorb your presence. One week until he could shove his cock, his tongue, his fingers into your tight cunt.

He screwed his eyes shut. What the fuck, Price.

It's like you knew he was thinking about you.

Price jolted when his phone vibrated on the table beside his bed. He leaned over and grabbed it, leaning against the headboard and smiling as he saw your name flash on screen. He answered, trying to keep his excitement to hear your voice at bay.

"Hey, pretty girl." He drawled, and he heard you whine softly through the phone, making his smile stretch tenfold.

"Hi, Price," you whispered, and the sound of your voice alone had Price's stomach erupting in butterflies. You sounded tired, as though you'd just woken up.

"Did you wake up to call me?" Price asked.

"Mm... maybe," you replied. "But it's okay. I wanted to call you."

Price chuckled. "Okay, sweetheart. How've you been?"

"Good... mostly..." You said, words stretching out.

"Mostly?"

"Mhm. I miss you."

"I miss you too." Price whispered his reply, throat growing tight. He cleared his throat to try and dislodge the tight, burning sensation.

"Mm... tell me about your day." You said.

Price did. He talked about the mission, and the things that had been happening these past few months. He explained how this week was closing everything up before he'd be home.

Then, silence followed. Price listened to your breathing, wondering what was going on inside that pretty head of yours. He was about to ask, too, when he heard you release a high-pitched whine. This was followed by the rustling of sheets, and a shaky inhale of breath from you.

"You alright?" Price asked, and your response was a low moan.

Price's cheeks flared red as he listened to the soft sounds filtering through the phone. Then, he pressed his tongue to his bottom lip, smiling as he listened to you.

"You touching yourself, pretty girl?"

"Fuck—" You whispered. "Y-yeah. Miss you so m-much and you sound so g-good."

Price chuckled lowly, at the right baritone that made you whimper. Price continued to smile to himself as he dipped his free hand into his boxers and pulled his hardening cock out, giving it a couple of strokes before he began speaking to you.

"Tell me what you're doing," he whispered as his cock hardened more, your noises music to his ears. "Be a good girl and tell me how you're touching yourself."

You moaned. "Ah... 'm using my fingers."

"Yeah?"

"Y-yeah... two."

Price spat into his hand and gripped his cock, spreading it along his length.

"Imagining they're yours," you breathed. "But... fuck— they're not big enough, Price— fuck— s'not you."

You were almost sobbing now, and Price could hear how wet you were. Loud, slick sounds. Hell, it felt like Price was there.

He listened to the way you fucked your fingers into your cunt, the way you sobbed out for him, breathing erratically.

"You sound so fucking wet, sweetheart," Price muttered, fucking his fist. "Such a perfect cunt. Come on, add another finger."

Price heard you sob out a moan as you added another finger into your aching core. Price imagined your body trembling against your bed, hips shunting forward to try and notch your fingers deeper. But they wouldn't go deeper. They weren't Price's.

"Captain—" You moaned sweetly, and that made Price's cock jerk violently in his hand. He cursed as you fought to spit out a sentence through a moan. "Feels so good."

"Yeah? I bet it does, sweetheart. Good girl, keep fucking that pretty wet cunt with your fingers. That’s a good girl." Price whispered deeply, listening to your sounds.

He was breathing hard, too. Grunting and groaning into the phone, making your cunt clench around your fingers. You released whimpers and whines in response as you tried desperately to chase your release using your fingers, imagining they were your captains.

Ultimately though, it was his words that were sending you closer to release.

"That's it, that's it, such a good girl," Price said. "Fuck that pretty cunt. When— ah, fuck— when I get home, I'm gonna stuff you full, sweetheart. Stuff that pretty cunt with my cock. You want that? You want me to fill you up? O'course you fucking do, my perfect girl."

You bit your lip, moaning. "Price, m'gonna—"

"Cum for me. Cum 'round your fingers like a good girl."

Price listened to your orgasm with his mouth agape, fastening the pace of his hand. He whined your name under his breath, breathing hard, no doubt loud where your phone was pressed to your ear.

"Coming, sweetheart," Price panted, lower stomach tightening. "M'coming—"

He came in hot spurts all over his cock, thighs, hand and upper arm. Residual splatters went up his bare abdomen, too.

He breathed hard into the phone. "I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you when I get home."

He heard you laugh. "What a way to ruin the mood, captain."

•º•

When Price got home, he didn't even bother unpacking. He dumped all of his shit in the hallway, kicking off his boots while pulling up your contact on his phone. He sent you a text, telling you to come over, and your reply was instantaneous.

Come over.———— ————you're home??? Sure am. Don't keep me waiting.———— ————i'm on my way

Excitement built inside him as he smiled down at your message. Never had he ever felt this way about a person before.

He moved around the darkness of his home, turning on the lights and drawing the curtains. He sighed to himself, finally making the effort of taking his bags upstairs and putting them in one of the spare rooms. He'd sort them out tomorrow.

With excitement to see you still heavy in his body, he had a quick shower and scrubbed away the remnants of his deployment. Afterwards, he got dressed, pulling grey sweatpants [lol hehe] over his boxers just as he heard the engine of a car in his driveway. His heart fluttered and, not bothering to put on a shirt, he hurried downstairs.

When he threw open the door, you had a fist raised to knock. You squeaked in surprise when he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you inside, slamming the door shut and locking it, before pinning you against it. He slotted his mouth to yours, and you gasped into the kiss, before wrapping your arms around his bare shoulders.

Price pulled out of the kiss after a long moment, breathing deeply as he rested his forehead against yours.

"Hello to you too," you joked, smiling. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," Price replied. "So much."

You leaned in and kissed him this time, taking the lead. He groaned happily, putting both hands on your waist and pulling your lower half into his. You hummed into the kiss, tongues smoothing together, as he nudged your legs apart with his knee and settled it at your already aching core.

"Remember what I said to you on the phone last week?" Price asked, as you peppered his face in kisses. He fought off a smile.

"That you'd fuck the shit out of me when you get home?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah, I remember," you smiled, nipping his earlobe. "You gonna do it, or no?"

"Cheeky..." He muttered, kissing you one last time before spinning you away from the door. He pushed you away from him with a smack to the arse.

He nodded to the stairs. "You know where I want you."

His words went straight to your core.

With a building ache between your legs, you shakily kicked off your shoes. Then, you bounded up the stairs, wiggling your arse as you went. You giggled when Price groaned, following just a few steps behind.

You practically skipped into his bedroom. You turned around just as he walked in, pulling you closer to him straight away. Hands on your hips, he kissed you hard, his tongue pushing against yours, exploring your mouth. The kiss was full of longing and desperation— all of Price's pent up emotion from four months apart.

Price guided you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed. He lay you down on your back, shifting you so you had your head on his pillows. He followed, crawling over top of you, continuing the kiss. You tugged at his hair with one hand, the other moving to the waistband of his sweatpants. You skimmed a fingernail over the elastic.

Price broke the kiss. He licked his lips, savouring the taste of you.

"Impatient, are we?" He queried as your fingers pulled the waistband of his sweatpants down, exposing his boxers and the imprint of his hard cock.

You cupped his bulge and he grunted.

"It's been four months, Price. Of course I'm fucking impatient." You quipped, squeezing lightly.

He cursed, eyes shutting, hips canting into your touch. After a second, he opened his eyes and battered your hand away from him. He slunk downwards until he rested between your legs. You propped yourself up on your elbows, cocking your head to the side as he took off your trousers and your underwear.

The scene was oddly tender. He placed kisses along the bare skin of your legs as he pulled your trousers and underwear away. He tossed them across the room, resuming the trail of kisses along your thighs and knees. He kissed right past your most sensitive part, and you blew out a breath, as his lips pecked over your hips, navel and tummy while he pushed your shirt up.

You helped him pull your shirt over your head.

"No bra?" Price remarked, hands automatically cupping your tits. "Naughty girl."

He tweaked your nipples, making you whine.

"Price, please..." You begged, voice trailing off as he pinched at your sensitive nipples.

"Hmm? What do you want?"

You felt your face heating up. "Want your mouth on me."

"Yeah? My pretty girl wants my mouth on her?" Price drawled slowly, edging back down your body until he was settled comfortably between your legs. He gripped the plush flesh of your thighs in two large hands, squeezing and groping.

You whined, feeling his breath fan across your dripping core. "Please, sir."

He hummed, content. "You always ask so nicely. Such a good girl for me, sweetheart."

You and Price both moaned when he sealed his mouth over your clit first. He circled the bud with his tongue, your hips bucking, hands fisting the sheets at your sides. The vibrations of his moans made your mouth drop open.

His facial hair tickled your inner thighs as he sucked on your clit. He skimmed his teeth along the top of the sensitive bud, and you cried out, shooting one hand down to grab his hair. He grunted when you tugged. He then dragged his tongue down your folds slowly— so slowly you thought you might have a fucking heart attack at the sensations— before circling your soaking hole.

"Such a needy fucking cunt," Price mused directly into your core. "Always so wet for me."

Price licked into you, making you bite back a scream. Four months without his mouth on you had driven you to the brink of insanity. You gripped his hair, urging him closer as the solid muscle of his tongue moved in and out of your core. The sounds were slurping wet, echoing loudly in your ears. They played amongst a chorus of Price's grunts and groans, and your whines and whimpers, producing an orchestra of sounds.

His beard scratched the sensitive skin. Not that you minded. It only added to the tight coil in your lower tummy that was twisting tighter and tighter, your body shining with sweat.

"Price, I'm so close." You sobbed as he continued to lick into you, his eyes watching your facial expressions change.

Price dragged his tongue in a zig-zag motion up your slit, sucking your clit into his mouth as he watched you squirm. "Ask nicely, sweetheart."

You keened, your climax building so aggressively that your legs trembled in his hold and you felt a thin layer of sweat building on your lower back, still pressed against the soft blankets.

"Please, sir, can I..."

His teeth skated across your clit again, and you moaned loudly.

"Fuck—! Please, sir, p-please, can I cum? Please, please—"

He seemed satisfied with that. He dipped his tongue back into your cunt and stuffed it inside, humming confirmation that you could let go. The hum seemed to punch you straight in the fucking uterus, and you came with a mewling moan. Price lapped it up, pressing your thighs tighter around his head.

He sucked you through your high. While you trembled, he massaged your thighs, tongue moving in and out of you lazily. Just when you were on the verge of overstimulation, Price pulled back. His facial hair glistened with your arousal, sparkling in the semi-darkness.

He tutted at you. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

You hadn't realised tears were streaming down your face.

"Mmmfeltsogood—" You whimpered out in one jumbled word, a couple of tears running over your lips. "Missedyousomuch—"

"My poor girl," Price crawled over you. "My poor, needy girl."

He licked the tears off your lips, before kissing a few off your cheeks. He kissed you deeply once you caught your breath, and you tasted your arousal and the salt from your tears. The arousal on his face smeared onto yours, leaving sticky residue across your chin and cheeks.

"You alright now?" He asked gently, voice soft.

You nodded.

"Good. I'm going to fuck you now, okay?"

Fuck, well okay then.

You nodded again. He chuckled behind a close-lipped smile while he shoved his trousers and boxers down his legs, kicking them onto the floor. You whimpered at the sight of his cock— hard, curving towards his abdomen with a reddened tip leaking ivory beads of pre-cum. A prominent vein ran down the left side, from tip to base, dipping into his pubic hair. His dark happy trail crawled up towards his navel, skimming the base of his abs. You were fucking salivating.

He situated himself between your legs, which you wrapped around his hips as he sat back on his heels. He gripped his cock, hissing as he stared at you. So pretty. All for him.

"Condom?" You joked with a coy smile, watching the copious stream of pre dribbling down his length.

He huffed an amused laugh, leaning over you. Drips of pre landed beside your navel. "As if you don't enjoy me filling this tight cunt."

He wasn't wrong.

He kissed you as he notched his cock at your fluttering entrance, smearing your slick around while his tongue probed against yours.

"I missed you so much," he whispered against your mouth as his head pushed into you. "I missed you so fucking much, sweetheart."

The stretch was still difficult to get used too.

You exhaled a breath, his cock sliding in. "I missed you, too."

Eventually, his cock hit the base of your cervix and you whimpered. He shushed you with another kiss before he moved his face away, eyes darting across your features. He ground his hips into your pelvis, and you whimpered again.

"My girl's so sensitive." He uttered, pulling his cock all the way out. Then he thrust back in, and his brutal pace began— your moans of pleasure his starting gun.

His cock rammed against the plug of your womb repeatedly as your mouth dropped open in a silent scream. He had one hand on your hip, the other beside your head as he fucked you into his bed. Your hands ran up and down his back, feeling the smooth planes of muscle. Your hands moved to his chest, squeezing his pecs. You smiled, fingers scraping through the coarse hair. Your hands continued lower, running over his sternum and abs, rubbing over the top of his happy trail.

He grunted, using one hand to snatch both of your wrists. Before you knew it, your hands were pinned above you. Price used one hand to keep your arms in place before his thrusts grew heavier— fucking his fat cock into your soaking cunt. He was fucking the shit out of you, just like he promised.

"That's my girl, just take it," Price grunted. "Take my cock. That's a good girl, sweetheart. That's a good girl. Let this needy cunt take my cock."

You whimpered, chest heaving, sensitive nipples brushing against his chest. The bed creaked beneath you, headboard tapping the wall. His cock continued to bruise your cervix in a way that had your entire body shivering in pleasure.

"Harder." You moaned.

"Harder?" Price chuckled, but obliged— the weight of his thrusts increasing, slamming into the spot within you that had your back arching. "You want it like this? Want it rough? Fucking hell, sweetheart, such a naughty girl."

You bit your lip, hiding your whimpers.

"Yeah, such a naughty girl," Price muttered, eyes zeroed in on where his cock entered you. "Naughty, naughty girl. Letting your dad's best friend fuck you like this. Letting your dad's mate fuck this tight cunt."

That made you moan really loud. His eyes found your face, a vulpine smile developing over his mouth.

"Yeah, you like that? 'Course you do. Needy fucking slut, aren't you, sweetheart? Just love this cock, don't you?"

His words made your core clench. You mewled, a pathetic little sound. You were one more bit of dirty talk away from coming all over his cock—

"Can feel this cunt squeezing me, pretty girl," Price said. "You wanna cum? Go on, then. Cum 'round my cock. Show me how much of a needy slut you are for this cock, darling."

Fucking hell.

You came.

A lot.

You squirted all over his fucking abdomen, and you felt it. Felt the wet gush, felt the warmth. But, above all, you felt the pleasure— tummy tightening, cunt fluttering, legs trembling. Usually, you'd moan his last name. You always had done— Price is what you'd called him since you could remember. Hell, it's what your dad would call him, too.

But this time was different.

"John—!" You cried, and Price smiled as he continued to fuck you.

"Good girl, good fucking girl, there you go," Price moaned through his smile. "Such a perfect girl."

His brutal pace continued, and you were quick to realise that, holy fuck, your third orgasm was looming, pooling in the base of your tummy.

"John..." You whispered.

"John? Thought that made me sound old?" Price mused, pounding into you. "You like that I'm older, don't you, sweetheart? Guys your age can't fuck you like I can."

You mewled again, barely able to keep your eyes open. You were doing your best to watch him. Watch the way he hovered over you, pinning your arms above your head. The way his hips surged with each thrust, slamming himself inside you. You felt the subtle vibrations of his chest against yours as he grunted and groaned.

Your third orgasm reared its head within you, and you felt breathless as the weight of the pleasure pushed moan after moan from your lungs. Price watched you, and the way your mouth dropped open in a continuous harmony of sounds.

His thrusts were becoming sloppier. He was panting, too, as he watched your body grow tight, your cunt constricting his cock in such a way that he grit his teeth to suppress a whimper.

"Come on, beg for me," he whispered, rutting into you desperately. "I know you're close, sweetheart, I know, I know. Just beg for it."

You whimpered, tears welling in your eyes as the pleasure mounted, burning hot inside your tummy. You felt dizzy, too.

"Please, sir, please let me cum, please, I'm s-so close... n' feels so g-good."

He groaned, pleased. "That's my girl. Cum for me."

You did.

You came around him for the third time. You arched as best as you could in order to feel his chest against yours— feel his body, his warmth, his presence. Tears slipped from your eyes as you moaned, and you finally allowed your eyes to flutter closed as you did so.

Your brain was fuzzy and warm and you felt so good. He made you feel so good. The solid weight as he lay over you, the heat of his bare skin, the slight scratch of his light, coarse hair. He stuffed you full, his cock reaching a place far within you that ached each time he spoke. Maybe it was your heart he was reaching, maybe not with his cock— although it surely felt close— but with his hands. His voice, too, and his words, his personality, his mind. Captain John Price had a firm grasp on your heart, and that sent more hot tears spilling down your cheeks.

"I love you." You sobbed, and he released your hands at just the right moment. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

He groaned, deep and melodic, his arms either side of your face. He leaned down and captured your mouth in a soft kiss. It was slow and passionate, full to the brim with emotion.

Price pulled away slightly, speaking against your lips. "Say it again."

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you, John."

"Fucking hell," he kissed you again, rutting into your tight heat without any discerning rhythm. He was chasing his high. "I love you too."

He kissed the tears off his cheeks, before his head dropped into the crook of your neck. He nipped at the flesh, sucking a bruise.

"I love you, I love you," he repeated. "And m'gonna fill this pretty cunt with my kids. Breed you nice and full, sweetheart— ah, fuck— mhm, get you nice and full... all fat with my kids. Ah, ah— I love you."

He came inside you with a quiet moan, your name following like a mantra. You felt him, hot and thick, flood past your cervix. You whined, rubbing his shoulders.

Price dragged his cock out of you, bringing a wave of fluids with it. Embarrassment zapped up your spine as your arousal and his cum seeped out of your hole. Price ignored your whimpers, gently gathering his cum that had leaked out. He pushed two digits into your cunt, stuffing his cum back inside you.

"Don't waste it..." He whispered, more to himself than to you.

You whimpered under your breath at the feeling of his fingers inside you. He wiggled them around a bit, ensuring his seed stayed right up inside you.

"My perfect girl. I love you." He whispered again.

This time, it wasn't to himself. It was directly to you.

•º•

An hour or so passed and, after a couple more rounds, Price cleaned you up. Ever the gentlemen, he turned on the shower and helped you into it. Behind you, he soaped your body, running his hands along every dip and curve. He exited the shower first, grabbing a warm towel and wrapping you in it.

Little words were exchanged between the two of you as he dried you, then dried himself. You basked in each others presence. He then dressed you in his boxers and his shirt, kissing up your legs as he pulled the boxers up, and littering your face in pecks as he pulled the shirt over your head. He put on his boxers too, before guiding you back into his bedroom and yanking back the covers.

Price hopped in first. He held the blankets open for you to clamber in, nestling yourself against his chest. He settled the blankets back over you, hugging you tight to his body. He breathed deeply, nose to your hair.

You listened to his breathing for a moment.

"Price?"

"Mm?"

"I meant it, you know."

"Meant what, sweetheart?"

"That I love you."

He hugged you tighter. "I love you too."

You sighed into his chest. "This... I'm going to be in a lot of trouble with my dad."

"Yeah. Same."

You laughed at his nonchalance, leaning back to look at him.

"I'm serious," you muttered, fending off a smile, tapping his chest with your fingers. "I'm in love with his best friend."

He grumbled something.

You chuckled. "What?"

"If he has a problem, he can take it up with me."

"That is the problem, Price. He will take it up with you."

"True," Price said, and you laughed. He hummed, thinking. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, sweetheart, okay?"

"Okay..." You breathed, snuggling yourself back against him.

Comfortable silence followed. Then—

"Price?"

"Mm?"

"Do you really want me to have your kids?"

He choked on his saliva after inhaling to quickly. Shocked, probably. He coughed lightly, and you waited for him to soothe himself.

"Yeah, well, uh— okay, look, I mean—"

You pat his chest, echoing his words. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, John."

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

let me know what you thought x

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #captain john price #fem reader #captain price #captain price smut #price x reader #captain john price x female reader #captain’snirvana

1K notes · View notes

aethon-recs · 11 months

Text

Tomarrymort Starter Pack: 10 Recs for Getting Started in Tomarrymort

I've compiled a list of 10 medium to longfic recs that I think represent a great on-ramp to the Tomarrymort ship, as inspired by @sitp-recs’ Drarry for Beginners rec list. These are the fics that I would use to on-board people to the ship — gorgeous writing, superb characterization, and just as enjoyable on the first read as the 20th reread.

As always, I am stunned by the talent in this ship! I tried to pick a good mix of different themes/tropes/settings, with a focus on elements that make for a good introductory work: the characters are recognizable; the setting skews more recognizable; both characters in the ship are a meaningful part of the story; the ship is central to the story; and the fics are for the most part complete (or updated within the last year).

(Standard rec list disclaimers apply: please mind all tags and warnings on AO3 before reading; this blog abides by the age-old fandom axiom of don’t like; don’t read; recs are in alphabetical order by title.)

This is Part 1 of a 3-part series — I also have an Intermediate reading list and Advanced reading list coming up for readers who have been with the ship for a longer time.

For now, please enjoy these 1.3 million words of absolutely brilliant Tomarrymort reads that I hope will keep you hooked until the very last word:

Tomarrymort Starter Pack Recs

A Dangerous Game by @cybrid (E, 284k, WIP)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 5 Premise: If Tom’s diary horcrux gains a body at the end of Harry’s 5th year (instead of his 2nd), and then promptly kidnaps Harry and holds him captive over the summer. Lots of smut ensues. Why I rec it: The characterization is truly stunning — Tom Riddle is undoubtedly a psychopath — manipulative, thrill-seeking, kind of an irredeemable shithead — but he’s also dazzlingly charming when he chooses to be, someone whose presence Harry quickly grows addicted to. Their relationship can get incredibly toxic and fucked-up at times, but Harry has top-notch instincts and can hold his own against Tom. The plot is absolutely gripping, with the threat of (the main) Voldemort, who has set his sights on reclaiming his wayward horcrux, looming in the background.

A Future Without a Face by @dividawrites (E, 115k, complete)

Setting: Time-Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry travels back in time to Tom’s 5th year at Hogwarts, and Tom becomes obsessed with the new transfer student and wants nothing more than to possess him every way. Why I rec it: A 1940s time travel fic told entirely from Tom Riddle POV! Divida absolutely nails psychopath Tom — how he quickly gets singlemindedly focused on Harry, how the idea of possessing Harry consumes him, how he has no compunctions about doing completely fucked-up and destructive things to achieve his goals. There is so much tension between them from the start, so there’s not much of a wait to see some hot Harry & Tom action — and the conflict and tension only continues to build and build in dramatic fashion throughout the rest of the fic.

Either must die at the hand of the other by @metalomagnetic (E, 260k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Voldemort survives the Battle of Hogwarts and is initially kept prisoner in Azkaban, until Harry takes him into Grimmauld Place under house arrest. Why I rec it: This fic is an incredible exploration of Voldemort at his most terrifying. Even if he starts off the fic with his magic temporarily blocked, he is no less powerful without his magic. The force of his personality is powerful enough for him to chip away at Harry’s initial resistance — @metalomagnetic manages to write one of the most charismatic, brilliantly manipulative, and psychologically devastating versions of Voldemort I’ve ever read. Harry ends up in a good place by the end of the fic, but the journey to get there is a roller-coaster of emotions that have permanently imprinted onto my soul.

In Somno Veritas by ladyoflilacs and @lordansketil (M, 158k, complete)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 6 Premise: If Harry starts appearing in Voldemort’s nightly dreams during Book 6, and Voldemort becomes obsessed with Harry after realizing he’s his horcrux. Why I rec it: This is one of the most unique fics I’ve ever read in this ship! Every scene is told in alternating POV between Harry’s POV and Voldemort’s POV, so you get to see how every scene unfolds from both of their perspectives. Voldemort is so intense and just as terrible as he is in canon, so his character is not at all sugarcoated, and Harry has so much compassion and heart and manages to fall in love with Voldemort anyway. The writing style is gorgeous, with richly detailed and emotionally-laden prose. Also, one thing that pleasantly surprised me is how funny their banter is! There were definitely a number of times where I laughed out loud in the middle of an otherwise really intense scene. Bonus content: also comes with a lovely sequel that made me melt.

Inevitabilities by @shadow-of-the-eclipse (T, 103k, complete)

Setting: Same-Age AU Premise: If Harry and Tom attend Hogwarts together and go traveling around the world after they graduate. A betrayal leads to their break-up, but after many years, Harry returns to find Tom in Britain, and the two of them are drawn back together again. Why I rec it: An excellent same-age AU with unhinged dark Harry and just-as-unhinged Tom. Their relationship starts out quite dark and twisted and unhealthy — and only devolves from there. The fic ends with the two of them as equals — utterly devoted to each other — but in an incredibly fucked-up way: “He loves Tom like a forest fire; wild and all-consuming, he wants to devour Tom, to claim him, to mark him, break him.” Isn’t that absolutely breathtaking?

love is touching souls (surely you touched mine) by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger (M, 34k, complete)

Setting: Time-Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry gets thrown back into the mid-1940s and meets Tom Riddle as a young man just graduated from Hogwarts working at Borgin and Burkes. Why I rec it: When Harry accidentally travels back in time and chances upon Tom Riddle as a fresh graduate, he realizes this is his chance to make a difference. While Harry is only in the past for a brief interlude, he leaves enough of an impression to change the trajectory of Tom’s life. The dynamic between Harry and Tom is rife with tension and witty dialogue, and the story is set during Christmastime, which lends a very festive and heartwarming atmosphere for falling in love with each other.

No Glory by @obsidianpen (E, 254k, WIP)

Setting: Voldemort Wins AU Premise: If Voldemort figures out Harry is his horcrux when Harry surrenders in the Forbidden Forest, and decides to keep Harry instead of killing him. Why I rec it: This fic showcases the absolute, terrifying genius side of Voldemort, in a universe where he wins the war and captures Harry at the end of book 7. I am stunned at how skillfully @obsidianpen portrays Voldemort as a brilliant political strategist — the courtroom scene where he manipulates the story and the audience so well stands out as a top 10 fanfic moment in my mind. Harry and Voldemort’s relationship is chilling from the very start, and grows even more unhealthy as Voldemort gets addicted to Harry’s touch due to the presence of the horcrux, but Harry later learns to turn that to his advantage.

The Fire, Burning by @parsimmony (E, 35k, complete)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 6 Premise: If Voldemort discovers Harry is his horcrux after Book 6, and kidnaps him to keep him captive by his side in his bed, inside of a lovely greenhouse setting full of friendly snakes on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. Why I rec it: The prose!! I am swooning over the prose! Harry is Voldemort’s captive in this fic, but he is so much more than that — and the emotions that gradually blossom between them have so much richness and depth and are utterly moving that I’m still drowning in the depths of intimacy that were portrayed. Their relationship unfolds in such a gorgeous and unrushed way, and the setting is so unique too — a lush and overgrown greenhouse that’s exploding with exotic plants and friendly snakes around every corner that imbues the fic with a very romantic, dreamy quality.

the pleasure, the privilege by @being-luminous (M, 20k, complete)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 6 Premise: If Voldemort is doused with Amortentia keyed to Harry, and starts sending Harry bizarre and gruesome courting gifts, like the bodies of the Dursleys. Why I rec it: Breathtaking prose! Voldemort somehow ends up more terrifying when he’s trying to woo Harry than when he’s trying to kill him. Every single sentence had me on the edge of my seat, as Voldemort’s ‘gifts’ become more elaborate and devastatingly dramatic, until Harry basically has no choice but to respond to his overtures. The ending is incredibly clever in how it parallels certain plot elements of book 6, with an added Harrymort twist.

The Untouchable by @treacleteacups (M, 75k, complete)

Setting: Canon Rewrite (Books 1-7) Premise: If Harry starts out his first year a little bit more suspicious and a little less wide-eyed and guileless, and subsequently gets sorted into Slytherin. He has many of the same encounters with Voldemort along the way as he does in canon, but his interactions with Voldemort will end up leading him down quite a different path. Why I rec it: A snappy, fast-paced full canon rewrite that still manages to fit in all the essential Tomarrymort plot points, between Horcruxes and Hallows and the major events of books 1-7, in a compact 75k words that doesn’t at all feel rushed. It’s a delightful journey following Harry’s character evolution from an overlooked, peculiar child who relies on wishy-washy wish magic to a confident (and still endearingly peculiar) young man who can challenge and hold his own against the great Lord Voldemort. Voldemort’s obsession with Harry deepens with every encounter that they have, as he finds ways to continually insinuate himself in Harry’s life and his mind and his dreams.

#Tomarrymort Starter Pack #tomarrymort #tomarry #harrymort #aethon recs #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #harrymort recs #hp fic recs #longfic recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #2023 reads #2023 recs

1K notes · View notes

emsgwenstan · 3 months

Text

The letter

FLUFF babes, wholesome happy ending kinda fic, but if u know me there’s always a dash of angst thrown in. LOVE CONFESSION!

Words: 1.5-2k

Warnings: non just anxiety.

———

You had to do it, it was killing you not to. There you were hands trembling smoothing down your hair and picking the invisible lint of your black v-neck’s long sleeves, your vision almost blurring due to the nerves. The piece of paper that lay on the dressers surface crumpled and worn already, every night you would reread your words over and over as if trying to memorise a script, it’s been a week since you had written the letter and the only thing to come of it was nightmares of how wrong this could go.

The plan of attack is to go find Larissa, preferably in her office confined in privacy and confess the two years of emotions to her, what will happen next is beyond you. Standing from the edge of your bed and stimming your hands as if to shake away the impending panic attack you pace to the mirror to straighten your silver necklace and fix any possible discrepancies with your simple make up.

Larissa and yourself had a great relationship, well friendship. You enrolled as an art and outcast history teacher two years ago and since then the dynamic between the two of you has been nothing short of amazing and domestic, you would go shopping in Burlington once a month and occasionally go out for dinner every Friday, as well as the random night caps that prolonged for longer then they should leading into the early hours of the morning on a school night.

Larissa had been adverse to opening up for the first six months or so, never really wanting to rely or put her trust into someone who could possibly hurt or cause harm to her feelings, understandably of course, the first personal conversation she really initiated was about previous experiences with friendships and or relationships, mortica and Marilyn being just examples. You though, seemed to understand her on a different level, having shared the same kind of difficulties, ranging from friends to past lovers and many otherwise distasteful people. She caught onto how understanding and empathetic your were, the fact that you listened and heard what she was trying to say, but not in the way other staff would listen, you didn’t show any kind of frightened emotion because of her authority, instead you saw her for her, you saw her as Larissa not principal Weems.

Finally with enough courage mustered, you snatch the letter and exit your quarters making the nerve wracking trek to her office. It’s about 6:30 when you leave, having had time to get changed and prepare after dinner and settle in the meantime. You shoved your phone in the back pocket of your navy jeans and keys in the tiny front pocket, the only sounds emanating within the stone halls are the steps of your flats and the deep inhale and exhales of breath.

Once you arrive the gold plaque with her name displayed, almost mockingly showed your reflection as if to say don’t do it, don’t fuck this. But you did it, you knocked. Larissa sat hunched over her desk and rested her elbows on the mahogany rubbing her temples to release the never ending headache when her door rang with three prominent knocks. “Come in?” Who the hell would be needing something from her no- oh. “Hey.” You said slipping through the doors and gently shutting it. “Oh y/n, how are you sweetheart?” She asked straightening up and closing her laptop.

“I’m ok…” you said quietly eyes flicking about the room as an awkward silence lingered in the air. Larissa was the first to speak again. “Is there something I can help you with?…Or?” She asked tiling her head to try catch your gaze. “Yes-no, I..I don’t know.” You stuttered. Her tense shoulders relaxed a little and her mouth involuntarily twitched into a hopefully helpful smile, even though she was confused. “Sorry I’m just…” you began with a sigh trailing to one of the seats in front of her desk and slumping into it whilst shaking your head. “It’s ok, take your time I’m all ears, you know that.” She spoke clasping her hands gracefully upon the wooden surface.

In the palm of your hand rested the yet again scrunched piece of paper, your thumbs rubbed at the corner of the page with a tremble. For the first time since entering the threshold you looked at her, properly, meeting her glittering cerulean eyes and sweet expression. She was breathtaking as always dressed in one of her finest matching cream coat and skirt suits and white silk blouse, her jewellery glistening to polished perfection and hair meticulously crafted, and to top it off the signature red lipstick you were oh so fond of.

“You look wonderful, are you off somewhere?” She asked in a smooth voice. “Hmm? Oh no.” You muttered letting the silence fall yet again. “I um…” deep breath. “I want to say something, but…I would like it if you could let me at least attempt to finish before you respond, if that’s ok.” You said gulping half way through your sentence. “That’s ok, if it’s something you’ve done I’m sure we can work through it, but I must admit your making me worried darling, you’re never this formal.” She confessed.

Abruptly standing, you turned you back to let your eyes close for a moment before continuing, putting a healthy distance between you both, you shakily unravel the paper and look to her. “You know better than anyone that I like to say and do things face to face right?” You asked as a prompt to actually stop procrastinating. “I do.” She confirmed. “And no matter the circumstances I try to face every single confronting situation.” You continue. “Of course, I try to encourage you to do so…” she trailed never taking her eyes off of you. “Ok.” You whisper.

One last look before the potential disaster you’re about to cause. “Dearest Larissa.” You began reading from the page pausing every couple of moments. “For the past two years… you have been my companion, confidant, wingwoman and best friend.” You say taking another breath. “You have listened, you have learned and tolerated much of me over this time… for that I will be infinitely grateful, just as I am for all the time we have spent together.” Your eyes flitted to her for a fraction of a second to see if she was following, she was, hanging off every word.

“Your trust and faith in me is my motivation to get up in the morning and try to succeed in the job you have generously handed to me, it also gives me a sense of pride that I am the one you choose to trust with your most inner thoughts and feelings, about people, about values, about whatever you wish to share, another thing I’m greatfull for.” You pause again to collect your bearings and hold it together. “You are kind, intelligent, sweet, beautiful and all round incredible in every sense of the word. You have a talent to command a crowd to your will and a gentleness that is rare to just the average person. I’ve never once been disappointed in who you are, not once, because it’s you and anyone who meets you in their lifetime should thank themselves lucky for having that privilege.”

Larissa sat wide eyed with her lips slightly parted in anticipation of hearing the rest. “I think I should finally own up to being the one who leaves the random flowers, sticky notes and occasional hot chocolate when you haven’t the time to get them yourself, not that you should have to, I apologise if it was too invasive and if you wish for me to stop I will do so, I believe that you deserve to have something to brighten up your day with something as simple as those, because you do.” You say starting to feel the tears prick in the corners of your eyes and hands unsteadily grasp the paper.

Resuming in a breaking voice. “On that note you deserve so much, someone’s hand to hold or shoulder to cry or collapse on, an unasked for embrace and a warm bed filled with tender care. You have no idea-.” You cut yourself of by sniffing and wiping the free falling droplets rolling down your cheeks. “No idea how much it pains me to know that you feel unseen, overlooked and unappreciated by others, but you have to know how much I see what you do, I see the sleepless nights behind your eyes and the insults scared on your heart.” You said holding back sobs.

“I know that you don’t-.” You bit your lip suppressing the pain just for a while longer. “That you don’t feel what I do… that my feelings are unrequited, but at this moment I wouldn’t want to spend my time doing anything else then making sure that you know.” Tilting the paper down and raising your eyes to meet hers you spoke again. “How loved you are, how much you are loved by me, and that you will always have someone who is proud of you for everything, and is interested in all the things you have to say.” You lifted to paper back to you frame of vision and read the last part of you letter.

“Because you Larissa are cherished and held in the most sacred part of my soul and have a home in my heart. I love you with every fibre of my being my sweet girl and I hope you don’t ever forget it… yours, y/n y/l/n.” The second you finished the tightnesses in your throat felt like your breathing constricted to only the most minuscule of air. Gasping for it you dropped to your knees and held onto your chest as if it would help in some way.

Larissa’s own tears fell as you pressed on, the second you fell to the floor she sprung into action by coming to your side, she knelt on the ground and placed a hand on your shoulder to signal her presence. You looked up at her and instantly reached for her face with one hand and the other still holding onto your chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry Larissa, please, please, please don’t hate me I’m sorry, I ruined everything, I just- I…” you mumbled almost incoherently between gasps, and just like that when you truly saw her through stinging tears you yourself asked her if she was ok.

“Oh, no don’t cry! Please, no you’re ok, you’re ok.” You squeaked using your other hand to remove the mascara streaks down her porcelain skin. Larissa was stunned by the way you selflessly still even at this point managed to be more concerned about her then you own breakdown. Larissa had never in her life time experienced something like this, not a single person has ever expressed such concern and care towards her and she doesn’t know how to react. She knows that this isn’t the first time you have told someone you like them, but she also knows you have never told someone you love them, let alone that being her.

“I can go, I’ll- I’ll go and I’ll leave you be, ok? You can forget this ever happened alright?” You said sitting back on your thighs to reach the dropped letter, but Larissa stopped you by grasping your wrist and making you look at her. “Stop. Just stop… you’ll stay.” She said in a groggy tone. “But-.” “No.” She cut in. Coming back full force your body wreaked with more uncontrollable sobs. Larissa guided you into her arms and let you be broken just for a moment to release your pent up adrenaline. She held you and rocked you until you calmed and slowed with the pouring apology’s. Gently she tried to coax you out of your state by quietly shushing and running her palm over the crown of your head to the nape of your neck over and over.

Neither of you knew how long it was that you sat wrapped together, but when it felt right Larissa pulled back and cupped your face in her hand and peered into your swollen and puffy eyes. “Thank you.” She breathed. You stared back at her almost emotionless drained of any and all energy, you were confused as to why she chose to thank instead of ask you to leave in disgust. “I’m sorry that I did this.” You started. “But I’m not sorry that I fell in love with you.” You said picking at the skin around your nails. “Nor am I.” She replied. The crease in your brows deepened at her words.

Slowly Larissa lent her forehead against your own and breathed deeply. “What did I do to be graced with you?.” She whispered. “I’m the one who should be proud of you darling, you said it. You said what I’ve wished to say for a long time, and… I know that must have been very difficult to say, but I’m glad you did.” She said. Your eyes fluttered close to just enjoy this small moment. “Look at you comforting others with the words you wish to hear, y/n…” she retracted just a little. “You are the one who is loved by me. I’m just not as brave as you to say it, but I am now and I don’t know what this means, but I see how much love you have to give, I feel it when ever your around… you told me once you believe that you were only meant to give love and not receive it, but if you will let me, I want to give mine to you.” She smiled.

This isn’t how you pictured this to go, not in the slightest, but who could ever complain. You peered into her eyes so intensely to make sure there was no underlying malice or false intention, but you didn’t find an ounce. You took ahold of Larissa’s right hand and opened her fingertips to lay a palm on your chest. “Rissa…” you started, not being able to find the right words. “I know.” She said pulling her hand with yours on top and cupping your cheek, you leaned into her touch just to relish in her warmth. More tears fell down your cheeks burning from following the same tracks as previous ones. “I’m so tired.” You hummed. “I know.”

Larissa removed her heels tossing them aside before shifting herself to a grounding position on her knees. She held the back of your calves and wrapped them around her waist and moved your arms to brace around her neck. You caught on to what she was doing and almost resisted not wanting her to hurt herself by your weight, instead she leaned back putting one arm around your waist and one under your ass holding you to her as she stood. Larissa guided yourselves through to her quarters adjacent of her office and without letting you go she knelt on the bed and laid down without disturbing the position.

That bed, the same luxurious place the two of you shared so many memories in, watching movies, bickering, watching her remove her make up in the vanity’s reflection, the same place she perched her head in your lap to brush out her hair and loosely braid for her to sleep in. This was the place you knew you loved her, you saw Larissa for everything she was and only you have had the privilege of knowing who and what she really is.

Your head moved from the crook of her neck to the same pillow she occupied and breathed her in, you moved one of your arms to the little space between you and used you fingertip to trace over her face, her cheeks, nose, eyes and lips, Larissa felt peace, she felt whole like a missing part of her returned, she always felt that way when you were around, even the times she would walk past your classroom and though she couldn’t see you her stomach would erupt in butterflies knowing you were close.

“I love you y/n.” She whispered. Your gaze turned upward to her eyes and you smiled, a genuine smile that only she could bring to your face. “I love you more.” You replied. “Larissa?” You asked after a moment’s hesitation. “Mmm?” She hummed. “Would it be selfish of me to ask if I could kiss you…” you said hoping for a yes, but if she still has boundaries-. Larissa didn’t even respond, within two seconds of finishing your question she kissed you, gently but passionately, she swallowed every breath of yours and you hers.

After a while your limbs were together intertwined, soft breaths as well as shuddering ones from the after effects of crying and shy strokings from nimble fingers were what made the pain from many prior months seem to wither away. Larissa and yourself had moved off the bed to change into something to sleep in, she wouldn’t let you leave and for that you were happy because you didn’t want to.

You rested in her clothes in her bed under the sheets curled to her side as she rested against the headboard, eyes fluttering from exhaustion. Larissa played with your hair tracing the shell of your ear before reaching to her bedside table pulling out the small notebook from the draw, she rested it in her lap and opened it flipping through the first couple of pages and she began to read aloud.

“Tuesday 11th. Something wonderful happened today, something I didn’t think I was akin to anymore. It seems I have fallen into love with my best friend, I know history repeating itself, but this is far different to a teenage obsession, I love this woman, I love her far greater than anything else in this world, however I’m afraid she will never know. But I’ve waited this long to feel something like this again I’m ok with it staying like this, for now at least.” She said not stopping her ministrations the whole time of reading.

You looked up at her while she read with a twinkle in your eyes and a sleepy smile plastered to your face. Larissa tore out the page and rested it and the notebook on the table and told you to keep it if she can keep yours, she shuffled down and wrapped herself around you and together you both fell into a blissful sleep. This was the first night of many more to come, your last thought was finally, and hers was exactly the same.

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #principle weems #wednesday #larissa weems x y/n #larissa x reader #gwenchrist(ie)#wlw fanfic #larissa weems x reader

251 notes · View notes

the-cookie-of-doom · 23 days

Text

Cookie's Fic Recs

I feel like no one really does rec lists anymore! But last night I was feeling and sappy and mushy and decide to put together my own little list of fics I love. These are in no particular order, and they don't follow any real theme/tropes other than I dearly love them all, and you should definitely give them a read!

*I tried to tag everyone I could find a blog for, but if I missed anyone, please let me know I can tag them!

The Instinctual Gravitation Towards Warmth by kimkhimhant (@kimkhimhant)

This is my comfort fic. No joke, this is what I read when I want to die. It’s angsty as all hell, it’s made me cry, but it is so indescribably good. Kim is an addict going through recovery, finding love and family along the way. He hits rock bottom—arguably multiple times—but always claws his way back, always with the support of the people that love him. It’s such a beautifully written and cathartic story, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read it. But it’s almost certainly the fic I’ve reread the most.

Error in the Code by BlackwaterVial (@blackwatervial)

Sneaking this VegasPete onto my otherwise KimChay list bc it altered me. I think most people already know what it is, but jic: it’s a sci-fi/cyberpunk/android AU, and it’s one of the best things I’ve ever read. I go feral for androids and this fic delivers in all the best ways. The world building alone makes me weep. But all of the characters interactions, the way we get such an in depth feel for everyone despite the limited PoV, and the most satisfying take I’ve seen on android artificial intelligence ever—I can’t recommend this story enough.

Idiots & Idioms by snickerdoodlles (@snickerdoodlles)

This one is actually a series, and it's genuinely so much fun to read. For the most part it's a SocMed fic with Chay taking over Wik's twitter and making it everyone's problem, and it's fkn hysterical. This one is actually a series, and it's genuinely so much fun to read. For the most part it's a SocMed fic with Chay taking over Wik's twitter and making it everyone's problem, and it's fkn hysterical.

Silver for Truth by snickerdoodlles (@snickerdoodlles)

This fic is the Kim & Khun vs. Tawan team-up we deserve. Kim is a ruthless, demented bitch, that's too cool to beat Tawan to death bc what if he messes up his wrists right before a show?? Big, get 'im. Kim is the feral-est cat ever, leaving behind evidence and bodies for Kinn bc saying "hey bro, I still love you/look out for you" is too much emotion for him. The fic is also from Tawan's PoV which also makes it the funniest thing ever, for reason that I won't spoil <3

The Wiked Lies We Live by shubaka (@shubaka)

Oh my god, this fic. Canon divergence (technically??) where most things happen as normal... except KimChay have been bodyswaped at the start of it. The little twists Shu puts on the events of canon, given it isn't the correct characters experiencing them (such as Big being very confused about why Kim is suddenly nice to him??) are so much fun.

A Portrait of Affection by froginthesun (@froginthesun)

Kim is an artist and Chay is the part time nude model he hires. ‘Nuff said right there, except no it isn’t, this fic is beautiful. Kim’s frustration with his craft is palpable, and so is the way he rediscovers his passion through Chay. The writing is wonderfully detailed, every chapter felt like walking through a museum. And tension slowly building between them—unf.

Sunshine in My Closet by moneskin

This is an A/B/O AU that is so satisfying to read. Typical hilarious boundary violations (Chay stealing Kim’s clothes, a bewildered Kim handing over a freshly worn outfit, having barely any idea who this strange kid is) characteristic of the AU, but then the story also delves deeper into more serious topics. Chay has a history of abuse from a past alpha that he has to learn how to navigate with Kim, who is incredibly patient and works hard to make Chay feel safe and loved. Overall a very sweet and comforting read. Seriously, this fic makes me melt.

Your Body Feels Like Disrespect by Blue_Jay (@bluejayfiction)

This fic is so funny because it begins with Kim blurting out, in the middle of an Important Mafia MeetingTM, that he and Chay aren’t having sex, and then wanting to die about it. Followed by Kim’s family trying very hard to both support and terrorize him. It’s hilarious, sexy, and one of my favorite reads when I need a pick me up. (Bless Kinn’s determination to be a Good and Supportive Brother, and Vegas for being the Worst Person Ever.)

In Silent Screams (In Wildest Dreams) by BelladonnaWyck and StratsWrites

This is definitely a darker fic. There’s DubCon, Kim is generally Sketchy, but it’s very hot. And I love explorations of his character where he isn’t just outwardly psychotic and cruel. This fic shows the kind of dark that I think Kim could have been, if you just tilted his character a little to the left. He still seems very much the way he is in canon, but he’s also… a lot more calculating and cold, sometimes. I love it.

Forget-me-always by bisexualbard (@bisexualbard-writes)

I cannot sing the praises of this fic enough. I think it’s probably tied for IGTW for my most-read fics. I’ve probably read this one more often in reality, but only bc it’s shorter. But oh my god, does it hurt. Kim gets struck with amnesia post-break up, does a little light stalking, and gets Chay to help him learn/remember who he is. In the process realizes that wow his life sucks, and there’s no way he wants to go back to it. Especially if he’s the kind of person that hurt Chay. He would rather start over. (Ofc, he doesn’t get to). This fic makes me cry, it’s so good

Coffeehouse Play by AirgodSLV

This is a canon divergence AU that I adore. The KimChay characterization is on point. I love that despite everything going on around them, they also get to be two boys that hang out and play videogames and try to shove each other off the couch while Porsche makes dinner. Given the age difference it’s so easy to make Kim Older and MatureTM, but he’s still a kid, and this story never once forgets that. It felt so honest and true to his character that Kim does have a lot of plans, and he’s very smart, but he’s also still so young, and sometimes shit just goes wrong.

Want and Need by bisexualbard (@bisexualbard-writes)

God, this fic. T h i s f i c. Post-canon Chay goes to therapy and becomes a camboy (in that order) and it’s delicious. Watching the steady breakdown of his and Porsche’s relationship is so satisfying. Everything one of them does to make things worse feels awful, but is so in character that it’s hard to be mad at them for their decisions. Kim readily giving up control if it means he can be with Chay, and Chay getting a crash course in how to dom. All of it is just. So good. This is such a good fic

Your Look, Through This Lens by WildelyDawn (@wildelydawn)

AU where Chay becomes Kim’s photographer. This fic emotionally hobbled me. Just a fair warning. You will cry. But that said, the ending isn’t nearly as sad as the tags would have you believe! At least in my opinion. I think it’s fairly open/hopeful, and beautiful either way. I love the way this fic shows how Kim balances being Wik while also being part of the mafia. And I love how temperamental he is; always hot and cold, while remaining pretty even as far as how he expresses himself. Always very aloof/detached, just out of reach, with Chay never really sure where he stands/what Kim wants. But at the same time the fic happens just before Kim gets a big break, and the subtle ways he shows his excitement and nerves as things start coming together—it’s wonderful.

Love’s a Two-Way Dream by giraffeter (@giraffeter)

This fic is dark. Kim atticwife’s Chay and it’s not a good time. But!! It’s not just dark for the sake of it; Kim is a genuine sociopath, yes, but it unfolds slowly. You get a sense of creeping dread as he does things that are just a little bit off, until finally the Big Bad Thing happens. At first he seems normal, playing the part of good and respectful boyfriend. But it just goes downhill from there, and I love every word of it. The ending especially is very satisfying.

In the Dark of the Night by bisexualbard (@bisexualbard-writes)

Not to recc everything Bard writes, but… This is a rape recovery fic that I feel handles the subject matter incredibly well. There’s no gratuitous rape scenes, and even with the flashbacks, I don’t remember any of them being incredibly detailed. I think Bard handled the fic with incredible respect and grace. This is another one that’ll make you cry. The way Chay handles his past trauma while trying to have a relationship with Kim is so painfully real. And so is the way Kim wants to help him, but doesn’t really know how. But they figure it out together, and it’s amazing. (Also Kim acquires a stabby child in the form of an OC that I adore.) I just love the path Chay's recovery takes in this fic, it's so visceral and relatable. It's all around just. So good. I love this fic for the same reason I love IGTW and it's because both fics show an excellent depiction of recovery.

Chains and Crowns, A Flower Can Both Make by Sweet_William (@sweet-william-writes)

Incredibly Regency AU. Historical AUs are some of my all time favorites, and this is everything I didn’t know I needed. Sweet_William captures the essence of an Austen-esque style while still making this feel like the KinnPorsche characters. Chay is wonderfully feisty, Kim is delightfully complex, and the various family interactions always had me cackling.

Simple Little Secrets by CorvusCloudburst (@cloudburst-ink)

Chay sees the future when he touches people. Kim thinks he’s either insane, a spy, or a conman. Oh, and Chay’s visions of Kim? Always sex-related. The shenanigans are endless. What more do you need?? They’re both crazy4crazy and it’s my favorite thing ever. Their banter is snappy and fun, the writing is sexy, and it never once gave me second-hand embarrassment despite Chay’s horrible situations.

#cookie speaks #kimchay #kinnporche the series #fic rec #anyway i love all of you #I hope this makes people's days a lil brighter #<3<3<3

171 notes · View notes

celestie0 · 24 days

Note

kickoff! reader who is stalking gojos page and accidentally likes one of his oldest posts. she panics and turns off her phone, without unliking it.

kickoff!gojo who is re reading your guys instagram messages and you text him while he’s doing this. he scrambles to come up with a reason as to why he read your message instantly

kickoff! reader who tries to watch soccer games to understand what’s happening. she probably yells offsides at everything. gojo can only smile at her and offer to help her out

kickoff! gojo who takes a picture of your silhouette in front of those statues you meet up at during the sunset (without your knowledge) and makes it his lock screen. you ask him about it but he just pretends that it’s a soccer goal and the sunset behind it.

kickoff! reader who finds herself thinking of satoru way too much. will see basically anything and be reminded of him. “oh a pair of sunglasses? gojo would like those” “hm, they started selling a strawberry tea? gojo would drink that”

kickoff! gojo who loves the sims. unironically makes a sim version of him and reader. tbh he probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, he just starts thinking about reader and starts adding her features. thinks it’s funny to make them have “fun time”

kickoff! reader who is looking through the game pictures she takes and finds herself staring at gojo. doesn’t even realize she’s doing it until mina walks in on her. think peter parker and gwen stacy

kickoff!gojo who has a full “project m’bappe” for your future kids. starts the kids off with a soccer plush and it leads to them being absolute powerhouses in toddler leagues

kickoff! reader who used to play soccer as a kid. threw a tantrum in the middle of a game because she decided she hated it. only started to like it again because of gojo

kickoff! gojo who keeps a printed out picture of the two of you in his wallet. Suguru took it at the frat party when gojo kissed you. around you is blurry and flashing lights, in the middle of the chaos is gojos lips pressed against yours. His hand is holding your waist, you’re slightly on your tippy toes to reach him. He sometimes zones off when paying because the picture catches his eye

BABE……..WHEN I TELL YOU IM BLUSHING N SQUEALING N KICKING MY FEET SM RN…..UHHH I THINK U MIGHT HAVE TO JUST TAKE OVER WRITING THE SERIES FOR ME??? bc i went thru sm emotions reading these pls 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

ok first of all tysm for thinking of these and sending them to me???? i genuinely cannot believe youve made headcanons for my fic that’s so surreal n i will forever remember this 😭😭

BUT ALSO THESE ARE SO ACCURATE PLS and all the little details omg it means sm that youve noticed all these lil thinfs throughout the fic n their relationship n i cld cry rn 😭😭

pls excuse me for addressing each n every one of these bc im so excited by them i fear this ask will be long so i’m adding a keep reading loool

sobsosbsosbsbsossbb the headcanons ab their digital fuckups LMAOO omg reader is 100% the type to be stalking him at 3am even tho she swears shes not even THAT down bad for him n then she loses all feeling in her face when she realizes she liked a post from when he was like in high school or sumn🧍🏻‍♀️there’s no coming back from that LMFAOO but i feel like gojo wldnt even notice it bc he probs gets a lot of notifs so she’s safe this time around 😭😭 BUT YOURE ALSO SO RIGHT AB HIM REREADING MESSAGES N THEN GETTING SPOOKED WHEN HE REALIZES SHE SAW THAT HE READ IT RIGHT AWAY LMAO i feel like he’d pull something like “uhhhh i was just about to trxt you, that’s why” and she’s like “🤨 this is the fifth time that’s allegedly happened”

aww reader trying to understand soccer for him 😭 thats so cute bahah also i made another headcanon recently from another anon who mentioned gojo streaming the world cup hehe it’d be so cute if reader shows up to the frat game nights in the jersey of the team that gojo’s rooting for bc she’s just trying to be a supportive girlfriend n she gets excited watching the game but she’s actually got no clue what tf is going on 💀 but gojo adores her for it so thats ok

the lockscreeennn that’s so cute 😭 also i love the idea of reader being his muse too :”) like he doesn’t know much about photography but bc of her he’s like kinda curious about it now so he’s always taking pictures of her w his phone while she’s not looking :”) i imagine his camera roll is just a bunch of candids of her while she’s dissociating off into the distance or something 🤣 n he’s like “wow so pretty im so good at this”

OK BUT READER IS ME THINKING AB GOJO EVERYWHERE I GO LMAOO no but srs that one made heart skip a beat bc how sweeettt is that 😭 i think that is a true mark of love where u think of someone everywhere you go :”) for gojo, i imagine that anytime he sees anything scenic or colorful or something like blooms of flowers or a nice sky he thinks of how she wld probably really love to take pics of it n he gets sad she’s not there to do so

okk im down for sims boyfriend gojo 🤣 and wdym by fun time omg 😭 pls dont tell me it’s possible to make people BONK on sims. ive seen a lot of tiktoks recently about how they added gojo to stardew valley n ppl have been marrying him lmfaoo i wonder if gojo wld try to marry her in sims 💀 cant tell if thats cute or creepy PLS tbh i’d probs be like “aww babe”🧍🏻‍♀️

and YES AB THE ONE WHERE SHE STARES AT GOJO’s PICS THATS PRACTICALLY CANON, also, there was supposed to be a scene exactly like that in ch8 where mina walks in on her staring at the pics she was editing for her professor 😭😭 so ur 100% right on. i just bet he looks so handsome in those photos cuz he’s concentrated n sweaty n probs looks really determined n in his element tbf i’d be starinf at those pics too LOL

YOURE SO RIGHT HAHA he’d make sure their kids are soccer prodigies 😭😭 startin them YOUNG. reader’s like “dont u think they’ve practiced enough today…they’re supposed to go to that birthday party at noon” and he’s like “THE GRIND NEVER STOPS😤🔥” 💀💀 unironically the type of dad that wakes his kids up at 5am on summer break to take em to soccer bootcamp or sumn 😭😭 ok but he knows theyre just kids n lets them have fun haha obviously but he just has high expectations for them lmaoo

im so tender to the idea of reader having played soccer in her youuuuthh how cute wld it be if she unknowingly also had a crush on gojo back when they were kids (maybe there was some sort of co-ed game they played ONCE when their elementary schools organized it n she was like omg who’s that boy over theree n it’s just 8 y/o gojo who’s got all the 2nd grade girlies swooning even back then 🤣) but in adulthood she probably doesnt rememebr that at all haha OMGGGG I NEED TO MAKE THIS CANON BC HOW ADORABLE WOULD IT BE IF GOJO’s MOM HAD TAKEN A PICTURE OF THE GAME BACK THEN N U CAN SEE LITTLE GOJO N LITTLE READER ARE IN THE SAME PHOTO im gonna sob???? im so inspired by these rn??? anon??? can i fr hug u through the screen???

omggg ok im deceased im dead ab the PICTURE IN HIS WALLET. THAT IS SO HUSBAND CODED and adorabke asf i just might melt rn 😭 him getting distarcted while paying kakskddjhd also i can imagine him having a picture in his wallet of her in her cap n gown on n stoles n everything during graduation or something bc it reminds him of their college days :”) n when he’s playing away games during national league he’s always looking at it when he’s away from home bc he misses her

also i feel like suguru might’ve taken the photo as a polaroid 🤔 now i headcanon that kickoff reader also has a polaroid camera bc why wouldnt she lmfaoo 🤣 but just imagine the polaroid relationship wall LOL its so corny but i wld want them to make one together 😩💕

screaming. crying. feeling so inspired rn. cheesing. cheeks r hurting. love u sm anon srs if you have more i will gobble them up like a turkey. LOVE YOU <333

#I MEAN JUST HOW FUCKINF SWEET ARE MY READERS I CANT RN #😭😭😭#kickoff #asks #anon

101 notes · View notes

tyblackthornsheadphones · 5 months

Note

Hiya! Maybe some hurt and comfort fic with the moon boys after the reader got hurt in a street scuffle thing? :)

i reread this only once and yes, i did notice the inconsistent verb tenses but honestly i don’t have the energy to go back and change it. i tried to keep physical descriptions of the reader to a minimum so it should be gender neutral and any race. if not, please let me know so i can fix it.

i also kind of forgot the reader was supposed to be hurt and wrote it more emotional but i hope it’s fine anyway. (i’m so bad at following requests i’m so sorry)

if you wanna support me you can buy me a ko-fi.

the two men had come out of nowhere, forcing you into an alleyway under the dark cover of the night. your only comfort was the thought that your boys were watching the city for these exact types of people, maybe they would come save you. and if you managed to hold off the two men for just long enough, you could get out of this alive.

you weren’t a fighter. marc had taught you basic self-defence, but even so you wouldn’t have been able to take on two big, buff men with guns and eyes that spoke of deranged thoughts and lack of care for any life but their own.

the rest was a blur. a white caped hero throwing punches, a body jumping in front of your own, blood on the concrete and on gloved hands.

“let’s get you home, amor.”

jake was angry, you could hear it in his tone, but you were still frozen in fear from the encounter, your mind buzzing yet simultaneously unable to string together any coherent thoughts. so you didn’t respond, and he carried you home in his arms, jumping into the loft through the window you always kept open for him on nights like these, the one you’d forgotten to close before leaving.

you have a routine for when your boys come back from their duties as moonknight. the suit heals their wounds, but it doesn’t wash away the blood. you run a warm cloth over their skin until the blood and grime is all washed off, a slow repetitive process that gives their mind the time to deal with the violence they committed and store away the memories somewhere far back.

it’s easy to let your muscle memory take over.

“you don’t have to do that tonight,” jake says, “let us take care of you. we want to make sure you’re alright after that.”

you shake your head. there’s still a part of you that’s numb, and you don’t think you could put your feelings into words, you don’t think there’s any real way to voice the way you were convinced you were going to die, the way your brain flashed through everything you regret and your friends you haven’t seen in a while and the goals you’d never accomplish.

the suit falls away and it’s just your jake. not the hero of london or the fist of vengeance, just your worried boyfriend.

you clean his knuckles of the blood that always somehow manages to seep through the bandages that make up their suit. his body tenses, and when you look up, you meet marc’s eyes. his jaw is clenched in a way that you recognise, he wants to speak but doesn’t quite know how to say it, he’s worried talking about it might not be what you need right now.

“i’m sorry,” you say finally, “for going out. a friend needed my help and i thought i could walk back home after. i didn’t think…”

“not your fault,” marc replies, “we should’ve gotten them before they even had the chance to touch you.”

“it’s not your fault either, you know,” you put the dirty cloth down.

he shakes his head. there’s no point in having this argument, it’s the same every time. you argue that it’s impossible to save everyone, that london is a huge city and they’re just one body that can only accomplish so much. marc’s dumb guilty conscience convinces him that any person he can’t save in time is blood on his hands, not the fault of the criminals who committed the act, but his for not being able to save them.

you understand why, and the fights always come back to the same thing.

the last remnants of adrenaline are fading and your hands grow shaky. marc leads you to bed, but you know this is the part where he leaves, back into the headspace while one of the others (usually steven) hold you under the safety of the blankets. he likes to take care of you, to provide, but he still struggles to be soft.

“i was so scared,” you finally admit when the lights are turned off and the room is dark and the boys can’t see your face. it’s easier to admit when you don’t have to look into the eyes of the men who act as london’s protectors, constantly in dangerous situations. you don’t have to deal with the feelings of inferiority, like comparing yourself to marc’s strong and brave ex-wife who would surely have been able to defend herself.

you don’t even know which one is fronting. maybe they all are. when the tears start to fall, all you care about is the comforting familiarity of the strong arms around you and the scent of the men you love.

148 notes · View notes

erodasfishtacos · 2 years

Text

Loving You is Easy (Demi)

prompt: my baby 🥺 mlb!harry’s exploration of his sexuality and coming out.

word count: 14.3k 🥲

warnings: topics of sexuality, identify issues, bullying, toxic masculinity, smut - 18+ minors dni

Take The Hint takes place in the middle of this fic & so you might want to reread first or when Harry starts to mention YN.

This fic is my baby. I’m so so proud of it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have.

Please please like, follow, comment, and reblog ❣️

And I really would love to hear your thoughts so please send me a message about the fic ❣️

Assumptions.

That’s what Harry’s life has been based upon since he was in little league because of his perceived dominance and masculinity.

It happened nearly every game, he’d always draw attention because of his skill.

Even at such a young age - as soon as he could bat without the tee to hold the ball, people knew that he was something special.

Women would pinch his cheek and tell his mother to watch out because he was going to be a heartbreaker with the ladies - men would chuckle and joke that they were going to have to hide their daughters from him.

It doesn’t get any better as he grows up, it actually gets worse.

The more notoriety he garners, more attention and not just based on his athletic abilities, his looks landed him almost just as much.

He was good-looking and had above average athleticism, he was irresistible for people to leave alone.

He can’t count the number of times that men have asked him how many girls he had fucked that week because he just had to be getting it all the time.

In all this time of feeling wanted, Harry had never felt more alone.

He felt like there was something wrong with him.

There had to be - because he wasn’t living up to any expectations that society has set for him and had made abundantly clear since he was young.

He was meant to have a girl on his arm, who had to be the societal standard of beautiful who would follow him like a puppy.

Since he was a young teenager, always playing on baseball teams much higher than his age level - coaches and scouts knew that he was destined for the major leagues and it was just a matter of time before they snatched him up.

Girls in high school would swoon over his chiseled jaw, the way his biceps flexed, and the baseball bleachers were riddled with gaggles of giggly girls watching him practice on the pitch.

He didn’t have a break, there wasn’t a day of practice that didn’t go by where girls weren’t coming to watch him as he played.

It was supposed to be flattering but to Harry, it was just frustrating to constantly have all these girls gawking after him when he wasn’t interested.

Harry knew that he should be enjoying all the attention from the female gaze, at least, that’s what he thinks because of how often people are making assumptions about his private life.

But that’s all these things were…

Assumptions.

Harry didn’t care about girls or dating in middle school, never really gave it another thought when he never developed any crushes on the pretty peers who were very much interested in him.

It wasn’t until high school that he realized that there was something wrong with him or so he thought that he wasn’t normal like the other kids.

Harry began to realize that he didn’t have the same interests and urges as his friends who were constantly drooling over girls in short skirts or commenting on their appearances.

He could look at a girl and think she’s pretty but he didn’t have some deep primal urge to ask her over his house so he could get his rocks off like his friends did.

It only became an issue when his so-called friends started teasing him about his lack of social life with the ladies.

They would ask him if he was gay or asexual, asked him if he was still a virgin with all the date offers he gets.

He didn’t know what he was - he didn’t know if he was gay or asexual, he wanted to have sex but he didn’t just want it to be random.

Harry now realizes it wasn’t harmless teasing, not with how much emotional damage it had on his psyche to constantly be questioned about his sexuality.

He hadn’t known what he was.

It had been a late night practice and everyone was talking about the upcoming prom dance.

“Who are you taking, Styles?” Cody, one of his teammates asks as he packs up his bag with his equipment.

“Er, not sure,” Harry shrugs, attempting to come off nonchalant and unbothered by the question - despite how cocky he appeared, he was the furthest thing from confident internally about the topic.

“Come on! I know Lana and Jessie already asked you and they’re the hottest girls in the school! Lana’s tits are massive,” Seth chimes in, offended that Harry would have the nerve to turn down the girls of his teenage dreams.

Harry feels his face get hot because he knows what this is going to turn into very quickly - as it always did.

“Is it because you’re taking your boyfriend? Or yourself? Your hand can’t be your only date forever!” Cody crows, Harry’s hackle standing up at the jab and he feels himself getting hot.

“Mind your own fucking business,” Harry huffs out instead, swinging his pack over his shoulder and turning on his heel to leave.

“You know for how good you are at baseball, nobody would know you’re a virgin. Great in the field, a dud in the sheets,” Conner can’t help but add in, all the boys were chuckling as they changed.

Harry is still trying to be the bigger person by continuing to walk away but when Seth snickers, “Y’know what I think? He’s so good at baseball because he’s making up for his small dick.’

Everyone has a breaking point.

They had managed to get Harry to hit his, which was an accomplishment but the subject of his sexuality had become more and more tender over the past few months as he really started to understand his dilemma.

Harry drops his bag at his feet, storming towards Seth with his fist coming up, raised and about to swing when their coach appears to stop anything from happening.

Seth is frowning with his hands up in surrender, eyes wide as he realizes Harry was actually mad, “I was just joking around with you. Take a fucking joke.”

“The only joke in this locker room is your baseball abilities,” Harry snarls back, it was quite the insult coming from their captain and Seth's face drops even more than before.

“Styles, hit the road,” Coach Greggs orders, pointing towards the exit of the lock room with a serious expression - disappointment in his star player’s behavior.

When Harry gets home, he bypasses his mum and sister without even a hello before he’s running upstairs to his room and slamming the door shut.

He hates feeling like this.

Like he didn’t even know who he was.

How difficult could it be to figure out what or who you’re attracted to?

He was trying to convince himself he wasn’t broken, he knew all his body parts worked, it wasn’t anything but pure mental blockage.

Thinking about having someone lay next to him in his bed, they’re kissing, taking off clothes - Harry likes the idea of that.

However, it’s not just anyone, it’s not a random hookup.

He imagines it being someone he’s in love with, he’s so fucking fond of, and they know each other so intimately - its just them in their little world, no one else had this experience but them together.

But that doesn’t make any sense.

That’s not a thing.

Harry always felt normal beside this but this was major.

This was detrimental that he figured out what his issue was or he would never have a partner, get married, have kids.

Sure, he'd probably be a successful baseball player but may be the oldest virgin on this earth if he didn't shake this feeling.

Harry decides that same night that he's going to go against his instincts and just ask a girl to the dance - maybe once he put himself out there it will change.

And as Harry was thinking about it, he wouldn't necessarily be against asking a boy either but he's not sure he's ready to explore that idea right now.

He didn't feel excited at the aspect of having a date but instead just a sad relief that his teammates won't bother him anymore.

It felt lonely and isolating.

Harry brings flowers the next day, he knows which girl he wants to ask, Yazmin - he knew she had a crush on him and she was nice, not overly concerned with what others thought of her.

The other reason he is choosing her is because she is one of the many who had made it extremely obvious that she would instantly say yes to him if he asked and he was really not trying to get rejected either.

He feels bad he's not very enthusiastic when she accepts and draws him into a massive hug with her face buried in his neck.

To avoid coming off as rude, he hugs her back until it becomes too much for him and he's pulling back with a forced smile.

The lunchroom is filled with envious glares from other girls who had either been dropping hints to Harry that they wanted to go with him or they'd be too nervous to be forward and are boiling with envy.

Yazmin begins to talk about colors, her dress, everything that people should be looking forward to for the event.

Harry...well, he was just hoping that after he asked her and she accepted that he would feel something, anything towards her whether it was a bit of fondness or admiration.

There wasn’t a question that she was pretty, her long thick black curls that fell down her back, her warm brown eyes, and wide smile.

But there was nothing, absolutely nothing that was attracting him to her at this moment as she babbled on about cool versus warm tones.

After baseball practice, he wanders in to his mum and sister sitting at the dinner table - just beginning their meal as they chat.

When he drops his backpack and duffle bag near the entryway and joins them - he's tired from all the drills and doesn't say anything more than 'hi' as he begins digging in.

"Mrs. Fields told me today that you asked Yazmin to the dance," Anne smiles with bright eyes, she was proud that he was putting himself out there - she worried about him.

Harry feels his stomach churn, he's short when he replies, not looking up from his plate, "Yeah."

"I'm so happy for you, this is going to be so exciting," Anne says before taking a sip of her tea and patting his hand.

"She's pretty too," Gemma adds to the conversation, "I think you guys are going to make a cute couple."

"I'm not dating her," Harry says sharply, using a bit more force to stab at his vegetables, "It's just an invite to a stupid dance. That's it."

"I know, dear. It's just that we haven’t seen you interested in any girls at your school and I want you to enjoy your high school experience-"

"Can I not enjoy high school without a girlfriend? Is me not being not a star athlete enough?" Harry is getting loud which isn't like him to every raise his voice at his mother, "Why does everyone fucking care? I just want to be left the fuck alone about it!"

With that, Harry is slamming down his silverware, snatching his backpack off the floor, and storming up to his room with the door shutting and the lock being flicked.

Harry doesn't come out of his room that night and refuses to speak more than a few words to them through the door.

The next morning when Harry comes down for school, dressed and ready to go, Anne tries to smooth over the situation.

She didn't know what was going on with her son and that was a new uncomfortable feeling for her - usually he was open about everything with her.

Anne didn't know what she said that had triggered the response he'd given and despite how much she wanted to talk to him about it, she knew that she shouldn't force him.

"Harry," Anne speaks up when he steps into the kitchen to make his morning protein drink, " I want to talk about last night."

"There's nothing to talk about, s'fine," He brushes off stiffly as he reaches for one of his shaker bottles and container of protein mix.

"There is. I clearly upset you last night," Anne's voice is soft and cautious, "I'm sorry. I love no matter if you want to date or not, I'm proud and excited for you no ma-"

"There's nothing wrong with me!" Harry bites back as he tries to scoop out the powder, hands shaking with some strong emotion, and it spills onto the countertop.

"I didn't say there was," Anne furrows her brow, she felt like they were on two difficult wavelengths and not really speaking the same language - having two different conversations.

"Shouldn't everyone care that I'm lined up to go pro or that with all this training, I still get straight A's," Harry scoffs as he pours the water and shakes it harshly, "Why is everyone so focused on who I'm going to sleep with?"

And with that, he's grabbing his stuff and leaving the house - Anne stunned as she sits at the breakfast nook unsure of how an innocent conversation at dinner has led to an ongoing tense back and forth with her son.

Yazmin is all over him and Harry is quickly realizing that him inviting her to the dance was also interpreted as him asking her to be his girlfriend.

But when she sat down next to him at lunch, her hand moving to intertwine with his - he didn't push her off but instead could only think about the whole lunch period about how he didn't want to be holding hands with her.

However, he noticed that all of his friends had their girlfriends cuddled up on them too and seemed to enjoy it when their girl curled into them or kissed their cheeks.

He played along.

In the locker room, after practice, well Harry wishes he could skip changing and go home because he was starting to not enjoy this time around his teammates.

"Yazmin, man," Hunter laughs as he sits on the bench to kick off his cleats, "It's no surprise you wait until the last minute to ask a girl out and you pick the hottest girl at school."

Harry shrugs as he shoves his jersey into his duffle, shoulders already tensing because of the conversation topic, "Yeah, she's nice.”

"Nice? You mean has nice tits," Luke adds and the other boys howl loudly as they mock breasts with their hands coming up their chests, "She's got huge ones. Let me know how they look when you get her topless."

Harry shakes his head, face turned away towards his locker- even though his teammates are being pigs, he wishes he could relate in a way.

He hadn't even looked at her chest or maybe he had but it didn't elicit any type of sexual response that made him want to get her naked.

It seemed like every other guy in the room had the identical response except him - normal teenage boys cared about boobs, really no matter who they belonged to.

"Yeah, I saw Casey's pair last night," Josh adds with a cocky smirk, "Let me touch 'em and everything."

Luckily, that conversation distracts the boys enough to lay off of Harry - now to focused on Josh's experience with his girlfriend.

They don't even notice when he slips out the door to head home as they all joke around and share stories.

Life was just..

Harry was miserable.

He dreaded going to school because of all the eyes on him, the fact that Yazmin wanted to be with him every free second, or his friends who were always talking about something girl or sex-related.

At practice, he got hounded by his teammates about the same things everyday and had to hear tales that he didn't assimilate to in the slightest.

At home, he was now in this weird limbo where he knows his mom and sister feel like they're walking on eggshells because of his moodiness that he refuses to talk about.

The ideas of relationship and sex were closing in on him from every angle and he just didn't want to talk about it.

He wished that when he was born someone just smacked a label on his forehead that said 'gay', 'straight', 'asexual', something so that he didn't have to figure this out himself.

Why was it so fucking difficult?

He felt broken, like his brain wasn't functioning correctly because he couldn't even decipher his own thoughts or feelings.

He'd always felt like this in a way but now that he is at the age where people begin to get into relationships and have sex - it's in the forefront of his mind.

He just has to get through the dance with Yazmin, that's it - he at least has to try to see this through with dating her.

Harry knows he's been pulling away from his family too but he doesn't feel like he's able to help it - he can’t explain what’s going on and he doesn’t want to be shunned by them too.

Because he feels like if he talked to them he'll blurt out, "I might not be straight" or "I don't know what's going on with me."

He used to think that he thought about it a lot but ever since he asked Yazmin to the dance - the only time he doesn't think about it is when he's on the field or working out.

Baseball is his only escape.

When all the boys are going out after the game, the weekend before the dance, they were all inviting their girlfriends to join them.

He didn't want to be an asshole so he knew it was only right to invite Yazmin too - he didn't want her to feel left out.

When they're all in the pizza shop, it's nearly ten at night, and they're all still sipping on Coke and eating pizza after winning the game.

Yazmin is sat next to him in the long booth, their thighs smooshed together, and she wraps her arm around his - resting her head on his shoulder.

It's a nice gesture and Harry feels guilty that he wants to push her away so he lets it happen and tries not to think too much about it.

The conversation turns into the afterparty for prom, they were renting a cabin in a nearby state park, and were planning to drink and have a campfire.

Harry had agreed to go but he really hadn't thought of the implications until Harry is driving Yazmin home that night and she seems nervous in the passenger seat.

"Is everything okay?" Harry asks as he navigates out of the pizza's shop's parking lot and towards her house.

"Yeah. It-It's just, are you excited about the dance? You weren't very talkative in there," She points out, she seems a bit disappointed but hides it behind a small smile.

Harry sighs, he doesn't know how to address it, so he lies, "I am excited, really. It's just been crazy with baseball. I'm sorry it didn't seem like I was in there. Just tired, I guess."

Yazmin perks up immediately, "It's okay, I just wanted to check. I'm used to you being really outspoken and talkative so I was just making sure."

Harry moves his hand over to her, resting it on the lower part of her thigh, near her knee, and squeezes, "It's gonna be fun."

"I can't wait for you to see me in my dress," She replies, her smile widened with his touch as she moves to put her hand over his.

"I'm sure you'll be gorgeous," He fake smiles, keeping his eyes on the road, they're nearly to her house and he presses the gas pedal a little harder.

As they pull up, Yazmin takes a deep breath before asking, "Are you going to bring protection to the cabin?"

Harry gives her a puzzled look, confused for a second by what she means by protection and she grimaces when she realizes he's confused.

"Condoms? I'm on birth control but I want to make sure we're being safe," She adds sheepishly, looking down at her hands.

How was she already talking about sex when they haven't even went further than kissing?

He didn't think he'd be expected to get intimate with someone this fast in a relationship.

"Oh, er," Harry stammers, just as embarrassed as her, his throat felt tight," Yeah, I'll definitely bring some. If that's what you uh, if that's what you want to do."

For objectively being the most popular boy in school, it was really quite ironic how backwards he was compared to the other people in his grade.

He was eighteen, everyone already assumes that he lost his virginity by this point, and it shows - he wonders if she can tell.

"I'd like to," Yazmin responds before leaning over to kiss him, she parts her lips and Harry matches her but it doesn't feel as nice as he thinks it's supposed to.

They kiss for a while in the car that night until his lips are puffy and swollen but Harry doesn't even remotely feel a twinge of any arousal.

As he drives home that night, he punches his steering wheel a few times- letting out frustrated screams into the car because he just wants to be like everyone else.

The actual event of prom goes fine.

It's easy smiling for pictures, eating at a fancy restaurant, and then going to the hotel where they all dance around to the music without anything being too serious.

The issue comes when they get to the cabin and everyone is starting to disappear from the campfire up to their own bedrooms with their significant others.

Harry waits as long as possible, until the flames legitimately start to fizzle out - he hadn't even touched any alcohol, neither had Yazmin.

She was getting impatient as she begins to wrap their hands together and kiss at his neck before finally asking, "Ready to go to our room?"

Harry agrees because he can't stay out here forever, he had bought condoms even though he was pretty sure they wouldn't be using them.

He bought them in the hopes that maybe, magically that once his body knew he had the oppurtunity to have sex that he would be interested enough to do so.

When they're up in the bedroom, Yazmin is on him, her lips finding his and kissing like they were that night in the car.

He can tell that she's nervous too but she seems much more excited and eager as she tugs off his shirt and runs her hands over his stomach before going for his athletic shorts.

She kneels down and Harry has to squeeze his eyes shut because when she pulls down his shorts - he's not at all hard.

It doesn't seem to deter her, she leans down to begin to stimulate him, and nothing happens as she does it - it’s not those amazing fireworks that his friends talk about.

He knows there’s a silent tear slipping from his eye when she finally pulls back when she realizes something isn't right.

"I'm sorry," Harry says with the most embarrassment he's ever felt in his life, "I'm- I'm sorry, Yazmin."

Yazmin pulls his shorts back up for him before standing in front of him, she puts her hand to his jaw and says quietly, "Look at me."

Harry blinks his eyes open, trying to hold in his tears as she looks at him with a concerned expression.

"Did I make you uncomfortable? I didn't mean to force you to do -" She begins to apologize profusely, getting upset herself.

It snaps him out of his own mind and his voice is firm when he interrupts her, "Hey, no. No, you didn't do anything wrong, I promise. It's me, you're-you're wonderful and pretty. It-s me."

Yazmin’s face washes with relief as he speaks, she reaches to take his hands but it's more of a friendly gesture.

"Are you..." She trails off, not wanting to make any assumptions about him.

"I don't know," He says honestly, choking up a bit on the words, "I'm really trying to figure it out and I just feel broken. This proves I am."

"You're not broken, Harry," Yazmin smiles as she shakes her head like he’s silly, "You're just figuring it out and that's okay."

"I know you don't owe me anything after all this but I'd really appreciate it if you didn't mention this to anyone," Harry mumbles as he laughs a big self-deprecating.

"My lips are sealed. If anyone asks, we had amazing hot sex," She giggles as she walks over to her bag to pull out pajamas, "Want to watch a movie?"

And his prom night actually wasn't as awful as it started out, Yazmin and him laid in the massive king bed and watched a few older horror movies and made fun of the bad acting.

At some point they drift off to sleep, when they wake up, they're not necessarily cuddled together but Yazmin's arm is slung over his stomach.

He thinks to himself, this isn't too bad, and just that little thought alone makes him feel like he may not be as lost of a cause as he sometimes feels.

Yazmin and him stayed friends after they 'broke up' and she never spoke a word about what happened that night and to her, he'll always be eternally grateful that kind, understanding people exist.

The summer before college, he realized that he needed to actually take the time to explore his sexuality through research instead of continuing a pity party for himself.

He could narrow down that he wasn't entirely straight because the idea of him being in love with someone other than a female didn't sound obscure or unappealing to him.

He didn’t think it mattered who he fell in love with, it wouldn’t be purely based on their gender.

The idea of sex didn't repusle him, he wanted to have sex and he knew that he wasn't asexual.

He wanted to have a partner and have sex.

That's when it stuck with him.

Everytime he thought about having sex with someone, it was a partner, someone he was in a strong romantic relationship with - but he didn't think that was a specific sexuality.

One day, he's watching some reality television show, and when they're introducing the contestants - someone on the screen identifies themselves as demisexual.

He'd never heard that term before and he curiously puts it into the search engine on his phone to figure out the definition.

That's when he reads the definition that changes it all.

"Demisexuality is a sexual orientation in whcih a person feels sexually attracted to someone only after they've developed a close emotion with them."

Harry felt like he was having an epiphany and that the world fell still for a moment - it was like finding the puzzle piece he had been missing for years of his life.

It finally fucking made sense.

It made so much sense that he started crying, full on sobbing as he held his head with disbelief that something clicked.

Anne, who was in the kitchen, making dinner, hears the sniffles and rushes in, concerned when she finds her son crying which was completely out of the norm.

"Harry, honey," Anne coos softly, sitting down next to him and brushing his hair off his forehead before wrapping her arm around his shoulders, "What's gotten you so upset?"

"M'not upset, mom," Harry chuckles as she tries to wipe away some of his tears with the sleeve of her shirt, "I just-, I don't know how you'll react when I tell you."

"Is it bad?" Anne asks worriedl, tugging him in closer like he was still a little boy and not a big, tall athlete that was way larger than her.

"I-I'm, it's about me," Harry stutters, his thoughts now racing for a different reason, this wasn't on how he planned to tell his mother any of this but he didn't want to lie to her either.

He wanted to be himself and he wanted his family to know who he is.

"I've been struggling with, erm, who I am for a really really long time," Harry begins, his eyes glued to his feet, "And I..I finally figured it out."

"I'll love you no matter what you're going to tell me, Harry Edward,” Anne says firmly, tilting his chin so that their eyes meet and he can tell how serious she is.

"I'm pansexul and demisexual," Harry breathes out, saying it into the unvierse for the first time, it felt like a massive weight has been lifted off of his chest, "It means that I am attracted to people regardless of their gender and that I'm only sexually attracted to that person after we established a emotional bond.”

"How long have you known?" Anne asks as she holds him closer.

"I-I've known that I wasn't st-straight for a long time but I-I didn't know what exactly I was until now," Harry stutters out through tears, Anne can't remember the last time she saw her son cry and his face was damp with emotion.

"I am so proud of you," Anne murmurs but her voice was firm and serious, she moves to cup his cheeks until he's making eye contact with her, "So so proud of who you are."

"Y-You're proud of me?" Harry repeats back in a whisper, his heart felt like it was beating fast enough it was going to leap out of his chest.

"Of course I am," She laughs softly, like it was ridiculous that he could think that she wouldn't be filled with pride, "I love you so much. My little boy."

She kisses both of his cheeks before wiping the tears away once more.

Anne isn't expecting it when Harry hugs her tightly, his face tucked into her shoulder as he hides away for a moment.

She rubs his back lightly and just holds him as he sniffles, she hadn't cuddled him like this is so long but he clung to her for a long while as she whispered words of love.

Gemma is the second person that he decides that he needs to come out - he's not as worried about her reaction as his mum but it still wasn't going to be fun for him.

She had gotten home from work and disappeared into her room to most likely working on college homework like she did nearly everyday.

Harry knocks and when she calls for him to come in, he's sheepish as he comes to sit on her bed next to where she has her textbooks splayed out.

"I have something to tell you," Harry starts off after taking a deep inhale of breath, why was he so nervous? It was just Gemma.

But everyone reacts differently, people he think would be supportive of him may not agree with it and give him pushback or worse disown him.

He was nervous because he couldn't lose his sister but he also couldn't stand not living his truth any longer.

"If you took my laptop charger one more time and broke it, I swear to -" She begins with a frown as she closes her book to glare at him.

"No, it's...well," Harry begins to trip over what he wants to say and now maybe isn't the right time, maybe he should think it through more than this, "Forget about it."

Gemma realizes quickly that something isn't right, she reaches out to grab his arm and tug him back down, "What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"I have something that I want to tell you," He reiterates with a sigh, "I just don't know how you'll feel about it."

Harry explains what he had explained earlier to his mother to her, she listens intently and doesn't try to crack any jokes while he's speaking.

After he's done with what he feels like is rambling, he hesitantly looks up to meet her gaze.

"How did you think I would feel?" Is the first thing she asks.

Harry's brow furrows in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"You said you were worried about how I would feel about you telling me," Gemma explains from before he told her.

"Ju-Just that you'd be disappointed in me," Harry hates that he's been crying so much lately but he begins to sniffle.

"Oh, Harry," Gemma titters, swiping her school things off the bed so she can drag him into a hug, just like his mother did, "I would never be disappointed in you for being who you are. I love you. I'm happy that you finally feel like you've figured it out."

"I hope I find someone," Harry chuckles, wiping his face on his hoodie, "I hope I find someone who will understand, that I'll be able to fall in love with and have a normal relationship."

"It will happen," Gemma hums as she pulls back, "Just like with you figuring this out. It won't happen overnight. Now get out, I have to study."

It really doesn't happen overnight or anytime soon.

He will say that getting in to college and knowing his sexuality even if he hadn't been with anyone had let him slip back into the cocky role that he was used to.

Harry had no problem flirting with girls and guys at frat parties to keep up appearances - even though he wasn't interested in sleeping with them.

It kept his teammates from questioning him because when they saw him at parties, giving a girl his million dollar smile and telling her she's cute - they figured he was sleeping with them.

He didn't enjoy going to parties because it was only fun to fake flirt for a little bit before he wanted to leave because people were trying to get him alone in a bedroom.

Luckily, baseball and sponsorships took up a majority of him time so he wasn't expected at many frat celebrations with how rigorous his workouts and training schedule were.

Tonight though, he didn't have an excuse to not come because they had three days off that weekend.

Everyone convinced him to come, it wasn't a bad time really but he couldn't drink because he'd be kicked off the team if he got hit with an underage drinking fine.

(They definitely wouldn't kick their star player off the team but he would be in deep shit and would much rather avoid that.)

Harry had been trying to get to know people on campus, trying to create the emotional attachment that he was searching for but it wasn't easy.

It felt fucking impossible.

He learned very quickly that he couldn 't just will it to magically happen and that he has issues building those bonds with anyone.

There was a girl named Halee who he had been talking to for the past few weeks, they met in one of his statistics classes and he tried to make an effort with her.

He took her out to dinner twice, listened to her talk for ages, and he waited to feel the spark after consistently seeing her for a month.

There was nothing there.

She was at the party tonight, they hadn't gone any further than making out because Harry didn't want to force himself to do that.

Halee manages to get him alone in his frat bedroom later that night, stating that she needed to talk to him alone, and he knows it’s bad that he’s hoping she wants to break up.

But when his bedroom door shut, her lips were on his and she was pushing him back towards the bed - the exact opposite of what he wanted.

When he falls backwards onto his bed, she's crawling on top of him to straddle him, never taking her lips from his as her thighs come onto either side of him.

Harry's hands come to her hips, knowing he should try to enjoy it but also that it was no use despite how hard she grinded her hips into his.

After a few minutes, she pulls back and palms at him - completely expecting to find him hard and ready for her but...nothing.

He's not hard.

Halle gives him a confused look, she'd never had an issue with a college guy’s libido before, and she knew she was attractive.

Harry can feel his face turning red with shame but manages to give her a reasonable lie, "I think it's just because I've drank so much. I'm pretty wasted."

That seems to satisfy her concern because she giggles and drags him back to the party, promising that they can try again when they haven't been drinking so much.

However, he knows that's not going to happen because he fully plans on sending her an 'im sorry, its just not working out' text tomorrow morning.

Harry doesn't stay at the party much longer before he's retreating up to his room and locking the door to shut everyone out.

Sure, he's become more acepting of his own sexuality but it doesn't mean that it doesn't fucking suck that he can't just have a casual hook up.

The fact is the only sexual interactions he's had are where girls are coming onto him, he has to make an excuse or they'll see he's not physically into it which makes everything ten times worse.

Harry feels that sinking feeling coming back that he remembers well from his senior year of high school.

He remembers thinking that because he finally identified what sexuality he was that it was the code to cracking his life long struggle.

He wonders often whether he's truly waiting to meet the right person or if it's just something that is wrong with him.

The fake flirting, turning people down who come onto him, dating people he has no real interest in.

At some point it doesn't feel worth it to try to find his person , he wonders if there just isn't a person for him and that's a really lonely thought.

(Take The Hint) - One Shot

This girl makes him want to scream.

He didn't mean to break her fucking ipad and she has the nerve to run to the school newspaper and write an article about him.

He had apologized when it happened but she hadn't been willing to accept it, that wasn't his fault.

Harry had never had such a critique in a school paper before and he wasn't going to stand for it.

He doesn't know why he feels the need to go back and forth with this journalist from the paper but he can't stay away.

After their back and forths, he finds himself bringing her food a few times to the newspaper's office after he gets done with a long day of training.

Harry's intruigued that this girl doesn't seem to give a fuck about who he is and really hasn't given him the time of day.

But he finds himself looking forward to picking up a sandwich for her so that she can try to refuse it and give him a shy smile when he doesn't take no for an answer.

It sounds a bit dumb, Harry has spent so much of his time worried about finding the right person or building this emotional bond that he fucking misses it when it's right in front of him.

When YN walks out onto the field that day, leans over the fence and connects their lips for the first time - his insides feel like they're going to combust.

His stomach feels warm with excitement, he's eager to kiss her back, he wants to kiss her back and not stop for anything.

When she pulls away, he wants to pull her back, and join their lips again - he's never wanted to do that before.

Then when she asks, "Are you going to ask me out or what?"

Holy fucking hell.

He has never said yes sooner.

Harry was an idiot.

He didn't see that their back and forth over the past few months (even if a few of those were fights) was flirting and building this god damn connection.

It didn't seem like it at the time because in the past, he had to make conscious efforts to build relationships.

It happened naturally with her, he didn't have to think about 'wanting' to kiss her, forcing time together - he wanted to do all those things without having to plan it.

As he's walking back to the frat from practice that night, his mind is racing because he thinks he might have finally done it.

He found his person.

Harry didn't want to give his hopes up but he just hasn't felt like this before - he's had hundreds of opportunities with the smartest, most attractive people and he's never gotten that warm feeling in his stomach around any of them.

He was thinking about the next time he would get to kiss her and really kiss her - it made him feel something new but it was thrilling.

Harry has never felt more nervous in his life, he'd changed his outfit at least five times, and fluffed his hair a hundred more.

It was funny, outside looking in, despite how cocky Harry appeared to everyone - he really wasn't like that at all.

He hoped that YN would like him and he was worried because even though she forgave him, they really didn’t get off on the right foot.

There was another anxious thought bubbling up, what if he's getting too excited and it is another relationship that falls flat.

Harry nearly wants to back out because he doesn't think he can be let down like that again - he just wants to be loved and love someone.

They're set to meet at a small italian restaurant off of campus, Lorenzo's, and Harry arrives first.

Shet not there yet but he's also a few minutes early, he's trying to talk himself out of a nervous breakdown when a group approaches him, a group of middle-aged men who want to talk to the Harry Styles.

Harry smiles politely, answering questions about the upcoming games, and what he thought of their last win.

When they finally bid him goodbye after a few minutes, the group disperse and waiting patiently is YN with a small smile.

"You're really popular, huh? The Harry Styles," She greets, it was teasing but not in a mean way more curious than anything.

And Harry's mouth felt dry because she looked fucking beautiful like the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

In a form-fitting orange dress, her skin tone was complimenting the vibrant color and her curves were other worldly. ***

Harry knows, absolutely knows he wasn't just trying to make this work, he was undoubtedly attractive to her.

It was the fact that he wanted to see what lay beneath the dress, the way her breasts sat made it hard to control his gaze.

More importantly, her smile was wide and heartbreakingly gorgeous as she stared a bit confused, waiting for him to say something.

"You are gorgeous," Harry manages, it wasn't a line, it was the truth, "Sorry, you took my breath away for a moment if I'm being honest."

YN lets out a shy giggle, her hands smoothing the sides of her dress as a nervous tick, as she steps closer to him.

"You don't look too bad yourself, quite handsome actually," YN compliments, reaching out for Harry's hand so he can guide them inside.

The cocky attitude drops over dinner, well it never appeared in the first place, and YN was appreciative of that.

YN was intelligent, funny, kind, and quite honestly, everything Harry's ever wanted as she snorts out her drink at a dumb joke he makes.

She kicks off heels halfway through the appetizer and rests her foot on his thigh like they've known each other for ages.

He can't help but reach down and squeeze her ankle, fingers dancing along the ridge of the bone, and laughing when he tickles her enough to make her squeak.

For the first time, it doesn't feel forced, he doesn't have to remember that he should want to touch his date.

Harry is interested in everything she has to say from her experience on the newspaper to how she accidentally broke into a museum while she was in high school.

He finds himself laughing genuinely, not counting down the minutes until the date is over, in fact, he doesn't want it to end.

"You're actually a nice guy," YN murmurs towards the end of dinner when their plates are near empty, "Who would have guessed."

Harry winces at the dig, putting his silverware down and looking at her seriously, "I am sorry about how I treated you. I was being a douche. I don't always feel like I have a lot going for me and baseball is what I'm good at and to have that article written was a hit on my ego."

It was the most honest he's ever been with someone but he didn't even think twice about revealing his most vulnerable thoughts to her.

YN's face twist in confusion, "What do you mean you don't have a lot going for you? You have a guarantee in going pro, you have a ton of friends, and you have no shortages of girls around you."

Harry knew he wasn't ready to delve into his sexuality conversation with her, he hasn't ever talked to anyone outside of his family and Niall about it.

Instead of admitting what really makes him feel low - his sexuality and lack of relationships, he just shrugs and says, "I don't know. It's just..It's not alway easy."

"I imagine, it's a lot of pressure on you at all times. Everyone watching your every move," She agrees, her eyes are soft and she can tell Harry's thinking about something.

She doesn't force him to tell her, instead she reaches across the table for his hand and takes it in hers - but she doesn't let go.

Throughout dessert, they hold hands across the table until Harry is feeding YN a piece of strawberry cheesecake and it ends up on her lips instead of in her mouth.

"You did that on purpose," YN laughs, her tongue peeking out to wipe the sweetness away but misses the corner of her lips.

"Missed a spot," Harry chuckles, he leans over to wipe it off with his thumb and when he does, she takes his thumb in her mouth - just for a mere moment to lick it off with a cheeky smile.

Harry feels himself actually start to harden in his pants and he almost wants to panic because that's never happened before - even when girls have tried way more sexy things to get his attention.

It had been a simple but intimate gesture, it wasn't even groundbreaking to YN, she went back to eating her gelato without another thought about the interaction.

Harry had to will himself to calm down, his mind racing to her plump lips and the way it wrapped around his thumb.

If he had any doubt that YN was his person, it was completely gone now - he hadn't even known her long but to say he was infatuated with her was an understatement.

He couldn't find one thing about her that he didn't like from her beauty to her intellect to the way she giggles with a little snort when something was extra funny.

It felt like his world was shaping to revolve around hers but that scared him on the same end that he hadn't known her that long - their emotional connection was just that strong.

After the date, Harry offers to walk her home because she lives in the campus dorms - just like at dinner, very soon into the walk she takes off her heels and shoves them in her purse.

Harry doesn't know if he should make a move, this was all so fucking new, and he felt like he was years behind on what he should know, basics about dates.

YN wasn't hesitant or coy, she quickly intertwined their hands as they walk, bumping shoulders as she points out where her classes are at certain buildings and what she hates about some of her awful professors.

Harry wants to cry because it's just so nice to hold someones fucking hand, that's all he's wanted for so long.

When they arrive at her building, YN digs out her keycard, giving him a pouty expression, "I'm sad our date’s over. I really did have a good time."

"I had an amazing time," Harry tells her seriously, "Will you go out with me again?"

YN squints up at him, with puckered lips, "I'll have to think about it."

Harry's heart drops.

"Oh my god," YN bursts out laughing, "Your face. Of course, I'll go on another date with you, I had fun."

"S'not funny," Harry mumbles grumply as she giggles at his reaction.

"I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you," YN hums, stepping into his space and leaning up until their lips meet.

Harry's frozen for a moment, it feels like sparks, like everything finally makes sense but he doesn't realize that he actually physically froze because YN is pulling back.

"Shit, I'm sorry I though-" She begins to apologize profusely, thinking she read the situation wrong.

Harry takes a deep breath, channeling his confidence, and he steps forward into her space now - hands coming to cup her face and bring their lips together passionately.

Their lips move in perfect synchronization, his tongue swiping against her lips until she opens, and he can get entrance.

Her hand comes up to his neck, keeping him close as they kiss, it feels like his first real kiss, and he can't get enough.

When they finally pull back for air, her lips are swollen and she has a starry-eyed smile on her face.

"Goodnight, Harry," YN murmurs softly, pecking his lips one last time before swiping her card and going into her building.

Fucking hell, he was gone for her.

He could not stop thinking about her.

Her smile, her laugh, the way her eyes squinted when she was teasing him - this had to be what being in love felt like.

Could it be this easy?

As soon as he gets home, he sends her a text.

Thanks for giving me a chance. I really had a great time. Are you free next Friday?

It barely takes any time for her to respond and he finds his lips turning down at her response.

Are you fucking with me?

He decides to take the more cautious route, reading his text conversation, and he doesn't think he said anything wrong.

No? Did I offend you??

Yes.

As soon as he receives the message he's typing out an apology for whatever he might have said to trigger her to be upset but right before he hits send, another text pops in.

Offended you're not asking me to hang out sooner.

Harry totally does not squeal like a school girl as he smiles stupidly at his phone for the next few moments before remebering to actually text back.

I have a game tomorrow and Sunday but we could hang out Monday night x

They agree on that.

When the next day comes, he feels more energized than ever to do good on the field today - he always thrived but YN was really boosting his confidence and overall happiness.

He struts on to the field, he always displayed arrogance on the field no matter how he was feeling on the inside - he wanted to intimidate people and let them know that he's the best.

At the mound, he kicks the dirt a bit and adjusts his hat in a little ritual he always did before scanning the crowd - it was always a full house in the stadiums because of him.

His eyes do a quick skim of the crowd but stop when he's sees YN sitting in the stands without her iPad or notepad - she's sitting with a friend.

Harry's heart leaps as he gives a dimply smile that was exclusively for and he tips his cap towards her in greeting.

She blows him an exaggerated kiss and a small wave as the announcers begin the game.

Harry doesn't know if he's ever had a game that good - he had been on fire the whole time, multiple strikeouts, a home-run, and overall good plays.

When the game’s over after the post-game interview and compliments, instead of heading straight to the showers, he wants to talk to YN but she's no longer in the stands.

He tries not to think too hard about it as he goes into the locker room to shower, in a noticeable less than happy mood.

Harry's actually the last one out, he drags his feet getting into the showers, and lets the hot water just hit against his sore muscles.

By the time he gets out, wrapping a towel around his waist, and stepping over to his duffel - he nearly screams when someone appears in the locker-room.

"What's taking you so long? I've been waiting out there for ages," YN complains with a raised eyebrow, a smirk on her face when she's met with his strong, damp chest - his pec twitches.

"Er," Harry stammers as he stares wide eyed at her, "I didn't think you were waiting for me."

YN shakes her head, "Why wouldn't I? Am I being too subtle about dropping hints that I like you?"

Harry’s chest seizes because he doesn't want her to think that, "No no, it's me. M'sorry I'm fucking this up. I just, yeah..."

I just can't tell you why yet.

Be patient with me.

"I know you've been with a lot of people, okay? I'm not here to use you and lose you. I want to see where this goes," YN seems frustrated as she explains herself.

"I do too. M'sorry," He apologizes again, the opposite of the cocky asshole she met, "I'm really, really into you."

And you're the first person I've said that to without lying.

"Yeah?" Her words are quiet, bashful as she glances down at her feet for a moment, like she wanted to hear the affirmations from him.

"Of course, you're gorgeous, smart, out of my league, if I'm being honest," He tells her with a raspy chuckle.

"I think you have it backwards," YN murmurs but she's walking towards him, and just like yesterday, kisses him fiercely.

God, he's never going to get tired of this.

He instantly reciprocates her advance, hand moving to the back of her head to cradle her skull and keep her close.

His stomach muscles twitch when her hand comes to his chest, rubbing up and down his abdominal definition, and thumb teasing at his happy trail.

It indescribable how just the simple touch is turning him on, he can feel himself harden at the movement and he can't help but push his tongue into her mouth.

They get startled when a janitor steps into the lockeroom, a tired look on his face when he spots them, "I'm locking up. Get lost, kids."

YN giggles as Harry flushed with embarrassment before she's leaving him to get changed and waiting outside for him to walk her home.

The next three weeks were an absolute whirlwind of hanging out in YN's dorm room cuddled together on the tiny bed, watching movies in his room in the frat, Harry stopping by the newspaper office constantly after practice to make sure she ate and then walkingher home, and then on the weekends they were going on dates and YN was coming to watch his games.

He knew that he was in love, he didn't care what anyone had to say about a certain amount of time it took or it was too soon.

Harry had found his person.

The puzzle piece that was missing his whole entire life was wrapped up in a gorgeous girl who bullied him, cuddled him, and gave him attitude when she didn't get her way.

He couldn't imagine anyone better.

There was one major issue, Harry had yet to tell her about his sexuality or the fact that he was a virgin.

He didn't blame her for making assumptions that he had a high body count with the way he flirted at parties - that was in fact the appearance that he was trying to give off even though it was further from the truth.

Harry wanted to tell her but when revealing that he was demisexual that was also telling her that he was head over heels for her.

And even though YN seemed nothing but understanding and accepting, it's different when you're in a relationship with the person.

She doesn't know whether it would matter if he was pansexual, if it would freak her out that he wasn't soley attracted to females.

As much fun as he was having, enjoying this new relationship, there was a lot of anxiety - he hadn't felt this much weight on his chest since high school with Yazmin and prom.

They hadn't gone further than kisses but it wasn't because of lack of arousal, he was so attractive to her that it didn't make sense.

However, up to this point, she hadn't pushed to do anything further than that and he wasn't ready to take the first step either.

It's a standoff until it's not.

YN and Harry are in his frat, they prefered it there for his queen size bed and he had a bigger television that they could binge watch shows on.

It was after a mid-week game, they had done exceptional, and Harry was truly convinced that YN was his good luck charm.

It was late, they both had class tomorrow but YN was sleeping over for the first time because Harry couldn't part with her.

They were in the middle of watching Great British Bake-Off and critiquing their bakes like either of them could do anything close to as good.

YN is tucked into his side, head of his chest but she squirms until she's looking up at him with a frown.

"Whassit?" Harry rumbles as he blinks heavily, his hand coming up to brush her hair out of her face - he couldn't get over how fucking pretty she was.

"Didn't kiss me enough today," YN huffs like she just realized the problem, her bottom lip pouted out.

"Didn't give you enough kisses, huh?" Harry repeats with a raised brow, his thumb coming to pull at her lower lip, "I haven't been very good to you, have I?"

"Absolutely awful boyfriend," YN agrees and everytime she refers to him as that, his stomach flutters.

"Or maybe I've just given it to you too much so now you're a demanding lil' thing," He hums but he's pulling her up so that their lips meet.

Harry can't help that he gets hard everytime they make out, maybe it’s a rookie thing or maybe most guys that's normal for - he wasn't sure.

But Harry and YN had never acknowledged it and as weird as it sounded - it felt good to get hard even if there wasn't relief at that time because it’s more pleasure and arousal than he's ever felt.

There was no way he wasn’t truly fucked - this girl held everything in her hands, she had so much fucking control over it and she didn't have one fucking clue.

YN's hand is rested on his stomach but at some point she moves it, she moves it right over his bulge in his nike running shorts, and palms at him.

Harry moans embarrassingly loud and sucks in a gasp at the sensation of someone else touching him like this for the first time.

YN pulls back startled like she hurt him and begins to apologize because of his visceral reaction but Harry joins their lips needily before murmuring, "Please baby, don't stop."

"Okay, whatever you want," She simpers quietly, her lips coming to his neck to kiss and nip at the skin as she feels out the shape of him over his thin shorts - thick and ready for her.

Harry is trying to keep his eyes open but it feels so new and euphoric that his lids are heavy as she thumbs over the sensitive tip.

"Take your shirt off," YN requests, not taking her hand off as he rustles hurriedly to get it over his head, "Slow down, we're not in a rush."

It was lightly teasing but it made insecurities tick a bit because he didn't want to embarass himself in his first sexual experience.

His stomach is sucking in at every other touch, his butterfly tattoo dancing as his ribcage outlines against his skin.

Her hand lazily moves upwards again but is taking the liberty of dipping into his shorts and briefs.

He twitches when her hand wraps around him, thumb tracing along the vein on the underside before circling at his already wet tip.

"M'gonna take my time with you," YN promises as she helps him slip the rest of his clothes off, her eyes locking with where he's hard for her.

He feels self-conscious, the first person to see this part of him in this intimate way - it was the most vulnerable he ever felt.

"You're so pretty," She murmurs happily as she begins to give him light strokes, "Makes sense why you have big dick energy. You're massive."

He has to clench his teeth to avoid coming at her words because it was all too much as he kept his hips on the mattress as she twists and tugs with the perfect amount of pressure.

"I-It feels so good, baby," Harry breathes out, he's on the verge of panting when her hand comes to roll his balls delicately.

"Yeah?" YN muses with a devious smile before she's ducking down to lick at the swollen head before suckling at it.

"Fuck, m'sorry," Harry groans as he feels his orgasm start, "S'good, you're so good. Fuck, you're amazin, sweetheart."

He can tell YN is a bit taken aback by his lack of stamina but she swallows as he pulses in her mouth.

When she sits back up, Harry is trying to catch his breath, "I'm so sorry. I just-"

"Stop apologizing," YN tells him firmly, leaning over to pepper kisses over his chest and tummy, "That was perfect. You look so handsome when you come."

Harry preens at the praise, he knows she’s probably just making sure he doesn't fell bad but it seemed genuine.

"Let me take care of you," Harry says after a few more moments, he knew his cheeks were flushed and his chest red with a blush of postorgasm haze and embarassment, what a mixture.

"You any good at it?" She jokes as she playfully licks his nipple before moving to take her own shirt off.

Harry freezes, he knows he probably looks like a deer in headlights before quickly wiping it off his face.

He doesn't respond but instead knocks her hands out of the way to pull the shirt over her head himself.

Her breasts were fucking perfect where they sat in a plain black bra with a little lace detailing on the edge of the cups.

Harry didn't know if he would survive this, he felt like a stupid teeanger as his hands were shaking with nerves.

This was more nerve-wracking then when he played in the playoffs for baseball or when a college scout came to watch his game.

He sits up and rearranges them until she's laying on her back and he's on top where he feels like he has a bit more control of the situation.

By some grace of god, YN's bra unlatches with a front clip and when he undoes it, it falls to either side and her tits bounce out.

"Holy shit, darling," Harry huffs out in awe, her nipples were already hard and so fucking pretty.

"What?" YN asks in a mere whisper, when he looks up at her - his heart sinks because he was so focused on himself that he didn't even think about how she might be feeling.

It was obvious that YN was a bit nervous too as he revealed her like he might not like how she looks - she’s squirmy and doesn't look him in the eye.

"How are you so fucking beautiful?" Harry shakes his head in disbelief, moving to cup them and they're soft in grip, warm, and good god, he's in love with them already, "Look at you, s'unfair."

YN lets out a pleased giggle and Harry can't wait any longer, he's fucking down to wrap his lips around one of the buds and suckle as his other hand rolls her other nipple.

"Oo-oh," She gasps out, pushing her chest into him, and he was sure that he wanted to hear her moans of pleasure for the rest of his life.

She was responsive to his touch, whimpering and asking for more through her body language as he switched between them and teased them until they were damp and puffy.

"Please, H. I'm so wet," YN begs as her hips move in frustration, her hand weaving into his hair and scratching at his scalp.

"You're wet for me?" Harry pulls back, their eyes meeting and he couldn't believe - he was turning her on even if he didn't know what the fuck he was doing.

"Stop teasing me," She demands with a pout.

He really wasn't.

Harry felt like he was in a movie in a way.

He dreamed about this for so long.

Being so in love with someone that he would want to have sex with them.

It happened and it was happening right now.

If it didn't feel so good, he wouldn't believe it.

Harry may or may not have utilized the internet to search about how to please a female.

He hadn't wanted to come into this and not be able to return the favor - it wasn't that he was uneducated about sex or didn't know the logistics of how to do it.

He didn't want it to be just okay.

He wants to show her how much he's truly gone for her by making her feel the same pleasure she's give to him.

Harry takes his time kissing down her soft belly, biting at the plush on her hips to make her squeak before he's shimmying her shorts and underwear off.

Harry has never felt so primal in his life when he's met with her mound and puffy folds, glistening with arousal, and he wanted to devour her.

The hesitance is gone as soon as he sees her for the first time.

He's spreading her legs and nuzzling straight in between her folds, lapping at her with excited, eager strokes.

Fuck, she even tasted good.

"Harry, fuck," YN mewls when he finds her clit, it wasn't hard with how swollen and hard it was for him - dragging it between his lips and suctioned it.

Her legs are restless like she wants to close them, her hands balling into the sheets as he relentlessly goes at her.

"Oh my god," She gasps as she bucks upwards, trying to ride his tongue - it was by far the hottest thing that had ever happened to him.

He couldn't believe he was actually doing a good job his first time, he knew she was actually close because he could feel her throbbing and getting wetter for him.

Her hands move to his hair, gripping it to keep him close to her center as she punches her hips up to find the friction she needs - it was beautiful watching her chase her pleasure without any shame.

He wanted to do this with her for the rest of his life and he knew it wasn't just the sex talking at this point.

She was it for him.

His chest swells in pride when she finally tips over the edge, a continuous stream of soft whining moans out of her mouth as her hips slow down and rest back against the bed - her limbs loosening.

Her face was damp with perspiration, long locks stuck to the side of her neck, and her chest was heaving and falling quickly as she tried to catch her breath.

"That was the best orgasm I've ever had," YN murmurs in awe, goading him back up until they’re kissing in short little pecks and he's brushing that sticky hair off her skin, "You're so good at that."

Harry's internally preening with the compliment, thrilled that he was able to get her off the first time ever doing something like this.

It was dangerous though, he knew already that he was going to crave her, she tasted amazing, it was addictive to be around her.

Everything from her smile to her laugh to the way her folds glistened with her arousal - it was all consuming.

Harry knows the longer they're seeing each other that he needs to tell her but the second he tells her about his sexuality, he's basically confessing his love to her.

He begins to feel like he's living this lie because YN occasionally makes a joke about how experienced he is or how many people he'd been with and he doesn't ever deny it.

To be fair, he never confirms it either but that even feels like lying.

One day while they're at lunch in a little bistro on campus, tucked away in the corner so people don't continuously harass Harry like always.

"I..I shouldn't be surprised at how good you were," YN murmurs shyly, they were talking about last night and when he used his mouth for the first time, "It's just...for me, I've only been with two other guys and it wasn't at all like that."

"They sound like idiots who didn't deserve to give it to you anyways," Harry has to swallow down the possessiveness of two other people having her like that.

She was his.

YN shrugs noncommittal as she sips on her peach tea, "They were okay but not as experienced as you. They hadn't been able to make me, you know...finish."

Cue his chest swelling with pride once again.

YN glances down at her plate, suddenly not making eye contact with Harry and he frowns at that, "What's wrong?"

She shakes her head, letting out a short laugh, "I just feel embarrassed, I guess. I know that I don't have as much experience as you. I've heard the stories of you taking all those girls upstairs at parties. It's not, it doesn't bother me but I...I just worry I'm not going to be good enough or compare."

Harry's heart sinks into his stomach and he knows now would be the absolutely perfect time to actually come clean that all those experiences were fake.

He chokes though, his throat tightens up and he can't find the words but he can reassure her, and he's not lying when he tells her, "Hey, I've never had a better experience than last night and m'not lying. You were amazing, fuckin' perfect. I can still taste how sweet you-"

"Ssh," YN giggles, the mood already lightened again as she chucks a chip at him because she doesn't know if anyone is eavesdropping, "I get it. Thank you."

"Anytime, babydoll," Harry drawls cheekily, exerting confidence when inside he's absolutely panicking.

Tonight it is the night.

Harry has nearly canceled three times because he doesn't know if he can do this.

He's so fucking in love with YN.

So fucking gone for her already that he doesn't know how he could lose her if this isn't something she's okay with.

Logically, he knows that if she doesn't accept him for who he is that she's not worth his time but fuck, he loved her.

YN was it for him, he didn't care how early it was or if you’re ot supposed to say that yet because they haven't been together long.

It was the truth though.

Harry wanted to try to make it as casual as possible when he brought it up so he invited her to sleepover after an away game.

He'd organized his room, cleaned his sheets, bought her favorite snacks, and laid out a shirt that she'd want to sleep in.

When she knocked on his bedroom door, one of his mates must have let her in, his hands were physically shaking and his smile was forced through nerves.

"Hi," YN huffs as she brushes past him to drop her overnight bag, "I brought a bag of chips but Niall literally stole them out of my hand and ran away like a little goblin -"

"I have something I need to tell you," Harry blurts out as he quickly shuts the door and leans up against it - he felt like he was about to have a full blown panic attack.

YN freezes from her rant, eyes meeting his with concern at his behavior and his body language, "Is everything okay, H?"

Harry squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and tries to breathe out of his mouth, voice quaking, "I-I don't know."

Fuck, why did he feel like he was going to cry.

"Harry," YN murmurs from where she's sat on his bed now, "You're freaking me out a bit. What's going on?"

"I haven't told you something, important about me," Harry sniffles, he couldn't control the tears that were rolling down his cheeks, and he felt like that scared high schooler all over again, "And I'm scared you won't want to be with me if I tell you."

YN's brow furrows, she doesn't know how to respond because she doesn't know what he's been hiding from her.

"Tell me," She asks softly, her heart was pounding too - she didn't know if he was going to break up with her or tell her he already cheated but she was worried just as much as he was.

"M'not straight," Harry finally whispers, looking down at his feet and avoiding her gaze all together, "I'm pansexual and demisexual. I haven’t been with anyone other than you, ever. God, I know I sound like such a fucking loser."

"Come here," YN responds firmly, her eyes serious and he can't read her expression which makes everything worse as he cries, sniffling and wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand.

He listens though, cautiously walking until he's in front of her - eyes still looking anywhere but at her.

"Look at me," YN prompts once again, waiting until his watering green eyes finally meet hers, "I love you, no matter what your sexual preference is or how many people you've been with."

"You-You love me?" Harry stutters out with another sob, he felt like such a baby but his heart was fluttering and butterflies were turning his stomach.

"I thought I've made it obvious but yes, I do," YN smiles sweetly, pulling him down to kiss him despite his damp cheeks, "I love you as you are. I accept you as you are. You're perfect."

Harry blinks away his tears, letting her cup his jaw and bring him in for short but soft pecks over and over again.

"I know what pansexual is," YN says against his mouth before pulling back a little, "I don't know what demisexual is."

After Harry gets done explaining to her what his sexuality means to him, what he defines as being demi sexual - he's alarmed when he notices tears in YN's eyes now.

"I'm- Are you-" Harry begins to ask but she cuts him off.

"I'm your person?" YN repeats his words from earlier, she sounds like she’s a bit in disbelief that this is all happening.

"You’re my person," Harry agrees, kissing her forehead, nose, lips, cheeks, "I'm so in love with you. It's only ever been you. Only ever will be."

"I love you," YN gasps against his lips, bringing him in for another kiss but this time it's more heated with more purpose behind it as she pulls him down on top of her.

YN and Harry are equally frantic as they tug off each other's shirts, lips wandering over bare skin, and YN whines loudly when his lips wrap around her nipples and suck at them.

She's hurriedly pushing his shorts and briefs off his hips before allowing him to nearly rip her panties with the eagerness to have her bare.

As Harry's mouth teases at her breasts, switching between harden buds and nipping at them - her hands are twined tightly in his hair and holding him to her.

His cock is painfully hard, wet at the tip as he grinds it against her mound - the friction already good.

On one thrust, his length slips through her folds and his swollen head is pumping at her clit - making them both let out a surprised moan at the sensation.

"Need it," YN whines as he pumps his hips, the wet slide against her core was new to him but it felt like heaven, "Please, H."

And he knew what she was asking, he wanted to give it to her but he was scared that it wasn't going to be good.

"It's my first time," Harry mumbles embarrassedly, even though he had already admitted that to her, "I don't know how long I'll last,"

YN wriggles her hips, hissing in pleasure when his cock drags against her slit, teasing at pushing in before pulling away.

"It's okay, baby," She assures him, petting at his hair, "I just want you, please. I don't care how long you last, just want you. Want to make you mine."

Want to make you mine.

Holy fucking shit.

"Yeah," Harry rasps, voice deeper than ever, feeling a building up in confidence at how bad she wanted him right now.

He was so used to being the best at everything.

He was the best baseball player in the college leagues.

He was the best pitcher to ever attend Duke.

He was the first person to get an MLB draft pick before graduation.

He wasn't used to not being confident in hai abilities but he truly felt the love radiating from YN and knew that she just wanted him however she could get him.

Harry takes a deep breath, hand shaking as he grips himself, positioning at her entrance, and when he pushes in - he knows he moans loud enough that the whole house will be able to hear him.

"Shit, baby," Harry mewls as he drops his head down to take a deep breath before moving, "You feel so good. Fuckin' hell."

"H, move please," YN begs as she wraps her legs around his hips, "You're so big. Feels amazing, please honey."

Harry nods, one more deep breath before he's pulling out nearly to his tip before thrusting back in - the hot, velvet of her walls squeezing him and it was surely what euphoria felt like.

He can feel his orgasm already brimming over and it couldn't have been more than a minute or two - between the feeling around his cock, how pretty the noises she's making are, and the way her tits jiggle with every stroke - he can't last.

"M'sorry," Harry groans as his stomach starts to tense, "M'coming, you feel so good. You're gonna make me come."

With that, he's speeding up and pounding in harder than before - YN’s hand reaches down to rub expertly at her clit until she's clenching up around him and whimpering as her thighs shake.

Harry pulls out after a moment, ducking to grab his discarded tee shirt to clean them both up - he knows his cheeks are twinged pink with embarrassment.

"Hey," YN giggles, grabbing his attention and squishing his cheeks between her hands as she grips his chin, "Don't get all shy on me now."

"M'not being shy," Harry pouts as his words are muffled from his cheeks being smooshed, "I just look like a dickhead, I just came in a fuckin' minute."

YN rolls her eyes, fuck she's so pretty, her skin was literally glowing, "So what? Just means we get to practice more."

Harry chuckles, already feeling the tension ease form his chest, "For the rest of our lives. I only want this with you, ever. My body is yours."

"And I will always love it," YN murmurs more seriously, forehead pressed against his, "I love you for you. I accept you for you. You’re perfect and you're enough."

And after this, Harry never ever doubts that YN is the one for him - not in a few days or a decade when they're married and have four little babies running around that look just like him.

You are never alone.

There is always someone ready to listen, there is no struggle too little or too big.

The world needs you here.

Trans Crisis Line

LGBTQIA+ Crisis Talk, Chat, or Text

2K notes · View notes

flightfoot · 2 months

Text

Top Ten Best Completed Miraculous Fics Of 2023

So I've made reclists for a ton of the Miraculous fics and series I recommend that finished in 2023, but as you may have noticed, those are rather expansive. So I decided to do a ranking of the ten best Miraculous fics from 2023 as well! (at least in my eyes). These naturally trend towards longer fics, though there are some that are on the shorter end. The shortest is under 30,000 words!

A lot of these you could swap around the order on, but the top fic... yeah the top fic is top for a reason.

Some of these fics were really popular, while others are virtually unknown, they run the entire gamut. I hope everyone checks these out though if they haven't already, there's both some hidden gems and some very well recognized gems in here!

All of these were part of earlier reclists that I made. All of those fics are in this collection I set up on AO3 called "Keyseeker's Choices For Best Completed Miraculous Fics of 2023". I really hope everyone checks it out, I've got commentary/reviews for every entry in the collection, and there are over 150 entries!

I'm gonna just be copying the descriptions I wrote for the fics on the earlier reclists, as I wrote those shortly after finishing reading the fics when they were fresh in my mind, and as great as these fics are, I don't have the time nor bandwidth to reread them all.

10.

Found by @trishacollins

Chat Noir and Ladybug need to tie up some loose ends. Unfortunately, one of those ends is Felix.

This is a fantastic fic! It’s part of a wider series wherein Adrien and Felix were friends with Nooroo and Duusu from a younger age, but Adrien’s memory was wiped of it by his parents, but this is the first fic you really need to read. Basically, after the events of Emotion, Chat confronts Felix about what he did, and Felix confesses to being a Sentibeing, and Duusu reveals to Chat that he is one as well, leading to Felix cooperating with the heroes.

Of all the fics I’ve read that tackle the subject, this one does the best job of giving Felix a redemption arc for his actions in the season 4 finale, focusing not only on how he hurt the heroes, but the kwamis. I loved that he truly understood how much he fucked up with the situation he put the kwamis in, how much suffering he put them through, and that the kwamis were allowed to be angry at him for awhile afterwards, to be suspicious and untrusting towards him at first (and that Marinette was allowed to do the same). Felix screwed up and hurt people, and he had to really show that he understood what he did was wrong, why it was wrong, and try to help the people he hurt.

---

The Ghost in the Machine by @jheqiawrites

As part of this function, Adrien knew about Monarch, the akuma butterflies, the victims, and, of course Ladybug and Cat Noir, the heroes of Paris. He was authorized to contact the Ladyblog as well as the citywide alert system if one of his platforms was active during an akuma manifestation, allowing his friends to get somewhere safe until Ladybug and Cat Noir could deal with the situation

While the necessity of these functions was disconcerting, it was programmed to be his routine so he gradually grew used to the inconsistencies. After all, humans tended to be selfish, highly inconsistent, and often flighty, but once you had observed them for a while an intelligence such as his could begin to see the patterns.

That is until she came online.

This is just a beautiful, though bittersweet story. I adore how Alliance!Adrien grows and changes throughout the story, how he develops as a person. He starts off not being able to figure out what he’s feeling, needing to make new modules in order to try to process the emotions he has welling up, and not totally understanding his own reactions. But as time goes on he grows and gets a better handle on himself. This isn’t an “evil AI” story, he’s just a person who’s slowly figuring out who he is and how to handle himself.

Not that it’s entirely about Adrien Alliance figuring out his own emotions, there’s other things going on as well. He’s worried about why there seems to be weird surges in the Alliance Network right before akumas attack, for instance, and why the details about the reason for that seem to be hidden from him, making him more paranoid about the Alliance system the more he looks into it...

It’s just... it’s really good and absolutely worth a read.

---

Kwami Magi Homura Magica by Crossoverpairinglover

After eighty-four loops in time, Homura Akemi takes a new path to Paris to save her friends.

The sixty-third loop after that, Homura arrived at the Agreste Mansion.

After clash after clash with the heroes of Paris and its greatest menace, events have reached a tipping point.

Ladybug faces someone verging on a second wish, a wish that endangers space and time to save a friend.

This was an absolutely AMAZING story that crossoverpairinglover dropped out of NOWHERE. Seriously, if you like Puella Magi Madoka Magica and Miraculous Ladybug, this is a real treat - but be prepared to sit down and binge, because it’s over 100,000 words and only has three chapters.

Anyway, I adore the care that’s taken with going through Homura’s mindset here, she gets a lot of character focus. And the lore! There’s some good explanations here for the history behind kwamis and Incubators’ interactions, and the Order of the Guardians normally treats Magical Girls, and why the Incubators are wrong in their assessment of the universe needing more energy to stave off entropy (hint: it involves Plagg), and just... there was a lot of love put into this.

And the action! Most Miraculous fics don’t have much in the way of fight scenes, and what they do have is mostly just functional. This is one of the rare exceptions. There’s some really long, detailed fight scenes in this (roughly the entire second half of the second chapter has one between Ladybug and Homura), which are a treat to read!

We also get some glimpses into a variety of other universes here, other timelines, alternate ways things could have gone down - I’m especially partial to the rather detailed view we get of one where Homura sent a message asking for help to the Ladyblog on her third time loop, and how things progressed from there.

The ending I also thought was really good, a happy ending that generally made sense and dealt with the issue of the Incubators.

If you can’t tell I’m really happy with this fic, it was incredible and unexpected. The length of the individual chapters can be daunting, but if you’re up for the task, I highly recommend giving it a shot!

---

you made me a hero - reverse crush short stories series by @non-fantasy

This series is just plain fun! Like the title says, it’s a reverse crush AU, so Adrien’s head-over-heels for Marinette, while Ladybug’s smitten with Chat Noir. Which means that Adrien’s constantly trying to woo Marinette while Ladybug’s attempting to have normal conversations with Chat Noir (and failing), and both of them are oblivious to each other’s feelings.

I love the way non-fantasy executes it, with Alya literally carrying around a spray bottle because of how eager Adrien is, and Ladybug being VERY SCARY if you ever lay a finger on Chat Noir (seriously akumas will literally beg for their akumatized object to be broken just to escape her wrath).

Oh, also, Ladybug regularly stops by Adrien’s room so they can both lament how difficult of a time they’re having wooing their crushes, and just have fun together.

There’s a lot of entries in this series - 29 of them in fact - but most of them are pretty short, making it great if you want to devour some quick, cute, hilarious romcom action!

Some stuff does actually change over the course of the series, it’s not just slice-of-life. Like identity reveals, dating, and even Hawkmoth’s defeat, so there’s clear progression and changes in circumstances as well.

---

The Parable of the Caller by @nemaliwrites

A week after Hawk Moth’s identity has been revealed, Adrien finds himself with nowhere to go, nothing he can do, and worst of all, strange gaps in his memory he can’t explain. In a stroke of luck, he stumbles upon a burner phone filled with voicemails from one of the Saviors of Paris: Chat Noir himself, who disappeared following Hawk Moth’s arrest.

But with each new voicemail Adrien listens to, he’s forced to confront the fact that there might be some kind of connection between himself and Chat Noir — and discovering it might leave him more broken than before.

I absolutely adore this fic, it’s a fantastic character study for Adrien! Basically in this universe, Ladybug and Chat Noir talked about who should be Guardian, with Chat eventually convincing her that he should be the one to take it on, primarily due to the whole “the Guardian gets amnesia about Miraculous-related matters” situation, and wanting to protect Ladybug from that. Then he finds out Gabriel is Hawk Moth, they take him down, and he relinquishes the Miracle Box and his guardianship to Su Han - all without having a Reveal with Ladybug, since well, he’s not in the greatest shape mentally at the time.

It’s a real treat to see Adrien’s thoughts and feelings about one of the Heroes of Paris leaving him all these voicemails, treating him like this close friend for reasons he doesn’t understand, and just seeing Chat Noir as this outside person. He’s got a very different viewpoint on Chat when looking from the outside than he would from the inside, with being able to see his heroic and good qualities far more easily when he doesn’t know that he is Chat.

Also Marinette’s struggling in the background of the fic with the loss of her partner and guilt over sending Adrien’s father to prison. It gets touched on at various points, and you can tell that she’s having her own story off to the side that we’re just not entirely privy to, what with this tale being told entirely from Adrien’s perspective.

---

Dreams of You by @chocoluckchipz

Dreams had long been his only escape. Dreams of Ladybug, the girl who had always been there for him.

If only in his dreams. And only while she was also sleeping.

Because with the first rays of sunshine gliding over her skin, with the first fluttering of her eyelashes, from the moment she opened her eyes in the morning, memories of Adrien would vanish from her mind.

She would go on living her life.

He would always be the only one who remembered.

At least until they meet in the real world and fall in love all over again, something that would’ve been easier to do if Adrien wasn't a prisoner in his own home.

Chocoluckchipz has some of the most beautifully executed lovesquare fics I’ve read, and this is no exception. Most of the fic is dedicated to Adrien wooing Marinette, spending time with her, with her own dream self acting as his wingman, giving her tips on how to get her to fall for him, all the while frustrated that she can’t share memories with her waking self, and that she and Adrien can’t share as much information as they’d like while asleep, due to limitations of the “curse” that allows Adrien to share dreams with his soulmate.

It’s not all cute Adrienette fluff though. There’s a threat in the background waiting to erupt, as the weirdness of Gabriel’s ultimatum to Adrien about finding Ladybug or else being forced to marry Lila keeps on gnawing at him - and with good reason. This is a world with magic and kwamis still, and that fact makes itself very relevant in the last third of the story.

It’s a well-written tale and very much worth a read!

---

Accidents Are Also Miracles by @liiinerle

After a few turbulent days where four new people discover her secret identity, Marinette loses faith in her ability to keep the secret hidden. Wracked with doubts and insecurities, she pleads with Alya to take over as Scarabella, but she still can't let those worries go. Especially not once Monarch starts taking a particular, and personal, interest in her.

Along the way, she also starts to date Kagami, and has to deal with changing feelings about herself, Adrien, Alya, Kagami, and the idea of being Ladybug. At the same time, Alya works to uncover Monarch's secret identity, while Kagami struggles against a controlling parent, and a girlfriend who seems bent on destroying herself - with or without Monarch's involvement.

Fantastic Marigami fic here! You’ve got three major POVs in this fic: Marinette, Kagami, and to my delight, Alya. I loved getting to see Alya cope with taking over as Scarabella especially.

But of course, this fic centers more around Marinette and Kagami, with Marinette struggling with Monarch targeting her, and Kagami struggling against her abusive parent, as well as both of them trying to navigate their relationship together when they know that not everyone will approve.

There’s also some other plots going on in here, like Sabrina breaking away from Chloe and becoming more independent (and closer to Adrien in fact), as well as a Lila takedown plot, though thankfully not one that involves demonizing other characters. While there are conversations about people believing Lila and siding with her, no one’s actually attacked for it except for Lila herself.

Oh yeah, and while this fic may not have much focus on Adrien, he’s still treated fairly and with respect, even when he messes up. He can make mistakes, but people understand where he’s coming from, and are still kind to him and want things to be okay, and to help him escape his abusive circumstances.

---

Between the Heavens and the Embers by @readersmoon

Everyone in Paris remembers the fateful night of January 16, when the city was attacked by the most powerful and destructive akuma ever created. The assault, which lasted for hours, resulted in the death of 439 people.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was among the casualties.

Years later, Adrien hasn't been able to move on, haunted by the memories of her broken body. So, when the opportunity to leave Paris for a while presents itself, he doesn't hesitate. But this trip might end up giving him more than he ever dreamt of.

This is a fantastic fic, though a serious and a dark one - make sure to mind the tags, and it’s M-rated for a reason. Vee - or rather, Marinette - is going through a horror story here. Imagine finding out that your life is a lie, that everyone you thought you could trust was manipulating you, that you were just being continually gaslit for years.

As for Adrien, Alya, and Nino... well, none of them took Marinette’s “death” all that well, especially Adrien. Finding out that she’s been alive all this time, in these horrible circumstances, and they had no clue... it’s hard on them as well.

I love how this fic goes into how much trauma everyone has even after the immediate danger’s dealt with, you don’t just walk off this kind of experience, especially with how many years this lasted.

---

drowning (in plain sight) by @buggachat

Everybody had expected Monarch's defeat to be a moment of triumph. Nobody had expected Gabriel Agreste, unmasked and mind frayed from continual abuse of the miraculous, crying out to all who would listen and making Paris certain of one thing:

His son, Adrien Agreste, is one of his sentimonsters.

And now he's missing.

Nobody can find him— not even the superheroes, and not even his closest friends. But Marinette, Nino, and Alya aren't ones to give up so easily. They'll find him, no matter what it takes.

(But, geez, would it kill Chat Noir to lend a hand?)

I’m sure everyone saw this one coming. If there’s one thing buggachat’s good at, storywise, it’s capturing raw, tumultuous emotions, frantic breakdowns as the characters desperately try to navigate bad situations. This was a real treat to read, as I’m betting most people reading this will agree, given just how popular the fic has been. It also has a ton of fanart, both by buggachat and by random fans, if you go looking for it (there’s a drowning in plain sight tag which I’d advise perusing).

---

one does not love breathing by @wackus-bonkus-maximus

All of Paris watched as Hawkmoth murdered Chat Noir, taking the Black Cat Miraculous for himself. Ladybug swears revenge, but her enemy—and every miraculous in his possession—disappear without a trace.

Six years later, a new team of villains launches an attack for the last remaining Miraculous: Volpina, armed with new powers; Queen Bee, with questionable loyalty; Argos, the new holder of the Peacock Miraculous; and Cat Walker, who Ladybug hates the most.

Takes place after S4 - Strike Back.

This is a simply phenomenal fic. You get to explore a lot of different perspectives, like Felix, Kagami, Marinette, and Adrien’s, just to name a few, and see their different thought processes and plans and priorities, and how it can cause their plans to collide with each other, even when they all ultimately are aiming for a good outcome for everyone. The characters are pretty complex and can mess up at times, even when they’re doing things (or not doing things, looking at you Luka) with the best of intentions. It was a joy to read and a real nail-biter the whole time, I actually wrote a fic for it halfway through just to resolve some of the tension for myself, One Does Not Love Shadows.

It also features the version of Luka I’ve connected best with to date, as he feels like Luka, but also is a lot more fleshed out, and can make some major errors while simply trying to avoid missteps. It’s helped me get a better handle on a character who I’ve generally had a lot of problems with really understanding.

It is an M-rated fic, though I think Wackus is being overly cautious on that front. There’s no sexual content and I wouldn’t put the violence or gore above a T-rating, so I wouldn’t let the rating scare you off.

---

So that's my list! I'm sure many people will disagree with me (especially since most of these fics haven't even cracked 1000 kudos, so there are a lot of other fics out there that people have read more of), but these fics made the biggest impression on me this year, and I hope they make an impression on you as well!

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic rec #drowning in plain sight #one does not love breathing

81 notes · View notes

shitouttabuck · 7 months

Note

Do you have any buddie fic recommendations for me? Sweet fluffy smutty idc I need something good 🥺

hiya! these are some of my faves off the top of my head and you’ve probably read most of them and if you’re like. nina. these are eighty percent fics by your mutuals. well i BECAME pals with them by adoring their writing and bullying my way into their lives about it <3

stitch my soul 30.5k by @onward--upward (soulmates au that genuinely changed my whole life i think about it daily—fair warning it’s a little heartachey, but in the best way)

it’s nice to have a friend 6.4k by @colonoscopys (a little domesticity i love this with my whole heart it’s so soft and sweet)

drench yourself in words unspoken 26k by @eddiediazes (everything is the same except eddie secretly writes romance novels and i reread this like once a month it makes me so happy)

the side effects of eating too many clementines 3k by @forthewolves (idk what to even say, no one writes love like amanda writes love, it’s a bigger-than-your-chest kind of feeling)

(this kiss is) something i can't resist 7.9k by @clusterbuck (family curse where eddie has to kiss his true love in one year or he’ll die, i laughed so much, EXACTLY the kind of romcom shit with a side of ridiculous i adore)

growing sideways 3k by @housewifebuck (extremely evan buck buckley is christopher diaz’s parent and you WILL cry about it)

left your mark on this heart 5.8k by @anxieteandbiscuits (buck thinks he has post-lightning heart complications but he’s just That stupid in love)

slip like freudian 4.4k by @jeeyuns (eddie diaz gets jinxed and is Extremely entertaining about it)

sundae kind of love 18k by @rewritetheending (okay this was the first morgan fic i ever read—and maybe one of the First buddie fics i read actually—and i think about the pier scene all the time! au where buck works at an ice cream shop by the beach)

maybe fall in love 1.8k by @try-set-me-on-fire (brick’s writing is just. unfailingly gorgeous but also 8 out of 10 times the most devastating thing you’ll ever read so this is a sweet, minimal emotional damage first kiss one???)

there’s always been a rainbow hangin’ over your head 8.7k by @alyxmastershipper (just the heartwarmingest of coming outs feat. the mug of my dreams. so so soft)

i think it’s my body wanting it the most by @transboybuckley (post-date that they’re not sure is a date, this is under a thousand words and i could not stop beaming i come back to it all the damn time)

you shaped this heart of mine 5k by justhockey (i haven’t reread this because it was such an enormous ache—in a good way—when i read it the first time, but god. god i love it so much. domestic sickfic)

i’ll scrawl it on every wall i see 29k by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (loosely a you’ve got mail au???? which is simply my favourite romcom in the whole world. this is so fucking funny as is everything they write and i adore it)

there ain’t language for the things i feel 1.8k by calvingseason (eddie buys buck a plant at the farmers market it is. so unbelievably soft)

i’ve almost certainly forgotten a bunch of faves so let me trawl through my bookmarks later and round some more up!!!!! highly rec ALL of these guys’ fics though SOME OF YOU are hell bent on breaking my heart these days and anon asked for “sweet. fluffy. smutty” and not hole-in-chest-in-shape-of-author's-fist, so

#ask #anon #fic rec #so much new fic to read but so many golden faves i wanna REREAD..... waugh

155 notes · View notes

suchawrathfullamb · 2 months

Note

hello, lamb! what are your fav hannigram fanfics? xx

I'll give you a worthy fic rec, anon! (all on ao3)

The Seventh Sense: it's my go-to comfort fic, it's lengthy and I always reread it out of order simply because there are so many chapters where it's just fluff and smut and them being husbands. I love the details on the writing, and how it is first person Will's pov. Slightly ooc behavior sometimes, but minor and passable. It's essentially post-fall murder husbands living in Europe, being husbands in their fancy hotel rooms. There's plot and even Clarice, but it's mostly them being in love and such. Bram Stocker's Hannibal: absolutely perfect, it's theatrical and over the top, first person in Hannibal's pov (for most of the fic, but it changes povs quite regularly). What makes it a favorite for me it's their dynamic of worshipper/pretty princess lol. I love me a dainty Will (I blame Hugh) aesthetic and in this fic, we get two Wills! One that is more like our original Will and one who is a past life Will, our dainty indulgence. Trigger warning: quite a lot of Alana/Will actually, but idk, they make it up for it (believe me, otherwise it'd be unbearable for me, so rest assured, it's fine and it doesn't ruin the fic). Also: victorian! Cuts Unscene: essentially little moments we "didn't see on the show", you know how we always say we wanted those in between scenes? This is the fic, but as if they were a thing since the start, but we just didn't see it onscreen lol. It's amazing and even has season four, although I like the iteration of seasons one to three best. I adore when they write them together since season one, and this is one of my favorites in that category! The Cat's Meow: crack, incredibly sweet where Hannibal is a russian blue kitty cat, it's short and the cutest. Shark Tank: they meet in prison, Will is H's prison bitch for a lack of a better term lol, this one grows on ya, the first time I tried, I didn't like it, but then I gave it another shot and ended up enjoying it quite a lot, actually. It's obviously a bit crazy but, idk, I liked their dynamic. It's more on the fast-paced, "fun" side (by fun I mean not emotionally heavy as most hannigram's fics?).

Bloodline: shorter, super fun to read vampire AU, where both are vamps. Witty and fast paced, not victorian, though, like the dracula one, this one's more modern. Black Rock Mountain: amazing AU where Will wanders and Hannibal is a nice, fancy man who gives him a ride on the side of the road. It's shorter, but easy to read, fast paced and very hot.

How To Save a Life: very short and it's so sad because it's one of the best I've ever read. It's basically "Will tries to jump off a bridge but ends up offering himself up to a cannibalistic serial killer", but it's just...perfect. So them. A Great And Gruesome Height: beautifully written, classic post-fall, very realistic in terms of what could've actually happened in season four, amazing characterization, both are very congruent with canon.

As Soft As Wide As Air: another classic post-fall, what can I say besides really nice characterization, dialogue feels realistic/canon, and also a very probable season four version! Herringbone: um the worst? it's the best, but man, brace yourself, and definitely avoid this one if you're struggling with depression or anxiety, I had to take a few breathers with this one cause the author just absolutely *murders*, amazingly written, extremely realistic inner dialogue , you simply get pulled into the narrative and it is dark as fuck, not even in terms of content (I mean the show has dark content so lol) but more so in terms of Will's state of mind and wow, just wow, I ate 66 chapters up in two days, basically destroyed my sleep schedule and eye sight but worth it. I cried and I panicked and I felt every emotion. good luck lol, it's amazing but it's tough.

#hungover from herringbone #still recovering dont talk to me i am unwell #hannigram #nbc hannibal #hannibal #will graham #murder husbands #hannibal lecter #ask the lamb #fanfic #fic rec

77 notes · View notes

merakiui · 2 months

Note

hi mera i reread your ceo azul fic and i still can’t get over how well-written it was…i even got an aha moment when i noticed some things that i missed in my first reading

ik there won’t be a sequel which is fine since you’re already writing a lot of other stuff at the moment , but i kinda remember you mentioned before that the fic originally had a smut scene but you omitted that cause it didn’t fit the vibe of the fic which i understand tbh

but i’m curious….kinda like a delete scene of a movie, would you share it if you have already written it? if not, would you share to what was your original idea of the smut scene? if you don’t want to, that’s okay!!!

Hiiii!! :D thank you so much for reading it!!!! I'm happy you enjoyed it!! <3 this ceo Azul is so obsessed... I loved writing his meltdown in that fic the most. Out of every Zuzu meltdown I've written, I think that one is the yummiest. So much emotion and manipulation (from darling) in that scene!!!!!

Aaaa yes!! The fic did indeed have a smut scene planned. 👀 I can happily share what it was going to be. While I didn't write it out, I still clearly remember what it was meant to be. Essentially, Azul was going to knock you up in the panic room-turned-nursery hehe. In the story, he locks you in the room by yourself and then goes off to give you space (which then leads into the meltdown once you wake hours later). But originally (before it was scrapped) he was going to drag you over to the bed and fuck you all while rambling (very delusional and obsessed) about how this will be good for you and him, how you just need time to warm up to this new life, how he's doing all of this for you, how you'll be a great mama to the baby.

But now that I'm dwelling on it, I like the idea of an Azul who can wait for you to gradually soften just enough to allow him to be intimate with you. A Stockholm Syndrome route! Soft, sweet lovemaking with your boss lover Azul. (๑-﹏-๑) hopefully in this unofficial sequel, Azul finally adds more life to the house because in my mind it is the most bleak modernist house to ever exist. orz he needs to put up some artwork or pictures or decorations so it feels less empty and more like a home for two (soon to be three because a baby will inevitably be on the way).

#twisted chit chat

58 notes · View notes

rrxnjun · 1 year

Text

i'm not bitter anymore (i'm syrupy sweet) ;; ljn

pairing: lee jeno x fem! reader genre: slight band au, college au | fluff, hurt/comfort wc: 4.8k (4.817) warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing

a spin-off to my fic i'm not angry anymore (well, sometimes i am) where jeno gets a redemption arc <3

When you first meet Lee Jeno, his exterior calls at you with hard chords that keep slowly burning out. Now, rather than a piercing echo, he holds himself to you like a soft melody.

Lee Jeno sits on his bed, chewing on his bottom lip as he nervously types into the chat he has opened, kicking his leg up and down in a steady, but fast rhythm. Looking around the room for one moment, trying to calm himself down with a loud breath in and out, he glances back at the phone screen and rereads the sentence he wrote over and over again, trying to hear it in his own head, desperately needing the tone to be just right.

hey i thought of you while making this haha

Furrowing his brows, he deletes the words he wrote, huffing out in frustration. He sounds too awkward. Too casual, even. He doesn’t know how these two even go together, but somehow, he managed to do it. He didn’t know he was able to get across two very different emotions in one sentence, but he thinks that this is perhaps his new talent. Maybe he can use it in songwriting someday… if he ever gets back into music, that is.

Fastly typing on the screen, holding in his breath, he changes the sentence from its base and finds himself reading over the new one, trying to figure out if it’s better.

hi! i made you this. listen to it if you have time!

His eyes scan over the words countless times again, hating the way it sounds in his brain. This is too enthusiastic. Too joyful, sounding piercing in his brain. This is not how he wants you to perceive him. Not after all this time, not after all the emotions you’ve awakened in him. Is this the same emotion he used to see in Ryusol’s eyes whenever she used to look at him last year? It’s scary to think that he let her down so much, but he finds comfort in knowing that Yangyang was there to catch her when he let her go. Maybe he wouldn’t be so stupid if he understood this emotion all this time ago. Maybe he wouldn’t have made so many mistakes…

Cracking his knuckles, he rolls his eyes at himself and deletes the message again, promising himself that this is going to be the last attempt. He either nails it, or he doesn’t– in this case, he will keep the whole thing a secret and never attempt to subtly hint you his feelings ever again.

hey y/n :) i made you a playlist

The message is simple. The smiley face gives it more sparkle, a sense of emotion, even. The tone it reads inside of his brain is casual, but with a giving undertone– he hopes it gets through to you in the same way. Adding the spotify link to the playlist he made for you, he finally presses the send button and throws the phone away to the other side of his bed, not wanting to see you react to it in real time. That’s too stressful. He’s not used to the frantic speed of his heart whenever he’s around you yet.

If he really thinks about it, this might be the first time he’s ever tried for someone. All of those times before, girls threw themselves at him at every step he took, every song he used to sing with his band, making countless hopeless hearts break for him when he only stayed with them for one night. He’s never had to try for anyone. He’s never had to do nice things for someone, he’s never had to pay attention to the conversations he was having, he’s never had to give gifts to girls to get them to be with him. They came naturally to him, and he never really cared about their emotions anyway. Love wasn’t something he was inclined to feel, and he never felt the need to have someone by his side for long enough.

Perhaps, he was battling loneliness more effectively– without having to try to make someone stay, he chose to have a different girl every night. It was easier. He never got attached, so it meant that he never had the chance to get his heart broken. Sometimes, he didn’t even realize he was breaking somebody’s heart– he never quite understood how somebody could feel deeper for him, when all they saw was the surface he chose to show to everyone at his concerts and after parties. The first time it dawned on him was when he broke Ryusol’s heart. Maybe that was the moment that opened his eyes.

Lee Jeno thinks he’s never tried for anyone before. In his eyes, this is the first time he’s openly caring for someone.

He doesn’t think about all those times he helped you with your assignments. He doesn’t think about all those times he assured you you looked nice or all those times when he went grocery shopping with you at 8pm, even though he was tired and you lived 20 minutes away. He doesn’t think about all those times he’s given you a ride home and about all those times when he walked you to school, helping you revise for your exams.

It doesn’t click for him when he breaks his habits, even. When he doesn’t try to get you to sleep with him the first night you sleep over at his house when you’re too tired to walk to your dorms, when he doesn’t leave you on read for three days or when he actually listens to what you’re saying, offering advice when needed and being the shoulder for you to cry on when you don’t really feel like solving your problems.

It only clicks for him when he sends you the link to the spotify playlist he made while thinking about you late last night, adding the song he recorded about you and posted to his new solo spotify account last week.

Perhaps Lee Jeno still only expresses himself through music.

Sitting in the university auditorium, Jeno finds himself to be hyper-aware of your presence next to him. You’re sitting in the very last row, accompanied by all of Jeno’s friends– Renjun, Donghyuck, Mark, Jaemin, Chenle and Hendery (even though the band isn’t active anymore and they broke it off for the best for everyone), hell, even Ryusol and Yangyang, even though the boy doesn’t even go to university. It’s kind of surreal how one year can change everything, Jeno thinks; what he thought was the best for him was now broken off, and the friendships he found himself to be mistreating now had stronger bonds than ever.

He wonders how you even ended up in the middle of it all, in the middle of his small galaxy. You two met in the club, where you were working part-time and he often went to drown his feelings away. After he had a falling out with his friends because of the way he was acting when he was too busy with chasing fame with his band, he found himself to be the loneliest he’s ever been, now that he didn’t have the support of others and the screaming rows full of girls that were all over him. Without the band, he often felt like nothing– worthless, not interesting.

But then you came– asking him if he was the Lee Jeno from the band, and if he was feeling alright after the band’s breakup. No one’s ever asked him about it before. It opened up a pit in him, made him cross all his barriers and finally let his feelings take over. It’s mainly on you that he managed to apologize to everyone and realize what he lost.

And ever since that night, he found himself not wanting to let you go.

Nervously kicking his knee up and down, he feels the contact of your hand on his thigh, trying to calm him down. Looking at you from above, he tries to fake a smile as you squeeze his flesh and intertwine your fingers with his, shaking your hands in enthusiasm. Leaning closer to him, you whisper encouraging words into his ear.

“You’re gonna rock it, Jeno.”

Snickering, he shakes his head. “It’s an acoustic set, Y/N. I can’t rock it.”

Rolling your eyes in mock annoyance, you shake your head. “You know what I meant. So stop stressing, you’re a professional.”

It’s been months since Jeno last sang on the stage. His band was no longer in service, but all of his friends and bandmates still encouraged him to join the university’s recital– he was a good musician with a good voice, and his songs had more depth this time around. He almost gets emotional at the growth he’s made, but there’s no time for that when he notices the person in front of him being done with their song, meaning that it’s now his time to shine.

Seconds before he stands up from his place and takes his acoustic guitar with him, you reach over to his hair and ruffle it with admiration. The blush that forms on Jeno’s face is hardly noticeable from the bright lights of the stage, but it still makes Yangyang and Renjun snicker from their seats– they know this state all too well.

Lee Jeno doesn’t realize that now, this is you trying.

No one’s ever tried so subtly for him before.

“So, which one do you wanna watch?” you ask as you stumble around his messy room, getting his laptop and laying next to him on the bed. You’ve been trying to make him watch your favorite movies with you for the last half an hour, and when you finally succeeded after giving him countless options, he insisted that he’s too lazy to get the laptop himself.

Sometimes, he’s a pain in the ass. But more than often, you don’t find yourself caring.

“Hm?” you poke his side as you turn on the computer and type in his password (that you helped him out with when he first got his new laptop. He didn’t know what to set it as and you told him to make it your name as a joke. He hasn’t changed it since.), waiting for him to reply.

“I dunno,” he shrugs, “what do you want to watch the most?”

“I asked you first! I’ve seen most of them already, so I don’t really care much,” you mutter, opening Netflix and turning to him when the pincode comes up, raising your brows up.

“0423,” he mumbles before continuing, “why do you even want to watch movies that you’ve already seen? Isn’t that boring to you?”

“Your pin code is your birthday? That’s… so unsafe,” you mutter as you type it in, shaking your head at your friend’s antics, “and I like watching movies I’ve already seen, because it gives me a new perspective. And also, I like watching your reactions when you watch movies. Your face lights up and stuff, it’s adorable.”

Jeno feels his cheeks getting red again, but he tries to hide it by pulling up the hood of his hoodie, shifting a little in the bed to leave you more space. “Which one have you watched the most times?” he asks.

“Hmm… probably Dirty Dancing,” you muse, grinning, “I’ve seen it like 15 times already.”

“Can we watch that one?” he mumbles, seeing your fingers dancing along the keyboard already, typing the movie title in and searching through the page to find it.

“Why?”

“I dunno… ‘cause it’s obviously your favorite?” he says, not realizing the implication his words have, only stating what he truly means. When you silently click on the movie and let it play, laying next to your friend and putting the laptop onto his lap so you can cuddle into his side, he wonders if this is what all friends do on cold afternoons.

He wonders if there’s something more in the way you wrap your arms around him, if there’s something more in the way you look at him from time to time when your favorite scene of the movie occurs or when you hum the soundtrack under your breath, trying to make him join you just so you could hear his voice. He might have a lot of experience with girls, but when it comes to relationships, he’s utterly clueless.

And when he giggles at the scene with Baby’s sister singing, moving very sternly from side to side, hearing you replicating the scene into his ear almost word-to-word, he doesn’t regret choosing the most corny, romantic movie he’s ever heard of. He might even comply if you asked him to learn the choreography with you. He’s not opposed to anything.

When the movie comes to an end and the final credits roll, he feels a soft peck pressed to his jaw, keeping him from looking at you in fear of not seeing the admiration he so deeply desires to see in your eyes.

He wonders if this was you trying.

“What’s the deal with you and Y/N?” Jaemin asks one day, silent enough to not make the rest of the friend group hear, but loud enough to land in Jeno’s ears and make him look at his friend with shock.

“Nothing…?” he replies, but already feels his cheeks heatening. He despises how his emotions always show in his face. He wants to be cool about everything, but it’s hard to look unbothered when every small thing about you makes his heart race and makes his brain turn into a fuzzy mess.

“Sure,” Jaemin grins with a knowing smile, making Jeno roll his eyes. Of course Jaemin noticed. He always notices first, it seems– the boy has a good nose for human emotion. Perhaps it’s his very well developed sense of empathy. Jeno wonders if he’s good at relationship advice as well, but since you and him aren’t dating, he figures it’s too early to ask.

“Nothing yet, I guess? I don’t know…” Jeno mumbles under his nose, sensing that he can trust Jaemin. The boy knowingly nudges him into his waist, making the older one (by 4 months only, but that’s still something) grunt in mock annoyance.

“Oh would you look at that, our local player finally let his heart soften for someone!” Jaemin exclaims, still paying enough attention to not being too loud, leaving you deep in conversation with Yangyang and Ryusol in the back of the group.

“Stop,” Jeno rolls his eyes, but grins at the comment.

“I love this for you, though. Ever since you’ve known her, you’re different. You’re nicer, you’re paying more attention to others, hell, you don’t even drink anymore. I think this is a good thing,” Jaemin says with an encouraging smile.

“Jaemin, stop talking like my therapist, please,” Jeno mutters, trying hard to compose his expression.

“I mean it, though! It’s… it’s nice to see you actually trying for someone, you know. I hope this works out for you two,” his words are sincere and sweet, leaving Jeno in hesitance. He’s never heard any of his friends encouraging him in a relationship with someone before. He’s never been this close to anyone before, his emotions were never this deep– all of his past encounters with girls were purely sexual, and he can’t even imagine how he could ever live like that.

But before he can open his mouth to reply to Jaemin, he feels your warm hand in his (he doesn’t even have to turn around to know it’s you. He’s not used to the feeling of your hand in his– he just purely senses your presence.), catching him off-guard with the feeling of falling he gets inside of his stomach, suffocating a little.

Looking around at you, seeing you smiling, a sentence of “What are you two gossiping about?” uttered out of your lips, Jeno finds himself content with the state he’s in right now.

It feels good to try for someone.

Noticing you shivering as you two sit in the cafeteria, Jeno finds himself feeling like a worried mum for the first time. Squinting at the open windows, as if he could be mad at inanimate objects for the state they can’t control, he curses in his mind at whoever decided it was a good idea to leave them open in the middle of November.

“Are you cold?” he asks the obvious, seeing you look at him with wide eyes, reminding him of Bambi. A burst of admiration spreads on his insides, but when you reply, he can’t help but glare at you.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? You keep shivering. You should’ve taken a hoodie with you, you know it gets cold out here,” he mutters, seeing you roll your eyes at him.

“I forgot,” you peep, “but that’s okay. I was stupid and now I have to bear the consequences,” you say, making the boy’s protective instincts kick in once again, finding himself automatically taking off his large hoodie and throwing it into your lap.

“Wear it,” he says.

“But you’re gonna get cold-”

“I can bear the cold. Wear it or else you’ll get sick again, your immune system is more unstable than my mental health. I don’t need you stuck at home with a fever for two weeks again, I’d get bored to death,” he says, trying to reason with you, while also simultaneously trying to make it seem more casual than it felt inside of him.

“Jeno-”

“Can you please just wear it?” he asks, seeing you finally back down, smiling as you put the hoodie on and tug the sleeves down to make the most adorable sweater paws, making the boy coo on the inside.

You look absolutely adorable in his eyes. He never really knew how it feels to see someone you adore in your clothes– while he’s lent his jackets to random girls in the bar countless of times before, it never really held any significance to him. But seeing you in his jacket, drowning in the fabric as he likes his own clothes a little oversized, he can’t help but feel his heart swell with the sight. You should borrow his clothes more often.

Maybe he could “accidentally” leave one at your place once. Maybe you’ll wear it if you find it there. He won’t know about it unless you tell him, but the thought is enough for the boy to go crazy about the imagination.

“You look good,” slips out of his lips, making him instantly curse at himself on the inside. This might just be the corniest situation of his whole entire life– and he’s sent you a playlist before.

Looking at him from under your eyelashes, you almost look shy as you burrow your nose into the fabric of the hoodie, smiling at him. “Thanks.”

“You can… keep it if you’d like,” he hesitantly says, not knowing what’s gotten into him. If Jaemin was here, he’d scream and yell at him for being this awkward with you. He’s known you for quite a few months now– he should already be used to the way you make him feel by now.

You grin at him as you nod, looking away from his eyes and breaking the burning eye-contact. “Okay,” you say.

The table falls silent for a second, both of you too immersed into your own head to register the quietness, when you move in your place and reach towards your hair, dragging the scrunchie that was holding your hair up off your hair, letting your locks fall free on the gray fabric of Jeno’s hoodie. Running your hand through your hair to shake it off a little and give it volume, you turn to Jeno and take his hand into yours before sliding the light-pink scrunchie onto his hand, giggling at the contrast of it against his all-black outfit.

Jeno looks at you with furrowed brows. What’s this supposed to be? Why is your hair tie suddenly on his wrist?

When your eyes lock for a split second, you must notice his confusion. “Keep it,” you say.

And he will. He’s convinced he would keep anything you give him, even if he found no interest in the thing, or if he found the item to be the most unuseful thing in the whole world. It’s from you, so it’s important.

He doesn’t know what the whole action means– he’s too clueless to understand the girl code. He doesn’t know that this was him marking you his, and you letting the world know he’s yours. The item exchange was solely a game of your hearts. A slight push forward to giving this whole thing a new title.

He doesn’t know that this was you trying. But he feels he’s too impatient to keep waiting for signs any longer.

When you first meet Lee Jeno, his exterior calls at you with hard chords that keep slowly burning out.

You never really liked your job at the bar. It was too loud, you came in contact with too many men with high egos that thought they could make your day any better, and you also had nothing else to do than to observe people the whole night. Observing the guests of your bar was one of your favorite activities. Sometimes, you make up a whole story about them in your brain, puzzling the pieces together with a bit of fantasy; sometimes, they come to you and tell you all about their problems and why they chose to drink them away at the bar tonight.

Jeno was no different. You knew about him– because realistically speaking, who didn’t? He had quite the reputation in the town, and you can’t say that the one he had amongst girls he slept with was a good one. You heard all about him from your coworkers– he’s a showstopper, a bad liar, drama starter, a player, fuckboy… you name it, he’s probably been called that name before. And you can’t say you didn’t believe those words, not when you saw him at the bar with that confident smirk of his every other night, but this one evening, when you actually came in contact with the boy, you thought they might have been lying about him just the slightest.

He came to you with a dark look on his face, ordering himself a drink. He seemed out of it– like most days, lately– and you suddenly thought about all the rumors that spread around the town when his band broke up, wondering if they were true and if he really was such a dick everyone made him out to be. His expression is remorseful, the look never leaving his face, and you suddenly catch yourself asking him if he’s okay, met with surprise in his eyes.

You think you must be the first one to ever care about how he feels.

When you first meet Lee Jeno, his exterior calls at you with hard chords that keep slowly burning out. When you get to know him, the contrast between his inside and the act he puts out for everyone to see gets harsher and harsher.

You learn a lot about him over time. They said he was overly-confident when he was starting the band– you just think he was ambitious. They said he was a liar– you just thought he never really had the full picture. They said he was a player– you just thought he never really thought he was playing with anyone’s heart. They all said he would hurt you– you told them you don’t see that happening any time soon.

Nobody believed in him until he put himself back together. Nobody but you.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he whispers into the dark one night, his face illuminated by the show he put up on Netflix to just mumble in the background, when you’re too tired to go back to the campus and choose to stay over at his place, because you sleep better by his side anyway. His words don’t surprise you, if you really think about it– they just fall into place, filling you with a soft harmony, making you 100% content.

Turning your body to him, his expression is nervous and he keeps biting at his lower lip, the habit of pulling at his chapped skin making itself known again like in any situation like this. You don’t even realize there’s a smile spreading on your face, a soft one, to be exact– because that’s how everything with Jeno was so far.

“Can I kiss you?” you reply with a question, catching the boy off guard. Breathless, he nods, letting you completely in, breaking all the walls he’s spent ages building up around himself.

He’s had a lot of experience with girls and you’re sure as hell he’s kissed more than a couple of them in his life before, but when kissing you, he’s as nervous as the first time, a shy boy looking at you from under his eyelashes as you lean closer to him and nudge his nose with yours before connecting your lips together in what feels like a seal of something new.

When you first meet Lee Jeno, his exterior calls at you with hard chords that keep slowly burning out. When you first kiss him, he’s the softest entity.

There’s something unexplainable about the contrast of his dark hair, harsh jawline and the chains on his clothing with the unbearable softness of his kiss, the movement of his lips against yours almost hesitant to get more, afraid of going too far and messing up the moment. The humming of Netflix is no more than a background noise when you pull away from him for just a second, gasping for air and going for more, this time deeper, letting the boy know that he doesn’t have to fear you, that although you’re fragile, in his arms, you have no chance of breaking. His palm, adorned with cold silver on his fingers, comes in contact with your jaw, steading the movement. The touch burns you up, makes you yearn for more, but he still holds you like you’re the finest piece of porcelain, treasuring you so much more than anyone ever before, the drunkenness of being in love with someone completely changing his brain chemistry.

Pulling away from him once again, the state of him takes all air out of your lungs. In the white glow of the TV, Lee Jeno looks up at you with eyes an endless pool of serenity, all wide and glimmering, his lips swollen and parted, aching for more. His cheeks are a little tinted, his raven hair falling into his forehead a little disheveled, his strong features shining with a softened glow, inviting you in for more. You want to keep this image of him forever.

“Thank you for giving me a chance,” he whispers again, into the dark, making the pit in your stomach deepen. He must have felt like everyone gave up on him– like there was no other script for him and he was left with nothing at all. You wonder if he truly thought he would never get a second chance again. You wonder if he really thought he messed it up this bad.

Something about his words makes you want to kiss him again. You lean into him, catching his cheeks into your palms– almost feeling like you’re holding your whole world– and see his eyes flutter close when your breathing fans over his lips, softly taking him in again.

His hands are a little cold when he covers yours, still sitting at his face. “I’m in love with you,” you whisper against his lips, thinking to all the times you wanted to say it but couldn’t, knowing it’s too soon and he’s not ready for it yet. You took things at his pace– he’s never been in a serious relationship before, and you didn’t know if he was prepared to have one, prepared to get attached, prepared to let you stay, when all everyone ever did was leave him. You wonder if the trajectory of his life would have gone differently if his father was still present– even though it’s still only an explanation, not an excuse– but you think you’re perfectly content with watching him grow by your side.

When your lips grow tired of the kissing, you smile against each other’s lips, holding each other close. The vulnerability of it all breaks you into pieces and glues itself together in one swift moment, wanting to treasure this moment forever.

When you first meet Lee Jeno, his exterior calls at you with hard chords that keep slowly burning out. Now, rather than a piercing echo, Lee Jeno holds himself to you like a soft melody.

You’re the first person Lee Jeno ever tried for. But even now, that he’s so sure you’re his and you’re not leaving any time soon, he’s convinced that for you, he’ll always keep trying.

#nct #nct dream #lee jeno #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #jeno x reader #jeno fluff #jeno imagine #jeno angst #jeno drabble #nct fluff #nct imagine #nct angst #nct drabble #nct dream scenario #nct dream drabble #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff

678 notes · View notes

drtyelvisfantasy · 4 months

Text

Solider Boy💌🤍

parings: 50s!Elvis x female!reader

summary: Elvis has been stationed in Germany for 3 years, but to your love is the only thing that’s keeping you going

songs for the fic: Solider Boy- Elvis Presley, It’s Been A Long, Long Time- Kitty Allen, I Love You For Sentimental Reasons,m- The Righteous Brothers

The news of Elvis's deployment to Germany weighed heavily on you and Elvis’s hearts. You both sat together in your small living room, hands intertwined, grappling with the impending separation.

"I can't believe it's happening, El," you murmured, with tears in your eyes and your voice filled with sorrow.

"I know, baby. I wish I didn't have to go," Elvis said softly, pulling you into a tight embrace. "But duty calls."

She buried her face in his chest, clinging to him as if to delay the inevitable. "Three years... it feels like an eternity."

You looked up at him, your gaze searching his eyes for solace. "Promise me, Elvis. Promise me you won't forget. That you'll come back."

He stroked your hair gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I promise, darlin'. I'll write ya every day. Call ya whenever I can. You won't feel like I'm far away."

As the day of departure drew near, your home was filled with bittersweet moments. As you were packing your bags tears started to well in your eyes,

“I can’t believe you’re leaving, Elvis”, you say while wiping away your tears.

“Aw, c’mon now. Don’t cry, baby. It’s gonna be alright.” He says to as he hold you in his arms.

“Why do they have to take you away from me for so long? It’s not fair.”

At the airport, your last moments together were a silent conversation of love, spoken through tearful gazes and tight embraces. "I love you, Elvis," with tears rolling down your face as you whispered, your voice quivering with emotion.

"I love you too, sweetheart. More than anything," Elvis replied, holding her as if trying to freeze time.

When Elvis saw you crying he immediately comforted you. “Hey, satnin don’t cry. The last thing I wanna see is a sad lil face as I’m leaving.”

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself? Please Elvis.”

“I promise baby. I’ll be safe. Take care of yourself too, okay?”

You nodded in agreement. Seeing him board that plane knowing you won’t see him for three years was the most heartbreaking thing ever. But his promises to write you letters and call you any chance he gets was the only thing kept you sane.

True to his word, letters from Elvis arrived regularly, each one a lifeline across the distance. Pages filled with his thoughts, his yearnings, his unwavering love for you. You cherished every word, reading and rereading, feeling his presence in every carefully penned line.

The phone became your sanctuary, the ring signaling the nightly connection across continents. "How's my girl doing today?" Elvis's voice would crackle through the line.

"I miss you, El," she'd reply, her voice filled with longing. "But your letters... they keep me going."

“I know, darlin’. Wish I could be there holdin’ you right now”.

“Me too El. But hearing your voice… it’s comforting.” You say wishfully.

“I reckon it’s the same for me, hearin’ your voice. Makes this place feel a little less lonely.” Elvis says with a smile on his face.

“You’re not causing a ruckus over there, are you?”, you say teasingly.

“Nah, just keepin’ my head down. But I’m countin’ the days ‘til I’m back home with you”

“Can’t wait for that day, El”.

“Me neither, baby. ‘Til then, just hold on tight. I’m right here, thinkin’ ’bout you every minute.”

Your conversation continued, each word spoken across the miles carrying the weight of the love the two of you shared, bridging the gap between them until the two of you could be together again.

Months turned into a year, then two. Yet, your love remained steadfast, growing stronger with each letter, each call, a testament to your unwavering commitment.

The day finally arrived when Elvis returned home. The anticipation, the nerves, the overwhelming joy—they all collided as you stood at the airport, scanning the crowd until your eyes met his.

Your reunion with Elvis was a whirlwind of emotions, tears, and laughter. You both held each other as if trying to merge into one, the both of your hearts finally reunited after enduring the agony of separation.

"You're home, El," you whispered, your voice filled with disbelief and joy.

"I kept my promise, baby," Elvis said, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I'm back where I belong—with you."

His embrace spoke volumes, reaffirming the love that had withstood the test of time and distance. As the two of you walked hand in hand, heading back to their shared home, you both knew that no amount of separation could diminish the love the two of you held for each other.

#elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fluff #austin!elvis x reader #elvis presley #austin butler x reader #elvis presley x you #50s elvis #happy birthday Elvis

61 notes · View notes

jackactuallywrites · 2 months

Text

Spirits and Ghosts

Warning: I’m putting this at the top because this fic is pretty dark! Alcoholism, referenced suicide, Soap is dead, Ghost is completely broken, mildly dubious consent cause you’re both drunk shagging

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x female reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Summary: Everyone is devastated after Soap’s death, most of all Ghost. He knows you know he’s coping with alcohol, and comes to talk to you, he doesn’t know that you’re drinking too

Notes: I just love a bit of hurt/comfort after all the mushy fluff

Word Count: 3,270

ao3 link

Special thanks: @xxven ily

There was a palpable heaviness hanging over the base with the knowledge that one of your own was gone. You’d never had the pleasure of truly befriending Soap, yet you still felt his absence, a hole in the worn fabric that made up the base. His jokes, his laughter, that obnoxious Scottish accent that echoed down the halls, something you’d found irritating then, but now you would have given anything to hear it one last time.

None amongst you felt that loss more keenly than Ghost.

You were intel, so it was in your job description to keep watch, not only on whoever the government had designated as the enemy but on your own, digging into your comrade's personal lives and finding out every last little secret that could possibly be used against them. Skeletons in the closet didn’t even come close to describing the graveyard in Ghost’s past. Supposedly, he was numb to the trauma, empty of every human emotion after everything he’d been through, but you’d been watching him. There had been something motivating that man, some ironclad little spark at the centre of his being, yet it had died with Soap.

Never once before had his moniker been so accurate. The man truly was haunting the base, a ghoulish spectre wandering the halls at night, his eyes dead and cold, his body animated by something unknown. At least, that was until you took it upon yourself to break into Ghost’s room.

Alcohol.

That was what was motivating the man to keep going, a growing pile of spirits underneath his bed. It was the perfect crime; nobody would ever get close enough to the man to be able to smell his breath; even if they did, he wore a mask, the alcohol-tinted air smothered by a layer of fabric and resin. You knew that Price and Gaz kept an eye on the man, but how close could they truly get to him? Even by military standards, Ghost was closed off. So, you came in. Covert amongst the covert, supposedly for the ‘good of the task force’, though yet again you were questioning it. What good would come of reporting Ghost? You’d read his psych evals; the man was not one for therapy, and understandably so, meaning he would be discharged honourably if he was lucky, but you knew how that story ended. At the end of a rope.

The laptop in your office mocked you with its bright glow, lighting up your dismal notes of alcoholism and trauma, but you couldn’t bring yourself to transfer the notes into his official documents just yet. A man’s life was on the line, and this was not something you took lightly. What you needed was your routine.

It was simple enough; you’d get yourself a nice cold lemonade and then put in enough vodka to drown a small animal, though never enough to completely rid you of your conscience and allow yourself to be engulfed by everything you forced down. Considering you were planning on writing up Ghost for a drinking problem, it felt hypocritical, but everything you did was. Spying on your own soldiers to keep them safe. The lines were already blurred, no matter how straight you tried to make them.

Your room was a perfect prison for you, your laptop safely stored in the securely locked server rooms, only accessible by a sober you the next day. For now, it was just you and your notes, the ones that would be responsible for condemning a man. The words felt heavy on your heart as you flicked through your notepad, your mind already swimming with alcohol as you reread what you’d written of Ghost, of his pain, his guilt, his trauma. He was a good man, from what you could tell, but there was no room for empathy. You had to do what was best for the task force.

When you heard the knock at the door, you felt your soul leave your body. You switched up your drinking room every time, never using the same one twice, always having your office as where you would be found after hours. Of course, you weren’t stupid enough to believe that you yourself weren’t watched, but you knew how and where they’d monitor you, and you’d gone out of your way to avoid it. Or so you’d thought. Could you have messed up? No, you’d done everything perfectly. This was just some horrible coincidence.

Another knock at the door, firmer though still quiet, was enough to rid you of that thought. Someone was out there, someone who knew you were in that room. Your sidearm was never far from your hand, and you kept it in hand as you approached the door, hoping that your dishevelled appearance would be put down to being roused from an early night’s sleep rather than from an empty bottle. Professional. Courteous. That’s all you had to be for the next minute. You could do that.

You might have been able to if it wasn’t Ghost on the other side of the door—Ghost, whose fate lay in your hands, fragile and delicate like a baby bird. He made no attempt at upholding any sort of professional courtesy himself as he pushed past you into the small room you’d taken as sleeping quarters that night.

“I know.” His tired voice brokered no disagreement, but you still made an effort. “Know what?” He sunk onto your bed, precariously close to your stash of alcohol, resting his forearms on his thighs, his eyes firmly on you, “I know you know everything.” You remained quiet, as was always best in this situation, allowing Ghost to reveal how much he knew. “Don’t.” He knew, of course, he knew, he’d been briefed on those exact tactics. You looked back at him, trying to be resolute though your head was swimming, “I’m just doing my job, Lieutenant. As you do yours.” He scoffed, but you pressed on, “It’s for the good of the team, Riley. You know that.” “There is no team without Soap.” He was a man in pain, in distress, yet he was too close. You couldn’t have him in here, not where your secrets unravelled. “Go sleep it off, Lieutenant.”

For a moment, it seemed like you’d escaped closer scrutiny by the skin of your teeth, but Ghost’s eyes had shifted to the small gap in between the bed and the end table, where you’d stashed the bottle, having given up on the charade of diluting it with lemonade quite some time ago. His eyes slowly returned to you, and you felt him examine you, not just your physical appearance but your posture, the slight haziness in your eyes you’d tried to play off as exhaustion.

“Are you drunk?”

There was no doubting the absolute incredulity in his voice, and you knew you’d been caught. Honesty, that was your best policy now, mixed in with a heavy dose of untruths. “I’m off duty.” “I know your schedule.” “Unscheduled leave.” He pushed up from the bed and crossed the room to you, trapping you between him and the door, glowering down at you. “Liar.” A different tactic was needed now, and you tried to look earnest, “The death of Soap-“ He didn’t let you finish, placing his hand over your mouth to silence you, his glove soft against your skin, “Don’t you fucking dare.” You could feel how precarious your situation was now. Ghost would never hurt you; you knew that much from his files, but he might report you. You could take him down, but you’d be sentencing yourself to go down with him.

After a moment, Ghost removed his hand from your mouth, folding his arms across his chest and glaring down at you, allowing you the freedom to explain yourself as though there was anything non-incriminating you could say. You hesitated momentarily before deciding there was no other way out of this. “I’m drunk.” He narrowed his eyes at you, “I could report you.” He looked you over, no doubt weighing his options, so you reminded him, “So could I.“

For a moment, the silence seemed to stretch out into eternity between you, both considering the mutually assured destruction you could unleash. Ghost was the first to deflate, sinking back onto your bed and reaching over to grab the bottle of vodka. He held it up to you in a mock toast, his voice dark, “Here’s to the best and the brightest of the forces.” You relaxed a little, taking the bottle from him. “There’s another bottle in the drawer.” He didn’t need telling twice, pulling the drawer open and taking out the second bottle, unscrewing it as he pulled off his mask and balaclava. You’d read about his face, but seeing it was something else. He was handsome, even with the crooked nose, the untidy greying stubble and the heavy purple bags under each eye. You held out your bottle to his, “Here’s to mutually assured destruction.” His voice was soft as he clinked his bottle against yours, but you could still hear the name on his lips. “To Soap.”

Nothing compared to the blissful feeling of alcohol carrying you away from your worries. Your entire body felt light, slightly tingly, as if there was a slight lag between your mind and your limbs. It was a delightful feeling, the feel of the carpet underneath your fingers, and you stretched out your hands, exploring the new textures that brushed against your skin, stroking along the fabric and noting the bump of the stitches.

“That’s my leg you’re stroking.”

Ghost’s voice was soft, and you laughed, moving your hand away from his leg, “Sorry, sorry.” You cracked open an eye to see him leaning his back against the bedframe with his eyes still closed, a slight smile on his lips, “I don’t mind. S’nice.” The lines between professional and person were already beyond blurry and had been since the very first sip of alcohol, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You returned your hand to his thigh, exploring the waterproofed fabric and how your fingers slid over it smoothly, feeling the ridges of the pockets and then the coarse material of his belt. He shifted, laying his arm on the bed frame behind you, his forearm draping over your shoulder, and you allowed yourself to lean into his chest, enjoying the close contact.

It was obvious to you where things were going; no matter how slowly they were progressing, the end result would undeniably be the same. You shifted away from him, using every last ounce of your self-control to put some distance between you, placing your hands in your lap. “Ghost. We can’t- I can’t. It would be wrong of me.” He reached out for your face, his gloved fingers soft against your cheek as he gently turned you toward him, “I just want to feel good again.” You could see the earnestness in his face but also the pain and exhaustion in his eyes, the undeniable sorrow that lingered. At the end of a day like this, feeling good was all you wanted, too.

Ghost seemed to feel your resistance fading away, his hand shifting from your cheek down, his fingers stroking over your jaw and then around to the back of your neck. His grip was gentle but quietly insistent as he pulled you toward him, your boundaries slipping as you gave in, letting your hands reach out to grab his jumper and pull him closer to you, his lips crashing against yours, firm and desperate, his fingers sliding up into your hair, holding you tightly against him.

A single kiss was all it took to destroy the facade of professionalism entirely.

Ghost wasted no time, breaking the kiss to take his jumper off, revealing the plain green T-shirt underneath, and you eagerly hooked your fingers underneath the hem to take it off for him. He raised his arms to allow you to strip him, waiting for you to take his t-shirt off before he started on yours, easily pulling it off of you and then gently pushing you back onto the carpet, using his knee to nudge your legs apart and then wrapping them around his waist as he leaned down to kiss you again, using his arm to brace himself so he didn’t crush you underneath him.

You knew what you were doing was wrong, but he felt too good against you, one hand tangling in your hair, his lips moving down your neck, sucking and biting at your skin, the other hand pulling your hips against him as he ground into you. The alcohol heightened the pleasure in your skin, and you let out a soft sigh, allowing yourself to become lost in the sensation. Even the slightest sign of pleasure from you spurred Ghost on, and he leant back from you, leaving you panting on the floor as his hands darted down to your trousers, swiftly unbuckling your belt and button and then yanking the zipper down, tugging your trousers off and tossing them to the side.

As he began undoing his own belt, you took a moment to appreciate how attractive the man was, the way the muscles in his arms bulged as he fumbled with the buckle, the black tattoos that wrapped around his forearm, the hungry look in his pale eyes as he took in the sight of your body, the dark blond hair that trailed down his stomach. He undid his trousers, pushing his boxers down, his cock finally springing free. You could feel your heart skip a beat at the sight of him, how desperate he was for you, and you bit your lip in anticipation, feeling the butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Ghost didn’t bother to take his trousers completely off, already leaning down to tug your pants off, sliding them over your legs and throwing them aside. He gripped your thigh as he positioned himself, grinding himself into you to coat as much of himself as he could in your wetness before he slowly pushed into you, the pressure at your entrance building before he slowly began to sink into you, a throaty growl emanating from his throat as he buried himself inside you. You knew you should have been more careful; you should have thought of protection, but all you cared about was how he felt against you, his hand moving to your thigh to hold you in place as he thrust into you, angling your hips so he rubbed up against that perfect spot inside you.

Without warning, he shifted back to pull you on top of him, positioning you in his lap, placing his hand on your hip and grinding you against him. His other hand reached up to cup your face, forcing you to look up into his eyes, his own wide and desperate. He rubbed his thumb over your cheek, his other hand grabbing your ass as he rocked you against him, his voice throaty as he rested his forehead against yours, “You feel so fucking good.” His hand moved from your ass and grabbed your hand, pushing it down between your bodies, his voice desperate and pleading, “Come on, baby, make yourself feel good for me.” You weren’t one to deny yourself pleasure, so you did as ordered, pushing your hand between your bodies and beginning to rub circles around your clit, feeling that familiar pressure build in your core, shifting your hips against him to angle him more perfectly, and he rubbed his thumb over your cheek, “Just like that, sweetheart, come on.” He let you control the rhythm as you rocked against him, resting his hand on the small of your back, his voice strained, “Come on, darlin’, come for me.”

Your body couldn’t hold on for longer, your rhythm starting to stutter as you pushed down on him hard, trying to get him as deep as possible as you finished, your nails digging into his shoulders as he held you closely against him, whispering soft words of encouragement into your ear, “Just like that, sweetheart, just like that.” You let your head fall forward onto his chest as you rode out the last sparks of pleasure, and he wrapped his arm around your back, holding you against him, stroking your hair with his other hand.

Ghost was still underneath you, seemingly content to just have your pleasure, but you weren’t finished just yet. You shifted on top of him so you were straddling his lap, gently placing your hands in the centre of his chest and pushing him insistently. He looked at you questioningly, but he allowed you to lay him flat on his back, his hands sliding down your back and to your waist, allowing you to take control. You could feel the hesitance in his touch, and you began to rock your hips back and forth, feeling how his hands began to tighten on your waist, his head falling back onto the carpet, and his jaw clenching as he thrust up into you. You found your rhythm quickly enough, balancing on your knees as you rode him, feeling that familiar tightness inside you as he hit you just right, everything still sensitive from your first climax, your voice a breathy whisper as you slid up and down, “Fuck, Ghost.”

“Simon, it’s Simon.” His voice was tight, as were his fingers on your waist, beginning to pull you down onto him more forcefully, “Say my name.” You couldn’t help but reach back down to rub yourself again, feeling everything tingle and tense, biting the inside of your cheek as you tried to keep the rhythm just right, “Fucking hell, Simon.”

The simple utterance of his name seemed to bewitch him, and he let out a deep groan, gripping onto your hipbones as he began slamming up into you, yanking you down to meet him every time, almost lifting you off his cock entirely before he buried it back inside you. You could see the frantic desperation in his movements and feel the tightness in his legs as his body began to tense up, but he slowed, panting out in short, heavy breaths, “I’m close, darlin’, I should probably-“ Both alcohol and arousal were clouding your better senses, and you dug your nails into his chest as you ground yourself against him, right on the verge of finishing yourself, the nail in the coffin of any intelligence, “Come in me, Simon.”

Ghost needed little encouragement, completely lost in the sensation of you finishing around him again, and he thrust forcefully inside you before sitting up and pushing you down to the floor once again, pulling your legs tightly around his hips as he fucked you hard, pounding into you fiercely, the carpet harsh against your back as he thrust deep into you one final time, growling out a throaty, “Fuck,” as he finished.

Not anything about your decisions had been smart, from fucking Ghost to letting him finish inside you, but you just couldn’t summon the energy to care anymore. He felt too good, and you’d needed it; you’d needed an excuse to break free of the constraints. He collapsed to your side as he pulled out, yet brought you with him into a tight hug, burying his head in your shoulder, breathing in the scent of your hair as his heart slowed. Nothing was said, but nothing needed to be said, and you simply enjoyed the closeness, resting your head against his chest, the dark thoughts in your head blissfully silenced.

#jack writes #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #cod fic #simon ghost x reader

32 notes · View notes